I’ve often been impressed with what must go into operating a successful remote wilderness lodge—especially those offering “American Plan” with complete meals and other full-service amenities. So last summer, while on my first Canadian float plane trip in years, I thought I’d investigate the operation of such a lodge and share what I learned with MidWest Outdoors readers. Most of the information I’ll cover is from the lodge owners, but I don’t want this to come across as promoting a specific Canadian resort. Instead, it’s about saluting these operations for the hard work that goes into providing us such memorable adventures. I do think that where I went is a top-notch operation, with its very high customer return rate testifying to that. But certainly, there are other good-to-excellent fly-in trip alternatives out there. Do your research to find what’s best for you to you make such a trip.

A tough start by tough people

Before getting into the day-to-day operation of a full-service wilderness camp, I wanted to find out a bit about starting one in the first place. With a remote, rugged location, likely accessible by float plane only, how does one even build such a place to begin with?

This could be a whole separate article; it was quite the feat to first establish this lodge in the northern Ontario wilderness well over two decades ago. In addition to flying in materials, there was very difficult access over a logging road, including a remarkable story of trying to move an excavator there during late-winter blizzards in increments of as little as 100 yards per day. Construction was arduous, to say the least. They used existing trees and rock as much as possible in their log-style cabins, including their footings, as I noticed while there.

Besides the extremely demanding physical and climate challenges, I wondered how this could be done in heavily regulated Ontario. It turns out the location in the “Unorganized Zone” encompassing vast areas of the province with little human population requires far less permitting and inspection requirements. Drinking water and sewer requirements, however, do bring substantial oversight by provincial authorities.

Adventurous operations

Supplying and maintaining basic utilities alone is a major undertaking at such a place. All supplies are brought in by float plane only, the rugged logging road mentioned no longer available for use. Besides all groceries and other supplies for a lodge featuring complete meals and other amenities for guests and staff, all diesel fuel for non-stop electrical generation, propane for heat and cooking, and regular gas for boat motors arrives continuously with the guests being flown in and out.

Of course, empty containers and wastes that can’t be handled on site via burning or composting must be flown back out, too. In many ways, it reminds me of documentaries I’ve seen about remote military operations. Flight costs and space can’t be wasted; every trip must be fully utilized and well organized in advance.

One of the most interesting aspects was the drinkable water supply right from the lodge’s lake itself. It’s pumped through a series of increasingly tighter and more expensive filters, undergoes an ultraviolet treatment, a chlorine treatment is given at the start of each season, and the water is tested regularly by the province. The filtered water is stored in the lodge’s main water tank well uphill of the cabins and main lodge, and then gravity fed throughout the establishment’s water supply plumbing system. A float switch in the tank maintains the water level.

Each of the guest cabins for visitors, the lodge, and cabins for the staff and owners has its own septic system along with propane heating, electricity and full plumbing. The construction and maintenance of all this, given in the rocky Canadian Shield ground, and the logistics of supporting it, is really something to behold.

What could go wrong?

Anything. As if the non-stop job of simply operating such an establishment isn’t hard enough work, inevitably, any number of things will break down due to weather, heavy seasonal use (if not abuse), and just plain wear and tear over time, with all necessary fixes challenged by the wilderness location and weather.

It’s not just float planes that are needed for support from the nearest town. You don’t get to just call a local electrician, or order parts online that show up on your porch in a few days.

Owners and staff must become capable beyond being jack-of-all-trades type, and at this lodge, there was an all-around additional handyman on the team.

Non-stop headaches can surface across the many cabins, boats, motors and related services like cooking and laundry. This requires stocking all parts and materials most likely to be needed, since they otherwise would take too long to get there.

Tiring, but satisfying

Running the place looked exhausting to me, as it is essentially a 24/7 job during the 16-week season the lodge is open. But the staff seemed happy with a strong team spirit, maybe with all that they deal with serving to unify them. They get some fun time in, too, particularly fishing. Naturally, there are other good times for the crew, which is mostly young. Turnover is low at this lodge—a sign that it is well run.

People must love the idea of 16 weeks removed from civilization to take such a job, so they are already adventurous spirits. Incidentally, it was interesting to learn that reliable cooks were the hardest jobs to fill.

Well, that about sums it up. It’s something to think about if you go on such a trip. I hope the people making these adventures available to us make a good living and have some of their own fun adventure while at it. They sure earn it!

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