Loons, lilies and locks: We canoed the Rideau Canal!

We paddled over an ancient mountain range, crossed the River Styx, passed through locks operating the same way as they did in 1832, and lily-dipped past loons along North America’s oldest continuously operated canal. In other words, we canoed the 202-kilometre Rideau Canal.

Living in Ottawa since 1982, we’d become familiar with the final 10 kilometres as the canal curved its way through the city to the eight locks that lower boats into the Ottawa River. Bill had grown up along the Rideau just north of Kingston, so was familiar with the southern end. But we didn’t know much about the vast middle section. So, we decided to investigate.

Apart from power boaters who mostly have no clue what “No Wake” means, our 11-day canoe trip was fabulous! We saw lots of wildlife; learned about Lt.-Colonel John By and how he supervised building the entire canal system in only six years(!); paddled peacefully on quiet water amongst lily pads; studied the thousands of ways to build cottages, boathouses and docks; and generally had a break from Covid. The loons and herons didn’t care if we wore masks.

Our good friends Kathleen and Arthur drove us to Kingston with our canoe on the roof. They deposited us and our pile of gear at a boat ramp just north of the LaSalle Causeway, the official southern end of the Rideau Canal, where it meets Lake Ontario. Bill wanted to head north immediately, while I wanted to paddle south to the causeway to the official start. A disagreement and we hadn’t even stepped into our canoe yet! We paddled south, then turned around to face our journey northward.

The Rideau Canal is a combination of natural lakes and rivers connected by locks and canals. Of its 202 kilometres, just 19 kilometres are man-made. The 45 locks are grouped into 23 lockstations (plus another 2 locks linking the Tay Canal to the Rideau). From Kingston the canal rises 166 feet to Upper Rideau Lake – the high point – and then descends 275 feet to the Ottawa River. We opted to paddle from south to north for two reasons: the portages are more down than up and the prevailing wind blows from the southwest (although it can come from any direction, as we discovered).

After the War of 1812, the British wanted a secure supply route from Montreal to Kingston that did not involve travel along the St. Lawrence River, in range of American guns. Various routes were investigated, but the final solution was the Ottawa River plus Indigenous canoe routes along the Cataraqui and Rideau rivers. Lt.-Colonel John By of the Royal Engineers led the construction, which began in late 1826 and was completed by July 1832.

“Can you imagine any construction project of that magnitude being completed today in just six years?” I asked Bill, thinking of Ottawa’s light-rail O-Train, which has taken decades. It’s astounding when you think of it. With picks, shovels, chisels, other hand tools, unstable blasting powder, and horses to pull stone from quarries, thousands of Irish and French-Canadian workers built not only the 45 locks and canal cuts, but also dams, weirs, blockhouses, lockmaster houses, and bridges. In just six years!

By opted for a slackwater system, which means building dams to flood areas such as rapids to make them navigable. For example, the River Styx, near Kingston, was once a forest around the Cataraqui River. After flooding, it was called River Sticks because of all the trees sticking out of the water, and somewhere along the line, the spelling changed. We crossed the River Styx and lived to tell the tale!

Of course, By did not have to have environmental assessments done and he flooded Indigenous hunting grounds with carefree abandon.

Still, he did face considerable political wrangling over the size of locks (he wanted them big enough to accommodate the “new” steamboats that didn’t need tow horses along the canal), a parliamentary inquiry into the total cost of £800,000, and malaria and blasting accidents that took many lives. Near the Newboro Lockstation, we wandered around the Royal Sappers and Miners Cemetery, where some of the hundreds of canal workers who died during construction are buried.

The Newboro lock was one of the most difficult to build, since it’s located on “The Isthmus” – a hard granite ridge, known as the Frontenac Axis, that’s a finger of the Canadian Shield. That ridge was the dividing line between the Rideau and Cataraqui watersheds, and now the canal cuts through it. When you canoe past Newboro, you’re paddling over an ancient mountain top.

Although the canal was built for military reasons, it was never used during war. Instead, the Rideau Canal fostered settlement and commerce, until it was superseded by the railway in the late 1800s and then roads. Recreational canoes developed in 1856 and cottages began popping up in the 1870s, sparking the slow transition from commerce to the recreational waterway it is today.

Camping at lockstations worked out really well for us. Parks Canada, which operates the canal, allows paddlers to pitch tents on the lawn for $5 per person, and that includes access to washrooms, potable water, electrical outlets for recharging phones, and sometimes showers. By and large, the staff were friendly and helpful, and we slept soundly. We also spent one night on Colonel By Island, in the middle of Big Rideau Lake, and another night at Long Island Marina near Kars.

For the first half of the trip, we portaged around all the locks. But at Smiths Falls’ four locks, you’d have to cross busy roads, so portaging isn’t allowed. Instead, the Parks Canada staff will “lock you through” for free. (Otherwise, you pay a fee per foot of boat to go through the locks.)

I was nervous about locking through, since we’d be in the lock surrounded by big, daunting power boats. I thought surges of water might upset our canoe. However, I needn’t have worried. There’s more turbulence in the locks when they’re carrying boats up and, by Smiths Falls, the locks are taking boats down. The water was quite calm.

We discovered new terms, lingo and facts:

• “Locking through” means going through the lock in a boat, rather than portaging around it.
• “The blue line” is a wharf near the lock entrance with a blue painted edging. Pulling up to the blue line signals to staff that you want to lock through.
• “Rafting” means hanging on to another boat in the lock, rather than to the cables running down the lock walls. We rafted through several locks.
• “Crabs” are the black metal winches with chains that staff crank to open and close the lock gates.
• Lockmasters (who tend to be the older staff members and often have red hair and beards) seem to have discretion to let paddlers lock through for free. If they’re locking through a power boat anyhow, and a paddler comes along, they’ll just wave you through. Aside from the four free locks at Smiths Falls, we ended up locking through another six for free.

As we approached Seeley’s Bay, where Bill grew up, he began to point out landmarks and reminisce. We paddled by his friend John’s place, where he and Bill played guitar and held band practices during high school. We swam at Haskin’s Point, the best place to swim in Seeley’s Bay. Even I remember swimming there when I first met Bill. We cruised past the house where Bill grew up. I zoomed in with my camera to see what changes had been made. We tied up at the village dock and walked to Sweet’s grocery store, where Bill had worked all during high school behind the butcher counter. His old boss, Al, was still there, so they had a catch-up on family news.

“If you’d told me as a teenager you could canoe from Kingston to Seeley’s Bay, I’d have thought you were crazy,” Bill said. His family had never boated further south than Brass Point Bridge or north than Jones Falls. “And to think we’re going all the way to Ottawa. It makes my childhood world seem so small now.”

The canal has many peaceful waterways, filled with birds and other wildlife. I was thrilled to see at least half a dozen loon families with babies. In all my years of camping and canoeing, I’d never seen loon babies before.

Dozens of great blue herons stalked their prey on long knobby legs. Often, as we canoed around a point, a heron would take off and cross in front of us, low above the water.

Just north of Kingston, we saw dozens of mute swans – huge and white with orange bills. Kingfishers swooped along the water’s edge from tree to tree. A bald eagle flew over us and turkey vultures circled above. As we paddled along, we often watched ospreys circling above, then diving into the water to catch fish.

We laughed at a family of otters cavorting in the water, and a pair of playful weasel-like animals scampering along the riverbank. Snapping turtles eyed us amongst the lily pads and a painted turtle basked on a log.

All but three locks are still operated by hand – only muscle-power required – the same as in 1832. A boat goes past the massive gates into the lock. Staff crank the crabs, which use chains to close the gates. Staff open sluice gates, also using black metal cranks, allowing water to fill the lock to bring a boat up, or to let water out of the lock to take a boat down. Once the water levels are equal, staff crank open the gates at the other end and the boat goes out.

In the late 1960s, three locks were mechanized with electric-hydraulic gates and push-button controls. But when operations were transferred from the federal Department of Transport to Parks Canada in 1972, the heritage value was recognized and the modernization plan ended.

In June 2007, the Rideau Canal was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site because it’s “the best-preserved example of a slackwater canal in North America” and the only canal of its era “to remain operational along its original line with most of its structures intact,” said UNESCO.

We finally made our triumphant entry into Ottawa on a sunny afternoon. It’s different entering Ottawa by canoe rather than car or even plane. There’s a lot more undeveloped green space along the canal than I had thought, and hardly any floating garbage at all. We eased into the city gently, rather than having it thrust upon us.

I had been fretting about whether to canoe right down to the final set of eight locks, where the Rideau Canal ends at the Ottawa River. We had done that several years ago, and I had been unnerved by the power boat wakes that threatened to swamp us. However, we decided to go for it. And this time, all was calm!

When we got to the top of the Ottawa locks, we took some photos, ate our last lunch, then turned around and paddled 7 kilometres back to Dow’s Lake since it’s much easier to be picked up there.

Our arms and shoulders were a tad stiff, but we felt fit and very tanned. I highly recommend canoeing 223 kilometres to reduce the ol’ bingo wings! Bill has booked us massages.

We canoed the Rideau Canal from July 18 to 28, 2021. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.