Second Expedition – Lake Ontario Crossing
From St. Catharines to Toronto – Summer 2024
For our second crossing, we decided to reverse the route — this time from St. Catharine’s to Toronto. It was still summer, the same season, but the plan felt smoother, more deliberate. We knew what to expect.
This time, a new paddler joined us — Armando — who wanted to take part in the open-water crossing. We met early at the bus terminal at Union Station, carrying our boards and dry bags. The bus ride to St. Catharines took about forty-five minutes, quiet and uneventful, the kind of calm before a long day outdoors. From the terminal, we grabbed an Uber to Port Dalhousie, the same place where our first crossing had ended a few weeks earlier.
Once there, we unpacked and started inflating our boards with manual pumps. The air was warm and still, the sun already up but not yet too strong. It felt like the right kind of day to be on the water.
We set off from the beach where the first expedition had finished. The lake was calm, the wind light and in our favor. This time, there was no rush and no fight. The breeze pushed gently toward Toronto, helping us more than working against us.
Not far into the trip, we passed a large cargo ship anchored about five kilometers from shore — a silent giant in the middle of the lake. The rest of the way was open and quiet. We kept a steady rhythm, stopping from time to time for snacks, short swims, and small adjustments. Everything felt balanced — our boards, our pace, and our mindset.
At one point, we lost sight of St. Catharines completely, and Toronto was still nowhere to be seen. The lake stretched wide and empty, and for a while, it felt like we were the only ones out there. Then, a small sailboat appeared on the horizon, heading in our direction. When it reached us, the skipper called out, asking if we needed help. He looked concerned, saying Toronto was still more than thirty-five kilometers away and warning us about the distance. We thanked him but told him we were fine. It wasn’t our first crossing, and we knew the plan. He nodded and sailed on.
After that, the lake turned peaceful again. The water flattened, the wind stayed light, and time slowed down. For the next couple of hours, we paddled and drifted, taking breaks to swim and rest. It was one of those rare stretches when everything just works — no resistance, no rush, no struggle.
Eventually, a faint shape appeared on the horizon — the CN Tower, barely visible through the haze. That was the moment we knew we were on track. The sun began to drop behind us, turning the sky red and gold. The last ten kilometers were slower, our bodies starting to feel the hours, but the mood stayed good. The Windy App had been right again; the wind never turned against us.
The last ten kilometers came with tired arms and quiet focus. We were slower but steady, pacing each other and trusting the breeze. The Windy App had been right again; the wind stayed kind all the way in.
As night fell, the skyline of Toronto came alive with lights. The water around the islands was busy — yachts, boats, and music echoing across the bay. We paddled quietly through the Redemption Channel, the same route where our first crossing had begun, and finally reached Marina Quay West.
It was late, calm, and warm. We pulled the boards out of the water, tired but content. The second crossing had been easier, but no less meaningful. The lake had given us a different kind of lesson this time — one about rhythm, patience, and moving with the elements instead of against them.
That was the conclusion of our second Lake Ontario crossing — fifty-two kilometers, one new teammate, and another good story written into the lake.
