Ray and Jenny's Back River Odyssey

Day 15

July 30

The morning was chilly. Set off at 8:15 am under a cloudy sky, bucking a light headwind that was all too soon back up to speed, ie: strong. We spent the morning weaving in and out of sand banks, stopping every now and then to climb a hill to ascertain the route ahead. On top of one hill we found an old Inuit (here called Uvaliaqtiit) tent circle - rocks that had been there for a long time. We also found a caribou kill by wolves perhaps. We were surprised that the skull was crushed into several pieces. A jawbone showed young teeth. Wherever you go in the Barrens, you find evidence of life, present and past. Tracks of caribou, wolf, goose feathers, bird's nests, old bones, clumps of fir, discarded antlers, as well as the tent rings and inukshuks of a people who lived here.

Sand bank

Lupine

Inuit tent circle

The going was strenuous, paddling straight into the headwinds most of the time. Thanks to Verlen Kruger for showing us what is possible. A couple of times we crossed the river in order to get into the lee of the opposite bank, and this was always a real challenge. We can only cross when the current is perpendicular to the wind. When the current is running against the wind, the waves are huge. Even so, we always seem to find ourselves clawing across directly into the wind at maximum effort and minimum speed.

The wind kept building, and as we rounded one gravel point we met with intimidating breakers ahead, so we turned around, dropped back behind the point, and stepped ashore. We searched out a tent site, but I couldn't bear to give up that easily. Jenny was not so enthused about continuing in those conditions. But we got back in the canoe and forged ahead, passing through a small channel behind an island, and then into an open bay of breakers. By keeping the boat just in the shallows we avoided the large, breaking seas. But the problem was the steering. Steering the canoe was very difficult in strong wind, even though we have trimmed the boat by shifting the gear fore and aft.

We crossed the bay and found the wind even stronger, so finally had to give up. 12:15 pm we pitched the tent on a gravel bar and, as usual, secured it with large rocks all around to prevent it from being blown away.

Camp 15a

I wandered up to the top of the hill and found the wind so strong it was stinging my face with blown sand. The view was beautiful, with the tent and canoe below and the braided river with islands and sandbars in the distance, accented by the green tundra on the hilltops.

It was difficult for me to stay put, knowing that we have a long ways to go, and not that much time remaining in the paddling season. I sat around fidgeting the afternoon away, while the wind whistled past the tent. At least the bugs were absent. Jenny decided to take a bath, so she stripped in the cold wind and went into the river with a bar of soap and hand towel. We had not bathed in the river yet, mostly because of the cold water; although we have taken a number of sponge baths inside the tent. I followed Jenny's example and went in myself - only to the knees but with lots of scrubbing and splashing. We came out spic and span with goose bumps.

By 7:15 pm the wind had diminished somewhat, so we loaded the boat and set off again. As we were shoving off from shore we saw a loon taking shelter in the same protected pullout as us. It did not move away as we approached. We got to within ten feet and wished we had had the camera ready.

The wind was still blowing strongly, but we were determined to make some mileage. And with a great deal of effort, we did. Eventually the river funneled into a canyon with steep, grass-topped sand banks, and the nature of the river changed. For the first time in several days we were able to take advantage of the current. How wonderful it felt to be on a river again, moving along with the flow. But staying in the current required work, because the wind kept trying to blow us to the leeward bank. The down-side was that we had to wade a few rapids, which meant cold feet for the rest of the evening. But the upside was that we were making some great progress. This was also an extremely interesting stretch of river, with the high banks and huge gravel bars, big boulders all stacked on top of each other by the ice, and with the river twisting, turning, and charging along.

The wind was still strong at 10 pm, and the light was starting to fade, making it difficult to see any rapids up ahead. And the temperature was dropping. So at 10:30 pm, nearly to Hawk Rapids, we pulled into a cove on the left, climbed to the top of the bank and made camp - just in time to see the full moon rising again. The sky is clear and we can't imagine how tomorrow's weather could be anything but perfect - not that we don't discount any other possibilities. Day's mileage: 28

Camp 15b

Day 16

July 31

The night was cold, especially high up on the tundra, and the dew heavy. The wind had died and we awoke to a beautiful morning, with some clouds but little wind. Set off at 7:15 am and waded and lined the first of the Hawk Rapids on the right without difficulty. The map showed six rapids in a row and that was about right, plus a number of smaller ones. So the morning was quite lively, with lining and wading and a couple times almost getting into trouble. The big rapids had a suction to them sometimes, which made it difficult to stay away if we got too close. Many of the smaller class-1 and 2 rapids we ran without difficulty. This was only our third canoe trip and we were starting to get the hang of maneuvering.

The river ran to and fro through a canyon of sorts. We didn't see any hawks as Back reported. But we did enjoy this part of the river, with its fine weather.

With the sun beating down, we wore nylon mitts all day. We had made these mitts for bug protection, but today we wore them for sun protection. Both of us have blistered hands and fingers with phototoxic dermatitis. We suspect the sun is pumping out more that the usual harmful UV.

Wearing our bug mitts for sun protection

The river moved at good clip through this section, and it was a joy to be out in the current, taking advantage of it. The river made a lot of sharp turns and several times we landed ashore to check out the way ahead. From the river we couldn't see around the next bend.

About half way on its eastward reach the river widened and slowed, and the remainder of the day was more like lake paddling again. The old north wind was starting to manifest, prevented us from relaxing. To relax in the wind is to be blown ashore, or worse, out into the middle of the lake. Early afternoon we landed opposite the McKinley River tributary, and climbed the hill for a little leg exercise, and to have a good look around. On the summit were several old tent rings and even an old grave site with a number of bones in it. The burial procedure was to pile rocks on the corpse, in leu of digging a grave into the permafrost, which was inconceivable.

The first mate taking a well deserved rest. Note that we always secure all bags to the boat.

These Inuit tent rings were used so often they have become a permanent part of the landscape.

We paddled all afternoon, still heading east. We were starting to feel the effects of today's long hours of paddling, combined with the previous day's exertions. We rounded the corner and worked north about one mile, and made camp at 6 pm on the right bank, up in the rocks on a nice level patch of sand. Day's mileage: 41.

Camp 16

Day 17

August 1

The night was cold with lots of dew. Awakened at 5 am; the wind was calm and the sun was out - and so where the bugs. We decamped at 6:30 am, and soon the morning warmed and we removed our extra cold-weather clothing, down to the bug-netting shirts and shell jacket. I wore bug-netting pants under my shell pants, Jenny wore lycra shorts and shell pants. Wool socks and high-top shoes on the feet, and mittens on hands to lessen the effects of the sun. Wide brimmed sun hats to keep the sun out of the eyes, and to keep the mosquito-netting off the face, neck, and top of head.

For once we were able to stay in the river's channel, taking advantage of the best current - although it wasn't much, not more than one or two knots. Sometimes finding the channel was a challenge. The river is so wide it feels like a big lake, but somewhere out there is a channel of current. As we learned on the Yukon River, the current is marked by small boils or areas of agitated water. So we steered for these.

The further we went, the more into "Big Sand Bar Country." The height of the river determines how much the sand bars and banks are exposed. When the river drops another couple of feet, following the channel will be much easier. However we always managed to find the right way.

We were surprised to see a lone muskox on one bank, and later a lone caribou, and later yet another single caribou. This sandy terrain seems rather devoid of game, no doubt because of a lack of food. There was, however, an abundance of blooming lupine. Sometimes we see large patches of blue-purple color on a far bank. We also saw two 55-gallon fuel drums, discarded from floatplanes and washed down the river. We've seen a few of them just about every day, unfortunate eyesores. Also there were siksiks along the river banks, and of course quite a variety of birds and shorebirds and waterfowl, including Sandhill cranes which is what we woke up to this morning, with their chattering and cackling. The loons have the widest variety of calls. Today we heard one bark like a coyote, and of course the usual croaking like a frog. Also today we saw coots. We revel in the vibrant wildlife in it's natural setting, free from the hand of man, the inadvertent despoiler of the environment.

The morning sky was clear, then came a smudge on the northwest horizon, and before long a front of clouds went racing overhead and covered the sky. The underside of these clouds looked like smooth wave forms. Mid-day found us far from shore in a serious sand bar area, but the day was quite calm, which was a blessing for getting through. It was also a blessing for the mosquitoes which kept us in our headnets. I climbed a bluff to look out over the sand flats, in order to identify the channel ahead, and to take a compass bearing. Much later in the day we both hiked up a knoll for a little leg exercise, and there we enjoyed inspecting tent rings, four or five of them. One tent ring even had a hearth in the middle of it. Tundra berries covered the entire knoll, which might have been one of the attractions back then. Plus the site offered the best possible breeze, and was close to the river.

Mid afternoon the clouds let loose with some rain. The rain was sporadic and just as our clothing would dry, the next splatter of rain would come. It was fun watching the millions of rain drops splashing on the water all around. One storm was heavy and lasted about ten minutes. For awhile we had a moderate tail wind that quickly built up a chop and prevented us from following the channel. We stayed in the shallows and so avoided the larger waves. We followed the east bank and then south bank as we entered Pelly Lake. This shoreline was shallow with many patches of rocks. We crossed two large bays, one and quarter miles of open water each time, although the second one was shallow. Fatigue was beginning to catch up with us again, and our rear ends had wearied of sitting on the hard seats. Altogether we had been in the canoe eleven and half hours.

At 6 pm we pulled into a beautiful little cove and made camp on the goose grass, a couple dozen feet from the water. A very pretty spot with Lupine and cotton grass blooming. Just as we landed, the wind piped up and quickly sent a surf pounding onto the outer shoreline. The wind continued throughout the evening. We attended to various camp chores: cleaning the stove jet, pump drinking water, Jenny washed her hair, heated water for cuppas, cooked a meal and the next morning's breakfast, and repaired our mittens. Day's mileage: 47

Camp 17: Pelly Lake

Day 18

August 2

We shoved off at 6:45 am into a cold, gray morning. The wind was blowing 12-15 knots from the north. The lake was lumpy and somewhat white-capped out where the fetch was large. We rounded the bold headland, one mile across the bay from camp, then set a course across the first two-mile wide sound. The weather was not the best for making such a crossing in an open boat, but we figured the risks were minimal, mainly because we had become more adept at handling the canoe. Even so, the far shore was so distant and low lying that it looked impossibly remote. Part way across I checked the compass to make sure we were actually headed for the nearest land. Two-thirds of the way across we passed between two low lying rocky islets. And from there followed a string of islands for the next several miles, staying a distance off the mainland.

We cut another large bay, passing by two low-lying islands and then wove our way between a number of islands to what we thought was going to be "Show-Stopper Sound", the broad north and south orienting parts of the lake. We called it that because the wind was blowing fairly hard and the seas were large and white-capped. The weather was not suitable for such a long crossing. So we pulled ashore on the easternmost island of any height, and climbed twenty feet and had a good view across the sound. Again, it looked a lot further than the one-and-half miles shown on the map.

We reboarded the canoe and paddled around the corner, hoping to find somewhere to camp. However, the conditions didn't look that bad out there. So we paddled out into the sound just a ways, to test the waters. We seemed to be doing fine, so decided to go for it. As we had been all morning, we paddled hard, and within half an hour had completed the crossing. But by the time we reached the far side, the waves were getting serious. Jenny's comment was that she needed a seat belt. I steadied myself by bracing into the water with each stroke. From there we turned and followed the coast directly upwind, and this proved a serious undertaking, meeting the waves head-on, with the bow flying into the air and slap-banging down hard onto the water - ad infinitum. For about a mile we paddled hard and only crept along.

Turning the corner east into the next bay was like stepping into a different world. The water was protected behind a large island, so the chop was minimal. We paddled north around the island, watching three caribou and noting several small groups of snow geese, along with Canadian geese. We then clawed our way north, in very strong winds, half a mile to the mainland (the north shore of Pelly Lake). Here the chop was minimal due to the lesser fetch. The map showed a cabin, and it looked like a typical deserted cabin you'd find somewhere in outback Alaska, but built in what seemed like a strange place. Nearby was another small metal building, perhaps a water surveying station.

We paddled east, going in and out of every bay while doing our best to stay as close to shore as possible, with the wind doing its best to hurl us back out to sea. We reached a large island marking the end of Pelly Lake, with rapids on either side - between the island and the mainland. We had to negotiate the rapids on the north side, because the wind was too strong on the right side. Very strong winds make controlling a canoe difficult; so running any kind of rapids was out of the question. We lined the north bank right down to a bench at the base of the rapids.

Reaching the bench, we landed and I suggested to Jenny, "Time for fishing." Surely the water below this rapid would be packed with fish, I thought.

This proved to be something of an understatement.

I assembled the pole, fitted our best lure, and handed the outfit to Jenny. I wanted to see her catch a fish; but I advised her, "Don't catch a big one, because we can't eat it all." She cast the lure out, and reeled it right back in. This seemed strange because I thought she'd hook a fish on her first try.

Jenny fishing at the bottom of a rapid.

She cast again, and the line suddenly went zinging out to the end of the reel, with the reel whining loudly. And and with a "snap" the fish was gone. I was taking her picture at the time, and I saw her pole swinging straight down river. "It was huge." she said, "and it took all the line." Describing the fish, she said it was eight inches wide and five feet long, and Jenny is not one to exaggerate, by any means. The fishing line was only seventeen pound test, and with a fish that big, there was no way to stop it. When it came to the end of the line, it just kept right on going. Fortunately Jenny managed to hang onto the pole. Also, the line broke at the lure, not at the reel. Unfortunately, there was a monster fish (Jenny started called these big ones "gooberfish") somewhere out in Pelly Lake with our nice lure stuck in its mouth. We could only hope the hook will rust through in a short while.

(It turns out that this was no fish story. In the coming weeks we saw three more fish in this category. As we would reel in a twenty-four inch fish, these huge "gooberfish" would sometimes chase it to shore, snapping at it, as though it was a minnow. We did not want to catch one of these whoppers, first because we could not possibly eat it all, but mainly because these huge fish are up to one-hundred years old, and are largely irreplaceable. Even catch and released would stress the creature greatly. Like the few small bits of firewood laying around, these monster fish are not commodity items. They are an irreplaceable part of the landscape. How incredibly harsh the Arctic is, yet how fragile.)

Interestingly, Jenny did not describe the fish as a pike, but something much less sleek. I tied on our our smallest lure, because I did not want another big fish. And decided I'd better hang onto the fishing pole myself. I threw the lure into the rapids and reeled it back in - six or eight times - thinking that Jenny had spoiled the rest of our fishing by agitating the area with her big fish. Then, the next ten casts I caught ten fish; however each time the hook failed to hold. As soon as the fish started to thrash, it would break free. So I changed to a slightly larger lure and with the next cast snagged a one-pot trout - golden with small spots. I hauled it in, and clubbed it on the head with a rock.

One-pot trout

All this took place in cold and blustery weather laced with a little bit of rain. Never mind that, we were having the time of our lives! And what made the day even more enjoyable was our having crossed "Show-Stopper Sound." Life was so dynamic and vibrant, paddling this big water. We are starting to tune-in and become more a part of this grand country - residents rather than visitors.

Jenny cleaned the fish while I carried all our gear fifty feet over the large rocks. Then we portaged the canoe into the quiet water below the bench. Paddling the north shore was still a challenge because of the powerful wind. We had to keep as close to the shore as we could, with very little short-cutting of the bays. Reaching the corner where we would have turned north, we decided to land ashore at 3 pm and make camp. We had been paddling full tilt all morning and were running out of steam. I climbed the short rise and estimated the wind speed at 25 knots.

We made camp on the goose grass, thirty feet up from the water's edge, and spent a few hours tending to camp chores long overdue: fitting better tie-down lines to the canoe, some better lines to the tent, and airing and drying our clothes. Things dry fast in this kind of wind; and the sky was clearing so the sun helped things along. We took baths, Jenny washed some clothes, cut up the fish and made fish chowder by adding instant potatoes to the pot. The fish meat filled the pot almost to the brim. It was superb eating, very rich and filling. Day's mileage only 21, but excellent mileage gain in such boisterous conditions.

Camp 18: Upper Garry Lake

Day 19

August 3

The wind blew all night, and by 8 am we decided to go anyway - even though the wind was a little stronger than the day before. We paddled upwind for a half-mile, cut the bay to the east, rounded the corner, and tried paddling into the next bay. With maximum effort we were barely creeping along; and the risk of being blown out to sea were starting to seem real. So, reluctantly we landed ashore and made camp at 10 am.

We spent the day tent-bound, sleeping and reading. Ironically, the sky was sunny, making the tent nice and warm inside. However, step outside and the frigid blast quickly sapped body heat. As Jenny was tending to some sewing repairs, she accidentally slit her inflatable sleeping pad with her tiny scissors. We patched the slit with a gel sealer.

At 8 pm the wind began to lessen, so we set off and paddled into strong headwinds for awhile, then the wind reduced so we cut a large bay - which was just as well because the bay was quite shallow. Rounding the headland in moderate conditions, we crossed the next large bay. It too was shallow, with a sandy bottom. The crossing was just north of the island of Father Bulliard's cabin 65°54'09.5"N 100°45'39.4"W. From our vantage the island looked like a giant esker.

Taking a compass bearing.

In fading daylight we paddled into the strait, leaving upper Garry lake and entering Garry lake. There was not much current, and no rapids. The darkness was starting to make navigation difficult, both in discerning what lay ahead, and in trying to read the map. We passed between two large islands and then passed to the south of the next two large islands. And by now the wind was starting to blow again. Lacking wind we could have probably gone all night; but as it was, we decided to land ashore - at midnight. One nice thing about Arctic paddling is the abundance of excellent campsites. Rarely are you ever far from a good place to make camp, and often the tundra is soft and spongy, providing excellent comfort. Day's mileage: 13

Camp 19b, Garry Lake

Day 20

August 4

We set off at 6 am in strong northwest winds. We worked our way around a large peninsula, but the wind was so strong we had to hug the back of every small bay. At 8 am, it seemed prudent to get off the water. As to the wind strength, Jenny's comment was, "You know you're paddling strong headwinds when your nose tries to drip but the drips blow over the tip of your nose and into your eyes."

We climbed the high hill behind camp for a wonderful vista, and then back at camp crawled into the tent. Later, hoping for a break in the wind we went for another walk up to the top of another hill. The wind was blowing very strongly. On the way back to camp we saw a hare of some sort. Decided to try fishing and spent forty-five minutes casting the lure out into a likely pool, but without results. It was good casting practice, but apparently these huge lakes are not crammed with fish. Spent the evening reading and sleeping. Mileage this morning was: 4

Camp 20, 21: Garry Lake

Day 21

August 5

We wanted to set out again, but even by 10 pm the wind still had not let up. We set the watch alarm for 3 am, and when it sounded the wind was still blowing hard. A bit of rain in the early morning, the sky clouded over, strong wind all day. We slept most of the day. We've nearly depleted our snack items, so we're cutting back on cheese, crackers, dried fruit and mixed nuts. We hoped for a break in the weather in the evening, but no break materialized.

With time on our hands, Jenny takes stock of our remaining provisions.

Camp 20, 21: Garry Lake

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