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Killarney Provincial Park 2015 Part 2: Howry Lake to Carlyle Lake

Day 4: Howry Lake to the Georgian Bay

A bird the size
of a leaf fills
the whole lucid
evening with
his note, and flies.
(1996,VI)
—Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir: Sabbath Poems 1979-1997 (New York: Counterpoint, 1998).

The sunrise on Howry Lake was stunning.

The sunrise on Howry Lake

The sunrise on Howry Lake

Brian cut and fried up apples while we boiled water for coffee and oatmeal. We packed up and left the site with a sugar-powered burst of energy.

As Howry Lake transitioned into Howry Creek, the paddling became marshy. We decided to take the P455 but we probably could have pushed up the creek further after the boys broke another dam.

The Howry Creek put-in following a 455m Portage

The Howry Creek put-in following a 455m Portage

Murray Lake, as the map shows, is mostly marsh. We followed the path of the current as it formed switchbacks through the lily pads. There was just too much resistance to paddle straight through. Eventually the marsh gave way to lake and we found Notch Creek Portage (P1470).

I was told that this portage was the most beautiful in the park, and it likely is in the spring. In October there’s no water left in Notch Creek. All that’s left is elevation to climb. Murray Lake is 197m above sea level while Carmichael Lake is 267m. That’s 70 metres of climbing with a canoe and gear on your back. That’s 230 feet.

The portage starts by climbing straight uphill. Rather than waste the effort to lift the bow of my canoe up to see the top, I put my head down and started climbing up cedar-root stairs. It felt like it would never end! I’ve done longer portages, but none quite as intense as this.

Carmichael Lake quickly gives way to the main event: Nellie Lake. After chatting with a couple who were staying on site 142, I paddled far enough around the point to see down the length of it. The park map calls it the “clearest lake in the Park with 28 metre visibility.” It’s hard to imagine the clarity until you paddle on it. Looking down gave you a sense of vertigo.

The clarity of Nellie Lake is astounding

The clarity of Nellie Lake is astounding

We ate lunch on a point of land on Nellie—fried tuna melts, a staple on our trips. When we left for the next portage, I brought a stone with me from the shore. I dropped it and watched it fall through crystal clear waters for what seemed like too long before it crashed into the bottom raising a plumb of dust. It’s ironic that acid rain has created a lifeless lake which is stunning in its beauty.

We quickly found the P2525 to Helen Lake. This portage was the exact opposite of the last one. We dropped even more elevation than we gained previously. Unlike Notch Creek Portage, this one followed spacious well-beaten path as it meandered gently down to an unnamed lake.

The gentle walk from Nellie to Helen Lake

The gentle walk from Nellie to Helen Lake

The trail then changes to a technical walk for another 400m or so until it ends at Helen Lake. There were many board walks and halved logs to cross wet spots, but they were too slick to be useful.

Helen Lake is relatively small and we paddled quickly around the south point until we found the P70 to Low Lake. This portage is a simple lift-over smooth granite. The view toward Low Lake is glorious.

The view across Low Lake from a granite ridge

The view across Low Lake from a granite ridge

If you’re planning a trip and the weather is good, stay on this campsite (138). We decided to press on so we could spend a night on the Georgian Bay. A quick P20 at the end of Low Lake led to a thickly choked marsh.

The marshy paddle to the Georgian Bay

The marshy paddle to the Georgian Bay

Another P19 brought us to the North Channel on the Georgian Bay.

The water here was thick with organic matter flushed out of the marsh. We tried to fish but were unsuccessful. (Later that evening we heard fish jump but still couldn’t get a bite!) We paddled past site 134 to check out 133, but returned to 134.

Georgian Bay Site:
N 46° 05.484′
W 81° 33.575′

The site was pretty well used. We were able to set up our tents 30 metres or so away from the point where we cooked and had our fire.

The shadows fell quickly on our Georgian Bay site

The shadows fell early on our Georgian Bay site

I set up a deluxe edition of the flying squirrel, complete with two ears for more headroom. The ground was thickly covered in moss which made for a cushy sleep.

The deluxe edition of the Flying Squirrel

The deluxe edition of the Flying Squirrel

There was plenty of downed deadwood so we lit a nice fire. Brian fried up onions and mushrooms to add to our pesto and pasta meal.

The excitement came after supper. We found a hollow log that had washed up from the Bay. It was about 4 feet long and 1 foot in diameter. We used some deadwood sticks to prop it up as a flamethrower.

Once the fire died down we were treated to the northern lights. They jumped straight up into the air like the bars of an old stereo EQ. What a beautiful end to the evening. The clouds then rolled in thickly and we went to sleep expecting rain.

Day 5: Georgian Bay to Killarney Lake

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.
(1979, I)
—Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir: Sabbath Poems 1979-1997 (New York: Counterpoint, 1998).

We were surprised to be woken up by the sun. We set our camp down and enjoyed a breakfast of oatmeal with dried apricots.

We paddled Georgian Bay east along the North Channel, then south down the East Channel (go figure). There are plenty of cottages on the islands around here. We picked our way through the islands of McGregor Bay before finding the P905 across Blue Ridge. This was an easy walk along a trail marked by bear scat.

The calmer side of Blue Ridge

The calmer side of Blue Ridge

We were surprised by what we found on the other side. The water was calm on the north side of the ridge but not on the south! The wind was coming straight out of the east, stirring up big waves with white-caps along Baie Fine. We fought for every inch of water along this 5 km stretch of water, at times feeling like we were on the nautical equivalent of a treadmill. By this point in the trip the food barrel which provided ballast in the bow of my canoe was very light. Large waves picked up the bow of my canoe and dropped it in front of the next wave, constantly spilling my momentum.

When we finally made it to the end of Baie Fine we saw a group of four otters. I paddled through them as they dove, surfaced, and snorted at me.

We rounded the bend to get out of the wind and had a lunch of fried tuna wraps at site 38. The weather was starting to look stormy and we had already covered the distance we had planned for the day so we decided to push on.

The P370 from The Pool to Artist Lake felt nostalgic as it follows a bit of the hiking loop we have walked before.

The creek approaching the P370 from "The Pool"

The creek approaching the P370 from “The Pool”

Artist Lake was unique. It was full of massive floating rafts of mud and root balls. They must have dislodged from the ground when beavers flooded the lake.

We picked our way around the obstacles to the end of the lake and prepared for the P900 that was marked on the map, only to find about a P70 over a hill to another pond. We paddled the pond to find about a P80 to Muriel Lake. The pond in the middle must have had a portage around it, but it was full of water this time. It’s always a bonus when you get to skip a portage!

Muriel Lake was pretty. A deciduous forest blanketed the south side of the lake, full of bright fall colours. The north side of Gulch Hill stretched up above the colourful trees.

The south shore of Muriel Lake

The south shore of Muriel Lake

An easy P595 brought us to O.S.A Lake, one of the larger lakes in the park. This is when the rain began and the wind picked up. We paddled into the wind for a couple kilometres before reaching the P130 to Killarney Lake. It’s a shame we didn’t have better weather and more time for this lake. The landscape is classic Killarney. The massive quartzite cliffs to the north would be fun to explore.

At the east end of O.S.A Lake the map offered us a choice. We could have taken the P455 to a different part of Killarney Lake, but the shorter portage gave us the opportunity to explore a “Lo” mark on the map. It turned out to be one final beaver dam we were able to break and paddle through.

The beaver dam on Killarney Lake

The beaver dam on Killarney Lake

To our surprise, Killarney Lake was full of people. We paddled past site 21 and 22, thinking we would camp closer to the next morning’s portage. Site 21, 19, and 20 were all taken. We backtracked and set up camp on site 22 which is a great site once you hike your gear up a 3 metre climb from the shoreline.

Killarney Lake Site:
N 46° 03.574′
W 81° 22.061′

The night grew cold.

Our soggy site on Killarney Lake

Our soggy site on Killarney Lake

The rain had a bit of slush in it as we tried to cook pizzas over a burner. It was too cold for the toppings to melt, so we ate cold toppings on a charred pita. Despite the rain, Brodie got a raging fire burning. I set up the flying squirrel in a pine-needled valley between two low rock ridges. It was very windy, but we were warm in our sleeping bags.

Day 6: Killarney Lake to Carlyle Lake

There is a day
when the road neither
comes nor goes, and the way
is not a way but a place.
(1997,VII)
—Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir: Sabbath Poems 1979-1997 (New York: Counterpoint, 1998).

Our final day passed quickly. The rain had stopped overnight leaving only the wind. We awoke to low level clouds and mist clinging to the quartzite ridges.

The fog on Killarney Lake

Breakfast was two days worth of granola bars, chocolate bars, and coffee—plenty of energy for half a day’s travel.

The photographer's selfie

The photographer’s selfie

We paddled around the bends to the P1440 to Kakakise Lake.

My solo boat on Killarney Lake

My solo boat on Killarney Lake

The portage was easy except for the extreme rock-fall that drops to the elevation where the hiking trail crosses. Brian and I had hiked this part of the trail a year ago in the spring when we spent a night atop “The Crack”.

Kakakise Lake is a long and narrow lake. We paddled between the island and the south shore on our way to the P940 which would bring us back to our starting point, Carlyle Lake.

The portage was full of brand new board walks. Many of them seemed superfluous, but it might be a different story in the spring.

A new boardwalk in the fall

A new boardwalk in the fall

We paddled Carlyle back to the parking lot and arrived at noon. There was a man on the site we used the first night and a very friendly duo preparing to leave for Johnny Lake.

We spent our last night in the Super 8 in Sudbury after stuffing ourselves at King’s Buffet. It was a fantastic trip.

< Part 1: Carlyle Lake to Howry Lake

Killarney Provincial Park 2015 Part 1: Carlyle to Howry Lake

It was time for something different.

In 2014 we paddled the Agawa River (fortunately, we made it there before train service ended). The year before that we ran the East Branch of the Spanish River. This year we returned to our roots and took on an old-fashioned flat water & portaging trip. Killarney, here we come!

Day 1: Carlyle Lake

Day one began in customary fashion. I spoke at Wellington Street Pentecostal Church in Bracebridge while my buddy Brian Lachine spoke at Calvary Pentecostal Church in Wawa. We returned from church to find Ben West waiting in my drive way. Nathan West came over shortly after and we loaded up Clifford (his big red truck) with our new custom-build canoe rack and gear. It turns out the rack was a little higher than we needed. We have some modifications to make for the next trip. We hit the road for Killarney by 2:30 in the afternoon.

Clifford with two canoes

Clifford with the very high custom canoe rack.

Meanwhile, Brian and his son Brodie were driving south from Wawa. We were supposed to beat them to Killarney, but we missed the turn and ended up approaching Sudbury. Once we fixed our mistake we found Brian and Brodie waving us down at the entrance to George Lake campground. We made some quick arrangements with a park employee and drove back to the parking lot at Carlyle Lake.

We were fortunate. No one was using site 57, a mere 100m or so from the parking lot. We left the bulk of our food in the cab of our truck, got changed, and headed over to the site. It’s a well used site with plenty of space for tents.

For canoes, Brian and Brodie paddled their faded burgundy Souris River canoe. Nate and Ben paddled my green Langford Nahanni. I solo paddled an old 1930s era red wood & canvas canoe that had been refinished with fiberglass. I used a long kayak paddle to keep up with the tandem paddlers when necessary. I was proud to see both of my canoes traverse Killarney’s waters!

Steve in his red solo canoe

That’s me paddling my beautiful solo canoe unloaded.

For sleeping arrangements, Nate and Ben slept together in Nate’s tent. Brodie slept in Brian’s tent solo. Brian and I slept under an old Spalding tent-fly we dubbed “the flying squirrel”. It’s a light-weight option we have used while hiking the La Cloche Silhouette trail before. There’s something special about waking up and looking outside at the scenery with no polyester in the way.

The flying squirrel

The legendary Flying Squirrel!

Supper was a feast. We packed in a bag of charcoal for the first night which we used to grill Cowboy Steaks. While they were cooking, we roasted a peppercorn squash beside the fire along with some potatoes. The potatoes were not so good—apparently I was too generous with the Tony’s seasoning. The squash, however, was delicious. Once it softened up we attacked it with our sporks under the light of our headlamps.

Carlyle Lake Campsite:
N 46° 03.221′
W 81° 18.240′

(Note: If you highlight and copy the coordinates, you can paste them into the search bar of Google Maps.)

Day 2: Carlyle Lake to David Lake

Estranged by distance, he relearns
The way to quiet not his own,
The light to rest on tree and stone,
The high leaves falling in their turns,
(1984, V)
—Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir: Sabbath Poems 1979-1997 (New York: Counterpoint, 1998).

I brought my little paperback collection of Wendell Berry’s poems to read aloud in the mornings. Strangely, this Kentucky farmer’s deep sense of place makes sense of the Killarney wilderness.

We woke up this first morning to a misty and overcast day. A quick paddle to the truck for supplies led to a breakfast of bacon and eggs cooked over the fire we restarted from last night’s embers. We set down camp and paddled one last time to the vehicle to retrieve the rest of our food and to start the paddle up Carlyle Lake.

Brian and Brodie starting out on Carlyle Lake.

Brian and Brodie starting out on Carlyle Lake.

It took about an hour—I used my kayak paddle in my solo canoe to keep up with the tandem paddlers. We paused at the Eastern end of the lake to pull over a low beaver dam. The transition between Carlyle and Johnny Lake was choked with lily pads. Nate and Ben followed the maze-like path through the weeds.

There is a beautiful moment on Johnny Lake where you turn almost 180 degrees around a low cliff and catch your first glimpse of the Killarney Ridge. Catching sight of that first quartzite ridge lets you know that you’re in Killarney! We celebrated with granola bars.

We took the P830 to Clearsilver Lake—a smooth and easy walk amongst falling fall leaves. At the far side of the portage we paused for lunch—Montreal Smoked Meat sandwiches, crackers, goat cheese, and venison pepperettes. We paddled our full bellies across Clearsilver and took the P980 towards David Lake. This portage was easier than the previous one. The trail ended with a 20 metre paddle to the final P200 to David Lake.

We met a couple sorting out gear on the shore of David. They mentioned that they had been in the park for a few nights and that they planned on camping on David tonight. I told them of our plans to stay on the same Lake. David Lake is a large lake with 15 canoe sites on it, but many of them are in the Eastern end of the Lake, an hour’s paddle from where we wanted to stay. By the time I had made a trip back to help carry more gear over, the couple had left and headed toward site 102. They claimed their campsite quickly! We were surprised to find many of the campsites on David occupied. Fortunately, site 104 was available.

The good ol' food barrel on our David Lake campsite.

The good ol’ food barrel on our David Lake campsite.

David Lake Campsite:
N 46° 08.358′
W 81° 18.240′

We set up camp on this peninsula site and decided to make a run to Silver Peak. It looked like only 3 km or so on the map and it was only 4 p.m. We took the narrow path from the peninsula to the mainland then took the David Boundary Lake portage to the main trail. There are two places between the portage and the drop into the Boundary Lake marsh where the trees part and you climb onto rocky ridges.

The path to Silver Peak (that high-point in the distance)!

The path to Silver Peak (that high-point in the distance)!

All of a sudden, Silver Peak looked a bit further away than 3 km! (It was more like 5 or 6 km from our campsite). We persevered and climbed the trail to the peak, arriving at 5:30 p.m. This was my third time on Silver Peak. We could see the local lakes and the Georgian Bay, but the damp weather prevented us from seeing too far.

The view from Silver Peak.

The view from Silver Peak.

It was still worthwhile. After about a half hour on the summit we raced back to camp.

 

Father and son on Silver Peak.

Father and son on Silver Peak.

Brothers on Silver Peak.

The brothers on Silver Peak.

As the daylight waned, the transition from exposed rock to forest canopy began to look like a cave entrance. We made it back to the site with the help of our headlamps, arriving at 7:30 p.m. There’s nothing quite like a fast 3 hour hike up and down a mountain to cap off the first full day of a camping trip!

Back at camp, I laid down under the gravity filter and gorged on water (we didn’t bring enough on our hike). Water never tasted so good! Brian heated up a bag of delicious homemade chili that his wife, Cathy, prepared. We feasted on trail mix and chili and went to bed full and happy. A cool wind blew up overnight, forcing me right into my mummy bag.

Day 3: David Lake to Howry Lake

Here where the world is being made,
No human hand required,
A man may come, somewhat afraid
Always, and somewhat tired,
(1981, I)
—Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir: Sabbath Poems 1979-1997 (New York: Counterpoint, 1998).

Pecan pancakes are a great way to start any day, but they’re a spectacular way to start a morning on a canoe trip! We ate until we were stuffed.

As we packed up I talked to two men paddling across the lake in front of our campsite. They were catching the trail that led to Silver Peak. They were quite surprised to learn that we had hiked to the peak the evening before! They wished us well on the big portage we had ahead of us.

On the final kilometre of David Lake we saw a group of 5 loons swimming in circles, and diving for fish. As we approached the portage, we watched a little red squirrel swim across the bay. I used my single blade paddle today which felt so much more natural (and quiet) than my kayak paddle, albeit slower.

At the beginning of the P2945 I realized that I left my fishing rod behind at the last site. What a rookie mistake! Nathan and Ben volunteered to paddle back so I did a few trips up the first leg of the portage with some of their gear. I found a Williamson lure hanging eye-level in a tree beside the portage. Someone must have been frustrated and yanked their gear ahead without realizing what they left behind.

Portage to Great Mountain Lake

The well worn portage to Great Mountain Lake.

The map shows beaver ponds beside the portage with low water marks. We were able to paddle through two of them to cut a bit of distance off of the long portage. It was more of a mental break than a time saver.

Bever Pond on Portage to Great Mountain Lake

Beaver pond paddling.

We walked the last 1500m of the portage in a single trip. Brian carried the food barrel and paddles, Brodie carried his pack on his back and Brian’s pack on his front! Ben carried his pack and Brian’s canoe along with some assorted paddles. Nate carried his pack, my green Lanford, and the fishing rods. I carried my pack under my red canoe.

There was a beautiful smooth quartzite ridge on the portage that was quite treacherous to walk down under a full load. Fortunately, by Vibram soles held fast. Ben, Nate, and I took a break only to discover later that we were only about 200m from Great Mountain Lake.

We paddled across a small bay to a campsite and went swimming. It was as cold as you could imagine, but it felt fantastic after a long sweaty portage. Brodie won the day when he came down to the water with his blown-up sleeping mat for a floaty. Well played, Brodie. Well played.

Brodie on Great Mountain Lake

Brodie braving the chilly waters.

I cooked up a pot of Angry Red Lentil soup, a staple on our trips. It tasted so good with a bit of lime juice. While I cooked, Ben checked out the camouflage options on the campsite.

Ben's Camouflage

Ben “Red Beard” West blends right in.

Brodie got a nice fire started and we enjoyed a relaxing lunch before striking out across Great Mountain Lake to the P470.

I had always imagined what this lake looked like ever since camping on Little Mountain Lake on our hiking trip years earlier. The lake was as rugged and beautiful as I had expected. The water level was low, and we had to navigate around many dead trees in a swampy bay to find the muddy take out.

The P470 was nice and easy. The trail was wide and downhill. It was odd to walk through a green forest of trees whose leaves had not even started to change colour. We arrived at Fish Lake beside a cabin.

Fish Lake lived up to its name. We trolled down the length of the lake. Nate was first to bring in a nice sized bass. After that we all started getting hits. Not to be outdone, Brian pulled three into the boat with Brodie. I brought one up to the canoe before it spit out the lure. If we were closer to our campsite we could have had a nice feast. We decided to catch-and-release and keep paddling.

Nate's Bass

Nate with his prize.

The end of Fish Lake had beautiful cliffs rising out of the water on the North side.

Cliffs at the west end of Fish Lake

Brian & Brodie dwarfed by the cliffs.

A quick P130 brought us to a beaver pond which ended abruptly at a five foot high dam with no water on the other side. There were boot prints of people who had portaged the length of the creek ahead of us. We had a different plan.

It took us about twenty minutes to break the dam enough to fill the lower side with water. We jumped into our canoes and rode the flow out onto Gem Lake. The beavers had some work ahead of them that night!

Gem Lake was stunning. It might be the prettiest little lake in the park. The sun light reflected off the jagged cliffs while the water reflected the blue sky and drifting clouds.

Gem Lake

The stunning Gem Lake.

A short paddle led to the P155 to Howry Lake. There are two campsites on the middle of the lake. We planned on camping there for the night. We were shocked to find people already on the first site! They told us that they had come in from the other direction (HWY 6), and wondered what the paddling was like where we had just been. We informed them about the beaver dam and the walking they would likely have to do tomorrow.

A paddle around a point brought us to campsite 150 where we spent the night.

Supper was smokies and fried onions. Glorious. It looked like it would rain when we set up our tents, but the clouds passed. We spent time lying out on the rock watching the stars before bed.

Howry Lake Campsite:
N 46° 09.311′
W 81° 28.766′

Part 2: Howry Lake to Carlyle Lake >

Summer North of Sixty | James Raffan

4abf0255ca0057c593267746167444341587343If you’ve ever been on a serious canoe trip, this book will resurrect memories of rapids, campfires, and friendships. If you’re more of an armchair explorer, Raffan’s prose will give you a taste of why people choose to leave civilized comforts behind and head outside.

Summer North of Sixty is Raffan’s account of a 700 kilometre canoe trip across the Arctic Circle in Northwest Territories. The sparse beauty (and occasional terror) of the land is painted in vivid detail.

One of the best surprises of this book was the personal story. Raffan’s honestly portrayed the stresses the trip created between him and his girlfriend. I’m not sure what possessed Raffan to take a new paddler on a six week canoe trip, but I suppose there’s no better way to get to know someone than under stress!

I’ve read and enjoyed Raffan’s other books—Fire in the Bones, Deep WatersBark, Skin and Cedar, as well as some of the works he’s edited. Summer North of Sixty is by far his best.

—James Raffan, Summer North of Sixty (Toronto, ON: Key Porter Books, 1990).

Spanish River East Branch 2013

The moments before a trip begins, when old friends all converge in one place, are always full of excitement.

Brian Lachine arrived in Bracebridge first for a wedding. His friend Alex Patterson arrived Saturday night. Brian and I tag-teamed the church service at Wellington Street Pentecostal Church. Shane Metcalfe was next to arrive from Petrolia on Sunday afternoon. Matt Douglas from Mississauga rounded out our team of five people: two tandem canoes and one kayak.

By 3 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, our caravan of Brian’s truck with canoe on top, Alex’s car with kayak on top, and my Escape towing a gear trailer with a canoe on it hit the highway. We arrived at the Agnew Lake Lodge at dusk.

The lodge gave us a patch of grass down by the lake to camp on that night. In a few minutes we had our tents set up and a campfire blazing.

Agnew Lake Lodge Campsite:
N 46° 20.239′
W 81° 51.963′

Day 1: Duke Lake to Breadner Swifts (30 km)

We awoke at 6:30. As the sun rose over Lake Agnew, the mist was lifting.

Our Dew-laden tent at Agnew Lake

Our Dew-laden tent at Agnew Lake

We met our Lodge-supplied driver, Gary, and set out for the 2.5 hour drive to the put-in on Duke Lake. Brian rode shotgun listening to an Gary’s stories and an old Johnny Cash cassette. (My favourite Gary moment was when we first met and introduced ourselves. Matt said, “Hi, I’m Matt”. Gary replied, “Sure.”) Matt and I rode in the back of the cab. Alex & Shane drew the short straws and were stuck bouncing along in the cab.

We put-in at Duke Lake.

The whole crew at the Duke Lake Put-In

The whole crew at the Duke Lake Put-In

Duke Lake Put-In:
N 47° 23.416′
W 81° 50.949′

A gentle 5km paddle made it feel like we picked up right where we left off a year earlier (except we were Nate-less). The next ten lakes were appropriately named Tenth Lake through First Lake. The “swifts” marked on the map to connect them were negligible. We all gave credit to Alex who paddled a whitewater kayak all day across flat water.

The “Adventure Map” we used as a guide mentioned pictographs on Ninth Lake. They were easy to find, and quite impressive.

Petroglyphs

Petroglyphs

Ninth Lake Pictographs:
N 47° 19.004′
W 81° 51.619′

We stopped for a lunch of cucumbers, baby carrots, hummus, salami, Triscuits, and chocolate bars on Eighth Lake. I threw my line in the water where the current from Ninth Lake came around the corner, but nothing bit.

Lunch at Eighth Lake:
N 47° 17.404′
W 81° 51.463′

Even on days without spectacular rapids, there is always plenty to see and admire. I watched a kingfisher dart along the shore of one of the lakes just ahead of our canoe. We also managed to hit the fall changing of the leaves perfectly. Most of the deciduous trees were poplars with yellow leaves. The odd maple tree with flaming red leaves painted a bright contrast.

Maples turned red

Maples turned red

First Lake was interesting. What at first looked like a drift-wood shadow along the eastern shoreline turned out to be a large black bear. We paddled toward him but he fled into the bush before we got very close. Next we paddled to the west shore to check out Snake Rapids in the hope that we could find something runnable.

Alex at Snake Rapids

Alex at Snake Rapids

The rapids were beautiful, but they were more waterfalls around rocks than open water.

Snake Rapids

Snake Rapids

First Lake from Snake Rapids

First Lake from Snake Rapids

I caught a big pike on my second cast at the base of these rapids.

I caught a pike!

I caught a pike!

The end of the day was a boulder-coaster run through shallow water to our campsite at the northern end of Expanse Lake.

We feasted on stir-fry with fresh peppers, glass noodles, and a butter-chicken sauce we packed in a Lock & Lock container. This meal was a huge hit—we’ll reuse this recipe on another trip.

After a long chat with good friends around a warm campfire, we went to sleep with full bellies.

Expanse Lake Campsite:
N 47° 07.632′
W 81° 50.882′

Day 2: Breadner Swifts to Pogamasing (31 km)

We awoke to the sound of wind and rain on the tent. I laid in my sleeping bag for a few minutes imagining paddling into the teeth of that wind up the length of Expanse. We filled up on pancakes before breaking camp and setting out. Fortunately, the lake that looked long and straight on the map was curved enough to offer us shoreline features to tuck in behind out of the wind.

Expanse Lake in the morning

Expanse Lake in the morning

We rested our arms and shoulders by a big beaver house at the end of the lake before hitting a run of fun swifts in deep-enough water. This effortless paddling was welcome after Expanse Lake. We raced down to a campsite at “The Forks,” where the East and West branches of the Spanish meet.

View north from The Forks

View north from The Forks

“The Forks” Lunch Site:
N 47° 02.178′
W 81° 51.223′

The campsite was marked by 1/3 of a canoe resting against a tree—an omen?

Someone failed their rapid run

Someone failed their rapid run!

The bugs on this site were incredibly thick (something we didn’t expect on October 1st), but they only added protein to the delicious meal of Triscuits and Tuna Cheese melts Brian cooked up. Alex tried to exit the campsite with an epic kayak slide.

Our afternoon paddle brought us to some fun rapids and swifts including the Upper and Lower Athlone rapids. My favourite moment in these rapids came when I called on Shane to power paddle across the moving water to catch an eddy on the far shore. We shot through the water like a bullet. For a moment I thought we might climb the far shore!

Scouting Athlone Rapids

Scouting Athlone Rapids

Later in the afternoon the wind turned against us which made paddling more difficult. We also met the train—a loud violent screeching train rounding the corner by the Pogamasing Dam. I caught a small pike here on a spinner.

We arrived at our campsite after passing the tiny railway community of Pogamasing:

Pogamasing Campsite:
N 46° 54.039′
W 81° 46.381′

There were an unbelievable amount of bugs here until the sunset when they all vanished. We ate Naan bread coated in garlic, fried in butter, and smothered with melted extra old white cheddar. It tasted like paradise. We followed it up with our best batch of Angry Red Lentil soup yet. I tripled the recipe and used a whole scotch bonnet pepper in it. The heat was just right.

We had another good campfire (which took a little persuading due to the wet wood) and quickly fell asleep. Twice during the night we were woken up abruptly by passing trains. They were close enough to this site to shake the ground!

Home sweet home

Home sweet home

Day 3: Pogamasing to The Knuckle (32 km)

We left the air scoops on the tent open last night, so it was a chilly wake-up! There was a beautiful mist rising off the river.

The best way to get warm in the morning is to just get on with it, so I jumped out of my sleeping bag in my compression shorts and got dressed outside on the dew-drenched pine needle carpet. Fried apples and oatmeal made for a filling breakfast.

Today’s paddle began with 5 km of swifts and rapids. What a great way to warm up!

A chilly morning paddle

A chilly morning paddle

Another 5 km or so of flat river (with a solid current) brought us to Cliff Rapids.

Cliff rapids curve to the right around a height of land with the portage crossing it. The cliff it was named after is a large face of granite rising above the Eastern side of the river. We all portaged to the end and scouted up the shoreline before deciding to run it. It was short but fun. There were some big waves to crash through. (It’s a shame that footage from the shore never does justice to the rush of the moment.)

A few kilometres later we found a spot to eat lunch by Mogo Creek.

Mogo Creek Lunch:
N 46° 46.267′
W 81° 43.207′

Just before we arrived, the stainless steel bolt that hung Shane’s bow seat from the gunnels snapped off landing Shane on his back in the canoe! The weight of the drop also snapped the wooden dowels which held the seat together. Fortunately, Alex was well prepared for any emergency. At our lunch site he bound the seat together with some extra strapping. He used his multi-tool to take the nut off the snapped piece of bolt and affix the seat in a higher position. Crisis averted.

For lunch, we feasted on black bean burritos (I should mention that we brought enough Crispers to feed an army. We learned years ago that a salty snack is critical when you’re sweating all day. The Crispers came out at every stop.)

Black bean buritos

Black bean buritos

The little swift by our lunch site combined with the heat of the mid-day sun was too much to resist. Brian, Shane, and I stripped down, waded into the water, and rode the current by our site. It was so much fun, we did it a second time. By now, the peer pressure was too much to resist so Alex and Matt followed suit. I rode it out a third time. How refreshing!

Swimming time

Swimming time!

Our hooting and hollering drew the attention of the people in the small camp just upstream of our lunch site. They got in their small motor boat and putted over to the top of the rapids we were swimming in. We tried to say “hi,” but when they saw people swimming in October by their camp they just turned the boat around and let us be!

The afternoon was a long stretch of flat river paddling along with a run across Spanish Lake. The wind helped us here.

After Spanish Lake, we paddled about 1 km to Zig-Zag rapids. On our way, Shane and I met some inquisitive otters who kept popping up around our canoe and snorting at us.

Zig-Zag rapids was a lot of fun—it lived up to its name!

Shane and I ran it slowly, taking every opportunity to eddy out and get video of our friends running it.

In the last part of Zig-Zag, I called for Shane to eddy-out to the right. He executed a strong cross-bow draw … before the end of the wave-train we were riding out! We hit the haystacks sideways, causing Shane to drop his paddle and grab the gunnels to prevent jumping it. What fun!

A lot of fast water took us to our campsite by “The Knuckle”:

“The Knuckle” site:
N 46° 39.084′
W 81° 42.781′

We arrived relatively early so we enjoyed the sun and prepared a good campfire.

Sunset at the Knuckle

Sunset at the Knuckle

Brian noticed a couple grasshoppers getting affectionate on his tent fly!

Amorous grasshoppers on a tent fly

Amorous grasshoppers

We ate pasta mixed with Shane’s homemade pesto and a bunch of chopped sundried tomatoes. This has become one of our go-to meals. After supper we were in bed by 9:20. Thankfully, there was no train to wake us up this night!

Day 4: The Knuckle to Eagle Rock (42 km)

Today promised the best whitewater on the trip—unfortunately it was also the morning the batteries of my camera died.

Breakfast was what we dubbed, “diabetes delight”. We fried granola in butter and stirred in chocolate chips! We broke camp and paddled down a lot of fast swifts as we passed “The Knuckle,” “The Wrist,” and “The Elbow.” We had at least 3 kilometers of swift moving water. The wildlife was beautiful—we saw a Bald Eagle flying from tree to tree ahead of us and a large owl visible on the shoreline.

The trail to Fox Lake Lodge & Spanish River Outfitters is very obvious.

The major rapids were next. We were able to run the first half of Little Graveyard Rapids before portaging around the drop. Alex with his whitewater kayak was in his glory. We watched him run paths we couldn’t even consider with our canoes.

We ran “Lift Over” Rapids (just to spite the name) before stopping at “Big Graveyard”. It required a portage if we were to spite its name too! Cascade Rapids required another lift over. Brian caught a nice pike at the base of these rapids. Shane and I had a great moment at the base of a rapid. We paddled into the wave-train where Shane snagged his paddle on a rock, dropped it, and almost flipped the canoe. Good times! We caught up with his paddle and reminisced about Brian losing his paddle on the Upper Missinaibi a few years earlier.

Agnes Rapids was a beast. It was long, straight, and full of foam and buried rocks. We all pulled off to the right and scouted by walking the shoreline. There’s only so much you can see from the shore.

Shane and I went first. My paddle snapped in two just after the entry when I tried a powerful draw to slide around a submerged boulder. Fortunately, I stashed the spare paddle right in front of me so I was able to grab it without missing a beat. We drew left and right around rocks, back-paddling to spill speed before hitting a big standing wave and taking in some water. We almost made it out unscathed, but the end of the rapid was a solid wall of whitewater. We picked the wrong spot to exit and bounced off a rock. We lost some protective strip off the stern but made it to shore safely.

Alex came through next, unscathed in his kayak. He spotted my broken paddle shaft bobbing in an eddy and tried to grab it, but missed. A few moments later it came drifting by the shore where we were drying out. I launched the empty canoe in a hurry and caught up to it. It’s a great souvenir!

Next we signaled for Brian and Matt to follow. They ran the course perfectly. I tried to signal the proper exit to them with my paddle and they came through unscathed. We paused to dry out gear and eat homemade pita-pizzas.

We paddled through some more swifts and hit Cedar Rapids, a long curving rapid with a lot of flow. Shane and I misjudged the power of one of the standing waves and took in a bit of water.

The afternoon was a delight. The map called this section of water the “Royal Ride” which featured over 20 km of moving water! I have never experienced anything like this before. We traveled at 5 km/hour without paddling! It felt strange seeing downhill “S” curves.

We went so fast so effortlessly we decided to push past our planned camp site and sleep at the 10 km mark. It rained this afternoon so we paddled in rain gear. We tied up a tarp at our campsite, then set up our tent under the tarp before moving them out into the rain.

We feasted on another pesto & pasta meal under the tarp. The rain let up and the temperature got colder—perfect for sleeping.

10 km Site:
N 46° 24.934′
W 81° 50.778′

Day 5: Eagle Rock to Agnew Lake Lodge (10 km)

We awoke at 6 and got the coffee rolling with images of Chinese Food dancing in our heads for lunch. We paddled the final 10 km across Agnew Lake to our vehicles by 9:15.

We arrived in Espanola before the Chinese buffet opened, so we drank coffees at Timmy’s before hitting the buffet.

In the end, the shuttle service cost $96 total, and the food worked out to $55 each. It was an amazing trip at a great price.

Lower Missinaibi River Part 4: Moose River to Moosonee

Day 6: Missinaibi/Moose Junction to the Otakwahegan River (49 km)

We awoke excited. Today, after four years, we would paddle the last bit of the Missinaibi River. In a mere 20 km, the Missinaibi would join the Mattagami to form the Moose River which would take us the final 90 km to Moosonee.

The weather was overcast and a little cool but with no sign of rain. Brian cooked us up a breakfast of fried bacon and cheese burritos and we hit the water. Once again, the river was so low we had to pick our way through it like a maze.

After a few hours of paddling, we found Portage Island at the end of the Missinaibi River. We pumped some fresh water for our Nalgenes and toasted the end of the “Mighty Miss”.

Hap’s map said there were swifts to the West of Portage Island. In such low water levels, these swifts were dry land with little trickles of water cutting through them. We backtracked a bit and took the East side. To our surprise, there was a raging high-volume class II technical rapid awaiting us. There’s no sign of it on the map—I suppose it only exists in low water levels. The entrance to the rapid was a CI that took you into a pool on the East shore of the Mattagami/Moose. Once in the pool, the exit was the big CII tech. Plenty of volume along with a ferry to the left near the end to avoid the rocks made for an exciting ride. What a welcome to the Moose!

Later that morning I caught a large Pickerel while Shane and I were taking turns pumping water. I threw it back. A little while later, Brian caught a nice Pickerel that we used to supplement our Mr. Noodles lunch.

Brian's Pickerel on Brian's paddle.

Brian’s pickerel on Brian’s paddle

After lunch, the Moose River ran out of water. We ended up walking the canoe again. If the water had been another 6″ lower, we would be portaging down the dry riverbed!

Shane water-walking (again)

Shane water-walking (again)

After a gentle CI between Nicoll and Mike Islands, we saw the Moose River Crossing in the distance. It felt a little strange seeing a symbol of civilization on the sixth day of our journey. Workers were repairing the concrete piers that face upstream to take the brunt of logs which wash down the Moose during spring run off. The workers seemed quite excited to see us. One man waved his orange hat to indicate which channel under the railroad bridge had enough water to paddle through. We slid through some swifts under the bridge while the workers took pictures of us.

Moose River crossing

Moose River crossing from the south

Just north of the bridge, the map showed “gypsum caves.” We had anticipating exploring them all afternoon.

Brian and Nate paddle by the Gypsum Caves

Brian and Nate paddle by the Gypsum Caves

Gypsum is a soft rock that erodes in an interesting pattern. One of the small caves was large enough for me to crawl through for a photo.

Shane by Steve in the Gypsum caves

Shane by Steve in the Gypsum caves

After paddling for what felt like ages, we stopped for a quick break on a mud flat in the middle of the river. The river is so wide and straight here, it felt like we’d never leave the train bridge behind!

We paddled a bit more and found a nice Island to sleep on.

At first we were unsure of finding flat tent pads. The entire shoreline was rocky and the raised centre was covered in thick bushes. We were fortunate to find a sandy spot on the Island to pitch our tents. It turned out the be the most comfortable sleeping spot of the whole trip.

Two tents on the Moose River

For a while we thought we would finally receive some rain. Dark clouds rolled in as the sun was going down. In the end, we were spared the rain (which we clearly saw falling to the south of us) when the edge of the storm passed directly over us. We enjoyed our dehydrated meals (Pad Thai!) with the setting sun beating down on us.

The storm slides to the south

The storm slides to the South

There was a nice little fire pit set up with large rocks set up. We enjoyed a windy fire of driftwood before crashing in our tents for the night.

An evening campfire

An evening campfire

As we fell asleep, we all wondered if there would be enough water to paddle in when we woke up.

Nate in the evening

Nate in the evening

Site just past the Otakwahegan River:
N 50° 53.351′
W 081° 11.634′

Day 7: Otakwahegan River to Tidewater Provincial Park (62 km)

The day started promising. We were able to paddle out of the cove we landed in without water-walking. Our luck wasn’t to last, however!

Once again, we're walking our canoe

Once again, we’re walking our canoe

The centre of the river was too dry to paddle so we veered to the East side. After a little big of paddling there we realized that we would have to switch to the left side, 1 km across. We walked beside the canoes for another 750 m or so.

During one of our morning breaks, in a redux of a scene from our 2004 Quetico trip, Brian rocked a Karate Kid-style crane kick pose on a boulder alongside Big Asp Island.

The karate kid

The karate kid

We ate lunch on a gravel spit by Nipiminanak Island. We had hoped to get a good view of the Allan Rapids as the Abitibi flowed into the Moose, but at over a kilometre across the river, we only saw some lines of white on the horizon  Given the low water levels (and our corresponding low energy levels) by this point, we decided to keep paddling toward Moosonee rather than pull and walk across gravel bars to the Abitibi.

When we left our lunch spot, the water was too shallow to paddle through again. Since Nathan and I brought water sandals, we balanced Brian and Shane in the middle of the canoes and floated them to deeper water before hoping in.

Floating down the river

Floating down the river

The Kwetabohigan Rapids arrived quickly. Maybe it was Brian and my vocal rendition of “Grace Too” that helped the time pass so quickly! These rapids are listed as CII – CIII depending on the tide, and they continue for 2 km! What great fun!

The start of the rapids was a little drop into a calm(ish) area where you can hang out in an eddy. We followed Hap’s advice and stuck to the left side of the river and ran straight through them. The volume was huge and the waves were choppy. It felt like a roller coaster!

At on point, half way through the rapids, we saw two people in a fishing boat in a pool to the side. The lady in the front of the boat stretched out across the gunnels and pointed her big zoom lens towards us. Shane and I smiled and flashed our paddles before getting shocked back into reality by a big wave which jarred us from the right bow. We quickly got back to work and paddled out the bottom of the rapids as Nate and Brian followed. These are the sort of rapids you could portage back up and spend all day running. What a great set of rapids to end the trip on!

The next leg of the trip felt long. We were tired and started to look for campsites. We thought we found a good spot to camp on Bushy Island but upon closer inspection, the tide was overtaking the area. We took a break and ate some Crispers.

The tide's coming in

The tide’s coming in

As we ate, we kept having to pull our canoes further inland as the tide came in. To leave, we got in the canoes and waited about 5 minutes for the tide to lift us off the mud.

The last 7 or 8 km of the trip to Charles Island was the hardest. Our energy was spent and we had already paddled over 50 km. We fought the incoming tide and wind on flat-water. Even the excitement of seeing Moosonee didn’t last long. You see the town a long time before you actually arrive!

First sight of Moosonee

First sight of Moosonee

Our exhaustion turned to sheer joy when we pulled up at the Tidewater Provincial Park dock. It turned out that we were the only people on the Island! We were quickly set up our site and found some wood for a fire.

Tidewater Provincial Park

Tidewater Provincial Park

One of the simple luxuries you miss on a trip like this are chairs and tables. I have never enjoyed sitting at a picnic table so much as that night.

Food at a table

Food at a table

After watching the sunset over Moosonee, we fell asleep quickly.

Sunset over Moosonee

Sunset over Moosonee

Tidewater Provincial Park Site:
N 51° 15.807′
W 080° 37.716′

< Lower Missinaibi River Part 3: The Pivabiskau River to the Moose River

Part 5: Lower Missinaibi River Part 5: Tidewater Provincial Park to Home >

Lower Missinaibi River Part 2: Thunderhouse Falls to the Pivabiskau River

Day 3: Thunderhouse Falls to the Pivabiskau River (44 km)

We woke up to windy overcast skies with the smell of rain on the air. No one likes breaking camp in the rain, so we packed our gear and ate breakfast quickly. Fortunately, the clouds only spit a little. A quick jaunt (~ 300m) brought us to the end of the Thunderhouse Falls portage and back on to the mighty Missinaibi.

A few quick swifts and a bend in the river brought us to a 700m portage around Stone Rapids. Hap Wilson’s map reads, “CIII-IV DO NOT RUN!” in bold red letters so we watched the side of the river for that iconic yellow portage sign. Even so, we missed the portage and ran a fun little swift approaching the larger rapid.

I hopped out onto the rocky riverbank and walked to scout the rapid. Hap was right—the first part looked fun, but the haystacks at the end would have swamped us. After realizing our mistake, we turned around and paddled back up the swifts (a little early-morning arm workout)! Once we were facing back up river, the portage sign was visible.

Stone Rapids portage was brutal. 700m doesn’t sound like much, but try it with a canoe on top of your pack. Add to that the fact that the portage was virtually unmaintained and you can understand our struggle. We were constantly climbing over or bush-waking around trees that had blown down over the trail. The worst is when a tree is suspended just a little higher than your legs are long. You have to hop one leg over, swing the other one over and cringe as the canoe’s thwart bounces into the meat on top of your collarbone. At one point the fallen trees were so thick that I left the canoe suspended upside down in the trees, walked around, then pulled the canoe over the mess of branches before ducking back under the thwart.

The end of Stone Rapids portage

A quick 1km paddle down some swifts brought us to the next (and largest) portage of the trip: Hell’s Gate Canyon. The watery approach took us longer than it should have because we were afraid of missing the portage again. If you don’t catch this one you’re through Hell’s Gate and into dangerous walled-in water.

Hell’s Gate

We were overcautious and took the shallow side of the river. In the end, it was so shallow and stoney that I gave up and hopped into the water, boots and all, to pull the canoe to shore. After wringing the water out of my Smartwools I put my pack on and started walking. Since the portage was 2,350m long, we resigned ourselves to making two trips.

After Stone Rapids portage, this walk was a breeze, despite being over 3 times as long. After an initial heart-thumping hill, the trail leveled out until we made it to the campsite at the lookout. The drop-off at this lookout is massive.

We threw rocks over the edge and got dizzy watching them fall and fall and fall. If we had a few extra days to spare, that canyon would be worth exploring.

Hell’s Canyon

Steve overlooking Hell’s Canyon

Shane planking Hell’s Canyon

After the campsite/lookout, the trail drops all the way down to the water. We shrugged off our packs and returned for the extra gear. I took the food barrel this time. Although it was heavy, you can almost enter a zen-like state of during a long portage where your mind starts to drift. Before I knew it I had reached the descent to the end of the portage. We walked over 7 km on that portage!

The end of Hell’s Canyon Portage:
N 50° 13.166′
W 082° 52.346′

While the rest of the guys were returning with the gear (they were taking turns swapping the canoe back and forth with the extra person), I cast a line into the bay. To my surprise, a good sized fish followed my lure in. On my second cast I saw him take the lure. I landed a nice sized bass which turned out the be the start of a pretty fantastic lunch!

A delicious bass

Once the rest of the guys joined me we continued to catch bass, pike, pickerel and even a shiny whitefish! A little lemon-pepper and butter made those fillets taste like heaven after our morning of portaging. By this time the sun had come out and it was hot again. After cleaning the frying pan and our utensils, we launched our canoe and carried on, eager to put in some good distance.

The paddle to Bell’s Bay was awe-inspiring. The water was almost always moving with swifts, CIs and CIIs to play our way through. The landscape here was massive—the northern edge of the Canadian shield is glorious. The forested hills on either side look so huge I felt like we had entered some giant’s land. Shane mentioned that every time we turned the corner it looked like another poster. This kind of beauty is almost impossible to capture with point-and-shoot cameras. You’ll have to trust me.

After Hell’s Canyon

One of my favourite rapids ended this section. Just before Bell’s Bay there is a 400m CII. It looked much longer than that. As we approached it it looked like a roller coaster. The land just dropped for almost half a kilometer. Scouting from the shore was pretty much impossible so Shane and I entered the centre cautiously, back-paddled frequently and navigated around the pillow rocks all the way through. It was one of the longest endorphin rushes of the trip!

Bell’s Bay is a popular fly-in spot for fisherman, but we didn’t see any signs of humanity—just wildlife. On this day we spotted three moose along the shore of the river. I saw a fox run up the shoreline. The highlight was the wolf that came down to the water’s edge in Bell’s Bay and checked our party out. Deciding that we were no threat, he strolled back and forth along a gravel bar at the river’s edge before walking back up into the woods. The Bald Eagles were incredible too. We saw them regularly from this point until Moosonee.

Just past Bell’s Bay the water got shallow and gravel spits started emerging all over the river. For the first time we had to decide which side of the river to run, hoping not to get caught on the gravel without water. We stopped on one of these large gravel spits for a good afternoon snack. The sun was very oppressive by this point.

Just over an hour down the river from our lunch spot we reached Coal River. Hoping to find old N.W.C. post ruins, Shane and I pulled up and went exploring. We followed the river for a while before losing interest and returning to the shoreline. When we returned we found Nathan and Brian laying down in the gravel channel letting the cool Coal River water wash over them. We quickly followed suit. How refreshing!

Nathan and Brian at Coal River

It felt like a long old paddle from the Coal River to our campsite on the Pivabiskau River. The last 5km in particular seemed to stretch on forever. We even threw our fishing lines in to break up the trip but nothing was biting here.

The junction of the Pivabiskau River and the Missinaibi River has two campsites, one on either side of the Missinaibi. We didn’t use either of them. Instead, we pulled up on a large gravel delta formed by the Pivabiskau.

It was only about 1 foot above the water level, but there was a gentle breeze and no bugs at all. Both of the marked sites were back in the woods with the mosquitoes.

Facing the Pivaskau River

As we set up camp, Brian cooked pasta with pesto, Parmesan cheese, and coarsely ground peppercorns. No meal has ever tasted as good as that one. To my surprise, Shane found enough driftwood caught on the sides of the gravel delta to create a nice campfire that we enjoyed as the sun set.

Driftwood Campfire

After dinner we slept soundly on perfectly flat tent pads.

Pivabiskau Campsite:
N 50° 13.166′
W 082° 52.346′

< Part 1: Mattice to Thunderhouse Falls
Part 3: The Pivabiskau River to the Moose River >

Nothing (Without You): A Short Story

Chuck over at Terrible Minds threw down a challenge. Write a sub-500 word short story inspired by a randomly selected song title. Here’s my 481 word entry entitled, “Nothing (Without You)”.

I watch the drops of water arc perfectly off the tip of my ashen paddle as I swing the blade forward for another stroke. After a week of paddling, my blade returns to the water without making a sound. As the concentric circles spawned by each droplet create elegant interference patterns on the surface of the river I realize: this is what I’ve always wanted.

Every time life got too busy—too noisy—I would lose myself in the map. While my coworkers would try everything from massage therapy to sleeping pills to manage their stress, my eyes drifted along the topographical lines that marked the contours around this riverbank. I swear that I could feel my systolic pressure dropping as each rapid, portage and campsite flickered through my mind.

At first the dream was too distant to be real. The river was too wild, too other, to be approached. It belonged to the journal entries of the classic voyageurs and National Film Board of Canada educational videos. Then, with each decision (authorizing vacation time, booking the flight, renting gear, planning food, etc.) the river became more tangible.

Now, I’m here. The near-deafening white noise of the class three rapids behind me fade into the ever-present background music of wind on pine needles. As the decibels drop, each paddle stroke offers an incrementally deeper state of awareness. A whisky-jack notes my progress by flitting from tree to tree, hoping for food scraps from my evening meal. A school of minnows dart away from my paddle which they perceive as a predator. Aquatic flora less than a foot below me bends to the will of the current, pointing the way to the sea.

I’m not ready to come home. The juvenile homesickness that tested me on those early excursions into the wild has long passed. I know that this is where I belong. The worst this trip has to offer—the water that’s soaked into the foam straps of my pack from a too-close encounter with a watery haystack, the dark-grey hordes of blackflies that seem genetically impervious to DEET, the ache of shoulder muscles called back into action after a winter of disuse—holds more inherent life than any day at the office. No, I don’t want to be home. This is better than home.

I’m trying desperately to seize every moment of this trip. My camera’s safe and sound back home—no LCD screen will mediate this journey. Gone, too, is my watch. The artificial convention of hours, minutes and seconds seem trite against the ancient rhythms of sunrise and sunset.

The sun is approaching the southwestern treetops so I need to find a relatively level spot to live for a night. I’ll pitch my bivy sack, light a fire, rehydrate some food and crawl into my mummy bag for the night … and think about you.

Canoeing With The Cree | Eric Sevareid

Imagine letting your 17 and 19 year old son and friend, with no experience, paddle a canoe 2,250 miles through two countries to Hudson Bay. That’s exactly what Sevareid chronicles.

The writing is simple and direct. Dialogue is interspersed with narration in just the right proportion to illuminate the team dynamics.

Don’t read this as an instructional guide! Here’s the passage that made me cringe the most:

The stern man, who must assume the greatest responsibility, would rise to his feet as we drifted swiftly toward the leaping white water. He would choose the best route among the rocks, the best line of kicking riffles to follow. He would give his directions and then, paddling with all our might, to get up more speed than the current itself, we would drive the Sans Souci [their canoe] . . . straight at the dashing foam. . . . Your speed must be greater than that of the current, or you will have no leverage to twist and throw the canoe from one angle to another (157-8, 159).

I’ve run rapids under full load—it pays to drop in slower than the current for more control. It’s a wonder these boys made it the whole way! Even thought their inexperience shows through it doesn’t detract from the narrative. In fact, their trial-by-fire reminded me of some of the mistakes I’ve made on earlier trips. I applaud these boys for their effort.

The climax of the book is a juxtaposition of the most difficult and isolated part of the river with the most depressed mental state of two river-weary travelers. Sevareid narrated their “great test” with an endearing honesty.

This is a great book to read while you’re waiting for your own next trip.

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