You'll enjoy seeing this place," Bob Hookham, my fishing companion, told me. "Although you'll leave with more questions than answers."
The outboard nudged the bow of the Lund up on the rock ledge landing which sloped down into the clear waters of Whitewater Lake, north of Armstrong, Ontario. Hopping out onto the granite of the Canadian Shield, the island looked no different than a hundred other islands on the north-country lake.
Charcoal remnants a dozen yards from the water's edge could have been from a shore lunch enjoyed by a previous visitor but other than that, it looked to be pure, unspoiled wilderness.
We followed a well-worn path which started where the bush met the exposed rock and after only a dozen steps along the spruce-guarded trail, I felt a confusing mixture of sensations. I became one part explorer, one part discoverer--all with a slight feeling of venturing into the Twilight Zone.
Superb fishing for walleye, pike, lake trout, and more is the main attraction luring avid anglers from around the world to northern Ontario.
Once there, however, the fishing, though invariably fulfilling and exciting, often takes a back seat to the other things. Breathtaking scenery appears around ever corner of every lake. Wildlife abounds: moose, wolves, bear, Canada jays, and bald eagles soar against the blue sky. Shore lunches are done right by fishing guides who tell stories of cold winters and running trap lines on snowshoes.
My hike inland from the landing was an unexpected, unplanned side trips which ended up being one of the memorable highlights of my stay at Wilderness Lodge. Through the trees, perhaps 50 yards from the lake, a pair of log buildings stood comfortably in the trees. As we drew closer, we saw a few other outbuildings, but before getting to the main cabins, we discovered another structure just north of the trail.
Although obviously built with native materials, it wasn't a log cabin as much as it was a small cottage built into the side of a hill. Steps led down to a hand-hewn door, a moose antler lay next to a small glass window, its sill at ground level. The roof was covered over with earth and had woodland ferns growing from it, proving the structure was part of the landscape rather than surrounded by it.
"This home was called 'The Snail,'" Hookham explained. Bob had been to Whitewater Lake years earlier and visited the island when the designer and builder of the wilderness homestead, Wendell Beckwith, had been alive.
Beckwith was something of a hermit, although he didn't shun human company; indeed, he welcomed it. Though only modestly schooled, he moved to the northwoods from Wisconsin to devote his time to the studies of astronomy, gravity, and other exotic scientific disciplines. He made no wondrous breakthroughs in those sciences, but inadvertently his carpentry and woodworking skills--coupled with his knowledge of physical laws, his attention to details, and obsession with perfection--made him a local legend in the area long before his death at age 75 in 1987.
The Snail was Beckwith's winter home and workshop. Designed for energy efficiency, he kept it heated with one-quarter the amount of firewood needed to heat a similarly sized log cabin. Inside, all the cabinets and furniture were handmade down to the hinges on the doors and knobs on the drawers.
Matches, mason jars, and dishes in the cupboards and tools on the racks were still there, just as Beckwith left them when he died. Visitors treat the encampment as a living museum; local residents, primarily Indians, have left the place alone out of respect for the man.
Two main cabins were built during the years Beckwith inhabited the area--not simple rectangular structures, but split-level, multi-room buildings. Only the trees where the actual cabins sat were cut, the rest of the building materials were brought from remote sections of the island to enable the homestead to looked part of, rather than carved from, the wild land. Inside, unique "Beckwith features," are everywhere.
There is a handmade daybed, which operates by a crank built into the log walls, and three-legged kitchen chairs--perhaps not one of his better ideas. There is also a dumbwaiter that lowered perishable food deep into the cool earth below the kitchen, creating a natural refrigeration system.
We were soon back on the lake tempting walleye and northern pike to our lines. But my mind was often somewhere else. We were there for a few days of adventure. What would it have been like to live that adventure year around as Beckwith did?
Whether your Canadian adventures takes you to Whitewater Lake where you can discover the legend and mystery of Wendell Beckwith for yourself or to one of the hundreds of other destinations in the northern wilderness, look for the side-offerings which will invariably be available to those who search them out.
Two lodges are operated on Whitewater Lake, both owned by Wilderness North Outfitters, 2606 East Victoria Avenue, Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada P7E 1E7, 807-767-1563. Access to the lake and Beckwith's camp is only by float-plane or by boat from one of the lodges.
Copyright (c) 1996 Mike Schoonveld. All rights reserved.