August 15, late afternoon, view from camp 28 towards the area from where I portaged to the Churchill River in the spring. Though not as distinctive in this photo as it was before the cloud cover, the fire that Jeanette has been reporting to me is billowing a steady locomotive-like band of smoke, left to right at the horizon.
August 16, midafternoon, looking back towards islands in the distance that I stopped at yesterday searching for a campsite.
Camp 28, again windbound on a small island nine km from the previous campsite, after travelling an extra three km searching for a good location. The fireplace shown is too wind-exposed so I create another on the opposite side of the narrow island.
August 17, late afternoon I carry all my gear to the leeward side of the island to await being ferried to Ray's fishing lodge, ironically all the way back near where I was on August 12. To the right of the canoe can be seen the extinguished fireplace I created sheltered from the strong wind.
August 17, 18-foot motorboat takes me and all my gear to Ray's fishing lodge on a lake off the Churchill River. Note the orange plastic bag that I suspended at the end of the island to flag my location. Chad is tying on the canoe to make sure it does not budge during transport.
August 18, gear loaded in plane, Frank, the pilot of the 'de Havilland Canada DHC-2 Beaver' from 'Osprey Wings Ltd', does a thorough job of tying the canoe above one pontoon.
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Summary:
Final camp. A difficult day wading up the rapids. Get a tow above the rapids with a motorboat by Chad, a very helpful Cree guide. The fire that Jeanette has been reporting to me is billowing a steady locomotive-like band of smoke in the distance at the horizon. Windbound again, heavy rain and terrible terrible wind directly onshore. Not feeling well, unsteady, tripping too easily, decide to fly out instead of tackling a two km portage. Start coughing, smoke inhalation has caught up to me. Ray, the owner of the lodge where Chad works, convinces me to return there to catch a float plane. Chad ferries me, canoe and gear back to the lodge, past the route I travelled the last several days. Float plane flies me directly to my vehicle on August 18. Back home on August 19. My recovery at home is documented in an "Afterword" (below). Camp 28 is on a small island nine km from the previous campsite, after travelling an extra three km searching for a good location, checking five other islands first.
August 15:
Up at 04:30, the weather looks okay. Yesterday started the twelfth week, the end of month three. In anticipation I did prepack some gear yesterday, but hedging my bets I did not pack the pots, so now empty them and dry with a cloth. There is a moderate west headwind plus the current of the broad river against me. I stick to the south side except for a short stint, keeping close to shore to catch any helpful leeward outcrops and to be in slower current; the other side is more exposed to the wind and has more open spaces. Before reaching the narrows of the rapids I stop once for a bathroom break and another to stretch. At the rapids I try to paddle near the right hand shore but once in the faster water am swept downstream. Paddling back upstream on the left side, I stop in the slower water provided by a slight projection into the rapids. Crawling out of the canoe up the higher brush-covered ground, which thankfully levels for a short distance before rising much higher, I keep a firm grasp on the gunwale and the bow painter to tie it to some brush, then the stern rope. Walking farther to evaluate my options, it is impossible to line the canoe all the way without having to clear trees and brush, but I determine I should be able to wade about 10 metres if I stick close to shore and then make my way far enough to get past swift water flowing over smooth rock too shallow near shore to float the canoe. I just have to make sure not to lose my grasp on gunwale or the painters. The other safer option of course is to unload and portage the gear around the corner, but I want to avoid that extra work especially as I have to climb up a steep drop, only to have to reload in shallow water along the fast current, probably having to do some wading anyway. Going back to the canoe, I don wading gear. I make it around the worst part and have to wade some more near shore before I can paddle. A motorboat from a fishing lodge speeds up the centre of the rapids, slows and pulls around the corner. There are two guests and the Cree guide out to do some fishing. The boat approaches close enough that I can hear that he is offering to give me a tow farther upstream. My younger self almost indicates no, that I can make it on my own, but my older practical self indicates with a nod and a thumbs up in the affirmative. After I wade farther with the canoe around the corner, Chad eases his boat close enough bow-first for one of the passengers to catch my bow painter and tie it to the boat's rope; I do have to throw my rope several times to be successful. The next challenge is for me to hoist myself into the canoe. Until getting past the corner I was only wet up to my waist, but now in water to my chest I have a heck of a time clambering into the canoe because the rocks underfoot here are slippery slimy moss-covered. After several grunting attempts, and many aie, aie, aies, I make it into the stern of the canoe. (I could not bring the canoe closer to shore to make it easier to get in because I did not want to risk the boat coming into shallower water.) Chad backs up to pull the canoe farther upstream. What a nice thing to do! Untethered from his boat I can continue paddling. I am very impressed and tell him so; his passengers wholeheartedly agree. I confirm which fishing lodge he is from so that I can hopefully contact the owner when I return home to make sure he is aware of how much I appreciate Chad's help. Chad also asks me if I would like a walleye; with a smile I reply "Two please."
There is still some current to paddle against, but the west headwind has got even stronger and I paddle 'forever' to check on an island for camp, sometimes wondering if I am making any progress. Landing at last, I take a welcome break and change back to proper clothes out of the soggy wading gear, though I leave on my wet shirt. Wandering the small island, it is a possible campsite but not good, just a shade below a hard luck spot. It is exposed, a steep rock shore, with poor tent and fireplace sites, none for canvas Tent. Canoeing over to the next nearby small island, I tromp over it twice trying to make it work, but it really is not any better, even more open. Weary and damp, wanting to stop, I decide to push on, checking three more islands equally unsuitable. One has an old campsite, but very exposed, and with this wind would be uncomfortable. Finally reaching the sixth island which is the best of the lot, still more exposed than I would like, it is 16:00 so I decide this has to be camp 28. Interestingly, all six islands appear to have no berries. This island has a long wide bare rock shore sloping at about 30° with then a steep step up to the top and another down to a fireplace location sheltered below the one metre vertical drop. There is a sloped clearing beside the fireplace for the nylon tent and a nonlevel area for the Tarp shelter that will need clearing of some trees and juniper brush, behind which is a spot that would do for the canvas Tent. Getting the Tarp up first, I place the low side facing the west shore for better wind protection. All are more exposed than I would like. Next the tent up, the base being too sloped for comfort. "I'm pooped. Starting to rain. Aie! Decide on cold supper in the tent. Use PFD and medium tarp to help level the bed, okay but not that great. Unsure what time to bed, early?, sleep surprisingly well. Rains heavy all night as predicted by yesterday's altostratus clouds! Still, thanks for a decent campsite, and holding off rain till camp set up."
Camp 28 is on a small island nine km from the previous campsite, after travelling an extra three km searching for a good location, checking five other islands first.
August 16:
Sleeping in, I arise at 06:30 to ongoing heavy rain, very cloudy with moderate west wind. When rain slows I build a fireplace below the rockface drop. Boiling the usual four pots of water, I bake bannock and eat half with the last of the margarine while sheltering beneath the Tarp. When it starts raining heavily again, I go back to the tent, to get into pajamas and the fleece shell after finding a much better leveller spot on the floor to situate the bed. With the wind driving rain sideways, I would be cold and probably damp under the Tarp. Usually I wait until boiled water has cooled, often until the following day, but I fill the two canteens with warm water before taking them to the tent with me. After undressing before donning pajamas I realize I forgot the pee bottle, rinsed and overturned outside the tent, so exit in the pouring rain to fetch it. Aie! After sleeping awhile, I lay out the Waist Pack gear to dry inside the tent, all of which got wet yesterday in the rapids. Most items are in double Ziploc® bags, with water wicked into the outside bag. "Can't find the bag of medium-sized used Ziplocs®. Aie! Must have burned them accidentally with all the waste bags from supper last night. Aie!" (As it turns out, I find the bags underneath the tent floor tarp when I break camp.) Go outside when the rain seems to have stopped and sun breaks through. Everything is soaking wet. I start the fire again after fetching more wood, a challenge to find here. At lunchtime I take two acetaminophens, my head aching fiercely, the ongoing saga! Aie! I am eating extra food now, too little too late, knowing it will take more time and better food to replenish. Finding enough bags, I replace the outer Ziplocs® of the Waist Pack gear and burn the wet ones. With the sun out now, I dry the empty Waist Pack and the wading gear on top of the bare rock with good sun and wind exposure. There is lots of blue sky, white cloud, sunny, 22°C, very strong onshore west wind, definitely windbound again. At 17:35 supper is macaroni and cheese, hot water, protein bar. "I'm unsteady, tripping too easily. Going to tent soon. Not looking forward to the two km portage. If I stay a minimum of two days per camp, it will take at least 10 days to reach my vehicle so I know I should not splurge too much. It would depend on decent weather plus I like to have one week grub supply remaining for emergencies by the time long trips such as this are finished. There is a spot here for the canvas Tent but haven't seen any soil for the stove yet. Extinguish fire at 18:00 before heading to the tent. Feeling lousy. Sleep fitfully. Take two naproxen early morn which make me spinny. Feel awful! Aie! Terrible terrible wind directly onshore all night! Aie!"
August 17:
Not up as early as usual, by 09:40 I am sitting by the fire after eating breakfast. I have created a new fireplace on the opposite side of the island out of the wind that continues strong from the northwest, very very cloudy overhead, completely overcast, 16°C. Aie! "Still feel awful. Fuzzy headed. Unsteady on feet, tripping too easily. Hope I don't get vertigo like I did one other year (but that was from a cold water bath in the lake in September). Aie!" I go to lie down in tent for a while, then get up to carry stones to weigh down all the tent pegs against the wind. As I am carrying the last load of stones, I see a motorboat approaching from across the lake. As it nears my camp, I wave. The driver motions he will land on the lee side of my island out of the wind. Walking across the short distance to meet him we introduce ourselves. He is Ray, the Cree owner of the fishing lodge where Chad works as a guide. Ray already knows about Chad giving me a tow at the rapids, for which I thank him, stating how impressed I am in Chad's willingness to help. Ray and I exchange ages, something we have in common although he is older. Stating that I am not sure exactly where this camp is situated, I will check my SPOT™ GPS coordinates at home. After I fetch my map, he shows me where he thinks I am camped. I explain that a bear took all my butter almost three months ago and that smoke inhalation over that period of time seems to be bothering me. Not feeling up to the two km portage to return to my vehicle, I am going to fly out; the plane should be able to pick me up here. I am going to phone Jeanette to book a flight tomorrow to take me directly to my vehicle. Ray then asks if I want to move to his lodge to be picked up by the plane there. His lodge has been closed to customers since the COVID-19 pandemic started last year; there are currently a few friends as guests before closing up this week. I hesitate but Ray convinces me it is a good idea; float planes land all the time at his dock. He asks if I could be packed ready for Chad to pick me up by motorboat at 18:00 today, taking about one hour to reach me. Realizing he is serious, I agree, being ready by then would be no problem. After Ray leaves, I break camp by 17:45 carrying all gear to the sheltered side of the island, including portaging the canoe across. I also tie a large orange bag to a branch on the lower side of the island to make it easier for Chad to spot my location. (I carry three of these coloured bags. Three laid out on the ground to mark the corners of a large triangle shape is a universal distress signal to an overhead plane.) To get the canoe across I carry to mid-island, but then set it down to drag on the ground to move around trees. I still feel lousy, breathing a bit laboured and I notice when talking to Ray have a tendency to cough when exhaling, so I try to minimize talking.
Chad arrives at 18:30. His aluminum boat is an 18-footer powered by a powerful 50 horsepower motor with electric start and electric control for raising/lowering the propeller, both quite handy for manoeuvering the boat. Loading all the gear into the boat, we then tie the canoe down to keep it securely in place. The temperature is still only mid-teens with a strong wind and the boat is capable of moving at high speed so I have dressed in extra clothes and windproof raingear for the trip. We arrive at the lodge by 20:00 where I am welcomed with awesome offers of a hot shower and hot food. Asking Ray what I owe him, he says nothing as he considers it a 'rescue', but I could tip Chad. In addition to credit cards, I do carry cash for emergencies and Chad certainly qualifies, much appreciated and he certainly earned it, a very nice and helpful Cree guide, a great guy. I have initiated a SPOT™ message twice today, once in the morning at camp 28 and again at Ray's lodge; my contacts will wonder how and why I moved back the way I came several days ago. I call Jeanette to let her know that I should be home within two days. I am put up in a cabin for the night, in bed by 22:00, sleeping well. Ray has kindly already booked a float plane for tomorrow morning to fly me, gear and canoe to my vehicle. This is the first time Jeanette does not need to make the arrangements (just has to pay!); I will give the pilot my details and charge information tomorrow.
August 18:
After a hot breakfast, canoe and gear ready on the dock, the plane arrives at 10:00. Frank, the pilot of the 'de Havilland Canada DHC-2 Beaver' from 'Osprey Wings Ltd', does a thorough job of tying the canoe above one pontoon. Back to wearing a mask and using hand sanitizer, after a fast trip directly across country to my vehicle location, we land by 11:30. The weather all day is cooperative, clear and sunny.
By 12:30, the van loaded with gear and canoe, I am on my way. As usual after being such a long time in the bush, driving at speed on the road is unsettling, going suddenly from a slow pace to the opposite in a flash, one moment in the bush, the next in civilization. I am still coughing when I talk so continue to minimize talking as much as possible, sure that smoke inhalation has caught up to me. Reaching Prince Albert I stop for gas and a quick trip to a grocery store to buy food for supper and breakfast. Strangely, a bit perplexed, I notice that I am one of the few people wearing a mask and using hand sanitizer. Checking into an inn by 16:30, I charge my cellphone to call Jeanette after having a hot shower. What I think is clean in the bush, suddenly does not look it. The skinny guy in the mirror, ribs showing, looks scary. Talking to Jeanette my cough kicks in, worse with more talking. I have initiated SPOT™ messages first thing this morning at Ray's lodge, on arrival to my vehicle by plane and then on arrival to the inn in Prince Albert so my contacts can track where I am.
August 19:
Up early, I arrive home in Airdrie by 15:00, a long tiring drive. Jeanette has her usual excellent supper prepared and we spend the evening catching up. The more I talk though, the more I cough.
********************** AFTERWORD **********************
July 30 at camp 23 (top photo) and August 1 at camp 24.
September 2 at home after a haircut.
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After I am back home on August 19, Jeanette and I continue to catch up on news.
My coughing continues from smoke inhalation but use of a borrowed rescue bronchodilator for three days improves symptoms. Because of the COVID-19 epidemic, I book a COVID-19 test to rule out infection so I can make an in-person doctor appointment. After receiving a negative test result, a physical exam by my physician a week later shows normal lung sounds, and my symptoms have mostly cleared. My doctor gives me a prescription for rescue and maintenance inhalers to fill before next canoe season to carry in case of a repeat smoke inhalation situation. With the likelihood of climate change related natural phenomena like heat domes, atmospheric rivers, wildfire and floods, such a possibility is very likely.
The one day of sunshine soon after I return allows drying big gear outside. Over the next weeks I revise checklists and repair or replace equipment as required and store for next season.
I have lost seven kg (15 pounds), at least two (five pounds) more than I usually drop. Within six weeks I am back to my usual weight, but Jeanette despairs of keeping up with groceries during that period. I eat lots of butter, my favourite being toast slathered in butter, thick peanut butter and raspberry jam. Sticking to my planned camp menu on my trip, but minus the butter at a daily loss of almost 500 calories, by the time I realized the significance of the diet deficiency it was too late to take remedial action. I am the first to admit that not even my older self is always as smart as he thinks he is.
After the first week at home, I gradually start my exercise program over a period of six weeks, having learned not to jump right back in to the full program.
Because I was away for my four month second COVID-19 vaccination, I get it soon after returning. Over the next few months I book all my routine annual health checks (optometrist, family physician, dentist, dermatologist). Initially I can book my third shot 2022 March 1, but now with a five month permitted interval, I am booked for February 4.
I have already picked out a route for next season, and look forward to the trip. Checklists and menu still need to be finalized so that grub supplies can be purchased and packed. I plan to test some new recipes to eliminate separately carrying butter.
Ironically I start writing this on a cold day in January, -32°C this morning when I went for my morning walk before daylight, wearing multiple layers, the only anatomy exposed my eyes through a balaclava. Windchill recently has been below -40°C. We are in the effects of a polar vortex, stealing cold from the Arctic which cannot afford to lose it, more climate change related weather.