Mantario Trail

We might have stumbled on a bit of trail history…

Last weekend a couple friends and I, taking advantage of the lingering autumn conditions, ran the Mantario Trail, from the North Trailhead at Big Whiteshell, and finishing at the South Trailhead near Caddy Lake. This was my second experience of the trail (read about the first time here).

Trails naturally lead to a lot of time to wonder about things. On this particular occasion, I was thinking about how all the lakes along the trail were named, and how the trail was even established. A curious amount of the lakes bear women’s names, and you’d have to think they each has their own story.

About the trail itself, little history is recorded (at least not in a SEO-friendly way). Apparently parts of the trail were based on the trapper Jack Gray’s ghost trails. I’d also like to think there are Indigenous names and historic roots to this trail, but more investigation might be required to unearth those stories.

But what we did find was an important clue to many of the modern lake names.

As refilled water and witnessed a magical moment of a flock of ducks lifting off en masse from the calm morning waters of Hemenway Lake, my foot stirred up a worn piece of paper from underneath some leaves. Worn and tattered, it may have been hidden beneath foliage for years, or dropped by some other curious camper at some point.

Regardless, the info it contained was fascinating for any historian of the area. I took a photo of it, and transcribed it to the best of my ability below.

Concerning the Naming of the Lakes

On an unseasonably warm day in the autumn of 1974, the year of the inception of the Mantario Trail, Parker, Smith, and I (Ernie), were dispatched to name all the lakes along the trail. We took this honour quite seriously, trying to capture the spirit of each body of water in a name which would be printed in maps and memories for centuries to come. Here is our journal of our journey and the naming of each lake.

Big Whiteshell
The trail leads for miles along the northern shore of a lake so large it can rightfully be known as “Big”. It may, in fact be the largest lake in the entire Whiteshell region.

Ritchey Lake
Although the sun has long risen, Ernie can still be heard humming the tune to “Running with the Night”, which arose when we first set out in the dark hours before dawn.

One Lake, Two Lake, Three Lake
Arriving at the rocks overlooking these lakes, we receive communication from our supervisor, something to the effect of “hurry up already.” Disgusted by his complete disregard for both the difficulty of the trail and the poetic process, Ernie remarks, “what does he want us to do, simply name these lakes by number?” And that’s exactly what we do.

Mantario Lake
A lake needing no introduction. But as we refill our flasks at the water’s edge we sense that previous expeditions have suffered much at this very place, likely having reconsidered the series of decisions leading them to that very place.

Hop Lake
Having kept Mantario on our left (east) for a very long time, we find this small lake on our right (west), and can only hop we can see more signs of progress soon. [Note, after each writing of “hop”, a smudge, making a possible trailing letter illegible.]

Moosehead Lake
Traces of a previous expedition. Amongst the ashes of an old campfire on the granite shore, a tin can labelled with the name “Moosehead”. Probably from the Feilberg group, whose exploits were much-discussed around every campfire in these parts.

Olive Lake
A bridge extending like an olive branch over these peaceful waters.

Peggy Lake
On a steep and rocky descent shortly before our arrival, Smith stumbles, suffering an injury to his patella. Parker, ever sympathetic, jokes about the need for amputation and creation of a peg leg for Smith, earning him the nickname and namesake for this lake. (Smith was fine.)

Alice Lake
The thirst for adventure thoroughly quenched, we at this point feel much like Alice in Wonderland, wondering how much deeper this rabbit hole goes.

Shirley Lake
Shirley we are nearing the end of this long and weary trail.

Marion Lake
As we pause and refuel on the shore, we again receive correspondence, this time from Parker’s wife, Marion. Stating dwindling rations and the forthcoming closure of the kitchen, her message urges us to make haste if we are to benefit from burgers and fries at the end of the trail. We need little more motivation than this, immediately packing up to carry on despite waning light.

Caribou Lake
Parker swears he sees a beast in the trees. And although unlikely to be anything but a whitetail, he states with absolute certainty it is a woodland caribou. He’s not in the mood for discussion, so we simply nod, and urge him to crack open his final flask, filled with an elixir he calls “Red Bull”, which promises to give him the wings needed to finish the journey.

Respectfully yours,

Ernie Hemenway
November 9, 1974

On our way home, we dropped the document off at the MB Parks office in Rennie for verification, but due to budget cuts we may not hear back from them for a few years.

Until that time, the mystique of this trail will continue to fascinate and attract adventurers such as Parker, Smith, and Ernie.