The camping spot we finally chose was fairly easy to access from the canoe, since it was on a point, on the largest of the two islands on Mallard Lake, with its own very private sandy beach. Which meant we wouldn't have to clamber up and down a rise that mounts toward the camping spot which identified many of the camp sites. All of them have some kind of rock-encircled spot to make camp fires within. And some of them are clearly meant as group camp sites with ample space for two or three tents to be erected. Ours was spacious, surrounded with pines, hemlock and spruce. All of the camp sites have been used for decades before they're closed and new ones in suitable spots are created.

On Mallard Lake (also called Sec Lake) there are about twenty camping spots, marked by those bright orange markers to alert weary canoeists anxiously looking to settle down for the night. It takes time to unload a canoe and set up camp. Most of the camp sites have what our son calls "toy boxes", just wooden boxes with a lift lid where one perches to conduct business; private business to be sure, but not all that private since the activity is open to the air and even scrutiny if anyone else is around, even though they're generally set back from the actual tent site.

We were lucky; ours was only the fourth car in the parking lot, about a seven-minute walk from the launch site, which meant that there would be at least sixteen camp sites unoccupied and we could have our pick. The one we eventually selected, after paddling about the lake in our gear-loaded canoe for what seemed like hours had a loo with a roof and enclosed walls, and that was a bonus.

We were pretty tired after the three-and-a-half hours' drive to get to Algonquin Park. From the registration office located at the perimeter it's another twenty to twenty-five miles into the park to get to Sec Lake, one of the closest lakes to the periphery, and one we'd camped at with Button, as a puppy, about twenty years earlier. She loved the lake, relished the opportunity to dive into it to retrieve sticks and stones and run madly about to dry off. At that time we'd had excellent weather.

Our son, visiting for a week because he was attending a conference in Quebec City, thought it would be neat to go back to the park for a short stay. He's become accustomed to camping, canoeing, kayaking and hiking and skiing in the mountains of British Columbia, completely different terrain. This would be revisiting old times when we frequently went canoe-camping in Algonquin Park, sometimes for a week at a time. Then, if there was lousy weather, there'd also be good weather to make up for it. We/he chose that lake because we wouldn't have to struggle with portages, long trails linking lake-to-lake for the more adventurous, requiring that all one's camping gear and the canoe have to be hauled along the portage to the lake of choice.

The allure of getting out into a wilderness area once again convinced us that we'd give it a try, though at our age we knew it would be more difficult. The weather was abysmal. We'd originally made reservations for Tuesday through to Thursday, but the weather report warned of 24-cm of rain for Tuesday and more the following days. So we re-scheduled for Thursday through to Saturday. And guess what? The weather was still inclement. Worse, it was incredibly cold. With highs in the park of 9C, incessant rain events, and winds at about 12kmhr gusting to 40. And on the point that we had selected the wind was persistent.

So our expert camping enthusiast set up wind breaks and rain shelters, along with our three-man tent. And a small dog; the tent accommodated the four of us very nicely; snug, warm and dry throughout the night. And then we'd awaken to dark clouds and rain events. Still, nature cooperated sufficiently to give us a few breaks, and they were nicely timed with breakfasts, and we warmed ourselves around a fire, and drank in the views, and enjoyed the presence of loons and ravens. So many loons, in fact, including families, that one wondered at the choice of naming the lake Mallard instead of Loon Lake.