Although very comfortable in our tents, the temperature was much cooler outside, the result of a westerly wind off the lake – a slanting tarp was installed in front of our picnic table to ward off this chill. I prepared breakfast with great gusto that consisted of coffee, bacon, scrambled eggs with mushrooms, toast, and orange juice. Chip and Dale continued, non-stop, to scurry about our camp, but now accompanied by a chipmunk that was just as demanding for handouts and the making of mischief. We soon learned not to leave the car trunk open unattended for very long because any one of these three would take the opportunity to search for treats. I gave chase to one squirrel in the car that became a rather comical scene of going back and forth from the passenger door to the open trunk several times until the little critter scampered out.

At 9:15 am, with clear, blue skies and a warm sun, we departed for our trip to High Falls for the day. Passing the site where Tom Thomson painted his famous "Jack Pine" scene, we entered the narrow Barron River and came upon a doe drinking water. Hearing our approach, she raised her head and gazed towards us momentarily, not in the least disturbed by our intrusion, and then continued to drink before wandering away among the trees. We portaged around a small dam and then navigated among submerged rocks and tree trunks in the shallow stream until we passed under a train trestle – the entrance to Stratton Lake. On route, we stopped at an unusual landmark on the lake – the top section of a pine tree had broken off many years ago and lay lodged, dangling upside down, within the framework of the tree.

We observed many occupied campsites as well as canoes travelling in both directions on the lake for the next hour. Close to shore, ‘log heads’ from the lumbering era were abundantly protruding out of the water and particular attention had to be taken to avoid ‘grounding’ our canoe on underlying rocks close to the surface.

At the end of the channel leading to High Falls, we, like others, had to leave our canoe along the rocky shore. In the distance, we could hear the roar of the rushing waterfalls but to reach our destination, we first had to climb and trek along a twisting and challenging rocky path. Once there, the overview of this natural, cascading spectacle was breathtaking and exciting.

I found the main waterfall slide intimidating at first until I acquired some pointers from other so-called ‘experts’ and from watching a father holding his son in his lap to take the ‘plunge’. Going down the first time, I soon learnt that the rock surface was not as smooth as I was told. It was best to stay in a sitting position and to keep my hands to the side and gently skim them over the slippery rock surface as a balance.

As my body was being pushed downward by the force of the cascading current, I lost total control over what direction I wished to go. The waterfall had me in its grasp. Each time I went down the slide, I was turned sideways prior to plunging into the turbulent backwash and undertows at the foot of the falls. Swept out into the open circular pond, I appreciated being a strong swimmer because the current could have easily carried me over a smaller falls that led to High Falls itself, a deadly 100-foot drop. After each of the 8-10 slides I made, the climb up the steep cliff to reach the top of the falls became more demanding and challenging - the wear and tear was beginning to take its toll on my body.

At the top of the main slide, I located a smaller falls that created a natural, bubbling hot tub – seated in the proper position I found the force of the water over my shoulders quite therapeutic. It looked easy, but the turbulent waters caused the bottom half of my body to whip from side to side. I was constantly fighting to stay in place without being carried away or pulled under. Satisfied that I had met the challenge of this facade, I found the whole experience exhilarating. Geri’s "female intuition" kept her from this particular experience; justified as she is not a strong swimmer and the currents were too demanding. However, a definite "must" for a return performance in the future.

Sitting on a ledge overlooking the series of waterfalls and pools, Geri and I enjoyed a relaxing picnic. It was at this time that we noticed a young man staying in one of the pools next to us for an unusual period of time. Standing up, I noticed that he had been swimming in the ‘buff’ and seemed very anxious to retrieve his pants! To be kind, I asked Geri to sit with her back to him so that I could take a picture of her and the falls - an opportunity for his escape! We had a good laugh afterwards.

From the summit of the slides, Geri and I followed a path that led us to the top of High Falls and its 100-foot drop. Judging the distance from the slides and High Falls, I wondered whether anyone had ever been swept to their death. I just shuttered thinking about it!

On our return to Stratton Lake, we noticed a blue heron standing among the reeds, but it quickly took flight upon our approach. As we paddled along the shoreline, I kept in mind the submerged rock I had seen previously. Wouldn’t you know it, with the size of Stratton Lake that rock found us while we were looking at a log-head and not paying attention. Every canoeist’s nightmare is the sudden jolt and eerie scraping of canoe against rock and getting grounded – it was to be our experience that afternoon. Trying to get off the pillar only made the canoe pivot in a circle. Avoiding a capsize, I leaned my weight towards the stern and gently jerked my body back and forth a few times until we were freed from the rock’s grasp. The amount of red paint left on the rock left me agonizing as to the damage done to my canoe. That red ‘marker’ would be a definite reminder for other canoeists travelling this area!

Scanning the far shoreline, we spotted a red-headed merganser duck flying about a foot above the lake surface, under the train trestle and into the narrow vale of the Barron River. We would later find it with its mate sitting on a boulder in the middle of the stream not paying too much notice to our arrival. As we were about to enter Grand Lake, we came upon another blue heron standing on a sandy shoal – it, too, decided to fly away and avoid our approach.

Our camp was a welcome sight - exhausted from the hot sun and wind, a refreshing swim and a cold beer (or three) were in store. It was at this time that I was able to examine the damage to the canoe, but found, to my surprise a few ‘pivotal scrapes’. A red-tailed hawk flew among the pines in front of our campsite, chased by at least three black birds. The smaller birds successfully dive-bombed and pecked the hawk on its hindquarter chasing it from one tree before regaining their territory and preventing their young from coming into the clutches of this predator. While this was happening, all other wildlife took shelter, even Chip and Dale, and the only sounds that could be heard were from the attackers and hawk. However, once the coast was clear, the campground became "abuzz" again with activity.

Supper consisted of pork chops, potatoes, fried onions and mushrooms, a salad and topped off with a glass of wine. Lounging before a campfire with a coffee, we took in the initial stages of what would become a spectacular sunset. While walking around the campground, we observed the distant blue and pink clouds, blending with the southern hills - together their reflection took on a breath-taking spectacle upon the still lake.

From the day’s activities and in particular the waterfall slide, my muscles began to ache with every step – the druthers of trying to act young again - while my sinus allergies became acute. Sitting around the campfire was short-lived and even the serenading over the lake could not deter us from settling in for an early night and immediately falling asleep – the reward of an active day.