June 16 at 5 a.m. looking down the bay in the direction I will be heading towards the Churchill River. The sky is not especially promising.
June 16 at 5:45 a.m., canoe loaded ready to leave camp 5. There are some items on top of the load to dry, sunshine willing (bath towel, socks, washcloth). I use a terrycloth "hand" towel as a bath towel; it does the job, takes less room, dries quicker than a big "bath" towel.
On the Churchill River moving upstream between mainland on the left and a very large island on the right, headed for the channel in the centre. Current is visible flowing and swirling towards the bow of the canoe. From a distance, the current looks an easy paddle, as I head up the channel on the left side.
Nearing the point on the left side, about even with the last big boulder, I paddle nonstop for at least 15 minutes but I am "stuck", just holding my own. There is no way I can go any farther, even though I am stroking as fast as I can, more than once per second. (A partner in the bow, although there is no room there for such a person with my full load, would probably make it doable. Or a stronger me. I have tried a double-blade paddle but did not like the water constantly running down the shaft into the canoe; probably should try one again, only a much longer one perhaps so less drip. I might be too set in my ways after 45 years using a single-blade paddle.) The shore appears shallower on the right, so I paddle across the current into a bit of a calmer water eddy along the shore. Of course I am not actually paddling directly across; I keep the canoe pointed upstream and paddling hard "upstream", slip it sideways across the current to land, hopefully not too far downstream. In the still photos above, the current appears deceptively gentle. In the latter image, the current is more obvious.
The video better shows the strength of the current, though nothing beats being there.
After some lining from shore, much wading as close to shore as possible, up to my crotch in places, and some paddling across two small inlets, I reach a spot where I can then paddle upstream far enough to escape the rapids. Yeah, time to put dry clothes on again.
Heading up the Churchill River in calmer waters.
Stopping at a small island for a pee break. There is a very large scuffed area, an otter "playground".
Beautiful pink lady's slipper orchids. This time of year I see many, but usually not this number clustered in one place. Awesome.
Pink lady's slipper in a vast bed of lily-of-the-valley. More awesomeness.
Moving on through many islands and past mainland, indistinguishable from each other except by map and compass. I am still in a big lake, part of the Churchill River.
Like many rivers in the north, the Churchill is a series of lakes joined by rapids. Churchill River, over 1600 km long from its start in Saskatchewan, flows through the Canadian shield in Saskatchewan and Manitoba ending in Hudson Bay. It has always been a major water route for First Nations peoples and formed a major part of the voyageur highway for the fur trade in the 1700s.
On the canoe load are the towel and socks still drying in the sun and wind; after wading up the rapids, joining them is the sponge and my wading gear (canvas shoes, neoprene socks, nylon pants). The neoprene socks are essential as they cushion and protect the foot plus help insulate against frigid water. When I climbed back into the canoe to paddle three times, water followed from the wading gear and I sponged it out.
When I stop for lunch, a startled pike splashes the surface of the water but then hovers just below, camouflaged by the pollen from pine and spruce trees.
Continuing to paddle on, in the bottom two photos I approach the island which will host camp 6, having travelled 19 km.
A strong cold wind blows through the trees across the island so I rig the medium tarp behind the large Tarp shelter for protection.
Water levels are high, flooding the original fireplace so I have to move it inland three metres. Because it is on (wet) duff, I let the ashes build for insulation. When finished supper, with multiple trips to the lake 50 metres away, I soak the fireplace and the ground around using the bailer and large pot.
A three-legged sawhorse root for sawing firewood.
Seated for breakfast on a mat of spruce boughs. I am wearing a bandana around my neck, not for bugs, but because of the cold wind.
Pretty white flowers of Saxifraga tricuspidata (prickly saxifrage). The genus name comes from the Latin for "stone breaker", a worthy name as it grows into rock, but another attribution is as a treatment of urinary calculi ("stones").
Thanks to Glen Lee for identifying this plant from the photos I sent him. Glen has identified other plants for me after previous trips.
His web site is: https://www.saskwildflower.ca/native-plant-photos.html
(The pink flowers are lingonberry.)
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Summary:
Stuck trying to paddle up rapids on Churchill River so have to line and wade. Large otter playground. Beautiful pink lady's slipper orchids and lily-of-the-valley. Pretty white flowers of prickly saxifrage. Discussion about lining and wading. A very windy cold camp offset by tarps, spruce boughs and big fire. Distance travelled 19 km, including having to wade and line up 200 metre rapids.
June 16:
Up at 3 a.m. at camp 5, it seems darker than usual (stormy?), but I pack up my sleep gear anyway before leaving tent. If the weather is too bad, I can unpack. On rising, I am a bit chilled so I think about making a fire, but I warm up as I pack the gear and the tent. Last to take down is the Tarp shelter. Carrying all the gear to load the canoe which is parked about 100 metres away, I go through the bush to avoid the slippery mossy rock face shore which lies several metres above the lake and slopes down steeply to the water. I load the canoe the "new" way which I will continue to do. The bugs are bothersome, so I eat breakfast on the rock shore near camp, better exposed to the breeze, in the company of only a few mosquitoes. By the time I shove off at 5:50 a.m. the clouds have cleared a bit. With a moderate tailwind I make good time to reach one of the main channels of the Churchill River. Unexpectedly I have a hard time moving up the rapids where in previous years I have paddled relatively easily. This really illustrates the high water levels. Paddling for at least 15 minutes I make no further progress, basically standing still. It does not look bad from downstream, but once there, the current is fast on both sides of the channel, faster on the left, shallower on the right. As I paddle I fool myself into thinking I am making headway, but all that is happening is that I am moving to the side a bit and my perspective changes. Having started to grunt with the effort, finally I sigh out loud, and know that I have to slide the canoe to the right hand shore where there is an eddy of slower water behind a bit of a point of land jutting into the stream. I have to continue paddling hard, canoe pointed upstream, as I move across the current, not wanting to be carried any farther downstream than I can help. Successfully landing and tying the bow painter to a shrub on shore, I put on my wading gear. Then I line, wade and paddle, depending where along the shore I progress. There are two places the water is too deep to wade, over my head, where the shore dips inland and there is obstructing brush preventing lining from shore, so I have to hop in the canoe to paddle the short distance across, then continue lining and wading. Each time I get back in the canoe, because I am wet to the top of my legs, I bring water into the canoe. Finally I get far enough above the current to get in the canoe and paddle to a point up the shore about 500 metres to sponge out the canoe and don dry clothes. Moving on upstream I hope there are no more spots that are not paddleable. When I stop at a small island for a break, there are beautiful pink lady's slipper orchids growing in a bed of hundreds of lily-of-the-valley in bloom. It is a gorgeous sunny day with a moderate tailwind much of the way. At 11:30 a.m. I stop for lunch at the tip of an island but just around the corner to get out of the wind. I was ready to stop before then but the windward shore was too exposed. Making good time after travelling 19 km, including having to wade and line up the 200 metre rapids, I reach my target campsite at 2 p.m. on an island where I have camped before. The wind is now strong, buffeting the tethered canoe against the rock shore, splashing water into the canoe, so I unload right away to get the canoe on shore. With the high water levels, the shore has advanced closer to the campsite, surrounding the old fireplace which is built on a large flattish boulder. The lake has also encroached on the 50 metre trail to the campsite, so I clear a path a bit higher inland. With the tent up and sleep gear laid out, I get the water pots on to boil, vowing to move the very damp fireplace tomorrow. Then erecting the Tarp shelter, I have a welcome cold windy bath before supper of macaroni and cheese. Weary and tired, I am in bed by 8:30 p.m., a long day, giving thanks to the gods for the beautiful day, the helpful tailwind and getting up the rapids.
Lining and wading discussion:
Lining is the practice of using two ropes, in my case the bow and stern painters, each one metre longer than the canoe, to pull the canoe up rapids from shore or near shore, in the latter combining lining and wading. I use heavy 1/2" braided rope that is strong and easy to maintain a grip. With the middle of the canoe serving as a fulcrum point, you pull the stern rope to head the canoe out and the bow rope to steer it back in, thus moving around obstructions, usually boulders or shallow ledges. Using an even longer set of ropes you can let the canoe go out into the channel farther, with inherently more danger; you know "enough rope to ...". You have to be careful not to let the canoe turn broadside too much to the current as it will either be swamped or turn around in which case you have to wade, climb in and go downstream again until you can safely land. Worse case of course is letting go of the ropes and losing the loaded canoe. You never want to have loops or knots anywhere in the rope, as it or you could get tangled. People have drowned after getting caught up in the rope on this very river. Never wear gloves or mitts because they provide one more thing to trap you with the rope. Lining does not work if you have obstructing trees between you and canoe that catch the rope.
Wading is when the water is shallow enough that you can drag the canoe, usually from the shore side of the bow, hopefully no deeper than waist level. The problem with strong current is that once it reaches knee level it is very difficult to keep upright, although hanging on to the side of the canoe, even floating with the canoe to the next footing, is very helpful. (Although not canoeing, I found out the hard way how treacherous water up to my knees is when fording a mountain stream in Alberta. Luckily I managed to get onto my back, feet downstream and steer myself across the current. It did use one of my nine lives though.) In all cases keep the bow rope stretched across the top of the load to the back of the canoe, easily accessible; likewise the stern rope readily available. Again be careful to not let the current turn the canoe too far sideways or you will quickly find how much stronger the water is than you, and you need to get in the canoe fast to take the canoe downstream until you can land and start over.
The most number of times I have ever had to start over is three I think. There have been times I have had to land and cut a portage near shore to go around a bad spot; you can only try so many times doing the same thing, then give up and switch to a different approach. After you have lined and waded against the current make sure to be far enough above to be able to get in the canoe and paddle. It is no fun to think you are far enough but then find it impossible to paddle against the current and get swept downstream to start all over again.
Last year, because of high water levels, I was unable to make my way up a usually small river because the current was too fast to paddle against, the water too deep to wade, the water inland too far into the trees to line. So I had to make my way back to the start point the same route I came. This year I had planned to go up a different river route to attempt to get over that same height of land, but the plan was stymied because of the COVID-19 pandemic.
I have more than one route that I dream about so there are always alternatives. This year's trip I had planned to do next year. C'est la vie.
June 17:
Up by 4:30 a.m. to a strong north wind, quite cool at 8°C, there is a light misty rain until midmorning. From my journal: "Hungry, but before breakfast have to move the fireplace because it is surrounded by the elevated lake water. The new spot is not ideal as it is on humus but the back 1/4 is on very damp ground. Shovel the wet coals from old fireplace to the back half of the new one to insulate the ground. Get fire going and water on to heat. Gather spruce boughs to make a big mat under the Tarp shelter. Then get cinnamon bannock on to bake. With a big fire closer to the Tarp, I am reasonably warm. However the cold north wind blows through the open trees with no underbrush to slow it down. Whew ... because I moved the fire to the front of the fireplace after bannock done, I am too warm, so remove hat and neck bandana and undo top shirt button. Being too warm proves premature, and I soon put hat and bandana back on. While eating, I write yesterday's journal entry and mark up the map. Loon calls nearby over and over. A merganser lands in my little bay, "pacing" along the shore just a few metres away, until she realizes I am here and flies away. After lunch, walk the length of the island to pick two servings of fireweed; they are a bit bug eaten, so only pick the very tops of most. Hang sleepgear to air on the long length of the Tarp shelter ridge line stretching several metres to the nearest tree. String medium tarp overlapping the back of the Tarp shelter, holding the bottom down with poles. It helps, shielding me from the strong wind. Temperature under Tarp reaches 17°C, but only when a big fire, otherwise it is 9°C. Have to fetch lots big firewood all day. Move tent about one metre to hopefully make it more level; slept poorly last night. Many spiders from the spruce boughs crawling on me; I feel bad that I have wrenched them from their homes but I trust they will find new lodging. Very cloudy and cool, has looked like rain all day, so not going to pre-pack. If nice at 3 a.m. tomorrow will pack then. Aliquot next week's grub. Fall asleep doing puzzles. Stove and canvas Tent would have been nice and burn a lot less wood. Aie! Today I soaked the area surrounding the fireplace, at startup and after supper, with four full bailers of water each time. At bedtime, extinguish the coals well with many bailers of water. Take down medium tarp from behind Tarp shelter; unattended I won't risk getting it damaged, plus if it rains the water would run down the large Tarp into the shelter. To bed by 8:30 p.m."