August 5, 04:47 at camp 24, crescent moon, heavy smoke very evident at horizon. Canoe ready for loading.
A large intriguing boulder perched on shore, held in place by two rocks. How many eons has it been sitting like this?
07:55, one km from camp 24, landing with a full load as close as I can get to the portage 30 metres upstream. The top gear has already been unloaded.
A large tree across the portage trail where I have to set the canoe down and pull it over to continue.
Camp 25 on an island. Tent pegs are held in place on the almost bare rock with two stones each with the canoe situated to help shelter against wind.
The old fireplace is teeming with thousands of ants in the soil on top of rock so I move many of the stones to the side to build a smaller one on bare rock. Luckily I do not have an ant invasion in the Tent, but I vow to never camp here again because of ants crawling on me when anywhere in the area outside.
Cremating a pair of jeans worn out after two camping seasons.
The extreme hot weather has done an obscene number on the in-use candle stored in the Kitchen Barrel, also causing misshapen Babybel cheese and protein bars containing chocolate or caramel. (The candle is sitting on the cold stove.)
A black bear bumps the Tent August 6 evening, waking me up, leaving a fresh calling card nearby confirming his presence, attracted by the plentiful berries. So much for choosing an island to reduce chances of a bear encounter.
August 6, 05:47 - 05:52, sunrise through heavy smoke.
August 7 - 11, a variety of smoky and cloudy skies.
Aug 11 video to illustrate the very strong west wind, evident in the waves with whitecaps in the distance pushing past the island.
A long dead spruce tree provides many meals for a three-toed woodpecker just outside the Tent doorway. He spends a long time every day hammering on the tree. When he first starts, I am inside the Tent and think the slow-burning wood in the stove is generating a pecking-like noise.
**********************
Summary:
Bear bumps tent awakening me from a sound sleep. Campsite teeming with bothersome ants. Bountiful crop of fireweed flowers and raspberries that attracted the bear. Cremate a pair of worn-out jeans. Smoky conditions continue, modified by rain and cool temperatures prompting use of stove. Very strong wind. Good fishing from shore, even catching a plump walleye. Planning to move on each day, I have to keep unpacking because of rain. Camp 25 is on a long narrow island, two km up a bay from Churchill River rapids, having travelled eight km from previous site, including two portages (150, 280 metres).
August 5:
Up to alarm and candle at 03:30, darker every morning. Pulling on my boots, I step outside to check the weather, a crescent moon and bright stars in a clear sky. The move is on, leaving just before 07:00 making good time after packing the canvas Tent, including taking the stove down and eating breakfast. Approaching the first portage at the side of the wide rapids I canoe around the long floating log and get into the eddy below the steep rock shore with no problem, but have to land bow first. I walk on some stones beside the canoe to reach the rock which itself has no decent 'steps' up its steep face. The last time I was here to cut the trail, I placed some extra stones beside the canoe so my boots will not get too wet. Not feeling confident in trying to safely line the fully loaded canoe around the point and along the 30 metres in the rapids to the portage, I unload the lighter top gear first. After carrying that gear to the start of the portage, as I am ready to line the canoe, I hear a bird chirp, a sharp almost whistle. Looking to see the bird, I scan the brush and the spruce tree above the canoe but cannot spot the source of the call. Finally I realize it is a mother otter in the eddy beside the canoe warning her offspring to flee and with two big splashes they are gone. They were about to climb on shore where fish scales and scat show they have eaten here before; I wonder if they had a fish with them. I do the 150 metre portage with six instead of seven carries, though I have difficulty hoisting the Tent Pack on top of the Clothes Pack, managing by placing the former on other gear and then kneeling to slide it onto my shoulders, a heavy lift then to stand up. There is fresh blueberry-tinged bear scat at the upper end of the portage, more evidence of bears swimming to an island for food. When I reach the 280 metre portage around the main rapids, I am thankful that someone with a chainsaw has cleared the large tall poplars and cottonwoods that were across the trail in 2017, pushed down by a plough-wind, which can be as strong as a tornado. The path this time does not need any clearing. Moving on, there is some hard paddling up strong current above the rapids. Once I make the top, it becomes plain lake travel towards the next camp in the long bay to the side of the main channel of the Churchill River.
Hungry, I am ready to stop for an early lunch, but a few drops of rain and a dark foreboding sky make me push on. Landing at 13:00, I have a late lunch. There are many down trees in this maturely forested island surrounded on mainland on all sides by bush recovering from forest fire. Before unloading, I explore for a better site, even walking all the way to the lower end of this long island, having to clamber over many large down trees and through brush. The bad news is there is no better site, the good news that there are bumper crops of raspberries, bunchberries and fireweed in bloom; I will be able to have a supper salad every day. Tarp shelter and canvas Tent up after felling enough spruce trees for poles, the Tent is only five metres from shore with no protection in front from wind, but well sheltered from behind to the far side of the island. The other problem is that the Tent is on almost bare rock on the shore side so have to weight those pegs down with two stones each. And yet another problem is the area is teeming with ants, headquartered in the old fireplace. When I move any of the stones to build a new fireplace off to the side it exposes hundreds of ants and larvae. The new fireplace is beside and at the top of the vertical rockface shore, one metre above the lake. Fortunately there is a sloped access for water, bathing and fishing. Starting the fire and boiling macaroni for supper, while the pasta sits I have a very welcome bath. Macaroni and cheese for the meal, thirsty I drink a pot full of hot water. In bed by 21:00, I sleep well through thunder, lightning and rainfall all night, very heavy at times. Camp 25 is on a long narrow island, two km up a bay from Churchill River rapids, having travelled eight km from previous site, including two portages (150, 280 metres).
August 6:
Arising by 05:00, 15°C, the sun appears briefly, a ruby red ball through heavy smoke with cloud overhead. Eight loons have a dancing competition, rearing up out of the water to race across the lake surface, using their wings as paddles, calling madly as they go. A pair of gray jays fly silently through camp, landing nearby briefly. Two red squirrels run around and around and up and down on a large spruce tree; one seems to be pursuing the other on the ground before climbing, but once on the trunk it appears as if each is chasing the other. A bald eagle screeches as it flies away from its roost on a tall tree. I perform a number of chores before lunch: move fireplace again, tighten canvas Tent ridge rope, bake a breakfast bannock, mark map, erect stove, fetch spruce boughs for doorway, gather birchbark tinder. At noon lunch, 19°C, thick dark clouds, smoky, moderate onshore wind, I sit outside in the shelter of a small copse of spruce trees near shore. Ants are rampant and bothersome, crawling on my clothes. When I built a new fireplace from the old one yesterday, ants scurried madly each time I exposed them when fetching the stones and I had to quickly move off the old spot and tromp my boots to shake off ants. At the time I remarked out loud that I hoped they did not pay retribution in the Tent which is only three metres away; so far so good. Moving the fireplace this morning to a leveller spot and gathering more of the old stones, I do not notice any ants today. However, when getting some of the soil to level the new location I uncover hundreds of ants and larvae with each shovelful so they are definitely still here. By midafternoon, I complete more chores: pile remaining stones from old fireplace off to the side away from the ants, fetch stovewood poles, split kindling, pick raspberries and fireweed flowers, move canoe to shield the Tent from the frequent strong wind gusts, check patched hole in canoe skid plate. The Tent is situated side-on towards shore and the wind, the only position possible here, not an ideal one; hopefully the canoe will help. I am pleased that the Amazing GOOP® Marine-patched hole in the canoe skid plate is holding up well. I can see smoke haze at all horizons, but overhead hard to tell with the cloud cover. By 16:20, despite a temperature of 26°C, the wind makes it feel cold and I eat supper in the Tent an hour later. By 18:30 the sky is mostly clear, except the smoky horizons, 22°C, wind gusts seem to have stopped so I sit outside doing some puzzles.
By 19:25 I am getting cool in the light wind so extinguish fireplace and retire to the Tent, in bed by 20:30, soon falling asleep. An hour later I wake with a start from a sound sleep to the noise of an animal just outside the Tent side wall beside the two barrels. Suddenly, still not really awake, there is a thump on the Tent wall or roof behind my head. Startled I yell and hit the inside of the roof and the animal runs away. From my journal: "First thought bear. Hoping just a squirrel but that's not likely given the strength and sound of the blow. In my PJs, pull on boots, don bear spray belt, take out two extra slugs and head outside with loaded gun for a look. No sign of animal which makes sense as I definitely heard it run away. Hope a squirrel, but the running animal was heavier than that. With all the berries here would be attractive to bears. Have had experience with bears circling back after running away. Walk for about 50 metres from either end of Tent and don't see or hear anything. If a bear hit the Tent roof or wall with sharp claws would have ripped the material or at least the roof tarp cover. Maybe brushed against Tent? Aie! Lay the five bells on top of the barrels to hopefully alert me. Still hoping was a squirrel, but not optimistically, I go back to bed." Surprisingly, I sleep well.
August 7:
It rains heavy for several hours in the early morning with lots of thunder and lightning, stopping just as I get up at 05:30. I hear the storm coming long before it gets here, a heavy soaker, welcome indeed. Temperature 17°C, very cloudy so I saw some stovewood and start the stove for breakfast. After eating, I hear distant thunder and there is a short light rainfall. Squirrels are chattering nearby and the two squirrels are back to their chasing routine beside me as I saw more stovewood. Probably one squirrel is invading the other's domain who then chases away the interloper. Three weeks after slicing my thumb, I remove the second bandage, a bit smelly from cleaning fish; the wound is healed well, fully closed. Thinking I might explore the exit of the original target river that I abandoned after the bear stole my butter, I check the map for the route and its distance. Before lunch I fetch more dry poles and saw more stovewood. There is not an abundance of nearby dry wood so I have to fell standing dead spruce trees whose needles have all dropped to indicate they should be cured enough to burn well. I will let the stove die to embers which I can use to start the fireplace; hanging to dry in the Tent are my jeans, wet from undergrowth and brush, and my short shirt from sweat. As I fetch wood, I see fresh bear scat full of berries close to the Tent, confirmation that the thump that woke me was a bear. I know the scat is fresh because it was not there yesterday. Aie! I write: "Well, hopefully can move on tomorrow. Momentarily think of leaving now. Wonder how bear hit Tent, obviously not with claws thank goodness. He may have bumped the Tent when skirting the barrels?" Lunch is eaten in Tent at 12:20, now 20°C, some blue sky. After lunch, I do some more chores: tie two barrels to nearby spruce trees, pick raspberries and fireweed flowers, move canoe away from Tent, fetch firewood. Later I sit outside after a bath. "Black bear aside, who hopefully doesn't show again, ants are annoying, crawling up my legs, the worst on the inside of pant legs when I then have to drop my jeans to remove the invaders. Wouldn't camp here again for that reason. Thankfully only the usual number of ants in the Tent." By 15:40, 22°C, sky is mostly clear and blue, some low cloud and smoke at horizons. While bathing I notice the bump above the nape of my neck is quite large now, like a 'goose egg' and it is a bit sore with some blood, I think from black fly bites targeting the spot. This happened when I hit a broken tree branch on the portage of July 12. At the time it did not hurt much and I think it has mostly been aggravated by the darn black flies. By 17:55 after supper outside, the afternoon has turned from clear and sunny to very cloudy, sure looking like rain moving in. I finish prepacking including the stove, stacking the stovewood outside under nearby spruce trees. In bed by 20:30 I sleep fitfully. The alarm is set for 04:00 instead of 03:30 because of even further decrease in daylight, an hour later than in the spring.
August 8 Sunday:
Up at 04:00 to the alarm, I "... pull boots on and look outside to see very very dark clouds. Rained heavy about 03:00, letting me know I should reconsider moving on. Go back to bed having an internal debate about leaving, still thinking to finish packing gear. Rain has stopped but the practical older self wins. Finally up again at 05:30. Have to install stove again. Before more rainfall, I manage to erect stove, fetch stovewood and kindling stored four metres away, unpack pots and fetch water. 07:40 ... oh man, pouring heavy rain, 15°C. So glad I didn't move on! Big continuous thunder and lightning! Rain dripping in one corner of open window and coming in front screen door. Happy I got stove up and on and outside work done beforehand. Mosquitoes quite numerous at screen door so got at least ten inside while getting wood and water. Still quite dark. Think I've killed most of the mosquitoes inside Tent. To initiate SPOT™ I just reach under the screen door to place it on the spruce bough mat outside. 08:25, realize rain water seeping into Tent under sod cloth on the shore side which is almost bare rock. Wearing just socks and boots, I go outside in the steady rainfall, moderate now instead of torrential. Close window covering almost all the way. Place some moss along the Tent to block water. Use shovel to dig a shallow drainage ditch in one spot. Soaking wet, back in the Tent I dry off with the bath towel and get dressed so I can close down the stove damper to conserve wood. Storm has slowly passed on by 08:40. That's my excitement so far today. So so happy I didn't move on." At 09:50 it pours rain again for several minutes. At 10:00 I check for a message from Jeanette: "OK. No new fires 4u. Wkd rain. Low 20s next wk. ??Maybe less smoke. JH." Fishing off shore I catch three pike (22, 18, 16 inches), getting snagged once and have to take canoe out to release the hook. I get rained on a little bit during the above chores. By 17:30 supper I perform more tasks: pick raspberries and fireweed flowers, fell more stovewood poles, saw stovewood, fetch more birchbark tinder, split kindling. The raspberries are fragile now and falling off at the lightest touch. Several large pieces of firewood keep the fireplace alive through the rain and provide good coals to fry pike for supper. I give thanks for the fish, the salad, for letting me get fish cooked before rain. Thanks though for the rain, a relief from the heat, and hopefully dampening wildfire. After sawing a big pile of stovewood, I am sweaty even though temperature is a cool 17°C, so have a bath, then warm up in the Tent while letting the stove die down for the night. In the evening it continues to rain several more times as loons call madly on the lake in front of camp. In bed by 20:30, I have no ambitions of leaving tomorrow. Chilled by 03:00, I climb into sleeping bag.
August 9:
Starting the stove to heat water first thing in the morning while fishing from shore, I catch a 20 inch pike, then a plump 18 inch walleye, a pleasant surprise. It is sunny but a cool wind, 10°C. By lunchtime, 22°C, I sit outside in shade with the ants. Planning again to move on tomorrow, I pack the tools, clothesline and fishing kit. A mink swims across the lake from the mainland, landing and rubbing himself all over on a log, perhaps because it feels good, but more likely to mark territory with his scent; he disappears into the bush when I try to get closer to take a photo. By midafternoon it is a gorgeous day, 22°C, sunny with white cumulus in blue sky, no evidence of smoke, but cool with a moderate wind. Having reached almost 2/3 of my scheduled trip, I change to clean long shirt and jeans while I can pack the now dry in-use shirt to launder when I return home. The pants have survived two seasons, now with many holes in the lower legs, knees almost worn through from kneeling; I thank them for good service before burning on the fireplace. No bath is needed today and it would be a cold one in this wind. The resident gray jays check out camp at least once each day, red squirrels too. I write: "Sitting outside in clean jeans, a small luxury, my stomach is growling already by 15:30, hungry. Know now I'm not getting enough calories. Belt tightened three notches (inches). I'm short one 454g block of butter each week since the bear took the coolers on July 1, which I'm sure is the difference. Wonder if he ever got into the coolers? The more I think of it, the butter is the dietary shortfall. Aie! [On return home I realize that losing the butter was losing almost 500 calories a day, a significant deficit." Eating supper in the Tent at 18:30, I escape the cool wind and the many strong wind gusts. "If past performance predicts future behaviour, this wind may be blowing in a thunderstorm." Regardless, I pack the Kitchen Barrel and set the alarm for 04:00. In bed by 20:15, the wind sounds strong in the trees all night, but I sleep well, fingers crossed to move on tomorrow.
August 10:
From my journal: "Up before 04:00 alarm. Dark, and stays dark much later, not a good sign. Start packing even after going outside and seeing how ominous the cloud cover is, wanting badly to leave. But then it finally starts to rain. Take clothes off, put PJs on, get back in bed till 05:30. Not feeling very good. I think related to feeling weak due to absence of butter. Stomach a bit upset from the shortening at supper that the orzo absorbed when I left extra from the fish in the frypan. So ... will eat more, stay less time than scheduled. Start stove again for breakfast of quarter hot bannock, sardines, two protein bars, Mini Babybel® cheese, Parmesan cheese, bacon crumbles, hot water. Will move on later if weather improves even if I don't get as far as I would like or if I have to stop later than would like. Gee ... between heat waves, forest fires, smoke and rain, it's quite the season." Fetching more poles, I saw stovewood under the Tarp shelter. Temperature cools from 15°C to 10°C, completely overcast, strong wind, steady light rain, becoming intermittent all morning, steady again in the afternoon until 14:30, then at 16:45 a heavy rain shower with temperature back up to 17°C. After lunch I feel a bit dizzy and wonder if it is related to eye strain doing puzzles, journal and reading; my eyeglass prescription may need updating. Bringing the two outside barrels into the Tent I aliquot grub for next week into the Kitchen Barrel, then consolidate the remainder into one barrel. There is now one empty barrel containing the empty Food Pack; labelling the barrel on a piece of duct tape, I hope to be able to drop it off at a fishing lodge for transport to Missinipe to be picked up when I return home. After supper at 17:05 I douse the stove with some water, open window and close door. Feeling woozy with a headache, I go to bed early at 19:00. At 01:00 I throw up a small amount of fluid, take a naproxen and then sleep fairly well.
August 11:
Up at 06:30, headache gone but still feeling woozy, steady rainfall, very cloudy, 12°C, I light the stove again after fetching birchbark and splitting more kindling. So much for moving on. Breakfast includes extra spoonfuls of peanut butter to finish this month's supply early, committed to eating extra and returning home early. After lunch I fell more standing dry poles and saw stovewood. At 11:50 lunch, all of a sudden there is sunshine and lots of blue sky, stepping outside to confirm. I write: "May move on after lunch. Will reevaluate. But ... three hours to break camp will already be 15:00, so not a good idea! And I'm not feeling 100% by any means. Every task takes longer! Aie! At 12:40 ... spoke too soon, very dark clouds, strong wind. Well at least no rain and sun comes and goes. Cross fingers for tomorrow ... but I won't prepack! 13:15, stove making noises like a woodpecker pecking. Damper turned right down so it's slowly digesting its meal. Hah ... turned damper wide open to burn lunch garbage and the woodpecker noise keeps going. Head outside ... and it IS a woodpecker, a three-toed woodpecker (with its distinctive yellow crest; would make more sense to call it a yellow-headed woodpecker). 15:35, very strong wind, heavy rain showers, 15°C, whitecaps on water visible at lower end of island. Starting to feel 'more better' or 'less bad'. Should have taken naproxen (or acetaminophen) earlier. Well at least protected well from the west wind by trees but even more so by the hill several metres high behind camp. Woodpecker continues to hammer away on the tree just a few metres away, chips flying all over. Tree is quite dead, top broken off, loose bark. Woodpecker still there at 19:30; that tree must be providing good meals." Temperature now 12°C, I toss a stick from the stove outside to be doused with water, letting the stove die down for the night. Except for an aching neck from too much sitting looking down to read or write, I feel much better. Still nice and cosy in the Tent, in bed by 20:00, I sleep well through the strong wind, in sleeping bag by morning.