Our Adventure travel blog

Get the Stick Cannelle! Neys, (Lake Superior), Ontario

She Got The Stick! Neys, (Lake Superior), Ontario

A Different Stick This Time. That Is One HAPPY Dog!

Emma Gets Surprised By Some Lake Superior Surf

Run Away!

If We Time It Just Right, Emma Will Be Soaked!

Watching The Sun Go Down. Neys, (Lake Superior), Ontario

Neys Sunset #1

Neys Sunset #2

Neys Sunset #3

Neys Sunset #4

A New Day- Neys Looking East

Bleached Beach Beauty - Neys (Lake Superior), Ontario

Eagle Entertainment For Breakfast

The Breakfast Log

Going Fishing

That Fish Is In For A Big Surprise!


We thought we had found the perfect Lake Superior campground at Agawa Bay. But then we found Neys Provincial Park just west of Marathon. Neys Campground was the site of Neys Camp 100, a prisoner of war camp during WWII. At the time there was no Trans-Canada Highway. Not surprising that they would choose this spot. Without the highway this would be a formidable site for isolating people. Without intention to romanticize a troubled time, I must say that in today's context this park has got to be one of the highlights of our trip so far. A wide sandy beach littered with huge sun-bleached driftwood timbers and trees is center stage for crystal green surf. Stage Left (to the East) are hills of mixed boreal forest. Stage Right, is the mouth of the Little Pic River. Beyond, the land stretches a short distance into the world's largest fresh water lake. A slowly rising cut in the rock and forest reveals the rail line. Our first visit, the night we arrived was at sunset. We played in the waves, let Cannelle run and catch sticks and swim and then we watched as the sky changed colours a million times.

The next morning, on a whim, I suggested breakfast at the beach. Nothing fancy...just those individual cereal boxes, juice and, of course, coffee in our thermos mugs. We parked our towels and ourselves on a log. It was well after sunrise but we were greeted by loons and eagles sharing the fishing grounds. The winds were light and so were the waves. The loons fish from the water, paddling along with just the top of their back, their slender neck and head pivoting before they duck and dive sometimes for several minutes at a time. The eagles soar, circling and watching from 50 to 100 ft above the surface. When they see something worthwhile they fold in their wings and dive-bomb, hitting the water without much grace. They disappear below the surface for a second or two then reappear and immediately fly off with their catch in their talons. Even when the first freight train roared by the eagles kept fishing. Perhaps six or seven in number when we arrived, they flew away one by one as they caught their fill or gave up trying.

It was time to hit the road again, but we promise we will be back to this magical place for a longer stay.



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