If Water Could Talk: A Journey Through Ontario Highlands' Lakes, Rivers, and Waterfalls

There’s something humbling about following the water.

Not just looking at it from a pretty dock or paddling out for fun (though I did plenty of that), but really slowing down enough to listen. To notice the way it moves, flows, glisten. My road trip through Hastings and Lanark Counties in Ontario Highlands became a quiet reminder that water isn't just part of the landscape, it’s the story.

I started at Myer’s Cave Resort, a peaceful hideaway perched on the banks of Marble Lake. Morning coffee on the balcony with the most gorgeous view on the lake, the soft rush of water below, and a paddle launch right outside the door, this place instantly shifted my pace. 

From there, I wandered over to Flinton Falls, where whitewater tumbles wildly over weathered rocks. Standing there made me feel small in the best way. I watched dragonflies skimming the surface and wondered how long this water had been carving its path.

In Smiths Falls, I traded the wild for the slow and steady by getting on the water myself. I rented a kayak from Pedal & Paddle, and they met me right at the shoreline with tips on where to explore. I paddled through the Swale, a calm, marshy stretch just outside the downtown core that feels almost hidden in plain sight. 

It was quiet in the best way: the kind of place where the only sounds are birdsong and your paddle gently breaking the surface. I glided past the historic bascule bridge, an impressive early 20th-century structure that once lifted to let trains cross over the water. It doesn’t operate anymore, but standing tall over the canal, it still feels like a relic with something to say. 

I kept listening over meals too. The Pickled Pig in Smiths Falls served up one of the best sandwiches I’ve had in a while, and I couldn’t resist turning it into a picnic. I packed it to go and found a quiet spot along the Rideau Canal, where I sat by the water’s edge and let the ripples set the pace for lunch. It was proof that sometimes slowing down doesn’t require anything more than a good sandwich and a view.

Then came dinner at Joe’s Italian Kitchen in Almonte. And honestly, it might be one of the most stunning patios in all of Ontario. You’re not just near the water, you’re right above the falls. As I ate, the sound of cascading water surrounded me. It felt like nature had pulled up a chair at the table. I can’t think of another place in Almonte (or even the province) where you get that kind of view with your meal.

My last morning began at Calabogie Peaks Resort, where the weather had its own plans. A light rain was falling. The kind that taps gently on the window and soaks the trees just enough to make everything smell like earth and pine. I sat there with a hot coffee, watching droplets slide down the window. 

It felt fitting, really. Rain is water, after all. Not dramatic or wild, just soft and steady. A reminder that water connects everything, even the quiet, grey moments.

Later that day, I set out on Calabogie Lake with Mad River Paddle Co., this time letting someone else guide the way. We paddled through open stretches and tucked-away bays, until my guide pointed out a bald eagle’s nest perched high in the trees above. It was massive and completely dependent on the water below it. 

The fish, the trees, the quiet, it all came back to the lake. To the water. 

If I learned one thing during this short road trip it’s that water doesn’t ask much. Just that we slow down and treat it with care. This trip helped me understand that sustainable travel isn’t always about the big gestures, it’s about how we move through the world, and how we listen to the places we move through.