A 66-Day Journey

Down the Mackenzie River,
Along the Arctic Coast,
and Down the Thelon River

Copyright © 1997 - 2024 Ray Jardine

Map

Map (Open with google Earth or CalTopo)

Part 4: Canoeing the Thelon River

Lynx Lake to Baker Lake

575 miles in 26 days

Day 36-41

July 18-23, 1997

Flying over the Barrenlands, en route from Inuvik to Yellowknife.

Landing in Yellowknife.

Departing Inuvik we flew to Yellowknife and landed at 6 pm. Once off the plane we were disheartened to learn that the yak had not traveled with us.

We lugged our baggage three-quarters of a mile along a road to the Fred Henne Campground at Long Lake. The campsites cost $12 and featured wood platforms built on the undulating rock strata. As luck would have it, a loud-talking family took the site next to us, so we moved to the other end of the tent area, and re-gained our tranquility. There was a nice breeze here on the hill, but no shade.

We waited for our Kayak to arrive for nearly a week, and meanwhile did a lot of hiking.

The air cargo plane from Inuvik flew on Friday, Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday. Each time the desk agents assured us that the yak would be on the next flight. We would walk to the airport and wait for the plane. And each time the yak was not onboard. We felt like we were being boon-doggled. The plane had to be configured for a longer load, a clerk finally said; the forward seats had to be removed, and the bulkhead moved aft.

Then on Wednesday the 23rd, the aircraft personal in Edmonton configured the plane for the needed 24-foot space. We spoke with three different agents (both in Yellowknife and in Inuvik) who assured us - unconditionally - that the yak would be on the next flight. With this in mind we proceeded with our river trip plans. We filed a Wilderness Trip Permit with the RCMP, giving July 24 as our departure date. And we arranged with Blue Sky Aviation for a float plane trip to Lynx Lake, headwaters of the Thelon.

We were at the airport, sitting in the cafeteria, looking out at the concourse, when the plane arrived. It pulled to a stop directly in front of us. The large cargo door opened, and we got a superb view inside the cargo hold. It looked like an empty cave. The yak had remained in Inuvik. The forklift unloaded a few pallets, then the crew started installing seats.

We were stunned.

We were livid.

We went to the freight counter and informed the clerk that the kayak was not on board. He wanted us to wait another half hour, to see what might come in. I asked him to call Inuvik freight. He replied that it wouldn't do any good because they would have all gone home by now. Finally he called anyway and I heard him say, "You didn't load it? Why not?" He hung up and said the reason was because there had been no cargo to load, and so they had placed ballast in order to balance the aircraft. The ballast we saw was no higher than 18 inches. Otherwise the plane contained a staggering amount of empty space. The guy then told us that the Friday and Sunday flights were fully booked with passengers, and they wouldn't be able to load the kayak again until sometime the following week.

Hopes shattered, we walked the few miles to the WalMart store, trying to gather our thoughts. The trucking company had quoted 7-10 days from Inuvik to Yellowknife. The airline would probably have taken at least that long, and was unreliable. We had been waiting for almost a week, watching the remainder of our summer slip through our fingers like fine-grade sand.

In the previous week we had imaged such a contingency with the rather far-fetched idea of having the yak trucked home, buying a canoe and some needed gear here in Yellowknife, and doing the river as best we could. In fact, with lots of time on our hands, we had window-shopped for everything we might need. Walmart had a 17-foot Coleman canoe for $500 ($365 US) - cheap but 90 pounds, over twice the weight of our yak. Most of our gear was inside the kayak as well. So we also looked at life jackets and wellies and a frying pan. Another store had a stove, another had rain pants.

Specifically, the yak contained a load of provisions from our Tuk resupply, our drysuits, stove, frying pan, mittens, Sou'westers, sun hats, PFDs, shotgun, GPS, Epirb, Permanon, sponges, bailers, bilge pumps, first aid kit and an extensive repair kit including flairs, tools, duct tape, etc.

But going into Walmart and actually buying the canoe would have seemed dreadful. The very idea of abandoning the kayak, our pride and joy, our labor of love, our several months of construction during the winter, was unthinkable. And here we were, faced with prospects of replacing the yak and all that gear with a cheap and heavy canoe and a bunch of cheap gear - for a major river expedition.

We were so upset that we almost gave up and returned home. When one of us suggested the idea, the other urged, "no, we can pull this trip back together." First it was Jenny who lost resolve; and I gave her the pep talk. But then, a short while later, standing there looking at the cheaply made wellies, I lost my resolve. Jenny bucked me up, saying, "No, we can do it."

With the decision reluctantly (very reluctantly) made, we bought the canoe, $10 paddles, cheap life jackets & rubber boots, and a couple of plastic bins to carry most of our food. We also bought wellies, frying pan, spatula, and sponges and a few pieces of fishing gear. I sat out front of Walmart with the canoe while my ever-intrepid companion walked to the nearby co-op grocery store and rushed through the isles for three weeks worth of groceries. The time was 9 pm, just before closing time. I could imagine her racing through the isles, throwing things into her cart. "Carts, plural," she corrected me later. And in fact she was prompted to finish her shopping quickly.

Mission accomplished, she called for a cab large enough to transport a canoe. She then arrived in the cab to collect me and the canoe. I had been scrounging the area for any kind of tie-down straps. We loaded the boat in the back of diver's Suburban, secured the doors with some old electrical wire, and drove back to camp just as rain started pelting down.

This was the first rain since our arrival in Yellowknife. Otherwise it had been hot and dry and quite buggy outside of town, except at our windy campsite up on the hill. We had sweltered during our daily walks into town and back. We usually ended up at the lake for a refreshing swim. During the weekdays we had the tent camp area to ourselves, and found the ambiance perfect for sun bathing. The hottest day had been around 95°F, according to the ranger at the kiosk. We had covered the tent with the sleeping quilt later in the evening, but the air temperature didn't cool off until 10:30 pm.

Now back at camp, in pouring rain we unloaded the canoe near the tent, and placed the other things inside the tent. The tent had been more than adequately large for the two of us, but with all our groceries, new gear and clothing, it was crowded. It was also hot and humid. We sorted through our groceries, removing extraneous packaging, and hollowed out just enough room to lie down for a night's rest.

Day 42

July 24, 1997

We rose at 6:30 am the next morning and walked back to the shopping area. At a hardware store we bought a tarp and duct tape. Jenny used the store's phone to call the NW Transport trucking company about transporting the yak back to the states and back home. They assured us that it would be no problem to retrieve the Kayak from the Inuvik airline freight terminal, and load it onto one of their trucks. We walked a few more miles around Frame Lake into town and bought more groceries, and made more phone calls to Canada Customs, again to NW Transport, and to Blue Sky Aviation. At an outdoor sports store we bought a stove. At a photo shop we bought film. At another outdoor store we bought 12-gauge flares and Aqua Seal. Then we caught a cab back to the campground. A while later Blue Sky sent a truck. We broke camp, loaded everything, and headed to the float plane dock at Old Town, in Back Bay.

At the float plane dock

The weather had taken a turn for the worse, grounding us for the remainder of the day. Nevertheless, the pilot took one look at our mound of cheap gear and rolled his eyes. "You're taking THIS down the Thelon?" We told him about forfeiting our kayak and gear and he insisted that we inform the newspaper.

Jenny first called the NWT Cargo manager in Yellowknife. He seemed more than familiar with our problem, and was quite peeved and abrupt. He admitted that he was the one who made the decision not to load the kayak. His excuse was that there was an emergency situation and that some stretchers had to be loaded instead. This was different than what we had been told earlier. Next, Jenny tried to call the president of the airline, and was told that he was not available. The tone of the receptionist's voice suggested he had been forewarned, or maybe they had all grown weary of complaints. Next Jenny called NWT Tourism and the lady let it slip that NWT Airlines was a high-paying advertiser and they were not in a position to jeopardize that relationship.

So Jenny called the local newspaper, the "Yellowknifer," and when the editors learned that the airfreight company had delayed our shipment beyond all reason, and effectively forced us to send home our home-built kayak, they sent a reporter to get the story. It seemed the community had been waging a campaign against this particular airline for its propensity to discourage tourism.

Sheryl recorded our story and took pictures of us with our cheap canoe. She said the community was fed-up with NWT airlines for pulling these kinds of stunts, and that the people in her office were especially sympathetic because we had built our kayak ourselves.

(Writing this later, the NW Transport trucking company had no trouble finding our yak at the airline freight terminal in Inuvik, and delivering it to our hometown without incident.)

Day 43|1

July 25, 1997

John loading our gear aboard his Cessna 210.

The weather was marginal but our pilot John, of Blue Sky Aviation, decided to go for it. The flight would be long due to strong headwinds and the extra drag of the canoe. We helped load his Cessna 210 with 132 pounds of food, 84 pounds of gear, tied the 90 pound canoe to the pontoon struts, and climbing aboard, another 470 pounds including John. Soon we were winging eastward, buffeted by turbulence and flying only 1500 feet AGL. The GPS showed our speed as only 75 knots, while the airspeed indicator showed 105 knots.

Lynx Lake Outlet

The three hour flight was spectacular, and we enjoyed it very much - flying over the east arm of Great Slave Lake, then over the Barrenlands. Bucking fierce and turbulent headwinds, the pilot had to fly quite low to the ground. And due to the constant lurching, by the time we approached Lynx Lake, we were both feeling a bit queasy.

John had shuttled many other parties, so knew of the best place to land. He landed on the east arm of the lake's outlet, and taxied the plane to a beautiful sand beach backed by a 5-foot high bluff covered in tundra. We turned the airplane around and heeled the pontoons into the beach.

John

After unloading, we wished John a safe trip back - he would fly north one hour to a fuel dump first. He took off and gave an exaggerated wing waggle, and suddenly we were left alone.

The area was beautiful. In fact, it was one of the more beautiful places I'd ever seen. The lake water was clear, pure blue. The tundra lush green. Clumps of black spruce, some of it Krumholtzed, brought to mind a sub-alpine setting. The shore was some rocks but mostly cream colored sand, complete with wolf tracks. Lots of small birds. The terrain was not flat; rather there were lots of rolling hills.

Lowbush cranberries (lingonberries)

In the lee of a clump of spruce we lit our new stove and made cuppas. But we had to watch where we sat because the dry tundra was positively loaded with berries, some up to thumbnail size.

The wind was fresh out of the east and the bugs were practically non-existent. John had said the wind had been blowing east all summer without letup except occasionally at ground level. Extremely odd, he said, some effect of dipping jet stream perhaps.

We walked a quarter mile from camp and found a hidden bay, and burned our cardboard boxes close to the water's edge where the next storm would erase the ashes.

Barrenlands Camp #1

Camp 1, Lynx Lake outlet: Map

Day 44|2

July 26, 1997

We begin our float trip down the Thelon river.

After debating which end of the canoe was the bow, we loaded it and shoved off at 7:30 am. Initially we had the benefit of some current, but soon the river emptied into a long, narrow lake where the current was nearly zero.

During the first few hours we experienced great difficulty steering, and it was here that the magnitude of our endeavor began to hit home. 575 miles struggling with the canoe now seemed like a huge chore, rather than the idyllic float trip we had imagined. After giving Jenny every conceivable instruction, I finally gave her the stern position - not by changing seats, but turning ourselves around in our seats, then turning the boat around. I showed her how to do the J-stroke, and we suddenly found ourselves going straight as an arrow. Turns out Jenny was quite capable of steering the boat from the stern. Perhaps it was my own inability to steer that caused much of the difficulties.

We climbed an esker barefoot. Eskers are long narrow mounds of sand or gravel, deposited hundreds of years ago by streams flowing on glaciers and cutting long, deep channels. The glaciers melted and left the eskers. We would be seeing them every so often, all the way down the river.

Caribou

We had been bucking headwinds all day, as no doubt we would for most of the trip because the river flowed basically east. But the wind eased and we paddled flat seas, watching the bottom glide past, mostly rocks and grass with some sand. The long shallow sandy parts brought to mind the Caribbean. The route was not a river, but more a series of long, circuitous lakes connected with short sections of rapids. The rapids we waded along the shore - me guiding the boat among the rocks, and Jenny holding the stern line in the more risky places. We transited six or eight sections of rapids, the main difficulty was wading in the loose and slippery rocks, sometimes waist deep. Once I stumbled and went down with a splash, but otherwise we did great. It was a bit exciting at times, working so close to the powerful whitewater. Two of the rapids were shown as portages, but being later in the season the water was lower.

We saw two caribou, both with large antlers.

Mid afternoon we landed and cooked hamburgers.

As the afternoon wore on, the wind slackened and the bugs became fierce - mostly blackflies.

Camp 2

We made camp at the second of a double set of two rapids, four miles west-northwest of Nieznany Lake, on a plateau. Landed at 8:30 pm.

Camp 2, Rapids: Map

Day's mileage: 32 statute

Day 45|3

July 27, 1997

The sun woke us at 6:30 am, but we dozed for another hour. Jenny got up to fix cuppas and to cook some Cream of Wheat cereal. After packing up, I paddled solo for a couple hundred yards, then we floated together for a ways. Then I waded and lined a long stretch of rapids. Beyond that there were a few other sections of rapids not shown on the map, where the river flowed swiftly between lakes. Mostly we paddled lakes today. The sun was out for most of the day, and the wind was fresh out of the north, and usually on the beam, or a little bit fore or aft. Jenny took the rear seat, steering; but sometimes we turned the boat around so that I could steer through a section of rapids. The main problems were the rocks that had to be avoided.

We stopped early afternoon to cook spaghetti with ground beef. We were feeling very tired from the previous day and figured we needed some nutrition. We saw one caribou with a large rack. He eyed us warily, moved away 30 yards, then returned to his browsing.

Navigation was tricky. We had to follow the map precisely because the lake outlets are difficult to discern from any distance. How the early explorers got through here with no maps is a wonder. There are many large arms of the lakes and without a guide, one would have to paddle in and out of many of them, looking for the outlets.

Eventually the river started behaving like a river, more or less, and we stopped at several bends to survey the rapids before proceeding. Whenever we landed to survey the rapids, we were beset with black flies and a few mosquitoes. Black flies make mosquitoes look tame. Insidiously they will crawl underneath clothing and will painlessly leave welts that take days to heal. We both have dozens of bites.

By late afternoon the clouds had developed and had stared to rain, so we covered the gear with our big blue tarp, put on our rain jackets, and continued to paddle. The air temperature was not cold, nor was the rain.

At 5:30 pm we landed on the right bank, just upstream of Thelon Falls, where the river drops 60 feet. This waterfall was more than obvious from a distance. We could hear it thundering, and as we drew closer we could see spray leaping into the air.

Camp 3, above Thelon Falls.

Gigantic thunder heads moved through the area, dousing the landscape and us, and blocking the wind. We carried our gear and boat to the top of the right bank, following a trail that looked like it was used by both man and beast. In a burst of sunshine we pitched the tent and threw our clothing bags and sleeping bag inside. Then during the next onslaught of rain we carried boat and gear from the river to camp. Our clothing was now too wet for us to get inside the tent, but we were wearing nylon shell pants, nylon mosquito jackets, and rain jackets - all quick drying.

While waiting for the next burst of sunshine between thunder clouds, we followed the bluff to the overlook to view the falls. This was an impressive display if ever there was one, and I can't imagine anyone boating through it. A pair of falcons screeched at us as we followed the trails on around the bluff. The river makes a sharp U-bend here, and the portage makes a shortcut, up, around, and back down.

The blackflies are difficult to keep out of the tent whenever we climb in or out. We both brought massive numbers in with us. It's a delicate and time consuming job, dispatching them all, placing them on a damp boat sponge, and removing them from the tent.

Today we had seen much bird life: geese, loons, gulls, terns, ducks, plovers, peregrine falcons, to name a few.

Camp 3, No-name falls: Map

Day's mileage: 20, strong wind and fatigue

Day 46|4

July 28, 1997

Thelon Falls

We rose at 7:30 am and broke camp. The sky was clear and already the day was hot. I lashed the paddles to the canoe thwarts to make a portaging yoke. I helped Jenny lift the bow, then I shouldered the canoe and took off. We had weighed the canoe at the float dock base: 90 pounds. The weight didn't feel bad on my legs; I could have hiked with it for miles. But it was crushing my shoulder bones due to the lack of padding. When I could stand it no longer, I set the stern down on the ground, and there was Jenny beside me; she had followed, carrying our two large tubs. She helped me lower the boat to the ground. After a bit of rest we set off again and made it to the brink where we rested again. From there it was a simple matter to carry on down the steep portage trail to the river's edge. The river was extremely braided here, and the put-in point was actually just a five-foot wide channel.

We returned to camp for the rest of our gear, bringing the paddles back. We made a hobo-pack out of the tarp lashed to the paddles. In this we carried all of our food and a few other bags, over our shoulders. This turned out to be a tough way to carry things. The paddles were too short. The person in back couldn't see where she was going so had to walk Charlie Chaplin style. And the person in front couldn't lean forward enough to support the load. and with the lack of padding, the paddles crushed our shoulders. Nevertheless, we made the portage in three trips. The put-in point was swarming with bugs and we were soaked in sweat, so we simply laid down in the creek with our clothes on.

We are starting to call the canoe "can-O" (can-OH') and later we shorted that to just `O.

We loaded the `O and I waded it along the shallows. Then once into deeper water we boarded and took off. There were lots of rocks, shallows, and rapids, but we steered around them without problems. Then we came to a place where the river dropped a few feet. There was a sluicing channel in between shore and a boulder, more like a small, two-foot high waterfall. I decided to try lining the canoe down it. Jenny had the bow line and I had the stern line. As I lowered the canoe over the edge it started pulling quite hard, so I just let it go. Unfortunately, just as the stern went over the edge, the bow ran into a rock and stopped, and water started pouring into the stern. With Jenny on the bow line she pulled the boat free, and we bailed out a couple gallons of water.

From there the river was dotted with rocks and we had to navigate very carefully. We did pretty well, but we did bump twice. It was a matter of learning how to maneuver, and we were just starting to get the hang of it. A mile before Jim Lake the water became shallow and as we were lining, a float plane flew overhead - someone viewing the falls, we thought.

Reaching Jim Lake outlet, the farther we went, the stronger the wind. It was blowing west so we had it on the stern, quarter, or beam for much of the way; but occasionally on the nose, and whenever we had much fetch the waves were pretty large, and we found that in such strong wind `O was hard to steer on some points. We stopped a few times along the way, once to look at a long string of cairns on top of an esker-like ridge.

Cooking lunch.

We stopped on a large sand beach to cook a meal; the wind was strong but we were hungry. There were tracks everywhere in the sand - they looked like muskoxen.

Throughout the day we wore our mosquito jackets as shirts.

Later in the day we stopped for a bath. The wind was blowing about twelve knots, but the sun was shining and the air was warm.

Reaching the end of a section of lakes was a relief because of the fierce chop. At the outlet we followed the river again, and even though the current was good, the strong headwinds required us to paddle hard. Whenever we stopped paddling, the boat slewed around, beam-on, and made a big, greasy swath to leeward.

It took us all afternoon to negotiate the river to the next lake. The chop on this lake was something fierce, so we stopped at 5:30 pm on the left bank, climbed a 20-foot rise to a beautiful tundra slope, and made camp.

Camp 4

View from camp to the northwest.

Tent poles and rocks to hold down the tent's edges - tell of an Inuit hunter's camp of a bygone era.

Rock cairns, and standing on the distant island: a muskox and calf.

There was a lot of evidence of past occupation here, all of it very old. Mostly ancient rock cairns placed by indigenous peoples, but half a dozen spruce poles, 2-1/2 inch diameters, eight feet long, apparently tent poles. They were extremely weathered, maybe 100 years old or so. We secured the tent with several large rocks, and went for a nice walk.

Camp 4, Lake shore: Map

Day's mileage: 30

Day 47|5

July 29, 1997

The wind stopped in the late evening and was just starting again lightly when we set off at 6:30 am. The first job was to paddle 8 to 10 miles along the lake. Along the way we passed by what looked like a refueling shed - a float plane fuel cache, with 55-gallon drums lying about. And in fact we found a couple of fuel drums littering the shore several miles further on.

Mmuskox

While paddling along the left shore where the lake narrows almost to a river, we saw a large animal which at first we thought was a bear. We scoped it with our monocular, but still couldn't quite tell. It was dark in color and a little narrower in the beam and narrower across the shoulders. It was pacing away from us, generally following the shore, and eventually we came around the corner and there was a magnificent muskox. We paddled as close as we dare. It acted a little concerned but continued browsing the willows. I got several close up photos but the light was not good owing to the earliness of the day and the cloud cover. Suddenly the muskox bolted away with a great snorting of the nostrils and dirt flying from its hooves. The animal had made it quite clear that it was not to be messed with.

On the other bank, we soon saw a mother caribou and her calf wading into the lake. We paddled hard to get a photo of them swimming across the lake. And in fact we could have paddled right up to them but didn't want to frighten them.

Mother caribou and her calf swimming across the lake.

A little ways farther we saw six more caribou. They spooked at the sight of us and went bounding away across the ridge on the horizon, and we could see them for the next twenty minutes. They were extremely leery and would have been difficult to approach.

The sky was greasing over and the wind picking up strength and it looked like a storm was imminent. We found the lake's outlet and the river's current whisked us easily along our way. It was a thrill to watch the bottom flashing past. A bit of sun came out and I took advantage of the respite and had a forty-five minute nap while Jenny navigated.

A mob of caribou

We came across a mob of caribou standing on the right bank. The closer we got, the more of them we saw. In a few moments we realized we had fortuitously come across part of the Beverly herd. We estimated a few thousand of them. The wind was blowing us toward their shore and the water was quite choppy. But the animals did not bolt away, as expected. They did move, but not away from us. They were enjoying the bug-free breeze coming off the river. The herd started moving down river, along the banks, and as we drifted in the current, we gradually passed them. We came within fifteen yards of the nearest animals. They obviously felt the safety of their numbers. The females had small antlers, the males had great antlers; and there were many calves. It was an extremely rare treat to be so close to the herd, and have them not be terrified of us. We would have liked to land and watch them, but again did not want to startle them, so we continued on our way.

Caribou up close.

Part of the Beverly herd

Caribou on a ridge, taking advantage of the wind

An extremely rare treat to be so close to the herd

The weather was threatening in earnest and the rest of the day was something of a struggle, paddling into headwinds when we could, and lining the boat otherwise. The weather looked so threatening that we debated making camp, but ultimately decided against it, which proved to be the right decision because ironically the sky began to clear. As we were lining the boat along the right bank we watched a muskox lumbering along the left bank in the opposite direction. The river was 100 yards wide and he acted like he never saw us, although undoubtedly he did. He was just lumbering along and browsing occasionally. In the earlier part of the day we saw a few fish jumping out of the water, and of course all through the day we saw birds of many sorts - lots of terns and gulls and even a raven. We also saw a snowshoe hare, so it was quite a day for wildlife sightings.

Still lots of Caribou on the other side of the river.

Late afternoon we stopped for a picnic, and then we had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and snacks in the tent; we had cereal for breakfast in the boat.

We spent the afternoon crabbing into the wind about 60° off of our direction of travel. The minute we stopped paddling we were blown toward shore. Eventually the headwinds increased to 35 knots so we stopped and climbed a rough, rocky bank and made camp on the flat, dry tundra, anchoring the tent down with a number of large, flat rocks. (Note: we always return each rock to it's original location, same side down.) We stopped at 5:30 pm.

Camp 5

Camp 5, Tundra: Map

Day's mileage: 39

Day 48|6

July 30, 1997

The slope which we had to clamber down to the water's edge was extremely loose with rocks, so I carried gear down while Jenny loaded. We set off at 6:30 am, paddled for a few miles, and couldn't find one of our water bottles.

Muskox

We paddled past a muskox on the right bank, we came quite close and got some good photos. As we were coming in to land on a breezy, exposed point, with the intent of having lunch, we saw another muskox raise its head out of the brush, so we had to move on and find another spot. The wind was strong out of the northwest. The channel leading in to Eyeberry Lake was somewhat obscure, due to low lying sand shoals and cays.

Lunch stop.

Once in Eyeberry Lake we had our work cut-out for us, crossing the many crenelated bays in stiff wind and heavy chop. We camped on an island, midway between the inlet and the outlet. We stopped here only because the water ahead was too dangerous to proceed. The ground was spongy tundra which made for wonderful bedding. As we were unloading the `O we realized that yes, we had lost that water bottle. This was a disappointing moment for me because I had used that bottle for 25 years, and I rarely loose anything. Stopped at 4:00 pm.

Camp 6 on Eyeberry Lake

Camp 6, Eyeberry Lake: Map

Day's mileage: 38

Day 49|7

July 31, 1997

The wind was strong out of the north and white caps covered the lake. Jenny got up, and cooked a wonderful breakfast: cuppas, a big stack of pancakes, hard boiled eggs for later, and cooked cereal for later, and scones.

Muskox

The wind slackened somewhat so we set off at 1:20 pm. We had seen a few caribou and one muskox from the island camp. The wind strengthened again and we labored along, tooth and nail. We passed the outlet and turned right where the river split, and paddled east in the lee of the island for its protection from the wind. Once into the main channel we found good current and lots of rapids and rocks. The next section was the most difficult and demanding canoeing we have done. It was fast moving but it demanded 100% concentration. It was quite fun, really, but we hated to think of the consequences of hitting something. We took the left channel through the double island rapids, taking them on the right bank and lining the `O through. Then, and half a mile farther on, we made camp on the left bank. We had to carry things through a jumble of low lying willows and tundra lumps. The ground cover was thick with not-quite-ripe berries of various types - as with everywhere we have stopped. We saw two muskoxen today, a pair of peregrines, also a bald eagle and young, they were flying and mama was overseeing progress (flight operations, training flights).

Once the sun goes below the horizon, the temperature drops quickly. Not freezing at night, but quite chilly. Today had been chilly as well, although the sun was out.

Camp 7, exploring the area.

Camp 7, Willow/tundra: Map

Day's mileage: 20

Day 50|8

August 1, 1997

We set off at 6:20 am. The morning was very chilly. We had a hard time staying warm. Jenny had on 2 pairs of wool socks, 2 polypro shirts and cotton shirt and shell, polypro pants and shell. I wore the same with my bomber hat and mittens, and mosquito shirt. The wind was still brisk out of the north, our general direction of travel. The sky was clouded and it looked like the afternoon would be stormy. The river was wide and seemed more like a lake, although we did reap the benefit of some current. Still early in the morning, we paddled past a muskox foraging the willows along the west shore, and headed for two more muskox, one of which was a youngster. We pulled to a stop in front of them and we knew there were a couple of other ones in the tall willows. After taking a couple photos, we started talking to them, and suddenly an entire herd stood up, out of the willows, surprising us. They all stood facing us defensively. Because the water between us and them was shallow, we decided not to linger. A quick head count tallied seventeen animals, although there might have been a few more.

Numerous muskox

Gradually the sky cleared and the air temperature rose, and the wind diminished. The next rapids indicated on the map turned out to be easily lined on the right, and the next ones after that (five rapids shown on the map) we lined on the left. At one point we saw two bald eagles.

The `O tends to leave red scrape marks on the rocks, although we try not to let it happen. And here in the rapids Jenny noticed some fairly fresh green marks. The depth of the green scrapes was about what ours would have been, so we knew that a green canoe had come this way not long before us.

A few miles further on we transited the next set of rapids, again on the left. We paddled to the head of Thelon Canyon and landed on the left bank.

At the head of Thelon Canyon

Across the river we could see a large camp, replete with green canoes. Earlier that morning we had seen a twin otter fly overhead and return shortly. We though it might have been air dropping supplies to a larger party somewhere ahead.

The guide book said that one could line on the left, although this was dangerous. The alternative was a four-mile portage on the right. Across the river we saw the people from the camp start to carry their canoes, two to a boat, lined up in a row, safari style. We started lining along the left bank, initially with a very precarious traverse on a narrow ledge over deep and swift water.

Fast water

When the `O reached ultra fast water it pulled on the line with tremendous force. We were using Spectra line, thank goodness for its high strength. Ultimately, though, I could not hold the line and had to let the `O go with the flow, out of sight around the corner. We had scouted this, though, and knew it was ok. We lined the `O for the next two or three hours, making one short portage around a 4-foot waterfall. In another place we nearly blew it, when, lowering the boat down a sluice, it hit a side current which threatened to capsize it. I gave it slack and let it run through and it did fine. We were enjoying this part of the river immensely. Being later in the season, the river level was lower, leaving slick rock exposed. The sun was shining and the day was warm. The only negative thing was the black flies were quite thick. We used netting. The wind had dropped.

Netting

We had negotiated most of the difficulties and could see ahead a great expanse of calm water. Then we came to a cliff with strong current at its base and our enthusiasm was quickly dampened. I scouted by wading along the cliff as far as I dared go. The current was pulling strong at my legs and threatening to pull me into some big rapids just down stream. We might have been able to pull it off, but the risks were too great so I decided against it. I backtracked 50 yards and tried climbing out of the canyon. I could have done it, but not with a load or a boat. I returned to where Jenny had finished loading the `O from the last portage, with the bad news that we had to reverse that last portage and somehow get us out of the canyon. Fortunately we found a fairly easy bank to climb, 200 yards up stream and with a great deal of effort, we carried the boat and gear back and up.

We couldn't safely get around this cliff, so are preparing to backtrack and portage up and over it.

The problematic cliff - ahead and below.

Then began a long series of leap-frog portaging, along the bluffs, paralleling the river. We had a good bird's eye view of the rapids below. The river was spectacular from this vantage, 150 yards wide and laced with big, boiling rapids everywhere. With the right kind of boat and a lot of experience, it would have been a wild ride. A heavily loaded `O wouldn't have stood a chance. We portaged around the top of the cliff and were dismayed to find only more cliffs as far ahead as we could see. But Jenny discovered a route down so I scouted it and made it down without too much difficulty, although it was steep and loose in places. I climbed back up, then we walked down river half a mile, looking for a better place to descend. We found only one place, but it looked even harder. We returned to the `O and finished portaging our gear to it and eventually had everything near Jenny's descent.

We were feeling quite tired and by now the day was late so we decided to camp here. We did lower the `O down the steep hill. I found a chute that was lined in bushes so I lowered the `O by belaying it around my waist and Jenny climbed down her route. I lowered it about 40 feet very slowly to keep from burning my back with the 90 pounds of `O on a tiny, thin line. The brush ended at a 15-foot vertical drop to the rocks and Jenny was there to secure the boat. I went down her route, then we both carried the boat down further to a large ledge. This was about 8 feet over the water. We tied the `O to a boulder, went back up and each carried a plastic crate full of food down to the `O.

Camp 8. The `O is down in the canyon somewhat close to the river, but the camping is better up here.

The black flies had been absolutely swarming all afternoon, covering our clothing and swarming around us in clouds. With the tent pitched, I dove inside, and again spent 15 minutes dispatching all the bugs that had come in with me. Jenny bravely sat outside, cooking dinner of spaghetti and scones. The black flies had found their way up my pant legs and while Jenny was applying hydrogen peroxide to the bites, she counted 20 bites on each leg. We stopped our load hauling at 7:45 pm.

Camp 8, Thelon Canyon: Map

Day's mileage: 29

Day 51|9

August 2, 1997

Backside of the problematic cliff. Looks doable from here, but I couldn't see around the front side yesterday.

We broke camp about 7 am and started carrying small loads down the steep slope. When all was relocated to the small ledge, we hoisted the `O down to a large, flat rock at water level, then loaded up and set off. We paddled down river a short ways, then crossed the river, negotiating various patches of smaller rapids and landed on the far shore, just down river from the five green canoes belonging to the party we saw yesterday. We climbed the hill and scouted the next set of rapids, all the while being berated at by a peregrine falcon which screeched incessantly while it flew around overhead. Her nest was on the other side of the river!

The water flowed past a cliff, but it looked shallow enough to wade and line the boat. Otherwise we could have paddled up river, re-crossed it, and paddled and lined down the left side. We paddled down the right side to the rapids and lined it through them without difficulty. After another short stint of paddling we landed against the cliff where there was no place to get out. A short section here was impossible to wade but barely calm enough to paddle; dangerous though because of huge waves just eight or ten feet out. We started off on a bad note - the stern got caught in the current and `O swung around. Paddling hard we managed to keep out of the rapids. Just around the corner we landed on a ledge and discovered we had made a major blunder. The cliffs above would have been extremely difficult to climb and we could not go back up river because of the strong current. We had come around this corner, unable to see what lay ahead. Had there been rapids here next to the cliff we would have found ourselves in deep trouble. Fortunately there were none and we paddled on in safety.

The gorge ahead was festooned in more rapids. We lined them all along the right bank in between short sections of paddling. There were several peregrines along the way and they each had their turn berating us. We paddled a mile of rock-spotted water, and then lined a final set of rapids on the right and soon, at 10:30 am, reached the long-sought for confluence with the Hanbury River. Here the river changed its personality completely. Now it was a wide, flat river with moderate current, and very little noise. The terrain also changed: the banks were line in heavy willows backed by thick forests. We enjoyed a relaxing float, with the benefit of a sunny and calm day which became quite warm. There were a few bugs though, and they kept us in our bug-proof clothing and prevented us from going ashore for a much-needed bath. We did wash our hair, leaning over the gunwale.

The forests here were phenomenal - thick and pervasive and in place the slopes were covered in grasses. Also, the hills are much higher than before, 200 to 300 feet. We passed by Warden's Grove and saw one old cabin, probably the original warden's cabin built in 1927. This whole stretch was reputed for its wildlife, of which we saw none, save for birds. We joked that all the wildlife had already been spotted this year.

We were both tired from yesterday's portaging, so our paddling was nothing serious. In fact, we took turns napping and in the late afternoon I rested a long while. We make sort of a bed in the stern (which is actually the bow, maybe...) using our life jackets for pads and insulation, and the sleeping bag for a pillow.

Finally at 7 pm we landed on the bank on a large patch of hard-packed sand. A quick check of the tracks showed that this was a favorite hang out of waterfowl, that a few people had been here, a bunch of caribou, and a few wolves. This bank was a few hundred yards upstream from the rapids shown on the chart, and it was the first bare patch of ground close by the water, for many miles.

Camp 9

Camp 9, Dn-riv Warden's Grove: Map

Day's mileage: 36

Day 52|10

August 3, 1997

We set off at 8 am, a beautiful day once again. Cloudless and little wind. From Grassy Island, or the confluence, the banks were lined in reeds backed with willow, and this was also the case to Hornby Point. The current was also weak, especially where the river widened. A few hundred yards down river from camp was a rapid shown on the map. This was a bit of a ledge spanning the river, and easily run on the left side. We were soon off of our map - we hadn't purchased the next one that showed an approximate six miles of river - but the river was not difficult to follow here. Before making the S-turn before Hornby Point we saw a muskox. It stood facing us defensively, then gave up and lay down, munching few willows and watching us pass by. By now the wind was a little stiff out of the northwest so it took us a bit of time to get past the muskox.

Muskox standing

Muskox laying down

We stopped for a late morning breakfast: potatoes and eggs. To get to our breakfast spot, we landed bow into the reeds at a place where there was a natural path through the willows, and up to a bare patch of gravel. Later, we stopped on the left bank short of Hornby Point and wandered into the forest in search of the historic cabin. We almost gave up searching but just then we saw the remains of the cabin. Most of it had fallen down. The clues to the cabins' whereabouts was that we kept seeing cut tree stumps. Alongside the cabin were the 3 grave sites: John Hornby and his two young companions starved to death here in 1927. The mosquitoes and black flies were hard upon us and we couldn't imagine living here without bug protection. Anyway, it seemed an unlikely spot to build a cabin, but maybe it was a good spot in the winter, sheltered in the trees. In the vicinity we also saw moose droppings, and the whole area was somewhat boggy, except for the cabin site itself.

Remains of the Hornby cabin.

Grave sites

Beyond Hornby Point the river changed character; gone were the reeds, the banks were now cobblestones up to the ice-plowing level, and willow above that, and the current picked up dramatically. We sped along, paddling into the wind to keep from being blown ashore. Where the river bends sharply right and heads southeast, the banks were sandstone ledges. The ones on the right would have made outstanding camping. Once around the corner, though, we knew we would have tailwinds, and indeed the next several miles proved quick and easy.

We landed at 7:30 pm at the head of an island and made camp on the low-lying gravel bar. Even here the bugs were bad. We were long past needing a bath and clothes washing so we went into the water wearing our shells, and bathed inside of them. Jenny laundered our shells and my t-shirt and bug jacket, then cooked some soup for dinner. A lone seagull kept watch twenty feet away, and sat there watching us for half an hour (hoping for a handout of fish entrails), despite the couple of terns diving and swooping on it, trying to drive it away. Then a peregrine glided over the beach. But the highlight of the evening was a wolf that came within seventy five yards of camp, then turned around and trotted away. He was dark in color and rather small. We had seen bald eagles today and some young swans and a pair of adults, as well as ducks with ducklings, Brants geese and mud swallows, plovers too.

Camp 10

Camp 10, Head of island w/wolf: Map

Day's mileage: 55

Day 53|11

August 4, 1997

Jenny rose early and cooked cuppas and scones which we ate at camp, and cooked cereal, which we ate later. We set off at 7:45 am, sky darkly clouded, wind westerly at 10 knots - tail winds! Just before rising we had a bit of light rain. We were expecting more so we covered our load and had our rain gear ready in a separate stow bag. The morning was chilly - I had to put on a few extra clothes. The current was quite good. I spent most of the day relaxing in the forepeak while Jenny steered and paddled half-heartedly, as the boat was pushed along by the tail winds. The river snaked through interesting canyons, first cliffs on one side, then on the other, and each set of cliffs was home to a hawk (rough-legged) or eagle, and many swallows. We took a picture of a pair of young hawks sitting on their nest on their ledge.

We've noticed the water fowl are starting to gather up, perhaps anticipating their south bound journeys. Ducks and geese are gathering in small groups, loons fly overhead honking loudly for one another, and the swans are sticking together. Today was saw more ravens. As with yesterday, whenever a seagull would start berating us, from one to 3 terns would start berating the seagull. This was probably the result of it infringing on their territory in the process of chasing us away. But it was nice to have an ally - actually the seagulls are good watch dogs, chewing out anything that comes within range. We saw siksiks and a snowshoe hare, and we stopped to check out what looked like a wolf den on a cut bank.

We made a few more stops and found tracks of other canoes and paddlers, including another large group - 7 canoes. One particularly large cu-nim passed close to us and suddenly knocked us with gale force winds. This was the perfect opportunity to land ashore and head for the bushes - free at last (a temporary reprieve) of the bugs. The few miles preceding Lookout Point passed slowly due to a slackened current. We landed on the sand bar with the intent of making camp, but decided against it. We paddled across the river to the head of an island and landed at 7 pm, and made camp on a nice patch of pea gravel. Jenny braved the bugs and cooked a wonderful made dinner: diced potatoes, sausage, a little cheese and 5 eggs, all pan fried.

Camp 11

Camp 11, Head of island w/wolf: Map

Day's mileage: 57

Day 54|12

August 5, 1997

A light rain fell in the early morning; when it quit, we set off at 7:30 am, under an ominous looking sky. Half an hour later the rain started again in earnest and continued throughout the morning. We were glad to have set off when we did, otherwise we would have stayed in camp all day because we are not so eager to break camp in the rain. We wore our goretex shell jackets and our new rain pants, bought in Yellowknife and our rubber boots. We did not mind the rain. Curiously, neither did the bugs although I could see a dozen of them drown on the back of Jenny's jacket.

Muskox

Just after leaving camp, before the rain began, we saw a lone muskox in the willow bank. The water was deep close to shore so we paddled in close, trying to get a good picture but the animal sauntered away from us up the slope, but just before disappearing into the willows it turned for a nice profile shot. Fortunately the rain was not accompanied by wind and the air temperature was mild.

Mid afternoon we took a shore break and wandered up the sand and gravel shoreline to a small stand of spruce. Jenny found a handful of qiviut stuck on the spruce limbs. The muskox appeared to have been browsing on the spruce limbs. The sky was threatening to let loose a major storm and in heavy winds we hauled off the river and made camp at 5:30 pm at the head of a large sandbar, just upriver of Ursus Island. This particular area was mostly rocky with some sand. It was the last rocks before getting onto the sandbar proper. We guyed the tent down with the largest rocks we could muster. Jenny ignored my warning of imminent rain and went for a bath. I was incredulous to see her standing naked in the river, having a leisurely scrub with the rain pelting down and the wind blowing it sideways. The black cloud moved away and in full sunlight I went in for my bath, ignoring the strong, cold wind. Then the wind increased to a fury and started sand blasting me, so I dove into the tent. The tent was blasted with sand for the next couple of hours.

Camp 12

Camp 12, Up-riv of Ursus Is: Map

Day's mileage: 41

Day 55|13

August 6, 1997

We set off at 8 am. We had our work cut out for us - an ominous sky and a northwest wind blowing 15-20 knots made us paddle hard, hugging the left bank. Getting around Ursus Island was a major challenge with its circuitous coastline and its many sand bars. At one point we watched a light, cinnamon-tan grizzly walking determinedly along the shore until it disappeared in the willow, apparently without seeing us. When the bear disappeared I told Jenny that that was why I don't like to camp near willows. Too easy to surprise a bear. A while later we saw a fox, rusty brown with a white tipped tail. The strong wind made the `O want to slew around, beam-on, so we could not change our stroke from one side to the other, and this went on for most of the day. Fortunately our muscles were in good enough shape now they could handle the work load.

Jenny napping in the forepeak.

Eating breakfast in the rain.

For a while we lined the boat along a sand bar which was chock-a-block full of animal tracks: geese, gulls, siksiks, caribou, bear, mukox, fox and wolf. Throughout the day we saw many siksiks. Finally at 1:30 pm we "turned the corner" and had the wind on the quarter for the rest of the day. Still the `O wanted to slew around hard, making the steering difficult. The current also picked up. The Thelon Bluffs were very beautiful: steep, grassy slopes with small stands of trees. The cobbles on the right bank were something to behold: two foot diameter rocks, packed and shaped by the ice in a dramatic display of ice and hydraulics. The river level was low now, so the rapids were easily negotiated on the right side. They could have quickly swallowed a canoe on the left side. At the end of the canyon, on the left bank we passed by a large camp with half a dozen tents. A few people waved at us half-heartedly, and a mile further along we passed another camp of about the same size. We saw only one person, who didn't appear to see us. We did see someone else hiking the high hills behind this camp.

The river continued carrying us swiftly and the wind started easing. We stopped once to loosen our stiffened legs. Past the first island the current slowed and we labored on at the end of our reserves, and finally made camp on the left bank, even with the upper end of the gravel bar at the inlet to Beverly Lake. We stopped at 7:30 pm. The wind died about 8:30 pm, the sky was absolutely thick with cirrus, so thick it blocked the sun.

Camp 13

Camp 13, Inlet to Beverly Lk: Map

Day's mileage: 52

Day 56|14

August 7, 1997

Sometime during the night rain began falling and didn't let up until 9:30 am. There was no wind with the rain. We set off at 10:30 am, just as the northwest wind was picking up again. We paddled straight across the river to the right bank, where the `O was sucked into the channel by the strong current. It carried us easily for another mile. While in the channel, a pair of peregrine falcons screeched long and hard as we passed by a rather unsafe, crumbling, sandstone cliff. We saw a young falcon perched among the shrubs. Soon after, we passed by a caribou calf carcass the seagulls were pecking at. Probably it had drowned while crossing somewhere upriver.

Loading `O

A float plane flew low overhead (50 feet AGL), headed the same way we were. Apparently headed for a pickup of one or two canoers. It landed on the left side of the lake and 45 minutes later we saw it take off again, in the distance. We went right, toward the right side of Beverly Lake, headed across a large, open bay, to the right side of a large sand spit, and then across more open water to the mainland. The wind was picking up, kicking up a gnarly chop, now that we were on a lee shore. The wind was west-northwest, we paddled the lee shore, rocking and rolling, knowing that the day's paddling time was limited.

We made it about another mile before a comber dumped itself in Jenny's lap. We landed, bailed the `O, climbed the gently inclined gravel slope and made camp (about 1 pm) on a beautiful patch of tundra. The day was mostly sunny and we went for an hour's walk over the hill to look at the lagoon. This camp was just west of a pair of upright poles, marking nothing in particular that we could find.

Camp 14

We slept until late evening, hoping for the lull that seemed to occur most nights, but to no avail. The wind continued unabated. so we carried the `O from the water's edge up to the tent, then ate our left over rice and pancakes. Now that we have reached the lakes, it feels like a different phase of the journey has started. These open waters of the lakes would be ideal for the kayak and this morning we wished we had had it instead of the `O. The yak would have shrugged off the bit of surf and handled the swell with no problems at all. The `O is not the ideal craft for these conditions. In the hills above camp we found bits and pieces of caribou: tufts of hair, hooves, old skulls. The berries are ripening and tundra plants have just a tinge of color. The nights are cold; not freezing yet. Autumn is not far off.

Camp 14, West end, Beverly Lake: Map

Day's mileage: 8

Day 57|15

August 8, 1997

A day of wind and rain. Gusts to 50 knots, mostly the wind was 25 knots. A twin otter landed off Hoare Point and picked up a group of canoers that had moved in sometime that morning and pitched five yellow tents. We were amazed the plane would fly in such weather. In the lee of the tent, Jenny set up the stove and cooked scones and cuppas and a pot of nine-Grain cereal.

Day's mileage: 0
Camp 15, Aug 8 12:00 AM, wind-bound, 0

Day 58|16

August 9, 1997

We decided to try moving, rather than just sitting around, waiting for the wind to drop. We lined the empty `O along the shore, with me guiding the lines and Jenny holding a long pole attached to amidships thwart. With a great deal of difficulty and much bailing we progressed about half a mile before giving up. We carried the `O up onto the tundra and found that it was fairly easy to drag as a sled. We returned and broke camp and relayed all our gear to the `O in a long, back-breaking series of leap frogs. Oh-for a couple of pack boards!

Draging the `O over the tundra. After taking the photo, Jenny retrieved her bags.

We loaded the `O and managed to drag everything 50 yards with the utmost exertion. We offloaded most of the gear and I drug the `O across the point to an obvious aircraft pickup point near the mouth of the lagoon. Here, there were 4 fuel drums on the beach, 3 canoes in the willows, and a couple garbage sacks of trash weighted down with rocks. The fuel drums looked new - one was gasoline, 3 were jet fuel and one can had written on it: Reliance Ecoventure. The canoes were green Old Towns, heavily used, partially full of water. They looked like they'd been here more than a year.

We hauled the rest of the gear to the beach. During all this portage we had intermittent rain squalls and a consistent 35 knot wind. The beach was somewhat protected below a slope and the wind was cut by half. We pitched the tent with the benefit of several hundred pounds of rocks. The weather was too cold and blustery to cook, so we snacked, read, and napped. Stopped moving at 12:30 pm.

Camp 16

Camp 16, Spit portage: Map

Day's mileage: 2

Day 59|17

August 10, 1997

Heavy rain during the night, but by morning the rain had stopped and the wind had diminished somewhat. I climbed the hill behind camp, the wind blew 15-20 knots. The seas were white capped, though not nearly as bad as yesterday. Our first run was across the lagoon in the lee of the spit, and we weren't sure how far we would get, but one or two miles were better than nothing so we decided to shove off, at 8:30 am.

The lagoon proved to be a lot wider than it had appeared from shore, meaning more fetch and by the time we reached the far side we were rocking and rolling in earnest. We continued along the coast, now out of the lee of the spit, taking the full brunt of waves coming across the expanse of Beverly Lake. We stayed very close to shore in case of capsize. We took a few hefty dollops over the gunwales, but not enough to cause undue concern, so we kept going. The wind was northwest and nearly on our stern as we made way along the coast. The `O desperately wanted to swing around, beam on, so steering was a bit of a strenuous proposition.

We paddled into a wide bay and could see a cabin on the opposite shore. We dared not cut across because of the rough seas. A piece of cake in the yak, but life or death in a canoe. So we kept close to shore except at the back of the bay where the large waves were breaking over sand shoals. The cabin was rather defunct; a faded yellow metal siding and listing at quite an angle. We didn't stop to investigate. We paddled hard to windward and landed in the lee of the northern arm of the bay and made a cuppa in the lee of a rock.

Cuppa

Rock cairns

We pressed on around the corner, now in very rough seas and then in the lee of a large offshore island, paddled across a couple of bays and worked our way up to the lee of the northern-most island, in a cluster on the peninsula. We walked to a high point for a better look around and found our route ahead, wending among the islands. We proceeded ahead downwind again, across an open bay, continuing along the crenellated southern shoreline. The lake was less wide here, so the seas were not as imposing.

Next we made the 3/4-mile jump across that part of the lake, a bit of a nervy undertaking in such conditions, then proceeded left around the corner. From here the navigation became extremely tricky and we stopped every half hour or so to climb a bluff for a better look ahead. Getting disoriented in this maze of islands could have been serious. All day the sky had been overcast with intermittent rain and cold air temperature.

We were now bucking headwinds and sometimes for relief we lined the `O along the shore. While doing this we startled a couple of large fish. The first one we did not see, only its massive wake. The second one we had a very good look at - a giant of a Pike? That must have been somewhere around 30"-36" in length. It was the largest fresh water fish I'd ever seen, by far. We saw a lot of waterfowl: loons and numerous geese, mostly Canadian, a few flocks of what we thought were snow geese (pure white with black wing tips) and their dark gray young, which were as big as the adults and could fly quite well.

We repeatedly climbed hills, map in hand, to pinpoint our position.

The further we got into the maze of islands, the more difficult the navigation. The compass was so sluggish that I did not want to rely on it. So repeatedly I climbed hills, map in hand to pinpoint our position. This was very difficult because even from a height of 30 or so feet, the features looked very different from those shown on the map. We left the left bank, crossed the channel, paddled along the northwest shore of a square island, around the right side of the next island, then crossed another channel, ignoring 2 very large and deep bays that looked like lake outlets, and found the real outlet of Beverly Lake. There was a substantial cairn on this point. We paddled into this channel, then across its half-mile width and then paddled along the left bank for a mile.

Camp 17

At 6:30 pm we hauled out and made camp on a grassy bank. The wind started calming considerably and we even saw two mosquitoes. They were almost a welcome sight, after so many days of wind. A pair of cranes began cackling loudly at our intrusion. They kept it up for fifteen minutes, then took to the air, made a large circle around us, and then returned to their original spot. Perhaps they had chicks there. A couple of seagulls came up close, apparently hoping for scraps. The vegetation was short grass, well fertilized by the geese. It was the most lush place we had seen all afternoon. Much of the way today the ground was covered in thin tundra, sometimes only lichen.

We looked out the tent door and saw a one caribou with a large rack, silhouetted on the far hill. Lots of caribou tracks on the beaches and some muskox. Day's mileage: 27.5 which seemed like a fantastic distance in such rough conditions. We were quite exhausted. Still, Jenny cooked a large dinner of bouillon, chicken noodle soup, potatoes, eggs and salami, and breakfast cereal for the morrow.

Camp 17, Outlet of Beverly Lake: Map

Day's mileage: 32

Day 60|18

August 11, 1997

Rain during the night and on into the early morning. We slept in because of the rain, then set off at 10 am. The morning was still cold and we bundled in many layers. The wind had veered to the north and we paddled headwinds across a wide bay and around the corner. The sky was thick with moiling cumulus. Rain fell sporadically. We paddled to the northeast end of the island then across a wide and rowdy channel where the chop and white caps were amplified by the wind against current. At the far side we paddled along the shore, still into the wind, and around the corner, and then right, around a huge island sitting in the middle of the channel.

We pulled into this island's lee, landed on a sand and rock beach and climbed 75 feet to the summit where stood a chest-high cairn of 200 and 300 pound rocks. This site fairly reeked with antiquity. Circular rings of rocks used to hold down tents abounded. We visited a few looking for traces of the inhabitants. It was an ideal site - exposed to the winds, keeping the bugs away in the summer, and affording excellent views of the surrounding country and any game that might be passing through. In a few places we found assorted bits of lithic scatter - quartzite was the best they had come up with. Then on the way back down the hill we found what looked like boot prints - maybe a week or two, plus or minus, old.

We followed the channel, favoring the right bank for a ways, then paddled across to a cluster of islands which led back to the right bank. The wind was down somewhat so we paddled across the wide channel to the left bank. The sun shined through gaps in the cumulus, a welcome sight. It turned the water to a deep aquamarine/cobalt blue. The sun appeared briefly.

We followed the left bank of the channel again finding a bit of current, past another island, and then angled left and into Aberdeen Lake. Here, the banks were 30 feet high and just there we caught a glimpse of what looked like a sewing machine on a table. We landed and climbed the bank and found an old tent cabin site with quite a number of old relics: the old hand-cranked Singer sewing machine with a spool of thread, grown over with lichens, a Coleman stove, a frying pan with a wooden handle, a rusted through enamel cup, pieces of an old Sears CB radio, a rusted kerosene lantern, and a pile of large nails. Jenny also found some qiviut in the sparse willows.

At an old tent cabin site, we find a sewing machine, of all things.

We continued along and rounded a mile-long peninsula. The eastern shore of the peninsula was shallow and rock-studded, requiring us to keep a couple of hundred yards offshore. We paddled past a cabin, the site also of a great many fuel drums. Continuing one mile still bucking headwinds, and feeling drained of energy, we decided to land on the flats in the lee of a short row of hills and make camp, at 4 pm. We saw a couple of caribou and Canada geese, loons, and ducks.

Camp 18

Camp 18, East end, Aberdeen lake: Map

Day's mileage: 18

Day 61|19

August 12, 1997

Setting off.

We set off at 7:30 pm in calm conditions. The night had been cold, in fact we found our sponges frozen. The sky had mostly cleared during the night. We used the sponges during the day to mop out the `O and typically every morning to wipe the dew from the tent and the `O, and to mop the floor of the tent of crumbs, debris, etc.

We paddled out to the toe of a boot-shaped peninsula, and as we rounded the tip we saw eight lake trout, perhaps eighteen inches long, maybe longer. From the tip we paddled across miles of open water, short-cutting the various bays. In deeper water we saw a large fish feeding at the surface. It would have been a great day to throw out the lure. A float plane appeared on the horizon, then circled in our vicinity two or three times, at one point chasing after what appeared to be caribou on the tundra a ways inland. As close as it came, we doubt the pilot saw us, or at least he gave no acknowledgment.

Throughout the day we saw a few more planes at a distance, and many jets high overhead. Like the river and all the lakes along the way, the water in Aberdeen was Caribbean-clear. We could see the bottom to a depth of 20 feet or more. But of course much of the time the water was shallower than that.

Surveying the area ahead.

We landed on the eastern tip of a long, narrow island, climbed a short hill to survey the area ahead, and enjoyed a hasty picnic in the warm sun. We paddled past the group of large islands, keeping them to our right and then a mile from the mainland again, we paddled parallel to shore, steering for what appeared to be a promontory on the mainland, but which we eventually realized was an island, curiously not shown on the map.

The wind was now blowing from the southeast, fine on the starboard bow and little waves were beginning to form. We steered for a flock of white snow geese resting on shore and chased them into the air by landing there. It felt good to stretch our legs after so many hours in the `O. The seats of the `O are made of hard plastic, not intended for long use. We often pad them with our life jackets, but this doesn't help much. We set off again and paddled less than one mile when, despite the fact that the wind was only 10 knots, the waves were growing at an alarming rate. We wanted to cross the half-mile wide mouth of a lagoon, but the combers already trying to climb aboard dictated that we turn around and head back to shore. We pulled out at 2:20 pm and made camp on the tundra fifty yards up from shore, with the intent of napping and resting until the wind died later in the afternoon, when we would set off again. Around 6 pm the wind began to diminish, and veered 20°, but then started blowing even harder.

A flock of snow geese.

Behind camp was a small, rocky rise and a pretty little pond surrounded in green tundra. While walking to it we startled a pair of cranes which took to flight with their loud, strange cackling. The flock of snow geese relocated to the shores of the lagoon and we saw some Canadian geese there also.

Camp 19

Camp 19, North shore, Aberdeen: Map

Day's mileage: 23

Day 62|20

August 13, 1997

The wind and waves continued. With the kayak we could have probably managed them just fine, but with the `O we are definitely stuck. The sky was streaking over in cirrus, and the southeast wind was blowing warm air. We bathed in the lake and found the water much colder than the river. We went for a long walk inland, with the intent of climbing the hill directly behind camp. Because of a lack of trees and recognizable objects, distance here can be extremely deceptive. We walked a long ways to the base of the hill, much of which was over soggy ground and spongy tundra. We started climbing the hill and the higher we got, the more it rose and receded ahead of us. Already we were so far from camp that we could not see the tent or canoe

The scale of the landscape is immense.

We seemed to lack energy from the paddling exertions and somewhat meager diet so we returned to the tent, by a different way. The upper hillside was covered in caribou ruts and the lower region was the domain of the birds. We came upon 4 cranes, then stood still while 2 others made a long slow landing approach in the wind to join the four. In the air they looked prehistoric. We saw quite a variety of small birds which we could not identify and of course near the shore were the ever-present gulls and terns.

The terns are always a delight. They fly quite close to us, both out of curiosity and to urge us out of their territory.

A tern flies closely overhead.

Caribou migration ruts. Jenny finds a scull of a calf.

Caribou calf

Caribou

We turned and suddenly saw 3 caribou - 2 calves and a slightly older female. They too regarded us with curiosity, then moseyed away and disappeared again. It seemed odd that they could appear and disappear so easily and quickly in such an open landscape. Again, it has something to do with the scale and scope.

That evening we lay in the tent with our heads hanging out the door, with eyes wide open watching the Aurora. The wind picked up in strength and that evening the sky cleared. I read my 1,300-page Tom Clancy novel until it was too dark to read - about 11 pm. I lay there for awhile looking out the doorway and a cloud caught my attention because it formed in a matter of seconds. I woke Jenny, we unzipped the netting - the night was far too cold for bugs - and we lay there with our heads outside the tent. We watched a spectacular display of Aurora. It looked like something out of a dream of special effects from a sci-fi movie. Vast, stupendous displays of dancing light, all pale yellow. It was all in an east-west band directly over our heads, and it went from the east horizon to the west horizon. (Aurora light results from solar electrons and protons striking molecules in the Earth's atmosphere.) The stars were out but not real bright because the sun was not that far below the horizon. The moon was right on the horizon, a deep, burnished gold/orange globe. It took me a long while to find recognizable constellations because they were so dim, but I finally found Casseopia and that led me to Ursa Major and the North Star. I was surprised that the Aurora was not closer to the North Star. Jenny snuggled back inside and I lay watching the light show for another half hour, oohing and ahhing at the occasional burst of glory. It was all choreographed to some inaudible music.

Day's mileage: 0
Camp 20, Aug 13 12:00 AM, wind bound

Day 63|21

August 14, 1997

The wind continued throughout the day, pinning us down yet another day, despite our desire to get moving. We were semi-rationing our food, knowing that persistent gales could stretch our trip to a couple more weeks, possibly more. Also we were being careful with our fuel consumption. We started with 2 liters of Coleman fuel and were down to about 2/3 of a liter. One problem with our diet is the preponderance of wheat: spaghetti, pancakes, scones, crackers, bread, even the noodles in the soups. We did have lots of potatoes and eggs, potato chips. Also, an over-abundant supply of sugar, although the supply is dwindling fast.

Strong wind pins us down.

We read and napped and Jenny explored the good pond and came back with downy feathers and a jaw bone with teeth from a caribou. We saw three caribou again, probably the same one we had seen yesterday. Jenny saw jaegers at the pond. By evening the wind was starting to diminish. We packed our clothes bags and were ready to go on a moment's notice, but by 8 pm it was still blowing harder than we would have been comfortable with paddling at night. So we set our alarm for 3 am.

Day's mileage: 0
Camp 21, Aug 14 12:00 AM, wind bound

Day 64|22

August 15, 1997

The alarm didn't sound, due to a weakening battery we discovered. Woke at 4 am and set off at 4:30 am. The wind was still blowing five to ten knots southeast but the white caps were gone and we thought we could at least make a few miles. Incidentally, this southeast blow was our first wind of the entire summer that had a southerly component. The sea was still extremely rolly and that early in the morning we felt a little disoriented out there, flailing in the chop, due mainly to grogginess. But we soon fell into our groove and became comfortable and secure in the `O.

We watched the sun rise about 5 am, warming our hearts if not our hands and bodies, the morning was still quite cold. But before long the sun veered around and started glaring us with its reflection on the water ahead. We were paddling straight into it. Mid-morning in the nearly imperceptible distance across the lake, we could see a band of sheen. The wind had stopped over there and half an hour later the sheen had spread to our vicinity and the wind nearly died. It is always fun paddling clear, calm water, watching the bottom glide past, mostly rocks, occasionally rippled sand, and half expecting to see a seashell, as though we were in Baja. And indeed, the tundra looked so dry, in some places just lichen, that it brought to mind a desert environment. The main difference were the small mosquito-like bugs on the water by the millions. They were spaced evenly, maybe one to every three square inches, and as we glided past I figure roughly 10% of them took to the air and buzzed around us. Generally they were not biting. I caught a few of them trying; so we pretty much ignored them. However, there were a few no-see-ums mixed in with them.

The old headwind started wafting our way again and we had to keep our mouths closed because of all the bugs flying into our faces - as though riding a motorcycle. Eventually we pulled our headnets over our faces. Throughout the morning we had been peeling layers of clothing. Now, for shirts I was down to one long sleeve polypro and the bug jacket, and sweating in the stifling heat. The Arctic is a study in contrasts.

We took turns steering, turning the boat around when it was time for the other person to steer - one always steers from the back in a canoe. This brought a welcome variation in the routine for both of us. We still have not agreed on which end of the `O is the bow, though we have our theories. We made one stop to climb the hill for a better look ahead. It was the first hill in a ways and some other canoers had apparently had the same idea. Their tracks looked three or four days old. After about nine hours of strenuous going we started flagging, continuing on was a real effort - not the paddling so much, but the hard seats and our stiffened lower limbs. Yet after the long, wind-bound days, we were intent on making the best of this placid one.

Eventually we reached the outlet of Aberdeen Lake and paddled across a mile and a half wide channel. Paddling into the channel we noticed a number of interesting cairns on the bluffs. Also, throughout the day we saw many dozens of cranes on the shores, as well as jaegers, a young tern, three baby seagulls, a caribou, and a dried fish. We followed the far shore for a few more miles, passing between two islands. Between the two was a line of shoal water; we had to wade half a boat length. By now the black flies were hard upon us. For amusement I would clap my hands to see how many I could get in one swat. The average was seven.

We rounded the point, paddled into the back of a large bay, and hauled ashore at 4:30 pm to make camp - after twelve strenuous hours. We walked like boards, and had throbbing headaches from the glare, we figured. We selected a tent site on a patch of golf course quality grass, kicking aside all the desiccated goose droppings, then we spent fifteen minutes repairing the elastic in one of the tent poles. It had chafed through at one of the joints. The black flies were more numerous and frenetic at camp than we had ever seen them. It took us twenty minutes clean them out of the inside of the tent. We bring them in on ourselves, our gear, in our clothing, etc. Aside from the drone, their constant banging into the tent sounds like a fresh spring rain. They are so vicious that we simply cannot imagine living among them without protection. Our hearts go out to the caribou.

Our escape from the bugs, aspirin, cold towels, a bit of rest and some food revived us fairly quickly.

Camp 22

Camp 22, Btwn Aberdeen & Schultz: Map

Day's mileage: 39

Day 65|23

August 16, 1997

Wind from the northwest at 10 knots, a dark fog bank on the north-northeast horizon. We paddled around the bay, taking various shortcuts and into the channel where we found some current. We paddled the north shore of Qamanaarjuk Lake and as we were approaching the narrows we saw a twin otter land in the distance, and take off again half an hour later. In the narrows, Jenny saw a three-foot plus or minus fish. She didn't know what kind. The rapids at the inlet to Schultz Lake were nothing more than a bit of turbulence where the river plowed into the still waters of the lake. We paddled along the north shore. Three outboard skiffs passed us by, their occupants waving heartily, and then in a cove five miles past Whalebone Hill, we passed by a fish camp: four cabins, a tent, a generator, and small tractor.

Schultz Lake in a mirror-calm.

The wind had diminished by mid-morning and we paddled around Schultz Lake in a mirror-calm. We tried our hand at fishing - we towed a lure for a couple of hours, without success. We stopped on a peninsula midway along the north shore at 5:30 pm, made camp on the pea gravel, near where another canoe party had camped recently, as evidenced by the tracks of the boots and the keel of their boat in the sand. The black flies attacked with a vengeance. Jenny wanted to cook so I decided to reduce their numbers by clapping my hands in front of my face. It soon turned into a messy business, so I headed to the lake with a bar of soap. Ignoring the hoards, Jenny cooked a hearty meal of potatoes, eggs, and cheese, and cookies for dessert. We had imagined that the black flies would have diminished this late in the season, but, as it happens, they are getting worse every day. We live in our netting shirts and head nets, from the time we emerge from the tent in the morning until we retire back into it in the evening.

Backflies

Camp 23

Camp 23, Gravel bar, Schultz Lake: Map

Day's mileage: 39

Day 66|24

August 17, 1997

The sky was somewhat cloudy but the sun glared from directly ahead, and as we paddled around the 15-mile long curving coast, we kept facing the sun as it climbed toward the southeast. We saw another motor boat, and we saw a beautiful flock of snow geese flying single file just over the water. Another time we saw a flock fly overhead in perfect V-formation. For the last four miles before rounding the peninsula, we paddled ten knot headwinds, and eventually these created a substantial chop. We rounded the peninsula and midway along a mile-long island, we stopped and climbed a large pile of rocks for a better view.

The wind had calmed so we made the mile and a half crossing northeast to and island which we also climbed for a view of the way ahead. We paddled through a gap between the mainland and an island, then made our way across the wide bay, threading our way among the shallows. The bottom here consisted of very large rocks - 4 and 5 feet on an edge. We could hear rapids in the distance, and soon the current started sucking us into the channel. We held close to the right bank and paddled through without incident. We were now in the river again, having completed the lakes section. For the next 5 miles we enjoyed a moderate current and a bit of breeze, relieving us of the bugs somewhat. We went through the next set of rapids on the left without incident. Then we crossed the small "lake." The current started sucking us into the outlet, so we landed on the left bank at the head of Aleksektok Rapids. The river here was half a mile wide and positively thundering. The left bank was very large rocks. I would have been quite difficult to line. So we paddled back into the lake, crossed the river and came in on the right bank.

We lined the `O for a quarter mile, occasionally paddling short sections. We came to a bit of a cliff. The rapids shooting by it didn't look too bad, so we decided to give them a try. The rapids turned out to be much larger than they had looked and the `O was pressed right to its limits, with three-foot thrashing breakers. Jenny's comment was, "That was enough excitement for a whole week."

For the next seven or eight miles the river positively charged with a vengeance. It was one long set of Class one and two rapids. We rounded a bluff just downstream of a creek and landed in a back water cove, and made camp on the tundra at 7 pm. The black flies sprang from the vegetation and attacked us in their tens of thousands. There were so many that they seemed like a larger, single entity, much like a school of sardines. Way too many to cook dinner. Jenny hastened into the tent and couple of thousand blackflies went in with her.

Blackflies

Camp 24

Clouds had been building throughout the late afternoon. Just after climbing in the tent we got a bit of rain. The whole area is very interesting, with sparsely vegetated hills, lots of big rocks, interesting topography, and geologic formations. The beauty is accentuated by the tundra turning gold, orange and red.

We haven't seen any caribou and not as much bird life since entering Schultz Lake and this part of the river, probably due to the proximity of the village of Baker Lake. Here at this camp we found bits of trash along the shore line.

Camp 24, Tundra with black flies: Map

Day's mileage: 37

Day 67|25

August 18, 1997

We set off at 7:30 am. The river current was swift. We passed an island on its right side. This single island was a river landmark, 100 feet wide, with tundra and rocks. There were many stone vestiges on its summit and slopes, indicating past occupation. It must have offered something of a refuge from the bugs. Figuring that this would be the trip's last day, Jenny washed a round of laundry, using her galley tub as a wash basin, washing clothes we would need on the flights home. I wrung and whirl-dried the clothes and spread them here and there to dry in the fresh headwinds. The river was extremely low for this time of year, we learned later and we encountered rapids large and small for much of the 40 miles distance to Baker Lake.

Once, we landed on the left bank and lined the boat through a series of rapids, as we clambered on the steep, rock slope of a precipice. This intrusion disturbed a hawk which flew overhead, squawking at us; thirty feet above our heads, here fledging merely sat on a ledge watching us go by. As the river neared Baker Lake the terrain flattened out, the channel widened. Here the river was half or three-quarters mile wide and shallow with a rocky bottom. We spent a couple of hours wending along the right bank, through shallows of protruding rocks, listening to the left bank thundering with rapids.

Ultimately we crossed the river, and taking advantage of a burst of sunshine from between impressive cu-nims, we stopped on a gravel island for an invigorating bath. This island offered a refuge from the bugs. They would have swarmed us anywhere along the shoreline.

The hamlet of Baker Lake

At last we rounded a bend to the left, lost the current, then because the lake was so low, we had to paddle far around a patch of rocky shoals. Regaining the shore, we paddled past an old cabin and wall tent, then suddenly there was the town of Baker Lake, sprawling on the distant hillside. It was much bigger than what we had expected. The guide book has said six hundred residents. We learned later it was more like sixteen hundred.

Camp 25, Baker Lake

We landed adjacent the airport, two or three miles short of town, and unloaded the `O for the last time. Jenny went to the airport terminal to make travel arrangements while I set up camp, and readied some of our gear for traveling. I untied all the lashing from the canoe, which we had used to secure the tarp during rainy weather, and to tie in our gear bags. We expected that we would have to abandon the canoe. Shipping it home would have cost more than buying a new one, so I was surprised and delighted when Jenny returned, saying she might have found a buyer.

The telephone at the terminal lacked a phone book, but posted on the wall was the phone number for the Visitor's Center. She called them, asking if they knew of someone interested in buying a canoe. They gave her the number of a fellow named Henry Ford, who rented canoes. Henry said that he would come over and take a look at our Coleman. He arrived on his 4-wheeler and we had a most interesting chat. He was born on a nearby island seventy two years ago, son of an English fur trader and his Eskimo wife. Henry offered us $100 for the `O and the two life jackets. We gladly accepted and threw in the three paddles, which pleased him greatly. We tried to load the `O on his quad, but it was too large. He returned later with his pickup and loaded the `O and drove away.

Trying to load the `O on Henry's quad

Henry Ford

Jenny had also made arrangements for a flight out the next morning, with a good deal on Canadian Airlines for only $50 more, each, for returning to Vancouver and then Portland from Baker Lake, instead of having to return to Yellowknife, as our original tickets had shown. The return flight to Yellowknife with NWT Airlines would have cost us $600 each. Jenny cooked spaghetti and scones for dinner, then I dismantled the stove for shipping.

Camp 25, Baker Lake airport: Map

Day's mileage: 48

Day 68|26

August 19, 1997

We awoke early so that we would have plenty of time to pack up. Our luggage consisted of the 2 large Rubbermaid boxes, packed full and tied together; the galley bin which contained the dismantled stove among other things; clothes bags tied together with the tent bag; and the sleeping bag tied together with the tent poles and sleeping pads. These bundles made up our 4 pieces of luggage which we would "check." We had one clothes bag with jackets, and Jenny had her travel bag with the camera, books, etc, as well as a rather large sack of trash.

The flight was scheduled to depart at 8:15 am. We struggled along the dirt road half a mile to the terminal, stopping frequently to rest our arms from the unwieldy loads. "The Last Portage" I declared. We arrived at the terminal at 7:30 am and were surprised to find 5 other "river rats" there. We immediately felt like kindred spirits and began exchanging news of each other's trips. Their group consisted of young (early 20's) Canadians and Americans, 8 altogether, 3 girls, 5 guys (but the girls were not at the terminal). They had done their trip as cheaply as possible, starting with train and bus rides to Yellowknife, then a boat ride to Reliance. They did the classic route of The Portage-Artillery Lake-Hanbury-Thelon Rivers. They had arrived at Baker Lake yesterday just a few hours before us, and were staying at the canoer's campground, half way between the airport and town. Two of them were departing on the same flight as us.

We had good flights to Rankin Inlet (where Jenny was finally able to call RCMP in Baker Lake to inform them of our arrival), then Arviat, then Churchill, then finally Winnipeg at 2 pm. We got a motel near downtown, but were soon in shock from re-entry, especially after wandering through a nearby shopping mall.

• Departed Winnipeg at 7:25 am.
• Arrive Vancouver 9:18 am
• Arrive Portland 1:02 pm
• Shuttle, arrived home 6 pm

* * * * *

We returned to our home in Oregon, and were glad to see our kayak Nunaluk was shipped to our home also. She was in fine shape, but for one small hole in her hull made by a forklift, which we easily patched.

Siku kayak and Nunaluk back together again, on an Oregon reservoir.