Camp 18, vacated tent site with the two protruding boulders visible; to the upper right of the middle boulder is seen the compressed area of my bed. The top photo shows the path from the Tarp shelter to the tent.
05:58 - 05:59 moving down unnamed lake 5 approaching the outflowing creek, with smoke haze visible at the horizon.
06:09 - 06:14, the narrow meandering creek, where I paddle some, but mostly pole against the banks of thick brush and tall cattails. At one right angle turn the five metre (17 foot) canoe is stuck and I have to clamber across the load to the bow where I thankfully am able to push it off the bank, for a few minutes thinking I am going to get very wet in the very deep water if I have to wade/swim.
06:21, out of the creek flowing from unnamed lake 5 into the target river valley, after making my way through the last of the six small unnamed lakes. The top photo looks back at the creek. The lower photo shows two islands, hopefully the larger suitable for a camp above the first set of rapids before heading down the river.
Stopping at the small island for a break, I investigate it as a camp but it is a well worn popular site for fly-in canoeists, with some garbage left behind. This site is a nice fair-weather location, and I would have to fetch firewood from the mainland shore, but the main problem is that it is quite exposed.
Canoeing to the large island, I can see the facing side does not look promising, so I canoe around it on the left to check that side and its upstream point. Yay, just below the latter is a doable campsite, somewhat exposed from the left.
Below are photos of the campsite area.
Because I plan to stay here a few days, I erect the canvas Tent, facing it away from the exposed left shore. The rear ridge of the Tent is tied to a small spruce, which I must brace with a second rope to another tree a long distance away. The space requires much clearing to make room for the Tent.
When the onshore wind becomes strong, I reinforce the rear sod cloth pole with large stones, one quite heavy. I also brace the rear of the Tent with a rope tied to the tree behind.
July 17, I start the stove for which I get soil from the overturned stump at the side of the Tent. Note the rocks on the guy rope pegs, placed on all ten to better withstand the wind.
I keep a close eye on the fireplace in the wind, clearing the area behind, soaking it with water and with the bailer full nearby, running it for a limited time. Note I let the fire burn down to embers, to minimize the ashes entering the lake.
View of the camp from my walleye fishing spot on a point which I walk to using a minimally cleared 100 metre path through the bush.
July 16, the view across the river, with smoke haze at the horizons, especially evident over the bush.
July 17, heavy smoke haze, with cloud above delivering some rainfall.
Mother ruffed grouse whose daily feeding area I invade for four days. She maintains her routine after figuring out that I am apparently not a danger, walking through camp several times a day, wandering across the peninsula nibbling here and there, along with her chicks, little bundles of feathers. I am notified of their presence with the mom's quiet murmuring to keep her family in touch.
One of the grouse chicks who comes right up to the Tent door.
Cute video of the mother grouse and her chicks. Until shooting the video, I do not know how many young there are; they can be counted about halfway through the movie, as cute as cute can be, little bundles of feathers. It sure makes my day!
**********************
Summary:
A cute video of a mother grouse with her chicks makes me smile. Jeanette says I am in a 'bubble' surrounded by fire on all sides. Another good walleye fishing spot. Very smoky but cloud and north wind bring cool wet weather so I start the stove. Camp 19 is on an island above the first major rapids that I have to descend in this river valley, only two km from the previous camp on unnamed lake 5 after paddling/poling down the outlet creek.
July 16:
Up to alarm at 03:00, I load the canoe without a cover, as it is only about one km to the lower end of unnamed lake 5 and the next portage. The sun is a red ball through the smoke. After eating breakfast, I am on my way. On reaching the the lake exit, I can see that the right side is fairly steep and if there is a portage likely to be on the left side where I paddle along the shore, but no likely trail evident. Smiling I say "No red ribbon from John." Canoeing down the meandering narrow creek, it is bordered with tall cattails. I manage to push the canoe through an old beaver dam near the start, but then at another old dam have to step out to get the canoe over, managing to not get by boot very wet. Paddling, but mostly poling against the banks of cattails and grass, I continue down the very windy stream. At one point there is a right angle turn that I manage to squeeze around. One more place, the turn is also abrupt and the bow hangs up on some brush, but unlike the green cattails and grass of the previous obstacle, the brush will not let the canoe through ... "even with wiggling, poling, grunting ... so I clamber over the load to the bow where I manage to force the canoe off the offending brush." I dread the thoughts of having to get out of the canoe to wade, but know that I would be swimming or treading water while grasping the gunwale in the deep water that looks to be over my head. Perhaps thinking of a future plan to go up the creek into unnamed lake 5 for the walleye fishing if I ever pass through here again, I comment that "the reverse trip is doable but would be a bit harder against the creek current." Finally breaking free of the last reeds at the mouth of the stream, I move towards the two islands shown on the map, thinking to camp there for a few days before heading down the river. I target the larger island as my preference, if it has a suitable camp location. The smaller island is marked on the map as a shoal, but is big enough to camp. Stopping at the small island to check it out anyway, I need a bathroom break and send a SPOT message at 05:30 to indicate that I am on the move and out of the six unnamed lakes portage. It is heavily used by fly-in canoeists, who have left some trash behind. I would have to cross to the mainland to fetch firewood, but the biggest problem is that it has little protection from wind.
Canoeing towards the bigger island, as I get closer, I can see that the right hand side is not promising. Paddling around to the left side it is also steep with thick bush until I get to the upstream end where there is a long low level point, trees right to the water on the far side but an attractive looking near side with some bare rock at the shore. Yay, a campsite, but I will have to fell trees and level an area for the canvas Tent. First though, I clear a spot for the Tarp shelter, mostly small trees and brush but one bigger spruce which I saw high so I can use the stump as a sawhorse, or cut it lower later if need be. The shelter up, I tackle the Tent location which needs at least one hour of clearing and levelling. As often the case, I have checked inland in several places, but can find no other suitable location, even having a debate out loud about how to best fit the Tent in the chosen spot. It is sandwiched between a large down tree and trees on the other side, one of which has to be felled; the front corners of the Tent directly against both trees. Making the base level is a big task, having to saw, prune, axe and yank out many small spruce trees and roots, providing lots of boughs for the doorway. The anchor tree for the ridge line at the shore-facing end bends too much so has to be braced with a rope to a bigger spruce. From my journal: "North wind is strong and gusts very strong onshore. Hope I don't regret putting up the canvas Tent as it is getting hit by the wind, shaken a lot when gusts occur." Because of the wind I brace the back and side sod cloth poles with large stones, and the tent pegs with smaller rocks. The Tent door faces inland away from the wind, but I have to reinforce the rear with an extra rope through the eave grommets tied around a tree. The rear window is open to let air flow through to take some pressure off the back of the Tent. Now inactive, although the temperature is 22°C, by midafternoon I have to dress warmer, even sitting in the Tent. "When cutting boughs for the doorway, a bit of excitement! I hear a voice that at first thought is a squirrel scolding, but it is a mother ruffed grouse with at least four little balls of feathers that can fly. My presence causes a problem and she is murmuring encouragement to collect them again because they went every which way. Finally they all go on their way towards the point, safe from my invasion. Little does she know that as they follow near the shoreline they will be back at my camp. This time I'm in the Tent as I hear her murmuring again as they head inland but have to get past another (the same) obstruction. By the time I get the Canon camera to video them, they are gone, little balls flying, no bigger than the palm of my hand." (I use the old camera for video to avoid draining the new camera's batteries.) "Another bit of excitement. One of the nylon tent pole's shock cord was broken this morning when I packed the tent. So now I need to rethread it. One piece of cord is long enough on its own to extend through one of three pole sections. Then I use a piece of thin rope to pull a length of dental floss tied to it through the middle section. Next I tie the floss to the end of the longer shock cord to pull the cord through the reassembled two pole sections, clamping the shock cord with vice grips. The remaining section with shorter piece of shock cord, I pull through and grip with my teeth to hold. Need four hands for this job. Now I tie a triple knot to join the two pieces of shock cord; an ordinary knot slips apart. Done! However, I lose one piece of shock cord once and have to rethread. Oh, to be a fly on the wall watching my contortions. Aie!" Before bedtime I recheck all tent pegs and ropes on the Tent. There do not seem to be any more wind gusts and the wind has changed direction a bit for the better. At 19:05, the mother grouse is back, passing directly in front of the Tent door, murmuring softly, perhaps missing one of her chicks. I wonder if the mother has a way of telling her brood to stay put while she searches, as I do not see any of the youngsters. After a hot water basin wash, by 19:45, trying to do a puzzle I keep falling asleep. In bed by 20:30, the lapping waves are quieter. I remark out loud "The no-portage out of unnamed lake 5 was a pleasant surprise, as I'm sure it was for John. He didn't have to bushwhack ... or leave an orange flag. Wonder where he is now?" From this point we each go in opposite directions. Glad to have erected the canvas Tent, it is sure nice to have the larger floor space and standup room. In the sleeping bag by 23:30, I sleep quite well. Camp 19 is on an island above the first major rapids that I have to descend in this river valley, only two km from the previous camp on unnamed lake 5 after paddling/poling down the outlet creek.
July 17:
Because of the extra food donated by Candy and Brian, at 07:40, I splurge by eating 3/4 of a hot bannock, sitting by the fire, my left side a bit too warm, my right a bit too cold in the light north wind at 10°C, very cloudy and very smoky both by sight and smell. I heard the mother grouse a few minutes ago but have not seen her or her brood. "A tree falls nearby, deeper inland in the bush, making a loud crash. Always disconcerting but, unless it's a clumsy bear or a moose in rutting season, it's just a crash that wouldn't be heard if I wasn't here." Back in the Tent I am wearing both short and long shirts. The latter was outside on the clothesline waiting for sun that did not show. As a light rain starts at 08:50, I bring into the Tent the few other items that were on the line; not even the rinsed handkerchief dry. The rainfall is steady all morning, still very smoky, and obviously I have confirmation of cloud. Raining and still cool, I put up the stove and saw stovewood underneath the Tarp shelter, using the stump of the felled tree as a sawhorse after notching it to hold poles. There is soil for under and inside the stove at the overturned root of the fallen tree beside the Tent. "Still more excitement. While outside, I see the mother grouse. Back to the Tent I get the camera to take video if possible while she makes her way through the bush on the right hand side towards the point. I walk slowly and as quietly as possible on the opposite side to see if I can intercept her and her young. Boy do I luck out! I see her squatting, spread out on the ground. Approaching her I ask where the chicks are. She raises up and out tumble her brood, I think six, scattering, some flying, some running. She was covering them in the rain. Awesome! Just another example if you are out in the bush long enough you manage to catch unforeseen exciting surprises. One of these days I should compile a list." (At home when I view the video I see there are in fact six youngsters.) After lunch I do some chores inside the Tent including sewing with dental floss the remaining two corners of the plastic wash basin not already repaired, and changing the bow saw blade as I have cut quite a few trees this season already. Before supper at 17:05 cooked on the stove, I do some more chores; I saw about 50 sticks of stovewood, then minimally clear a 100 metre path to the flat rock point below steep bush, on the other side of my small bay which I hope will provide good fishing. The farthest upstream point of my camp, about 60 metres away, is quite brushy with shallow shore which might not be a good place to fish, probably a good place to snag the hook. From the Tent I hear the mother, as the grouse on another of their rounds, make their way inland, one of the chicks just outside the screen door. With the stove on, I wear only moccasins, screen window and door open, clothes drying over the stove, boots beside. There is a lot of thunder for at least 15 minutes and I remark "If there is as much rain as thunder there will be lots." Planning to take a bath, I chicken out; the wind is cold and it is only 12°C, plus the chance of lightning. At 18:05, thunder has been approaching slowly from the south since 16:05, the ground wind still from the north. "Just a few drops of rain. Thunder echoes in the wide valley. Could be more thunder than rain. Thunder moving past camp, only few drops rain. Need rain! 18:55, thunder moves north, now thunder again in the south! Wearing glasses now that it is darker from the cloud and smoke. Wonder if can have thunder and lightning with no rain. Thunder in west too! Thunder constantly for three hours!" (On returning home, I investigate my question about thunder and lightning with no rain. There is a phenomenon called 'dry thunderstorm' where rain drops evaporate from very high clouds before hitting the ground.) The stove is on all night, sometimes too warm, sometimes too cool. The door is open only at the bottom about 12 inches and the window six inches. It rains a lot all night, varying in intensity; thankfully not just dry thunder. Just before going to bed, I saw more stovewood under the shelter protected from heavy rain.
July 18:
On arising, it is 10°C, very smoky with a strong smoke smell, very very cloudy with a moderate northerly wind blowing misty rain. It is hard to tell what is cloud and what is smoke. By 07:05, stove still on, I am eating a cold breakfast with hot water to drink while my outer clothes hang to dry, shirt and hat from the rain, pants from wet undergrowth. Shortly after getting up, I catch a thin 17 inch pike off shore at camp, getting snagged once but luckily it soon frees. Then walking to the point across my bay, I catch a 17 inch walleye in deeper water. Dicing the filleted fish for supper chowder, they are stored in deep moss. After breakfast I fetch some more stovewood poles and saw stovewood. Before lunch, 12°C with a cool wind, I have a refreshing bath. Chilled I eat while warming up near the stove.
Being Sunday, I check for a satellite phone message. Jeanette has sent both text and voicemail, not a good sign. There are fires in every quarter around me, no surprise in the presence of heatwaves. I phone and manage to stay connected to have a chat. Our rule though is to talk about the most important items first in case I lose reception, often the case, worse usually with thick cloud and now thick smoke cover. I do lose connectivity once and have to call back. This is a handheld phone and must have direct line of sight to low level satellites, so have to be outside in the open, often the best location being along shore so I phone from the very end of the island point jutting upstream in the river, after getting a weaker signal closer to camp. Jeanette says I am in a 'bubble', many fires in all directions around me. The one issue with the wildfire websites is that it is hard to judge how close active fires are, so unless I can see evidence to the contrary we assume I am safe. Some roads are apparently closed such as the one I drove to launch my trip where my vehicle is parked. British Columbia has many fires, smoke affecting our home in Alberta, where Jeanette keeps windows closed to decrease the impact on breathing. One village in BC burned, the temperature setting a record over 40°C. Jeanette makes a point for me to be aware of where I camp to facilitate flying out if necessary. I agree to check for a text message on the coming Wednesday as well as the usual Sunday. (On returning home I check about the BC town that burned. It was Lytton, a village of 250, temperature reaching a Canadian record of 49.6°C, most of the community destroyed, and forcing evacuation of nearby First Nations communities with some homes burned. Wind swept the fire so fast that two people were killed, residents having to flee quickly without any time to collect belongings.) The hot weather and heatwaves are hard on everybody.
At 19:35, it is 12°C with a light wind but there is lots of blue sky in the east, few clouds but the sun in the west is a yellow-orange ball through the smoke. I remove and douse big sticks of wood from the stove to let the embers die. Tent closed up, I go to bed by 20:30, sleeping well, in sleeping bag by 22:00.
July 19:
Up at 04:00, it is 10°C, very cloudy with no signs of smoke. I note that this is July 19 at camp 19, a sign of good luck? Fishing on the rock point at the end of my trail across the small bay I catch a nice 18 inch walleye and fillet it there. It is a great spot about five metres diameter, a broad expanse of flattish rock just above the water level. Chilled from the endeavour, I warm by the relit stove, waiting for bannock to bake. With the screen window and door open there is a cool draft but I am comfortable, still wearing my outside clothes. From my journal: "Eat half hot bannock, Parmesan cheese, bacon crumbles, protein bar and hot water ... mmm good! Would be better though with butter. A red squirrel visits just outside the Tent door. A great day! Feel much better. Now too warm so remove long shirt." Planning to move on tomorrow, I pack the fishing gear, tools and clothesline, stand up the remaining stovewood poles, gather firewood for supper. Because I never intended to take this route, I also map out my travel plan downstream to the Churchill River, with an eye for campsites where a float plane can land if wildfire dictates. By noon it is 15°C with few clouds, 25°C in the Tent with the stove on, time for lunch (quarter bannock, two protein bars, Mini Babybel cheese, almonds, vitamins, gum, warm water). For both meals I am able to eat more than my menu plan lists because of the extra food that Candy and Brian provided, and some skipped lunches due to the heat. In the afternoon I work on some puzzles and read Reader's Digest. Going outside, I notice the complete absence of clouds, a bad sign of another heat wave? My grouse family walk past the Tent door twice, one chick coming right up to the screen, making me smile. Supper is fried walleye (coated with cornmeal and Montreal steak spice), then sauteed in a bit of shortening instead of butter (with added Parmesan cheese, sugar and lemon pepper), next mixing in cooked couscous (with nutritional yeast, chicken soup base), accompanied by a protein bar and warm water. From my journal: "Good supper, aided by appetite, but not as good as with butter." Prepacking to leave early tomorrow, I am in bed by 20:00.