Cloud Lake Wilderness Area solo canoe trip with some added elements of surprise.

by Shannon Burt

It’s Summer, and I’m sitting on a rock in a small inlet on Frog Lake under the light of my headlamp. The drone of a helicopter moving beyond my line of trees breaks the backcountry silence in an evening punctuated by change. About an hour earlier I was being threatened by rumbling thunder and eminent rain. What’s next? To my mind, a chopper doesn’t usually fly at night unless something’s wrong. Noticing its bright searchlight, and the frequent though short passes, they’re looking for someone, but I don’t think it’s me.

I came to the Cloud Lake Wilderness Area (just inland from Annapolis Valley) on the recommendation of a paddler I met earlier the same summer when I helped with “The Big Swim.” He was a lead kayaker, and during some down time, we conversed about favorite paddle destinations. Since he clearly had skills, I didn’t expect him to suggest an inland lake. He recommended it as a place he frequented because it was a reasonable distance from HRM, and in terms of commitment, it was kid friendly; ticking all his boxes. Just avoid weekends when the waters are power-boat heavy.

Coincidentally back home, I had the map to Cloud Lake Wilderness from a year or two back when I originally discovered Canoe Kayak Nova Scotia’s treasure trove of paddle destinations, so I dug it out and made a plan.

Traveling from PEI, my journey is more involved than my friend’s claimed two-hour trip. Because such is the nature of wilderness locales, I juggle my hierarchy of nav tools, going from my phone’s google maps,(which tanked after losing cell service) to my Garmin Nuvi, which struggled, not having updated roads, to my handheld GPS which offers hope as I follow excellent, rally-worthy back roads, that with the lake to my one side, and a road generally going in the direction of my waypoint, I’d get there. It takes some time and a few errors, but I make it to the upper North East of Cloud Lake.

My put-in is a beautiful spot that has the feel of a little park with a couple of picnic tables, a fire ring, some lush grass, and a gravel boat ramp. As I arrive, a young couple are walking down the access lane heading for a swim to beat the summer heat. After unloading my little canoe and bags, I park the rig so as not to block any vehicles and trailers. I’m always fearful that it will get vandalized in my absence, but all I can do is hope for the best. 

After shoving off, I head south west and then south toward what I hope to be an easy to find portage path. Not all that large, Cloud Lake is edged with granite rocks and mixed forest. It’s been a protected wilderness area since 2015 and was originally used by the Scouts for training. There is a collection of islands off the North edge that has me curious, but don’t have the time to explore them today since I don’t know what I’ll be getting into between my late departure and evening camp arrival. The lake is pretty much empty. I do love how that gives you the feeling that you are completely on your own. Eventually I spot a couple in a red canoe coming my way. We exchange hellos from a distance, and she mentions that the portage was a little muddy so step carefully. They had camped at Frog Lake the night before. Good to know. I paddle on.

With joy, I arrive at the portage (waypointed on my GPS; I leave nothing to chance) as verified by the classic yellow canoe head sign and begin to unload my bags. As is my routine, I lug as many things as possible to forward the load and gauge the conditions of the path. The portage route is 520 Meters, but I know I can’t carry my 65-pound canoe that far in a single effort. I typically count steps, and after 450, I drop the load in a clear spot, and return for the boat. Once I get the boat to the same point, I repeat the process. 520 meters takes me two passes to get the boat to the next lake. It’s always a relief to see water after schlepping a heavy load.

Back on the lake, a small zig in the route gets me to the second and final 40 meter portage to get around a narrow boney brook that empties to the North West Arm of Frog Lake. From here, running toward my hoped-for camp is a long narrow Southeast run. The cross winds seem manageable but always a concern because I wonder what I’ll encounter the next day.

The North West Arm hooks around a narrowing where lily pads and lake grass nearly choke every paddle stroke. This is only a short distance, so I get through it, and get some nice pix along the way. I aim for a campsite on a southern inlet since the day is getting long. It is after supper now, and between road and water travel, it’s been a long day.

I arrive at around 7PM to a small campsite with only a few choices of flat ground for my tent. A fire ring and cooking grate add amenity stars, but no thunder box.  The shore is strewn with large boulders making it easy to pull up and unload. Only 10Km of paddling completes the day.

I am always excited to explore the campsite through the lens of my camera, but the day has grown long. In the distance, angry thunder and dark threatening skies begin to show. Priorities need realigning. Photography, food and shelter now becomes shelter, food, then photography. The thunder claps force my hand. 

Feeling panic from closer rumbles and the threat of an impending deluge, I get out my tarp only to find a rat’s nest of cordage. I pull on one, only to find the tangle snags and constricts the mess. I pull at another only to end with the same result. It takes a concentrated act of self calming to focus on freeing one cord at a time. Little by little, they all become separated. Chaos is conquered and the tarp is up. I now more casually put up the tent and work on dinner. In hindsight, hunger in combination with the potential rain amped my stress.

Once the stove gets going, the skies quiet, and the threat of rain moves off. All that stress for nothing. I guess hindsight is 20 – 20 they say.

I relax to a beautifully calm lake, a half harvest moon, and rich color from the setting sun. I always look forward to the crickets and loon calls. I’m in my element.

Under red headlamp (bugs were getting bad), I begin planning for tomorrow. Knowing that rain and wind are to arrive after lunch, I still want to take the time to explore the rest of the campsites and coastline further up Frog Lake and the other sites back on Cloud Lake. I’ve made the effort to get here, so I might as well make the trip pay off. It is also a chance to play more with the map and compass instead of relying on GPS as I paddle about.

Shortly after this, I hear a helicopter in the distance. Mostly heard, but unseen, it keeps making short, repeated approaches in the direction of Frog Lake proper. I have no cell service, so no way of reaching anyone except by my simplified SPOT device, nor anyone having a means of contacting me. Just to be on the safe side, I send another OK message on the SPOT, and position myself out on the water’s edge with my headlamp alight so the chopper might know I was there. It never comes over head, but I get quite the light show from its grid search. After 20 minutes, its activity wanes and never returns. I never did learn what the fuss was about.

The next day I rise refreshed with no dew on the tent. With no direct sunshine, I forgo my original plan of a swim. Skies continue to look somewhat threatening, but since I’m already here, I stick to my plan to further explore Frog Lake with the little island campsite, though after the evening’s chopper show, I worry I might find something it didn’t. Despite the forecasted weather, the lake system is small. I would likely have it aptly explored and be back to the rig shortly after noon.

I handrail some small islands coming out of the inlet and continued Northeast toward the other end of Frog Lake. Along the way, I find a boarded up red cabin and more small islands. I paddle as far as to see the put in at the other end before turning back.

I reversed my route through the islands, lily pad strewn narrows, and the Northwest arm of Frog Lake and the two portages, back toward Cloud Lake. After emptying the canoe of its load at the last portage, I find it comical that a couple of frogs croak in the shore grass to bid me adieu.

I route my way toward the two campsites on Cloud Lake and note that they differ from the ones on Frog in that they have thunderboxes, but despite that, their more popular use left them strewn with garbage and broken glass. How unfortunate. In all, the campsites seem slightly larger. The little island site back on Frog Lake lacks signage, but I found it marked by a pile of rocks and some leaning sticks over a fire ring.

After checking the campsites, I B-line it back to my put in. It is a bit too windy to explore the small group of islands on the north end of Cloud, and worse weather is coming. I guess one must leave something to explore for next time.

Cloud Lake Wilderness Area is a beautiful place to visit, especially for someone looking to test the waters. The small distances (10K day 1, 14K day 2) are well within reach, and the small bodies of water offer some protection from wind. The portages only help to give a full canoe tripping experience. You can access the lake systems from either lake if you want to omit any portaging or put a vehicle at both ends to make it a one-way trip. It’s a treasured area of Nova Scotia worthy of a return visit. Have you been?

Shannon Burt

@climbingshanman on Instagram