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Tom Pink
A Journey North of Already Up North
A view of Errington’s Wilderness Island Resort from the author's standup paddleboard.
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Tom Pink
A Journey North of Already Up North
Shore lunch.
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Tom Pink
A Journey North of Already Up North
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Jonathan Schechter
A Journey North of Already Up North
The author on his paddleboard.
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Tom Pink
A Journey North of Already Up North
I didn’t have to ask the Algoma Central Railway crewman who was tagging the cargo if he had ever loaded a standup paddleboard.
The ACR train that for years has transported tourists, cottagers, hunters and fishermen in the northern Ontario wilderness has also brought along their snowmobiles, all-terrain vehicles, canoes, kayaks and small boats. The look on this gentleman’s face, though, showed that a paddleboard was something new.
“Goin’ surfin,’ are ya?” he asked.
I smiled and said, “Sort of,” while I noticed the few others who were loading fishing gear were giving me strange looks.
We were bound for Errington’s Wilderness Island Resort on Lake Wabatongushi, a couple hundred miles north of Sault Ste. Marie in Algoma Country and the last lake along the line to drain into Lake Superior. Take the train over the hill just to the north of the lodge and you enter the Hudson Bay watershed.
As a lifelong fisherman, I’d grab any chance to travel with the Michigan Outdoor Writers Association and its hardy group of outdoor journalists to a great angling lake, even on a short three-day trip in late May. But this time, I wasn’t just thinking about walleye and pike, I was looking forward to sliding those hooked fish across the bow of a “surfboard” and of taking photos from the unique vantage point of “standing on water.” I’d recently discovered paddleboarding and wanted to use it Up North.
In spite of living 30 years in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, right on Canada’s doorstep, I have not explored the north country much and so I was riveted by Agawa Canyon’s massive rock outcroppings, small waterfalls and mix of pine and hardwood forests. At the Montreal River crossing, Lake Superior is visible in the distance – breathtaking.
It was a seven-hour train ride to the resort, which the Errington family has owned since the 1970s, and then a boat ride to our cabins. Within an hour, the fires blazed in the stoves and anxious anglers flung lures from the docks. I grabbed my wetsuit and board, and soon felt the stinging cold of spring lake water on my toes.
The marshes had been frozen days before we arrived, and clumps of snow lingered, but already black ducks, loons and Franklin’s gulls staked their claims along “Wabatong,” the local nickname for Wabatongushi. The lake is on the edge of the 3,000-square-mile Chapleau Game Preserve, home to moose, bear, ruffed grouse, beaver, eagles and a plethora of wildlife. We had many sightings of all of the residents, especially the grouse, which paraded around the lake in preparation for their spring dance leading to, they hoped, making more grouse. When we walked from our cabins to the lodge for meals, we had to make way on the trail for the male grouse strutting and drumming.
We didn’t always eat in the lodge, dining on fantastic shore lunches of fried, freshly caught walleye, beans, potatoes, and bannock, a version of frybread with corn added to it.
Walleye is a treat in a restaurant, but the flavor is enhanced when savoring it on a remote island next to a roaring fire while watching loons, ducks and eagles.
While everyone talks about the fishing on a trip north, the wildlife experience at Errington’s takes center stage. The lodge recycles its food scraps on a distant point in the lake to keep bears out of its backyard while providing the chance for its guests to observe the bruins. A pontoon boat escorts wildlife watchers on daily excursions to see bears, eagles, the ever-present loons, a healthy variety of shorebirds and waterfowl and, if lucky, moose.
As it turned out, the weather during most of our stay was more suited for being in conventional boats while wearing several layers of clothing rather than standing barefoot on a board. Still, I’m from this region, so I paddleboarded when I could, but even my fellow traveling party well acquainted with me questioned my mental well-being. Days later, one told me that a resort staff member, watching me on my board, had mused, “He seems like such a nice fellow,” then wondered why I didn’t get a real boat.
If I wanted a boat, I’d want one of those at Errington’s – cedar-strip beauties made by B. Giesler and Sons in Powassan, Ontario. Nice to look at and nice to cruise around the lake in search of walleye, pike and wildlife.
Paddling, hiking or motoring – Wabatong is a haven for someone like me who loves nature and solitude – punctuated by the welcome din of loons and spring peepers singing through the night. No, the shoreside wasn’t quiet, but it was peaceful, just the same.
Some day I hope to return to that inland lake when bare toes on a paddleboard won’t evoke wonder from the local residents.
Tom Pink, vice president of the Michigan Outdoor Writers Association, has lived more than three decades in Sault Ste. Marie and loves to hunt, fish and now paddleboard when he isn’t doing his job as director of public relations for Lake Superior State University. This was his first excursion more than 25 miles north of the international border – a gap in his life he fully intends to correct more often. Tom also is one of those organizers of the List of Banished Words, released by the university every New Year’s Eve. (We didn’t see any twerking, selfies, hashtags or other words from this year’s list in his story.)