Because of a difficult day of travel against a very strong headwind and a late stop, all photos below were taken August 13 before leaving camp 26.
05:27 - 05:49, smoke at all horizons with a beautiful rosy sunrise.
Camp 26 is on a tiny island with thick tall grass surrounded by brush and trees of various size, one spruce quite large.
My face showing weariness, I have breakfast before loading the canoe to leave on August 13. I momentarily consider staying another day but decide to move on to a better, hopefully more sheltered campsite. The tall grass and brush is soaked with dew so staying dry is a problem, more so if the weather brings more rain.
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Summary:
Anxious to move on from a camp that has held me captive for seven days, I leave camp 25 to confront a headwind that gets more powerful all day, becoming very very strong. Paddling becomes hard and a bit scary, ironically shipping more water than in the rapids earlier in my trip. Finally stopping at the only decent campsite, not an ideal one, I am well and truly windbound but thankful to have arrived safely. The distance to camp 26 is nine km but I have paddled 14 km, an extra two km to drop off an empty barrel at a fishing lodge and at least three more km trying to avoid the wind, mostly unsuccessfully.
August 12:
After getting up to the 04:00 alarm at camp 25, I pull boots on to go outside to see clear sky except for dark clouds overlaying a rosy sunrise, not a good sign. The west wind is moderately strong but decide to leave anyway, despite the red sky and the headwind. Nothing has been prepacked so it takes longer to break camp. With no fire, I wipe the pots dry with a cloth after dumping the water. Breakfast is eaten in the Tent with an extra serving of bacon crumbles and Parmesan cheese. When I pass the lower north end of the isle the canoe is hit by strong west wind. Rather than paddle several km against a sidewind, I quarter into it to reach the west mainland shore of this large bay to get some protection along the shore. Most of this area is recovering from a decade old forest fire. Hugging the shore when I can, it is hard paddling, especially across inlets, worse when past the mainland between small islands. None of the shore or islands would be suitable for camping. The wind has increased to very strong and I speak out loud "I might regret leaving camp, much as I wanted to get away!" When I get near the fishing lodge on a large island in the Churchill River, I see a float plane land so I know there probably will be someone there even if not open for clients because of the COVID-19 pandemic, especially if dependent on American guests. Although out of my way, I decide to head to the lodge to see if it will be possible to have the empty barrel transported to Missinipe on a return flight. Thanks to G.L. for agreeing to transport the barrel, and to Val for giving me a block of margarine to take with me. Thank you to Ric for accepting the barrel in Missinipe, to Dave for arranging transport to Saskatoon, to Lucie for picking it up in Saskatoon.
I now have to canoe back in the direction I came about one km before turning west directly into the headwind. Aie! As I paddle I try to get in the lee of islands and shoals as much as possible, but there are many unprotected open spaces. Before I realize it, the wind seems to be worse, very very strong. Aie! From my journal: "I should have PFD on but now too busy steering and paddling to pause even for a moment. There are some regularly appearing really big swells that bring extra large waves so have to be ready to safely quarter them properly. [It is safer to quarter bad waves than to face them head or side on, both of which could swamp the canoe.] Ironically I end up getting more water in the canoe than in all the rapids earlier in my trip. Too busy paddling, can't sponge it out till reaching a sheltered shore. Make the mistake of going around a large island on its north end thinking the west wind would then quarter me to the next big island. But no, the wind wants to wash me ashore and almost does, grounding on an unseen boulder, as I get perilously close to the windward side of the island. Should have paddled farther to the north across the wind in the channel before turning. Barely manage to get off the boulder without stepping out of canoe, taking on more water, as I pivot on the fulcrum and rock the canoe to help dislodge. And I don't have wading gear on, nor stupidly my PFD! Aie! A bit scary. Finally make it to the east lee shore of the next big island almost all the way to its upper south end. All the islands and shoals I have passed are bare looking, recovering from forest fire, and would definitely provide hard luck camping. Taking a very welcome breather with a big sigh of relief, I sponge out the water. I check the map to determine that the clump of spruce bush I see at the end of this big island is actually a separate small island that somehow missed being burned. To reach it I only have to paddle across the wind about 300 metres. Stopping to check it as a campsite, it will do, certainly better than anything I have seen since breaking camp hours ago. But now I think 'maybe' I can get another three km to a larger island that I hope would be a good spot. Pulling out into open water, I hit the wind and know I can't, and shouldn't, go any farther. I'm well and truly windbound. Shouldn't have gone as far as I did. Giving thanks for safely reaching this far, a decent looking location, I also give thanks for no rain yet today, which would have made conditions worse."
"Paddling back to the lee side of the small island to set up camp, I tromp here and there looking for the best site. It is very grassy, tall like hay, hiding many prickly rose plants and small poplar, alder and birch. The ground is uneven so will be difficult to find a level base for the nylon tent. Behind the more open grassy area there are a few larger trees amongst some denser brush. One tall thick spruce stands alone, isolated so that it grew all its branches around it, evenly spaced right to the ground, spreading at least two metres from the trunk. Ducking through its boughs, I briefly think about cutting out limbs in one spot for the tent but it doesn't feel right sacrificing the tree's hard earned perfection. Finally deciding on the tent spot, just beside it I first erect the Tarp shelter and bring required gear from the canoe. The canoe gets carried on shore to store other items not needed for camp. The tent site requires a lot of prep work. It is the levellest non-level choice. I have to pull dozens of the small trees and prickly rose, and cut some below the surfaced with pruners. Thank goodness for leather mitts. There is some larger brush to cut out of the way at one end, plus a few overhanging branches of a medium-size birch. Finally, with the grass tramped down, is revealed the uneven base that sure looked better before clearing. Next I build a fireplace inland about 10 metres from the rock shore, better sheltered but still safely on a patch of bare flattish rock. Mac and cheese for supper, drink lots of hot water, very thirsty. Being too anxious to land and find a campsite, I didn't even drink canteen water till Tarp up. Should have been using LifeStraw® as soon as I landed! Know I'm going to pay, especially how my legs were stressed bracing and paddling such a long time. It seemed to take forever to battle the wind, I'm sure at least twice as long as if calmer. In bed by 20:30, after laying out sleep gear which I had tossed into the tent after putting it up. Use PFD and medium tarp to level side of bed. Sleep fitfully, bit of a headache. Rarely get a headache, lately been bothersome, probably between smoke, weight loss and stress catching up to me. Aie! Might stay another day here but would rather be at the larger target isle which should have more bush, better access for bathing, more comfortable camp."
The distance to camp 26 is nine km but I have paddled 14 km, an extra two km to drop off an empty barrel at a fishing lodge and at least three km more trying to avoid the wind, mostly unsuccessfully.