July 12 at camp 15, up by 3 a.m. before Wilson's alarm, I eat a cold breakfast in Adam's cabin. It is a gorgeous day starting with a light tailwind which develops into a strong push behind me all day ...yeah! It is a short seven km to the next inbound place I camped, but a long 23 km distance with three portages to the site after that so I plan to camp at the second portage. However with the great tailwind I decide to go the whole stretch. From my journal: "Take advantage of the additional push. I reward myself by saying out loud 'OK, we'll take an extra day, or two even, if you go the whole stretch.' As I paddle, I periodically reward myself 'OK left leg you can pull yourself up for a change once we get to the next point' (or that isle or that tree), alternating to the right leg for the same treatment. When it's time for lunch I'll say something similar such as 'when we get to the next portage' or 'when we get across the portage'."
At old camp 9, where I had the canvas Tent set up, a bear had disturbed the gravel that lay under the stove, pulling some stones out of place.
A red squirrel scolds me while I am portaging.
Mosquitoes are bothersome so I wear a hat scarf when I start canoeing until the breeze clears them away. The bugs prove very bothersome on the portages so I don the hat scarf at each when all three buggers accost me - mosquitoes, blackflies and horseflies.
At 7:30 a.m. I land stern first as usual to unload at the first portage, seven km from camp 15.
Looking back at the portage. When I was inbound it was not necessary to use this portage, instead canoeing down the rapids (to the left in this photo).
A recent moose track on the sandy beach above the winter trail beside the creek which I had descended on June 25. My plan had been to ascend the winter portage but when I reach the end of the lake where I know there must be a trail I cannot spot it. The area had been burned so the new trail is not well defined, and even though I canoe along the shore, the trail is not obvious. The wind is strong with large waves blowing the canoe broadside directly toward shore so I have to paddle hard far enough away not to get forced in. I know the general location but the trail could be anywhere within a 200 metre stretch so would have to search after landing which is not possible. So I decide to canoe up the long meandering creek where I had to cut two fallen trees to allow me to continue downstream in June. Going upstream I am not sure if I can get past, plus there could be more down trees now. When I get to the first tree the canoe gets stuck between the two cut sections. Crawling across the load onto the muskeg shore and tying the canoe, I pull in the top portion of the tree so I can get past. Reaching the next fallen tree I have to go underneath where I had sawed branches. Removing one more bough I sneak below the tree. Making it to the upper lake with no problem, I land on the sandy beach which on this end has a readily identifiable winter portage. As promised we stop for lunch. There are no bugs so do not need a fire.
After lunch I move on to the next and last 200 metre winter portage for today, making more promises as I get wearier. Even with the tailwind one paddle stroke per second gets tiring. It is already almost 3 p.m.
From my journal: "Within three km of my target I do something stupid ... which I've done before ... you'd think I'd learn. Because today's lakes have so far been a series of long narrow ones I "assume" I don't need the compass. This last lake is wider and a bit trickier as I'm about to find out. I canoe past the large isle as I'm supposed to but next thing I know I'm entering a dead end bay. I want a dead end bay but not this one. My first clue was that I had turned across my tailwind which had been directly behind me all day, not a quartering tailwind, a full on, best there is, directly behind, pushing me along tailwind. Sigh! Open rubber pack and get out compass. This isle is shaped like a T turned sideways from my perspective '┣ '. I had canoed towards the tail of the T instead of continuing on along the direction of the top of the T. One thing to look on the map and it looks like a T but as you canoe close can't tell that. So I canoed two km out of my way and had to battle another two km across "my" tailwind to get back on course. Of course when this happens you know generally where you are but not specifically. I almost falsely turned twice into bays before hitting the correct one but until within sight of the portage I still wasn't 100% sure. Sigh! Stupid, stupid, stupid Barry. But it gets worse! I land, weary and already planned what's for supper (oriental noodles with Parmesan cheese, refried pike in butter, hot water, a mint). Normally when I unload the canoe it's one large item at a time, with some of the small items of which there are few as everything has been packed for loading and portaging. I get careless and misstep carrying two big items and fall off the side of canoe backwards into shallow water, get up, sort of fall back in water again! Aie! Worse thing is I had the two coolers and they went in water. Everything is in Ziploc® bags but except for a few items, only single bags. The problem is water may not get in the bag but it gets in the closure. So I slosh for an hour or so while I finish unloading, get dry bags in exchange for wet ones, dry out the coolers (half full of water), dig a firepit to help shoo blackflies which are VERY BAD in noisy clouds. Get fire going and water on to boil. Take coolers 100 metres to "fridge", keeping out what I need for supper. Finally sit down near fire, change shirts and socks. My wet socks have to be wrung out. When I say "slosh", there was a noisy slosh with every step. It takes two dry pairs of socks to dry boots. Even worse than the butter in the wet coolers, was that I had camera in front jeans pocket (to keep battery warm and ready). Luckily the brunt of my wetness was the rear. I hung the camera and its pouch on a branch near the fire and later on the back of my chair very close to fire. A lot of extra work for a second's carelessness. And I know better but didn't give myself the "lecture", I guess being past that point. 'Barry be careful, take ... it ... easy.' A reminder. This was really STUPID, STUPID, STUPID. Not hurt, just pissed off ... at myself. Get tent up and gear stored. Don't lay out sleep gear. Will do at bedtime. Supper finally, with thunder nearby. Have thanked the gods several times today for a gorgeous day, a good tailwind, getting me to my target. And I thank them again. Put tarp shelter up and gear under. Rained shortly after I got in tent. Thank the gods again for a great day and no rain till after camp set up. Hang up very damp clothes. Antibiotic ointment and powder foot. In bed by 9:30 p.m. Weary! Sleep well. Slept with camera in its pouch in my PJ bottoms between long and short undershorts to help assure it dries. What's one more lump! Camera is already not working perfectly and this doesn't help."
July 13, Camp 16, the same location as old camp 8, is 21 km from the previous camp including the two 200 metre portages plus canoeing four extra km when I make a wrong turn, 25 km total. The day opens calm with steady rain at 13℃ and very bothersome mosquitoes and blackflies. Rain continues intermittently, occasionally heavy. Wearing raingear in the canoe, I catch two pike, taking longer than expected, one for supper today and the other for tomorrow. With a large fire burning all day, I manage to dry most of my wet clothes hanging under the tarp, just two pairs of heavy socks to finish drying tomorrow. Bugs chase me to the tent early by 7 p.m.
Colourful salad of green fireweed leaves, pink rose petals and white flower-like bracts of bunchberry.
July 14 dawns cold and calm at 3℃ with heavy fog. Up at 4:30 a.m., close to a warming fire I eat a hot cinnamon bannock breakfast. Before lunch I pre-portage the two heavy barrels and the paddles to 'unnamed lake 13' across the 1600 metre trail. After lunch I carry two more loads, the canoe and the canvas Tent/stove, plus the painters tied around my waist. At the next campsite (old Camp 7) I gather some firewood, 100 metres from where I cache the pre-portaged gear. Before supper I have a much needed bath but, from my journal, "Horseflies were BAD, BAD, BAD. At one time I had 12 on me, following me into the water and BITING! It was a quick drying and quick dressing." My sweat-soaked shirts and socks are hanging in the sun to dry. I put hydrocortisone cream on my sore toe (plus powder at base of toes), perhaps it will help. My right knee is sore and at first I think it is from walking, but then I realize I probably twisted it when I fell in the lake two days ago. Luckily that is the extent of my injuries from the fall.
This is Sunday and when I check for satellite phone messages, there is one from Jeanette that Dave will try to arrange a ride for me mid-September but not my gear. Promising news, if I can get a ride to my vehicle I can then return to pick up my gear.
Video of horseflies under tarp shelter. July 14, by 11 a.m. temperature warms to 18℃, clear and sunny. Horseflies are very bad, especially under the tarp shelter, so I eat lunch outside. From my journal: "Horseflies under tarp shelter BAD, BAD, BAD. Don't think I've ever had them so bad. Bug tent would have been used today!"
A snowshoe hare makes an appearance several times every day in camp and I finally get some photos of her. She is in each of the pictures above, but harder to see amongst the trees.
I have not been able to properly identify this plant which I see often in central and northern Saskatchewan. As I have done a few times, I send a photo when I get home to an expert Glen Lee, http://saskwildflower.ca, who identifies it as Aralia nudicaulis (wild or false sarsaparilla). It is reported as edible but I have not tried it yet.