If you’re not yet convinced that humanity is a pestilence upon this planet, I challenge you to go take a walk or a ride on any trail that is accessible by motorized vehicle, and be dumbfounded by how far into beauty people are willing to drive in order to defile nature with their trash.
My short morning ride at Neys, Ontario, was one such reminder of the depravity of the human race.
On my various X-Canada travels, my main goal when it comes to Northern Ontario has simply been to plough through it. I love the drive itself, with its miniature lakes and pink and grey rocks and stalwart trees, but my priorities when it comes to hanging about in a place have always lain west (riding in MB/SK/AB/BC) or east (visiting family and friends and my Dad). Aside from my many rides on Tom and Marg Loghrin’s trails in Thunder Bay, I’ve not lingered at many of my overnights for horseback exploration of local trails. On this trip back west, I decided to split up some travel days and spend a morning riding at Neys, which is in the middle of nowhere on the shore of Lake Superior. The campground owner had more than once mentioned that there were trails adjacent to her property, one of which led up to a cell tower on a high hill, visible from camp. I decided to budget some time to check it out.
The trail to the cell tower is a short 4 km one way, first on a sandy gravel road and then on a rough two-track. For the first two kilometers, there wasn’t a stretch of more than five feet that wasn’t littered with garbage: plastic bags of all sorts large and small, coffee cups and their lids, plastic tubs, Styrofoam containers, beer cans and pop cans and iced tea cans, tires, tampon applicators – you name it, it was in the woods.
Where do these dickheads folks drive in from with their shit? Who raised these filthy crusts of cock cheese people?
It’s a mystery, but no matter where you go, these sonsabitches litterbugs go there too. (“Hey honey, you know what would be real nice to do today? Let’s go for a drive up along the lake. Grab that bag of trash, baby, and we’ll find a pretty patch of moss and ferns to dump it out on.”)
My grumpy badass Dad and I have a game where we decide how we would run the world if we had unbridled power. He would institute capital punishment for people who mistreat dogs or horses. I would hang people who dump their shit in the woods. I mean, really – think about it: the world would be better for having those rules. Go ahead and vote us in as your Omnipotent Ruler tag-team. You won’t regret it.
Once out of Off Grid in New Brunswick, I followed much the same route, with much the same stops, as I’d traveled in 2022. From Royabie in St Antonin (mercifully skunkless!) we carried on to my Dad’s, where I visited for a couple of days before moving on.
Our next stop was in Orillia, where I once again parked Pai at Moon Point Acres and visited with my friends Mark and Margaret.
And from thence we worked our way north to Cedar Rails Ranch in Wharncliffe, and onward to Neys.
Living on Vancouver Island, one of the very few things I miss about Ontario, my childhood and young adulthood home, is the jaw-droppingly spectacular show put on by the autumn leaves. The tragic effort at red or bronze put on when BC’s dogwoods and occasional understory shrub have a crack at autumn are no match for the wanton palette of scarlet and crimson and cherry and fluorescent orange and flaming [orange] that is flaunted by the maples of the East.
Last fall, on my ill-advisedly late-in-the-fall trip home, I hit the peak of fall colour in New Brunswick and Quebec and Eastern Ontario, but by that time of year, the trees in Northern Ontario had largely dropped their foliage, and the only over-stayers at the party north of Sault Ste Marie were tamarack and aspen still hanging on to their yellowing leaves. This year, traveling the same road three weeks earlier in the season, I caught a lot more colour in the north of the province.
As I was packing up at Cedar Rail, it occurred to me that I had likely made a suboptimal decision about where to spend my upcoming trail riding hours. Kathy, the camp owner, had mentioned that she had a 2-hour out-and-back ride to one of her cabins, and, with a sunshine-y forecast, and the trees at their absolute glorious peak, it would have made for a fabulous day-ride in Northern Ontario. Instead, my Northern Ontario ride would be taking place the following day in what was unquestionably going to be crap weather, and would be far enough north that my beloved reds would be in short supply.
And indeed, on my riding morning, the weather was grey and drizzly. I’d been hoping for expansive views of Lake Superior from the cell tower hill, but alas, in that mist, no view was to be had.
Pai, whose soles are normally like iron, was – thanks to PEI’s rainy, hoof-softening summer – footsore on the stony terrain. I got off and led her for a good kilometer or so over the rockiest bits. We rode past the same garbage on our way back to camp, packed up, and hit the road west.
From Neys, it was a short couple of hours to Dorion, where we were set to camp at a new-to-us “people campground”: Latibule RV Resort, a place I’d found on HipCamp, which is the camping version of AirBnB. The folks there had set aside a roomy gravelled site for us at the far end of the campground, but I eyed up the adjacent site and decided it was far more suitable – grass for the pony, and a picnic table for me. A quick word with the powers that be and we were in like Flynn. The campground was largely populated by seasonal campers, and, over the course of the evening, Pai had a slew of visitors.
We carried on from Dorion to one of our tried-and-true camping spots at Merkel’s Camp in Wabigoon. This hunting/fishing camp is owned by the cousin of my Vancouver Island barn owner, and when we roll in, we are treated like family. What with crossing a time zone boundary line, we arrived early in the afternoon, giving us lots of time for camp set-up, dog stick-throwing in the lake, and a leisurely cook-up of the shaggy mane mushrooms I found on site.
As I was pulling up stakes at Merkel’s Camp, where the forecast for the next two days was 26C and sunny, I once again questioned my travel decisions: I was headed for Manitoba, where the forecast at my upcoming 2-to-3-day camping site included rain and severe thunderstorms. The idea of simply hanging out at the lake for a couple of days was very, very tempting, but I’d made time-sensitive plans to stay with a friend in MB that night, and so, for better or for worse, we made for the prairies.
Camp Notes for Horsey Folk:
I’ve described Cedar Rail Ranch in this 2018 post .
But I’ve never said much about my “people” campgrounds in past posts. So here’s the dirt:
Merkel’s Camp (Wabigoon): This is a hunting/fishing camp on a gorgeous lake just east of Dryden. There are rental cabins, and seasonal campers with trailers, and a few sites available for overnighters. “My” spot is a place on the drive that is adjacent to a bit of grass where I can set up an e-corral. In the off season, I have a more choice spot that gives Pai more grass and gives me a view of the lake. The camp has flush toilets and a hot shower.
Neys Adventures: Neys is a private campground directly across the highway from the provincial park. They have scaled back considerably since COVID hit in 2020, and in the past two years that I’ve stayed, the shower hut has not been operational. They throw me out the back (about 400m from the highway) in the group camping area, which has ample room to set up a very roomy e-corral. There’s an outhouse back there, but no water.
Latibule Resort and Campground: At the time I stayed, there were probably three or four sites that would suit setting up an e-corral or using a Hi-Tie. Latibule is under expansion, so I expect there will be even more suitable sites in the future. From chatting to a seasonal resident, it sounds like there are trails across the road if you wanted to take a quick jaunt. Water was just across the lane from my site. There was an outhouse very nearby, and flush toilets and a shower a short stroll down the lane. It is a very scenic spot on a wee lake.
una chica y su caballo 