Great Slave Lake, Pikes Porgage, Coppermine River

Copyright © 1988 - 2024 Ray Jardine

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This year's canoe trip was 960 miles in length, and took us 39 days across an amazingly vast wilderness area, in fact one of the largest and most remote and pristine natural regions left on the planet. Starting in Yellowknife, capital of Canada's Northwest Territories, we paddled along the shore of the Great Slave Lake, then carried our outfit over Pike's Portage, worked up to Clinton-Colden and Aylmer lakes, then paddled down the Coppermine River, and finished at the native village of Kugluktuk on the coast of the Arctic Ocean.

710 mi of lakes and up rivers, with 44 portages totaling 15 miles, then 250 miles down the Coppermine.

During the planning stages we asked ourselves: "How much adventure can we pack into a mere six weeks of free time?" We are both extremely pleased with the results. It was an unforgettable experience and one of our very best trips yet.

The "Barrenlands," as this magnificent expanse of wilderness is known, contains tens of thousands of lakes and rivers. So the best mode of travel is usually by boat. The waterways along our chosen route are not continuous, so altogether we portaged 44 times, the longest being about 3.5 miles. The entire trip was uphill, until reaching the Coppermine river for its final 250 mile run. This river is well known for its technical and sometimes unavoidable rapids. So in all, the trip required a fairly nimble boat; and once again for its practicality we chose a canoe rather than a kayak.

This was our eighth paddling adventure in the far north, and this time we resolved to be more self-sufficient, with no float plane fly-in to the start, or food drops or resupplies along the way. Instead we carried all our food and gear for the entire six weeks.

July 5, 2005

We arrived at the Portland Airport at 3-1/2 hours before the scheduled departure time of our flight to Seattle. Turns out we needed the extra time to straighten out a glitch: The airlines had no record of our payment for our leg to Edmonton. That took an hour to sort out. Then, the line to get through security seemed to take another hour.

It was a relief to finally arrive in Edmonton, with it's large but very quiet airport. The Custom's officer didn't like the barrel length on our shotgun. It was half an inch too long. The limit was 18-1/2 inches, he said. He eventually let it slide, but charged us a $25 firearm registration fee.

Our departure to Yellowknife was a six hour wait, so we found a comfortable, half-sunny, half-shady picnic table outside the terminal and rested, sometimes falling asleep.

Flying across Alberta and into the Great Slave Lake area, the sky was totally cloudy. In Yellowknife however, the sun was shining. Melissa, a rental car representative, greeted us in the terminal and drove us to their office. After taking care of the rental car paperwork, we drove to the Fred Henne Territorial Park Campground across the street from the airport. Somehow we got assigned to a site in the lowlands near the lake, where the mosquitoes were swarming. We quickly pitched the tent right on our gravel driveway and collapsed inside. The sun was still up when we fell asleep at 11:00 pm. We were warm and comfortable and slept well.

Campground : Map

Day 1 - Yellowknife

July 6, 2005

We awoke several times in the wee hours of the morning; Jenny had picked up a cold in Portland so she was feeling a bit raspy. Then we finally got up about 7:00 am. It was a beautiful day, some overcast, not cold, not too buggy. We hiked a ways off over the bedrock and through the stunted black spruce forest. The spruce are about 20 feet tall, maximum, with lots of birch, alder and wild rose.

We broke camp and drove into town to scout out a launch spot. Nothing ideal anywhere (we need a grassy space to spread out, private next to the lake, with trash can and drinking water available) but we found only a few possibilities near the float plane base. We drove back through town, found the new Canadian Tire store (out past the WalMart) and bought one gallon of white gas cook-stove fuel, a fishing lure, and some bug repellent.

Then we went to Co-Op for groceries. We must have set a new two-person canoe record for the grocery bill: Can $491.75. Mostly snacks, some cheese, fruit, cereal, dry fruit, candies, cookies, crackers, bread, peanut butter, jam, salami, etc. A six week's supply. From there we drove back into town to a sports store and bought a camping stove and fuel bottle. At a gas station we bought fishing licenses. We had to buy the the white gas cook-stove fuel, and the camping stove here because they are not permitted on the airlines.

From there we drove on through town, over the bridge to our chosen launch site: the old float plane dock on Back Bay where we had camped and flown out during our 1997 Thelon River trip. A fellow was working at the dock filling fuel drums, and we asked him for permission to work - off in one corner. No problem, he said, in a friendly tone.

We pulled the canoe gear from our luggage bags and while I poured the gallon of fuel into our smaller one-quart plastic soda bottles, Jenny sorted the food bags.

We loaded our sacks of trash into the car along with our travel bags and clothing. Then while I assembled the canoe, Jenny drove the car to pick up the rental emergency satellite phone, where the owner had kindly offered to store our luggage at his shop. Then she stopped for a quick visit with Eva and Eric, good friends from previous trips. Eric gave her a few extra-large bricks of Belgian chocolate.

Jenny made one last run through the grocery store, then filled the car's gas tank and returned the rental car. The fellow who rented the car had agreed to transport Jenny back to the boat dock.

Meanwhile, while the boat had gone together nicely inside our house, where it was cool and out of the sun, here in the intense Yellowknife sun it wouldn't go together. The skin had shrunk, so the two top longeron bulwarks (one on each side) seemed too long. I had to struggle with it for 45 minutes. The sky was clouding over, the wind was picking up, and the guy working at the dock said there was a storm coming. This would not be a good place to camp, so I wanted to paddle out of here. The canoe was not together 100 percent properly, but it was good enough. So by the time Jenny returned, I had the boat in the water and was just starting to load it.

At home, the boat had seemed much too large; but here, all our gear and six-weeks of food barely fit. We were in such a hurry to leave (we didn't want to caught in the channel or out in the bay with a storm coming), we just threw the gear bags in and took off - this at 3:40 pm. We paddled under the bridge and were just pulling out into the main channel when we had to make a hard left to get out of the way of a float plane approaching for a landing.

We paddled around the north of Jolliffe Island and then southeast across Yellowknife Bay to the eastern shore. The sky was partly clouded over. Out on the water we had up to 10 knots of headwind and some small whitecaps. This was enough wind to keep the mosquitoes at bay. We enjoyed the paddling. It was very nice to get going and very nice to be on the water again. We had some reservations about how well the canoe would hold together and how well it would perform, but at least it floated, and it paddled easily enough, even fully loaded.

On the water we saw loon and ducks, seagulls and terns, some very large ravens and several huge bald eagles. The sloping bedrock shoreline was beautiful with lots of good camping sites. In a couple miles we went past the village of Detah. Some of the houses looked pretty nice. On a small, adjacent rocky islet, someone had deposited their barking sled dogs.

Then we made a run a couple miles south across Akaitcho Bay. The conditions were uncertain and the wind was picking up. With the sky darkening, we landed on the westernmost point of Horseshoe Island at 5:55 pm. We had paddled just under 2.5 hours and had gone 7 miles.

Day's mileage: 7 in 2.5 hours
Camp 1: Map

Day 2 - Great Slave Lake

July 7, 2005

There was heavy rain during the night and it was still drizzling in the morning. There was not much wind, but the morning was not inspiring either, so we slept in. The last few day's preparations at home, the traveling to Yellowknife, and the preparations there, had left us deeply fatigued. Now, at last, it was time to relax. we slept most of the day.

The boat had collected several inches of rain. Although most of the gear we had left in the boat was in dry bags, we had left half a dozen plastic grocery sacks full of groceries like bread, crackers, cheese, fruit, and cookies that got rather soaked.

The weather started looking better about 4:30 pm, so we decided to move on. Besides, as the afternoon wore on the day had grown warm and the tent's interior had become intolerably hot, even though the skies were still very cloudy. We set off at 6:22 pm and paddled south, staying outside of all the islands of size. Then we finally, ducking through the channel just before reaching the last large island in the chain, we paddled southeast with a light crosswind across 1.5 miles to the next island chain.

We stayed outside of all of these islands until Post Island where we ducked inside. The sky let loose with rain again. We did not have the spray cover fitted, but at least we had our waders and rain jackets at the ready. For 15 minutes it was a full-on deluge. From Post Island we steered due east. About 10:30 pm we had had enough. Jenny was feeling ill, and had vomited over the side. She had picked up a bug of some sort in Portland and had been feeling pretty rotten the last 3 days.

At 10:48 pm we stopped at the last island before reaching the mainland. The shoreline slabs were covered in thick, luxurious lichens that were sopping wet like sponges. The bare rock was extremely slippery. I located a barely-make-do tent site on the rocks 20 feet above the water. We hauled the boat out of the water. shivering, I felt deeply chilled. I had not realized I was so cold. Jenny said she was not chilled, but she wasn't toasty-warm either. Carrying the gear and canoe up to the tent site warmed us up. In the bleak weather we felt like we were on the ragged edge, and the thick mosquitoes were not helping. I had to wonder what was the attraction for such a trip. It seemed ridiculous to be putting ourselves through all this toil. (in my hiking books I had described such feelings of gloom, under the heading "Trail Shock.")

Fortunately, that feeling would soon change. We crawled into the tent and it was surprisingly comfortable for such an improbably site. In the water below camp I saw a fish jump. In the trees behind was an eagle. Despite the rain we enjoyed the scenery. Small but sturdy spruce, dark green against a sky as blue as the water that reflected the whole scene. The late evening light had a pink tinge. The clouds lifted to the west and the sun gleamed through golden. Our constant companions rested or fished nearby: gulls, terns, ducks with ducklings, loons, eagles, osprey and ravens. We fitted the spray cover for the night. 4.5 hours, 11 miles.

Day's mileage: 11 in 4.5 hours
Camp 2: Map

Day 3 - Great Slave Lake

July 8, 2005

We had a very good night sleep, no rain. We set off at 8:09 am. The sky was heavily overcast, steel gray. The wind was very light and from the west, giving us a nice nudge all day, and fortunately the rain held off. Jenny was feeling much better.

We left the spray cover fitted all day.

Our route was basically eastward, past Old Fort Providence which we didn't see. Then we followed the coast southeast throughout the day. We enjoyed paddling among the islands large and small. The entire area is bedrock although we saw a couple of rocky/gravel beaches. Not large though, not even big enough for us to land on. Most of the land is forested: black spruce, birch, and some very tall Labrador tea. We saw many hundreds of ducks, a number of loons, a jaeger and an osprey.

In Drybones Bay we stopped on a small island for a shorebreak. Just here were a couple of baby terns. We could have caught them by hand. The parents scolded us incessantly. They babies were quite large and fluffy, almost larger than the parents, but they had no flight feathers. They tried to hide in the tall grasses. They were tan brown with dark brown spots, a perfect camouflage. Our shore break lasted about 3 minutes until the bugs discovered us.

We finished crossing the bay. The wind picked up from the west-northwest, giving us a nice push, but making the steering more difficult. Reaching Burnt Island we couldn't tell if it was an island so we switched on "Geepus" and very soon found ourselves on the map.

We paddled behind Burnt Island and then behind Cabin Island. This is when the wind began picking up even stronger. A few white caps, and the boat wallowing in the swell. We were getting a bit concerned about the conditions, but we didn't want to stop because we were getting such a good push. But it soon became evident that we needed to get off the lake.

We stopped at 3:00 pm on a small island. This was a beautiful little island, full of lush growth, yet still exposed to the wind. I found a luxurious tent site atop six inches of heather, surround by birch and small spruce on three sides.

We walked around, out to a peninsula, where locals had camped in the past. We found an old table and a fire pit. Jenny had an accidental slip into a shallow bay where she tried to cross on slippery rocks. We also found a whole grove of wild onions and more of the precious little pink and yellow flowers. The Labrador tea grows 4 feet tall and are crowned with their white tufts of flowers. Jenny worked on organizing our food, our half dozen grocery sacks is now down to two.

(UTM 12W 359380 6885907) We are using the Transverse Mercator Projection and finding it much easier and quicker than using Lat/Long.

Day's mileage: 24 mi in 7 hours
Camp 3: Map

Day 4 - Hearne Channel

July 9, 2005

No rain during the night. We slept very comfortable on our heather mattress. We packed up and set off at 8:13 am. There was a light headwind, but we created a light tailwind instead. The sky was overcast, but gradually through the morning the clouds dissipated along with the wind. We couldn't paddle close to shore because the mosquitoes would soon find us.

We worked our way directly to Matonabee Point through a number of islands, mainly keeping to their outside. Devil's Channel looked intriguing but it would just add more miles and put us too close to the bugs so we stayed outside, rounded Gros Cap and headed east for the first time. We had a light tailwind across Campbell Bay and then light headwinds.

The mirages were playing tricks on the horizon, distorting islands and making it look like a huge portion of the lake was covered in ice. The headwinds were very cold and it had us wondering for awhile if there was indeed ice.

All along the way we've seen a number of motor boats. Late today a barge bullied by eastward. We crossed Beaulieu Bay in increasing crosswind that ultimately started whipping the bay into the first white caps. From there we had strong headwinds.

We saw a lot of beautiful, large fish near the canoe and we came close to a pair of loons with a young loonette. We stopped at 5:00 pm on a finger peninsula. Many people had stopped here before. There were dozens of old campfire scars and a fair bit of rubbish. But it was an extremely pretty area, smooth rock slabs, small groves of trees, wild strawberries, buttercups. The wind continued for a couple more hours which helped make our camp and cooking much more pleasant. By 8:00 pm though, the wind had died and the mosquitoes swarmed.

With one 10-minute shore break.

Day's mileage: 28 mi in 8.75 hours
Camp 4: Map

Day 5 - Hearne Channel

July 10, 2005

We had a very good night's sleep on the rock, again no rain with the wind calm. Jenny emerged from the tent and exclaimed, "the water has come way up!" I was thinking, that would be possible in a very strong blow; but the wind hadn't blown. Then she went to the shore for a better look and said, "hmmm, optical illusion."

We packed with no further natural anomalies and set off at 7:51 am. The lake was flat, barely a ripple anywhere. The sky held some thin clouds. As usual the mosquitoes followed us for the first couple miles. Once they had left us, we could remove our headnets, as long as we stayed at least 100 yards away from any land to avoid attracting more bugs.

We cut directly across the widest part of Francois Bay four miles to a couple of small islands. Then we followed the coast which was much more regular and no longer festooned with islands. Three miles across Hearne Channel is Blanchet Island which is so huge it looks like the mainland. Our side of the channel was very beautiful and interesting: bedrock with black and orange lichens, the thinning forest, more gravel beaches, starting out small - about 5 feet wide - and getting bigger the farther east we went. We had seen none of these previously.

At times the sun was intense and we paddled in shirt sleeves. Other times the clouds covered the sun and a whisper of a tailwind or head wind would cool us quickly. It was hard to maintain, such benign conditions made us drowsy, we were tired from yesterday's paddling. We were reluctant to stop ashore for a break because of the bugs. Occasionally one of us would lay back on the spray deck to rest and catch a couple winks. As usual we saw 6 or 8 fishing boats during the day. Almost all were far out, away from shore. We thought of the contrast between riding in one of the motor boats, and not seeing any shoreline, and the canoe, closer to shore and seeing every bend and outcrop.

The last couple hours of the day a strong tailwind sprung up and took away our lethargy. With very tired arms we paddled hard and enjoyed the ride for the most part. The wind allowed us to take a quick shore break. As the evening wore on we stopped twice, looking for a campsite but without finding anything suitable. On a large gravel bar we saw a tiny baby bird, maybe a plover, but not camo-colored. It was white, like a baby seagull, but didn't look like one. He wasn't frightened by us. We didn't see any parents nearby.

The last half hour of paddling was an adrenalin run. The seas were running and whitecaps were everywhere. We went around one headland that had heavy clapitus bouncing off of it. Once around that, at 6 pm we found a good pullout, a rather marginal campsite that actually turned out nice once we got in the tent.

While pitching the tent the mosquitoes and black flies swarmed, until a couple of large dragonflies showed up. Soon they were joined by more, working hard catching and devouring the bugs around us. For 10 minutes I stood enrapt, watching these wonderful creatures actually making a visible dent in the number of bugs around me. Jenny was doing the same with her own retinue of dragonflies. It was a joy to watch. In half an hour there was a definite reduction in the number of bugs. They devoured literally thousands. The fun part of it was how the dragonflies came to our bodies: in front of our face, over our shoulder, in front of our chest. And we could actually see them catch the insects in their mouths. I have always liked dragonflies and now liked them even more.

We enjoyed relaxing in the tent, listening to the water lapping at the shoreline, and occasional dragonfly flitting by. One end of the tent we had to place over a krummholtz spruce, the entire tree. It didn't seem to mind (tongue in cheek), and it smelled wonderfully fragrant.

Day's mileage: 32 mi in 10 hours
Camp 5: Map

Day 6 - Hearne Channel

July 11, 2005

Yet another calm, peaceful and restful night. And once again the heat of the sun prompted us out of bed. We set off at 8:00 am, the sky was mostly clear, wind zero, and the bugs followed us about 2 miles. We paddled extra far out and eventually lost them. It is always with relief that we remove the bug clothing in the morning: headnets, bug mitts, and jacket.

We worked our way along the shoreline and then paddled outside the southwestern island and the inside of the narrow island. This is extremely beautiful country. We saw a few fishing boats out. Mid-day we picked up a light tailwind which gradually increased and for the rest of the day we romped along in 2 to 3 foot following seas which were often white capped. The canoe seemed to handle this without problems.

On a long, thin island in the middle of a nameless bay we paddled past a small hunting cabin, then in the next narrow bay was a conclave of something, a collection of boats and tents. There was even a fellow fishing from a float tube. We hoped he didn't land a fish that would sink him.

About four miles further along we started hearing airplane engines. The planes were not flying past, but seemed to be going around and round. About 15 minutes later we caught glimpses of two of them, large, amphibious, painted yellow and red. Suddenly one appeared from over the nearby hill and flew almost directly over us at an altitude of a couple hundred feet. Beautiful planes, freshly painted, the piston engines sounded strong and sweet. Then they continued going round and round for maybe 40 minutes. The area they were circling was 457/6918. We could only guess they were looking for something. What, we couldn't imagine.

We rounded Sachowia Point in a southwesterly 15 knots. Despite the boisterous conditions, there was no place to land for about 5 mi in it was either cliff or steep, forested rock. Very pretty. We were very glad to get around it in such conditions. We started looking for a campsite, stopped a couple times, didn't find anything we liked. This is not a pristine wilderness by any means. We find lots of evidence of fishermen, hunters, campers. Even name writing on rock faces.

We finally found a primo spot on a two-pronged peninsula adjacent a long thin island that from camp looks like the mainland. The land here is gargantuan scale. The water behind Narrow island would have made an extra large size lake in the Lower 48.

We stopped at 5:45 pm.

It is interesting to note that all along the shore there are a finite number of decent camping areas. They are not ubiquitous, although they are many. These same campsites get used from generation to generation, going back to who knows how long. And they are often marked with tent hold-down rocks. These hold-down rocks are not like tent ring rocks of the Arctic. Here they are much smaller, for whatever reason. This evening I found an old campsite featuring a set of hold-down rocks overgrown with very thick lichen. lichen grows very slowly in these latitudes, so very thick lichen growing on the rocks suggested they had not been moved in a long time - perhaps 50 to 100 years. We always leave such sites alone.

Day's mileage: 34 mi in 9.75 hours
Camp 6: Map

Day 7 - McLeod Bay

July 12, 2005

The night was calm and so was the morning. The sky virtually cloudless. The whine of the mosquitoes greeted us when we awoke. We set off at 7:02 am in flat, clam water and struck a direct course along the bay, actually keeping closer to a series of 3 long, narrow islands, than to the northwest shore. The shore was a continuous stretch of brush and trees with very little accessible high ground. And in fact for the next 15 or so mi in camping along this shore would have been problematic at best. So we were glad to have camped where we did last night.

From the third island we headed directly across the bay, keeping 1 or 2 miles offshore. As we were rounding the corner into the Narrows a float plane passed overhead and landed at the Narrows Fishing Resort. The resort was a number of small white cabins with red roofs, a couple of float planes and a number of skiffs out front. We didn't stop, but just there we did meet, of all things, a small (about 27 feet) sailboat headed the other way. We chatted for a few moments with the man and woman crew. Apparently a charter, they were towing an inflatable. They had sailed from Yellowknife, and had left on Thursday, the day after we did. On Wednesday night, the night we had left Yellowknife, we had seen a sailboat. They didn't say how far ahead they had gone. They were sailing in light air away from us, so we had a short and limited conversation. They asked about our trip.

Directly in the narrowest part is a low, rocky island and while rounding this to the east we encountered a substantial counter-current. This seemed odd in the middle of a large lake, and the size of the McKenzie River draining it. Immediately rounding the corner to the right, following the eastern shore, this seemed to be a new and different lake. The water was stunningly clear and just as cold. The character of the shore had a different feel, more remote, less trampled.

We paddled across to a large island #990 in a strong-ish, 10 knot headwind that had been building since The Narrows. We paddled a ways along the eastern shore of 990 and the wind started to drop and at one point we entered a small area of no wind where the water was mirror still. Jenny suggested we take a shore break on a beautiful rock slab. I thought that in no wind we would be overwhelmed with bugs. But it was such a pretty spot we couldn't resist. We pulled the canoe onto the slab just far enough to ensure it would stay there. We climbed on to the slab and were absolutely amazed at the beauty of this particular spot. One of the prettiest we have seen anywhere. The rock slab was glacier polished, warm and smooth. It sloped gently into the emerald, clean water into which we could see 20 to 30 feet down. Small clefts in the rock held tiny tufts of wild flowers. There was a lovely birch, with its beautiful white trunk and vibrant green leaves. A cliff backed the area, but to the east of our slab was a cobble beach, clean and sparkling, with a trout feeding in the small bay. Remarkably, the bugs were absent. We bathed in the frigid water.

We hated to leave. But pushing on we paddled to the island's end and then set off across another gap, directly, a couple miles to a peninsula, then crossed another gap to another peninsula. We had variable headwinds, from none to robust, nothing major. The sun was hot, but the wind was frigid, except for an occasional waft of warmed air.

Another float plane, a Twin Otter, flew directly overhead. We saw or heard only a couple of boats. Far across Mcleod Bay on the south shore we saw what appeared to be a large chunk of ice on the shore.

In a few more miles the wind calmed again, and for the last five miles of the day we paddled in still calm, so we stayed well offshore. It was a pleasant afternoon, paddling mechanically. My seat started squeaking annoyingly, so I paddled the last several miles kneeling on the floor. It was actually quite comfortable.

On a small island just short of Sosan Island we stopped for the day at 5 pm and made a nice camp on the rock slab. No wind, no shade. Without the cooling wind the heat was almost overbearing. I laid the reflective mylar ground sheet over the tent and that helped cool the interior a great deal.

Day's mileage: 30 mi in 10 hours
Camp 7: Map

Day 8 - McLeod Bay

July 13, 2005

Calm night, except for some rather noisy Sand Hill Cranes nearby. The morning started out cloudy and calm. We set off at 6:23 am. For most of the morning the air was cold.

Very soon a headwind started wafting, growing gradually stronger throughout the day. But interestingly, across this vast lake, there were some areas of no wind, some areas of lighter wind, and some areas of stronger wind. Every now and then we would reach an area of no wind, and here we could take a break and relax. Before long we'd reach another wind zone.

The closer we came to Thompson Landing, the more fishing skiffs we saw zooming this way or that. Also, the stronger became the headwind and the steeper the head seas. In the distance ahead to the east was an immense cumulonimbus slowly headed our way. The cloud was black, with virga trailing along behind and under, an occasional split of lightning followed - after a long delay - with the rubbling of thunder. The fishing boats started zooming toward the village.

While crossing the bay at Thompson Landing we watched the most amazing natural phenomena. Very often throughout the day we feel different pockets of air; some balmy, some frigid. These thermo-clines are exactly what causes mirages. We watched a mirage flowing into the bay along the far shore, like a wave of surf. It was maybe 100 feet thick and was moving about 15 mph.

Reaching the far shore of the bay, which was number of rocky islets, the lightning and black sky ahead prompted us ashore in the interests of safety. It was 3 pm. We decided to pitch the tent, wait for the storm to pass, then pack up and proceed. So we pitched the tent, established camp as usual, amid a horrendous mob of black flies and mosquitoes. We spent the next 4 hours resting. Not far from the tent was pile of old bear scat. The main storm passed by, but there were still several more to the east and south. They didn't look as foreboding, so we shoved off again at 7 pm.

Headwind and sloppy seas made for slow going. We had gone 2.25 miles and were just about to cross a small bay when we noticed on the side of our faces very cold air from the south. We looked out across Mcleod Bay to the south and could see large whitecaps coming our way. Most fortunately we were not far offshore. We quickly scanned the shore for a place to land. There was no good landing, but Jenny found a small pullout between rocks. It was just enough to get the boat in. By the time we had stepped out of the boat, the tempest struck with strong wind, a vicious chop, and rain not far behind. We puulled out our rain jackets and decided not to pitch the tent, but just wait for this storm to pass. We wanted 30 miles for the day and we were still five miles short.

We hung around for an hour in some light rain, admiring beautiful rainbows. We had pulled the canoe just far enough out of the water to avoid the waves smashing it. The rock here has a lot of copper deposits and iron pyrites. Someone had done a lot of test digging, blasting, drilling, apparently didn't find much; the testing evidence was everywhere.

The day was getting late, 8 pm, the storm slow in passing, so we decided to camp. Found a tent site on the rocks.

Day's mileage: 25 mi in 9.5 hours
Camp 8: Map

Day 9 - McLeod Bay

July 14, 2005

We set off at 6:57 am, wind light, wafting headwind, thick high cirrus. Very soon we rounded a corner and could hear very plainly but could not see Waldbon River which we had been hearing in the night. We continued east staying far from land to avoid the bugs. The wind died and we enjoyed calm for many hours. The Barnston River positively roared and was quite visible, churning into Great Slave Lake with great leaps.

In beautiful conditions we made a 3 or 4 mile long open crossing to a cluster of small islands. The mirages were toying with the group of islands fiercely and we could not see a way through them, so we went around to the southeast, at which point we had light quartering tailwind from the southwest.

Once around most of the islands we noticed some odd seas rolling in from the northeast, opposite the wind direction. Typically the mind tries to make some excuse, avoiding the obvious, and I was thinking this must be caused by a current bounding off the islands, which was ridiculous. It was obviously a strong northeast wind headed our way, which we could not see yet. Very soon this wind came charging out of the Big Stone Bay. It beset us with headwinds and whitecaps. We could have turned back to one of the islands, but it wasn't that bad so we clawed our way the 1.5 miles to Big Stone Point.

When we reached there, the wind switched back to southwest at 8 knots. Making our way along the shore with the nice, quartering tailwind.

we could plainly see a large plume of smoke. Actually, we had been watching it grow all day. We surmised it was a lightning strike from yesterday's storms.

A ways further on, we had just crossed a small bay and were in the vicinity of two small islands when a sudden blast of wind bowled out of the north. Fortunately we were within 100 yards of one of the islands so we turned 90 degrees directly into the wind and headed for the island. We rounded the island and continued a quarter mile to the main shore. By now the wind began to abate and change direction again.

Some of this coast is stunningly beautiful with smooth granite slabs white and pink, coves large and small, cobbled beaches, emerald water. On one such smooth rock island we stopped for a shore break. Jenny washed my shell jacket. An hour later we stopped again to wait for the headwind to diminish before crossing a large bay.

After three more bay crossings with medium crosswind, wind funneling out of the bays, we rounded a wide headland then stopped at 8:15 pm on a small, boot-shaped peninsula, shaped like Italy. Today we had seen no fishing boats.

Day's mileage: 39 mi in 13.25 hours (minus shore time)
Camp 9: Map

Day 10 - Charlton Bay

July 15, 2005

During the night I was sleeping with my hand against the side wall of the tent and received some mosquito bites. The tent is fairly small inside, and unlike our past tents, this model does not use mosquito-proof nylon.

We set off at 6:12 am. We had not slept soundly, so we were still very tired from yesterday. The wind had blown some during the night and this morning it was blowing headwinds for us (northeast) and this persisted all day. The going was slow and strenuous, but it also meant that we had to paddle much farther into the bays than we otherwise would have. This added mileage. The sky completely clouded over, strato cumulus, which was a blessing because the previous day we had a lot of glare off the water. The glare is more intense early in the morning.

The morning was also very chilly. About 11:00 am we stopped on a breezy rock island point to put on more clothes. We felt like Michelin Men paddling, but the warmth was well worth it. We saw one goose and the usual gulls, ducks and two terns. Also of note, for the entire journey along the shore of Great Slave Lake we saw not one wild four-legged animal.

At long last we can no longer see empty horizon to the east. We were coming to the east end of the Great Slave Lake, it was a little disorienting and but also quite momentous. Reaching the Reliance Peninsula, we paddled southwest a few miles and pulled into a bay behind a hook peninsula at 6002/69610 and landed ashore at 3 pm at a small gravel beach. Here we would portage the peninsula.

While Jenny prepared the gear bags, I scouted the portage, climbing the hill to the east - about a 100 foot climb. Then I scouted along the ridge looking for a way down, past the cliffs. By working northeast I soon found a nice way down which led through the forest to the lake's edge, which was a grassy swamp. I returned to the boat and Jenny was just tying a heavy load to the frame packs. We wore running shoes and climbed the hill very slowly, sweating heavily in our bug clothing.

Going down the hill we arrived at the shore of Charlton Bay (still Great Slave Lake) in 10 or 15 minutes. The portage was about 1/8 mile. Back at the boat we loaded the remaining gear bags on Jenny's pack and I lifted the canoe. But I only made it about 1/3 the way up the hill. I needed padding on the thwart. So we split Jenny's load and we both carried the canoe with the seats resting on our heads. In this way we reached the top of the hill, still very tired. After ten days of lake padding we were not used to this new type of exercise.

We hand-carried the canoe down the far slope to our first pile of gear at the water's edge. In short order we loaded the boat, then waded through the marsh to lake's edge, and set off. The time was 4:45 pm. Once again in headwinds and lumpy seas we paddled southeast through a few islands then a couple miles across the bay. then we worked our way south another four miles to the beautiful sand beach at the beginning of the famous Pike's Portage.

There was quite a bit of debris left on the ground by previous parties. Most of it was quite old. there were parts of a shoe that looked nearly a century old. There was also evidence of winter parties: parts of sleds, snowmobiles, fur hats. There was a rusty one-pound size can of chewing tobacco with a painted label still legible. A metal porcelain dish, which must have weighed a pound. The staging area was quite extensive here and it was intriguing, as we rambled around, wondering what the adventurers were like, who they were, their objectives. Each one must have been a hearty soul with interesting stories to tell.

We pitched the tent and I wandered up the trail a ways, and found lots of caribou tracks and droppings, and lots of squirrel trails running from one tree to another.

Day's mileage: 30 mi in 12 hours and 40 minutes, 1 portage
Camp 10: Map

Day 11 - Pikes Portage

July 16, 2005

We woke up at 4 am and saw the sky was clear so we realized we'd better get moving before the day grew hot. We left the tent pitched and we left over 3/4 of our bags of gear. We set off at 4;45 am. I carried the canoe and Jenny carried a small load on her pack frame. I went about 50 feet up the hill until I needed my first rest. I figured that once we reached Harry Lake, 3 miles ahead, we would have the canoe carrying figured out. But for now it was trial and error.

Next I tried some heavy padding on the thwart. With that I made it about 100 feet. After a couple more such stints, the solo carry appeared must less feasible. In other words, I had not trained for that specific exercise, for example by walking around the block carrying the canoe.

So we split Jenny's load, each carried half, and carried the canoe inverted over our heads, one of us at each end. this worked fairly well, especially because we could rest the canoe seats on the tops of the pack straps, and use the hip belts for added support. With this we hiked about 1.5 miles to the first bog. We set down our loads and put our waders on and carried across the bog. Reaching higher ground we set the canoe down, crossed the bog, then stashed our waders.

One of the problems with the canoe over our heads was we could not see much of the scenery. The front person could see only 8 to 10 feet ahead, and this is not much when you are in unfamiliar wilderness. We did see lots of animal tracks on the trail, mostly muskox along with moose, caribou and wolf. On the return trip we positively reveled in the beauty of the region. Through this area the forest was more sparse, with open, park-like areas. The soil was a sand and gravel mix, like an esker, with a few rocks and everything covered with thick lichens. The trees were of course birch, spruce - some looked like Englemann - also alder, and a few larch, with willows in the low areas. At one point the ground was covered with quiviat. There were no bones, so we figured this was just a comfortable place for the muskox to rest and shed some of the past winter's fur.

We were traipsing along at a good clip when suddenly a couple of dark, hairy animals appeared on the trail in front of us. There is no mistaking a muskox, especially up close. Simply a beautiful, magnificent animal. Both of them ran into the forest. Then a very short ways further on we saw five more. they lumbered casually away. I followed them with the camera. They had no young ones with them. They watched me warily, but with without alarm. When I got a bit closer, one turned and faced me in a stand-off attitude. One of the other muskox stepped on and broke a stick and that spooked all of them. They all charged away into the forest. But probably not very far.

Back at the tent we crawled in for a rest and a few snacks, out of the bugs. Then we packed up the tent and loaded our pack frames. Our second carry was massively heavy, grueling. We felt very much out of shape. The packs probably weighed close to 90 pounds. We took many stoop-over rests. By going slowly and persevering, we eventually reached the waders, crossed the bog and caught up to the canoe.

And so it went for the two miles. There was only one serious swamp, and both edges of the swamp were marked with caribou antlers, thanks to Carl Shepardson. The eastern set we propped up higher in order to see them better. The good part about our portaging system was it required only two carries. That saved us a lot of extra miles of backtracking.

We were elated when we crossed over some bedrock and caught a glimpse of Harry Lake. This first section of Pike's Portage had taken us 7.5 hours and we had gained 700 feet in elevation. The morning had remained mostly cool with some hot sun when the clouds parted.

At the shore of Harry Lake was again lots of evidence of past visitors, including a faded green fiberglass canoe and two rotted wooden boats, circa 1930s or 40s. The joy of getting back into the canoe and simply floating was indescribable. We felt like ducks on the water as we paddled lazily out into the middle of Harry Lake. We were soon rid of the bugs, and with them gone we could finally relax, drink water, and eat. The water was almost warm, a perfect swimming temperature. What a contrast from Great Slave Lake where the water was so cold that leaving your hand in for more that a few moments was painful.

We paddled and lunched at a leisurely pace, noting what appeared to be an extensive camp on the western shore. We didn't see anyone. Nor had we seen any fresh human tracks on the portage trail, but a float plane could land here and lakeshore camp.

Next came a quarter-mile portage to French Lake. This portage was pretty much level. Because it was short, we did it in three easy trips instead of two grueling ones. Along the way we went past an abandoned 4-wheeler on a sled.

We paddled French Lake, then made a short portage to Acres Lake along the right side of the creek. While scouting this portage I spotted two more muskox. Both this portage and the previous one would be boggy earlier in the year. They were just starting to dry out, so we hiked in running shoes. We got a slight bit or rain late in the afternoon.

We paddled four miles across Acres Lake and landed on a small island near it's north shore, at 6:20 pm, and made camp.

After pitching the tent we went into the warm water with all our sweaty, sticky clothes on which needed washing as much as we did. And the clothes protected us from the bugs. The water temperature was very pleasant. We stayed in quite a while, scrubbing our skin and clothes, washing our hair, soaking the sweat and grime out of the clothes. Once out of the water, the clothes dried fast in the breeze. The bugs were too pesky to remove our clothes for drying.

Day's mileage: mi in 13.5 hours
Camp 11: Map

Pike's Portage, at the east end of Great Slave Lake, is an exceptionally beautiful and easy hike - as long as one has a canoe for crossing the many lakes en route. The total distance is something like 28 mi in and the trail is gently graded and in most places very well defined. The boreal forest is comparatively lush, and comprises black spruce, birch, and some larch. Despite the trail's many virtues, it is traveled by only one or two parties a year, if that. Historically, however, it was immensely important because it was the easiest way to reach the interior Barrens. So it was the primary trade, hunting and fishing route for the indigenous peoples, and later the main gateway for explorers, trappers and Voyageurs. Traveling this route has been a long-time goal of mine, and it was a genuine pleasure to finally realize that goal this summer.

Day 12 - Pikes Portage

July 17, 2005

We slept in until 7 am, until the heat of the sun drove us out of the tent. We set off at 7:30 am. The morning was again beautiful, lots of blue sky and 10 knots of wind out of the northeast. The first task of the day was to find the start of the next portage. The map does not show this one. We landed at the most likely looking spot which was just left of what the map shows as an outlet, but in reality we did not see an outlet even after a bit of searching on land.

I went for a recon and eventually found the portage trail. Turns out, we had landed in just the right spot. We were glad to have our waders because this trail was boggy in places. It was about a quarter mile long, and took us to the shore of Kipling Lake. We made this portage in two carries - same with all the portages today.

The portage between Kipling and Burr Lake was not one but three. It started with a climb to reach a very small like. Five paddle strokes could almost have got us to the next take out. It probably would have been quicker to portage around this first little lake. The next carry took us to another small lake, then another carry down to Burr Lake. This lake was strange in appearance; the water was clear, but pitch black.

During one of the portages to Burr Lake we were hiking under the canoe through extensive bogs in our waders. Suddenly my leg sunk in calf deep in "quick-mud." My leg was stuck and would not come out. Unfortunately Jenny didn't stop, so the momentum knocked me over. There I was with one foot caught in the mud, laying on the higher bank of the bog, with the canoe on top of me. It took quite a bit of pulling to get my foot out. It was quite amazing how strong the suction was.

From Burr to Toura Lake the trail climbed; we had changed into our running shoes for this portage. It was a beautiful hike.

These lakes were much too small and before long it was time to start the next portage. Each portage was very strenuous because we were doing them in only two carries. But mainly because we were out of shape for portaging.

The next lake beyond Toura is unnamed on our map, and the portage trail was virtually non-existent for most the way. We imagined it was because everyone goes a slightly different way. It is a straight shot up a draw. There were two extra large cairns at the top, built fairly recently.

The trail along Pike's Portage is very well defined except for a few anomalies such as this one. A spruce, estimated at 50 years old judging by its whorls, growing directly on the trail, and no hint of a side path going around the tree. This suggests the trail is very old, but not much traveled in the last 80 years. The reason the trail persists is ground compaction by the peoples who walked it, probably for thousands of years, the permafrost lying but a few inches below the surface, and the overall extreme environment of the far north. In terms of the Connection with ancient peoples, I had not hiked a trail that exuded this much power. It was an amazing experience.

These old portage trails are immensely interesting when one considers the history behind them. It was a real privilege to travel them and see them firsthand.

When finishing a portage, we leave the pack together for the next portage. We simply pile the loaded packs into the canoe. That means that on every other portage, we carry the canoe first. When carrying the canoe, we couldn't see where we were going. So as we carried the boat toward the unnamed lake, I was bumbling along in the lead under the bow with no trail to follow. I could see only about 10 feet in front of me. Therefore I was very pleased when I walked directly to the shore of the lake. There in front of me was water. I lifted the canoe off my head and was surprised to see it was only a small pond. Oops, not the right water. Fortunately, the real lake was not much further on. From the unnamed lake the trail climbed and then finally descended to a smaller lake which we paddled and then made the final portage down to Artillery Lake.

All of these portages were one-half to one mile in length. When portaging from the unnamed lake we were both extremely tired and experiencing some difficulty carrying the canoe. At one point we lost control and fell into a heap for no apparent reason.

Reaching Artillery Lake was a major milestone, because it meant that we had completed Pike's Portage. The wind was blowing fresh out of the northeast as it had been doing off and on all day. On the lake, this meant headwinds.

We stopped at 7:50 pm on the first small island shown on the map, and made camp.

We desired fish and I threw out the lure but it was too late (8 pm) for fishing and not a good spot. My spoon lure snagged the bottom, so I went out in the boat and retrieved it.

Day's mileage: mi in 11 hours and 20 minutes
Camp 12: Map

Day 13 - Artillery Lake

July 18, 2005

We set off at 6:55 am into light headwinds with the sky mostly clear. Interestingly, the morning did not warm up. The sun had a definite warming effect, but the chilly northeast wind counteracted it. And when the clouds obscured the sun, it was even colder. Here along the shore of Artillery Lake were very few trees.

Adjacent the lake's outlet (Lockhart River) we could hear a surprisingly loud roar of cascading water. The morning cold chased us into warmer clothes. It felt odd, here in the middle of summer, under bright, gleaming sunshine, to be dressed in so many layers of clothing.

At one point Jenny spotted a wolverine traipsing along the tundra bank above shore. The wolverine's mode of walking is the opposite of a cat. Instead of flowing, it bounces, doing a hobby-horse motion. This wolverine was very light colored, light beige, and appeared large and healthy.

By now the headwind had intensified, so the paddling was arduous. A few times it borderd on the whitecap stage. The tendency was to haul ashore and call it a day, but we were still making progress although not as much as we would have liked. I often thought of Verlen Kruger who was little affected by headwinds.

We stopped for a 15 minute shore break to wash socks and my shell jacket. This was a challenge because the water was so cold, and we had very little reserve warmth in our bodies. But back on the water, the paddling kept our metabolism on an even keel.

The water clarity in this lake is astounding. We can often see the bottom 30 or 40 feet deep or more. Sometimes we see fish. And the air is wonderfully clean, clear, crisp. Breathing in a full lungful feels healthy. Along the east shore, where we are paddling, are occasional snow patches. We paddled past one extensive patch of shore ice.

We approached a giant buttress standing like a Rock of Gibraltar. On its seaward walls was a community of swallows. We could barely make out their mud nests, the birds swooping and gathering insects then flying back to the nests. I put out the fishing line here, but didn't have much hope because the water was so rough. But after awhile the line went tight and in fact so tight that I thought I had snagged the bottom. The seas were wild at least to us. It was all Jenny could do to keep us safely away from shore while I dealt with the tugging fishing line. After a minute of this I realized that we were moving slowly ahead and so it couldn't be a snag because we were moving.

After a good workout that tired my hands and arms, I got the fish close enough to the boat for a good look. It was a nice looking lake trout, almost too much to handle in the boisterous water, especially when it sounded directly beneath the canoe as my fishing pole bent over pointing straight down.

Eventually Jenny grabbed the line and taking a chance of losing the fish, she hauled it into the canoe at her feet. In lieu of a net, that was about all she could have done. Reaching into the gills would have been risky because of the hooks. Jenny knocked it out and kept a foot on him to keep it still.

Because of the surf we could not land there. We paddled to the second sandstone island, landed in its lee and cleaned and sectioned the fish, wiped out the canoe where the fish had been, then set off again.

The wind began to abate and we made our way along the shore, behind Crystal Island which is a 5-mile long land mass in its own right.

At 5:05 pm we called it quits for the day on a clean gravel beach. We relished the pot of boiled fish and broth. Today we saw some Canada geese on a grassy slope, about a dozen. When you see a dozen objects clustered together and they're all the same color, size and shape, you need to keep watching because they might start moving. So much for nature's camouflage.

Day's mileage: 26 mi in 10 hours
Camp 13: Map

Day 14 - Artillery Lake

July 19, 2005

During the night a large animal ran through camp, a caribou judging by the rattle of hooves on rocks and the clicking of caribou ankle bones, although we didn't see the animal. The nights are becoming darker, also.

We set off at 6:05 am in a perfect calm. Even far out their was no wind to blow the mosquitoes away, so we had to do a lot of swatting to eliminate them from around us, one by one. Then we were free to remove our headnets and enjoy the morning. Like yesterday, the morning never warmed up - even though the sky was blessed by frequent periods of sun.

At one point we watched the canoe's shadow gliding across the sandy lake bed with the bow and stern wakes clearly casting their shadows on the bottom as well. It was quite unique.

In another place we observed very perplexing objects on the sandy lake bed below. Oval mounds about 14 inches long and half that wide. They appeared to be about 3 or 4 inches tall. There were hundreds of them and much too regular to be rocks. They were in about 8 feet of water, in a nearly 1/8-mile area.

After six hours of wonderful calm, the headwinds began - lightly at first then gradually building. At about 7015N we left the main shore and paddled due north to an island, two miles distant. Arduously hobby horsing in the waves, we powered ahead in a very strong headwind. Reaching the island, we paddled to the next island to the northeast, and there we landed, hoping the wind would subside.

We enjoyed a three-hour shore break. Jenny heated our leftover fish chowder with instant potatoes. This was the only island of size that I have ever been on that had no signs of human presence, present or past.

Before leaving we fitted the spray cover. Never again will we take a snap-on spray cover. It is a tedious task and it took us much too long, 15 minutes, and even then I had to leave the back part open.

We set off into the difficult headwinds and pounding head seas, padding to the next island with just the front portion of the spray cover attached. But I took a large splash into my cockpit, so in the lee of the small island I fitted the remainder of the aft spray cover.

The wind kept increasing with white caps everywhere and sizeable surf on the rocky shore. So we decided to call it quits. We pulled into a protected bight at 2:45 pm. Hoping this wind would diminish in a few hours, as it has done on many days past, we heaved the loaded canoe onto dry rocks and strolled up to the ridge for a view.

I wandered around some more to see what there was to see, and when I returned I found Jenny in her insulated parka asleep on the rocks next to the canoe. I suggested we make camp, but she was hopeful of the wind calming. So I put on my insulated parka and joined her on the rocks for half an hour's sleep. Thanks to the wind there were no bugs. And even in the presence of the clouds, the sun warmth was radiating through. Our warm clothing blocked the chilly wind. It was comfortable and pleasant, despite any appearances to the contrary.

The clouds built in the afternoon until the sky was completely covered. At 6:30 pm the wind was still blowing strong, and the weather looked like possible rain. So we scouted around for 20 minutes looking for a tent site. It was all rocks, tundra hummocks or sloped ground. We finally settled on a makeshift tundra patch that turned out quite good.

Day's mileage: 19 mi in 8.75 hours
Camp 14: Map

Day 15 - Stormbound

Stormbound. The north wind grew stronger throughout the night. Rain spat from passing clouds. The temperature dropped. No sign of letting up by morning. We hunkered inside the tent for the day, resting, sleeping, reading, eating. Late afternoon we ventured out to collect water. We walked back into the bay to the south where the water wasn't crashing with surf.

While cooking our corn pasta, the tundra under the stove caught fire. This surprised us, we didn't think the tundra would be that dry or could burn that hot. The flames leapt to nearly 2 feet high. Jenny quickly doused the flames and the tundra with water.

Still the wind blew 25 knots with no sign of easing throughout the afternoon and early evening.

Day 16 - Stormbound

July 21, 2005

Stormbound. The storm seems to be abating very gradually. The tent no longer shakes and rattles, but the water remains white capped and grumpy. The sky is still completely clouded over with a light splattering of drizzle every now and then. We went for a walk northeast along the shore, saw a mother ptarmigan with seven chicks.

Jenny hand-stitched an extension onto my bug-netting shirt while I read aloud from The Quest, Grandfather Explains Vision chapter.

Overall the day has been slightly warmer than yesterday. At 5:30 pm our tiny thermometer read 50 degrees F inside the tent.

Day 17 - Lockheart River

July 22, 2005

Stormbound until afternoon.

Although last night's weather had showed signs of the storm finally passing (warmer temperature, sky clearing, wind calming), during the night the wind backed into the northwest, the temperature dropped again, and this morning the water is just as white-capped and tumultuous as ever.

About noon, though, we noticed a marked reduction. By 1:30 pm the conditions looked like we'd be able to get away. After another 45 minutes we decided "yes." The conditions were not calm, but just enough to allow us to depart. So we packed up and launched into the surf at 2:4\d pm.

We rounded the broad headland of the peninsula, then paddled one mile across to the mainland, then followed the coast north about three miles before our temporary lull ended. A huge rain cloud moved across from the west, dumped some rain although most of it missed us to the south.

Once that had passed, the northwest wind resumed in earnest. We pulled in for a rest behind a cluster of islands at the south end of the big knob that sticks out. The surf crashed against the shore the whole way. We found one small lee where the surf only glanced.

Conditions were so wild that we landed ashore at 4:45 pm. I scouted far up the hill, hoping for a view of the conditions up around the other side of the knob, but the knob was much too large to see around it. I did spot another pullout about one mile ahead so I returned to Jenny and we decided to continue on and see if we could reach that next pullout.

Paddling directly into the wind now, we barely made headway. I took one greenie into my cockpit, I didn't have my spray skirt fitted around me properly. Jenny's rain jacket was bagged out in the wind, looking like a parachute, and her spray skirt looked like a giant red marshmallow with her stuffed inside it.

We inched our way around the knob, whitecaps covering the lake, it was probably equivalent to what we had been sitting out for the past three days. But we knew that if we could get into the Lockheart River our troubles with wind and waves would be over.

At the north end of the knob we short-cut half a mile across a bay in very rough water. Then we continued following the coast north. Primarily I could only paddle on the right side, the leeward side, in order to keep the bow from falling off. When I switched to the other side I could either hold the bow up, or paddle hard, but not both. So my right arm got a good workout, as did Jenny's left arm.

As we were approaching the the Lockheart River, a Golden eagle seemed to accompany us, as if to show the way, guiding us. The presence of the eagle and a handful of seagulls generally announces the proximity of fast flowing water where the fishing and feeding is good.

Eventually, at 7:00 pm we reached the mouth of the Lockheart River. We pulled in behind a couple small islands and that was the end of the big waves. Fortunately the wind against current was not kicking up. We paddled upstream to the right bank and had to line a 100-foot stretch. Then we were into the wide basin. We paddled along the left bank. Where the river constricts, we went from one side to the other, keeping to the inside bend.

Note: From Pikes Portage to the still discant Lac de gras, we were going up-hill, padding up the rivers.

About two-thirds of the way along the river there was a cluster of make-shift cabins, caribou fences, and upside-down skiffs on the beach. It didn't look like anyone was there and we certainly did not stop to investigate. We actually paddled up a tiny rapid on the left side. On the east bank we spotted a large caribou with a large rack.

Just before reaching the marked southernmost rapid, we hauled out on the right bank at 9:45 pm. This rapid would be Class 4 - a big long sluice with souse holes and haystacks galore, maybe 100 yards long. But again, we were heading up-river, against the current.

We made camp 30 yards up from the river, with the sky showing real signs of improvement. The wind has stopped and the night was quite cold, probably low 40s.

Day's mileage: mi in 7 hours
Camp 17: Map

Day 18 - Ptarmigan Lake

July 23, 2005

We loaded up our pack frames and at 6:30 am portaged 100 yards through the scrub willows. Then we returned for a light load on the pack frames and because the spray cover was on, we hand-carried the canoe.

We put in for a third-mile crossing of a wide portion of the river, more like a tiny lake, then had to do a lot of wading along the shore along the next section of fast water counter-current and rapids. The water level was low, with rock gardens everywhere.

At one point I slipped on an algae covered rock and went half into the water. I came back out as quick as I went in. At least the water was not numbingly cold, and the tight waistband on my waders kept me dry from the waist down; but the morning was very cold and windy.

The next section of lake and river was 1.5 miles long. The rapid shown on the map we lined and waded on the left. And with that we were in Ptarmigan Lake. The wind was light northwest but very cold.

We made a 1.5 mile jump across a bay then followed the left (west) shoreline. The wind gradually increased and by the time we were half way along the lake we had to go back into every bay to avoid the fetch. We would go half way in to every bay and the cut the rest (inside corner).

At one point we saw a large bald eagle perched on a tall rock near shore. It sat there and watched us go by. We also saw a sole caribou in the willow near shore. We had nearly gone past before it noticed us. When it saw us, it became curious and walked toward us, then stood there and watched us as we paddled away. The wind was quite strong offshore, so we doubt it could smell us.

Another place we watched a wolverine chasing birds - ptarmigan it looked like. The birds would stay just ahead of the wolverine, fly and land, fly and land, as if leading the wolverine away from chicks.

At another place we saw what we think might have been a wolf. It was whitish, it was down by the water's edge and it ran up and over the hill. We didn't get a good look, it was some distance away. But it was much too white in color for any other animal we know of in these areas.

At the end of Ptarmigan Lake we had to wade just a bit, in a couple places, to get the canoe up the fast water.

I was having trouble staying warm all day. I was wearing plenty of clothing, but I was chilled to the bone, shivering. So we stopped where there was a small amount of dead willow branches. Jenny made cuppas on the stove while I collected wood and built a warming campfire. We removed our waders and warmed our feet, hands, and legs and dried our mittens. It was wonderfully reviving. It was the first time I had been warm all day. The fire was at water's edge (where next winter's ice will hopefully eradicate the blackening) and before we left we poured many gallons of water on it, using our canoe balers.

The sky was thickly overcast all day. We are wearing our rain jackets with our fleece mitts and over-mitts to cut the cold wind. Jenny also wears her life jacket under her rain jacket, and it kept her warm.

We crossed the channel at Caribou Narrows to avoid a wide, windy bay on the left, then in about one mile we crossed back again on a diagonal, back to the left side. This where we saw the wolf, and here also appeared to be the real caribou crossing. On the left bank there are numerous, well-used caribou trails coming down the slope to the water's edge. Curiously the crossing is not at the narrowest point.

Late afternoon the sky darkened with clouds mostly to the west. It looked like major rain, but we got only a very light spatter.

All though this area we had very stiff and cold headwinds. We clawed our way along, against the current, feeling quite tired. At 6:30 pm in the vicinity of Tyrrel Point (the map didn't specify exactly where that is) we landed ashore and made camp. Just then the sky cleared somewhat, enough to let large patches of sun come through and we were astounded at how beautiful the tundra is when sunlit.

Jenny heated water for hair washing and sponge baths, then after our mini-baths she cooked spaghetti for dinner and grains for tomorrow's breakfast.

All around us is so much beauty, intricacy and detail in the landscape. We never tire of looking at it, but our eyes get very fatigued looking at it constantly. We've never noticed this type of eye fatigue anywhere else but in the Arctic, because there is so much to look at. Also, part of the eye fatigue could be caused by the cold and wind constantly hitting the eyes.

Day's mileage: 29 mi in 12 hours
Camp 18: Map

Day 19 - Clinton-Colden Lake

July 24, 2005

It was still darkish and very early in the morning when Jenny sat up to check the time. At night in the tent we keep the wristwatch hanging from the ceiling. It was too dark to read the numbers so she hit the light button. And that is when the watch battery went dead. No spare. When preparing our gear we included a spare for just this contingency, but the watch's battery had died just before leaving, and we installed the spare. Once again the ol' adage: "don't bring old gear to the Arctic." So now we have to turn on our gps ("geepus junior") to find out what time it is.

We set off at 5 am with a light headwind out of the northwest. We spend the entire morning paddling far from land, point to point across deep bays. Usually 1.5 miles point to point. The wind gradually built and by mid morning we were paddling in whitecaps, headwinds, bouncing up and down in the waves.

We pulled into a protected bight and found it was shallow and unbelievably packed with jagged rocks. We spent some time trying to get ashore, to land the canoe safely. We finally gave up and paddled another half mile across open water, directly into the wind.

We landed at 10:45 am again in another small bight, just behind an esker with a steep face that dropped into the Clinton-Colden Lake. Instead of paddling around the point, we made a 75-yard portage to the esker's sand and gravel beach. The sun had come out and we went for a nice hike to the top of the esker. We had panoramic views of the lake and the tundra.

We pitched the tent on the beach and enjoyed a couple hours nap. Jenny had dropped my plastic spoon in the lake earlier, and we had watched it sink slowly into the depths. So on the beach she found a spoon-shaped rock which I used for lunch.

The wind began to abate so we set off again, and paddled 1.5 miles northwest to a round, prominent island. The wind picked up again, still northwest. We paddled north, then rounded island and at its northeast corner we paddled north-northeast 2 miles in heavy seas to a cluster of three small islands, and then north-northeast one mile to the mainland.

It began to get dark, due to the heavy cloud cover. Most of these clouds held rain and we had several brief rain spats. In a few more miles it was getting difficult to see where we were going, so at 9 pm we stopped on a beautiful, wide slab or rock and made camp up on the tundra.

Today we had seen lots of ducks, geese and terns.

Day's mileage: 29 mi in x hours
Camp 19: Map

Day 20 - Clinton-Colden Lake

July 25, 2005

Sporadic rain during the night, and continued well into the morning. A good excuse to sleep in late. Unfortunately we awoke to find we had let the tent fly door open at the foot end, and the foot of the quilt had gotten wet. We dried it with the sponge first, then with the glasses cleaning towel and some toilet paper. Then we went back to sleep, hoping that our body heat would dry it even better, which it did.

The rain stopped about 9:00 am so we dressed, which is a lengthy procedure considering all the layers we wear, and crawled outside. At which time the rain started again. We waited about 5 minutes for the cloud to pass so that we wouldn't get our gear bags wet. Then we packed up and set off at 9:40 am.

We followed the shore one mile then made the mistake of cutting across the bay. Out in the bay there was a rocky island about 1/3 way across. We steered straight for it. This island was about 20 feet high, 150 feet in diameter. A huge pile of rocks, many of them big and massive.

When we arrived we were very surprised to find an opening on the south side. The island was shaped like a tight C, with a miniature harbor inside. The large rocks had lichen growing on them. Taken as a whole, this formation was one of the strangest I had ever seen. If it was natural it would be a freak of nature. If it was man-made, why? But the presence of lichen on the rocks suggest they haven't moved in a very long while.

The water was getting rough and we pressed on across the bay. We were a long ways from shore and we really should not have made that crossing such rough conditions. We were 3/4 of the way across when the wind strengthened even further so we made a hard left and headed straight for shore, which seemed like it was about half a mile away.

We finished off this shoreline paddling one mile directly into the blow, then a couple miles around the corner we cut another bay in somewhat reduced conditions. Then it was a couple more miles of slogging along the shore directly into the wind. And it was a cold wind with mostly gray, cold and heavy clouds.

Occasionally the sun would pop out between passing clouds to warm and cheer us. Throughout the day the clouds spat light drizzle. Also throughout the day our speed was about half, while our exertion level was doubled. It was actually a wonder that we were out paddling today on Clinton-Colden Lake in such rowdy conditions. But if we waited for better weather though, we might never leave camp.

After several more miles of following coast and jumping bays we made a long jump to the north point of Thanakoie Narrows. This was again in rough water but the closer we got to shore the less became the fetch. So we followed the north shore through the narrows, cutting the bays.

The early evening wind was stiff and we had to paddle into one of the bays to where it narrowed, where we could cross safely. From there we had a bit of a downwind run for about a mile so we trolled the fishing line without success.

Nearly through the narrows we stopped three times looking for a place to camp. We were chilled because the sun was low and the day was late. We needed to get out of the wind and rain. At the third stop, at 7:45 pm, we found a lumpy spot that would have to make do. We had to wait a few minutes for the rain to stop. Then with a quick burst of action I pitched the tent while Jenny unloaded the canoe.

We carried the canoe up to camp, Jenny loaded it, as usual, with the night's unneeded items (heavy food bags, fishing bag, tennis shoes, etc) while I finished pitching the tent. Because of the tent site, the tent had to be broadside to the wind. So I staked out all 3 guylines on the windward side. Jenny was busying about camp and she stepped over one guyline and reminded me not to trip on the guy lines. Before her next breath, that is exactly what she did. Went down like a sack of potatoes, flat on her face. Fortunately the tundra was soft and spongy, so no harm done. I was also amazed that the stake did not pull out, and happy that the tent held together. In the lee of the tent Jenny cooked corn spaghetti and finished the cooking just before the next squall.

We piled in to the tent with the onset of rain drops. It felt good to get out of the wind and cold. This next rain was heavy and prolonged.

We had seen jaegers today, and one raven. The ducks are maybe Oldsqaws. Geese, terns, seagulls, loon. Often during the day we had clouds of bugs swarming past. Small mosquito-like insects, but not biting. It was like a side-ways blizzard of bugs. I have a feeling that they land on the water, but for some reason they were heading for shore.

Day's mileage: 21 mi in 10 hours
Camp 20: Map

Day 21 - Aylmer Lake

July 26, 2005

Lots of wind all night; the tent rattled. We woke up in the middle of the night and sky was incredibly bleak with very low gray clouds, drizzle, some heavier rain. Because of all the wind, we slept in late.

The wind diminished to about 8 knots northwest, so we set off at 8:40 am. Straightaway we crossed nearly a one-mile stretch of open water, heading west-northwest among a group of islands. And so we continued, now on Aylmer Lake, for several miles.

At the last island I climbed high on the bedrock slabs for a grand vista and to see what direction to steer for on the open crossing to the main shore. Then we went around the north side of a huge island and during this time the wind dropped to nearly zero, much to our surprise and delight.

We found ourselves paddling nearly calm water for the rest of the day, with a few bits of light wind and sprinkles from passing clouds. We also had some sun which was wonderful.

From the northwest tip of the island we paddled open water west then south-southwest for 6 miles altogether, to the southern tip of a long peninsula. From there it was an easy hop over to Williamson Island and continuing west through a group of smaller islands and west across another open gap to the main shore again.

A few more miles to the mouth of the Thonokie River. In this one day we had traversed our intended route across Aylmer Lake 6325/7112 is a southward jutting peninsula and some of the finest barrens country we have seen. It would be an excellent place to revisit with a fishing boat. There were a couple of long sandy beaches, myriad places to fish. the terrain was higher and to us it was much more beautiful than any of the other lakes we have been on.

The Thonokie River was wide and extremely shallow and from the very start we experienced difficulties. We waded for a couple hundred yards. The rocks were extremely slippery with deep holes between them. We could not line because the shore was too far from navigable water. Also, the mosquitoes were ferocious. So we hauled out and portaged half a mile. This was very difficult also because of the lush willows and bushes and abundance of rocks. We did the portage on the right bank in 2 carries, hand carried the canoe. We saw a caribou also.

Then we paddled a stretch of lake-like water, then hauled out on the left bank, portaged a few hundred yards up to the top of the embankment overlooking the river. It was 10:30 pm, and here we stopped for the day to make camp. This is where the river bends to the left. It was decent camping. We are pleased to have made it this far up the river on our first go. After the sun set, it got very cold. Inside the tent I could see my breath.

Day's mileage: 33 mi in 14.75 hours
Camp 21: Map

Day 22 - Thonokied River

July 27, 2005

Twenty-two days ago we had started with 4 food bags. Now we are down to two. So we are able to load our entire outfit on our packboards. At 7 am we set off on the portage with our fully loaded and very heavy backpacks. We went a ways, then went back for the canoe and carried that to our pack loads. From there we carried packs and canoe in one go. No returning for a second load. But plenty of "rest" stops along the way. By "rest" I mean setting down the canoe, and just standing there with our backpacks on. They were so heavy that taking them off, and putting them on the ground, was usually too difficult. And even more, picking them back up and lifting them to our shoulders. Easier to just stand there wearing them - usually.

We paddled a widening in the river which had formed a small lake. This was easy paddling but the mosquitoes were intense. They kept us in our headnets most of the day.

The sky was quite overcast and some drizzle, which today was most welcome to keep us cool. We spent most of the morning making portages. I carried an enormous pack with the shotgun slung on top. Jenny also carried an enormous load with the paddles slung on top. With me at the bow and her at the stern, we hand carried the canoe. This was somewhat slow going, but it meant that we did not have to return for a second load each time. This saved us a great deal of walking and time.

We reached the upper lake area at 11:15 am and from there it was paddle, line, and portage our way up the river. All along the banks we saw caribou hair we found several caribou crossings with deeply rutted trail. One trail had hundreds of fresh tracks. It looked like a herd had passed here only a day or two before.

On a couple of the small lakes we paddled past a certain type of small duck that was not very timid. Three of these ducks swam toward us and followed us a ways. The other types of waterfowl do everything in their means to get away from us (danger). There is one type, possibly young geese, that motorboat away with all possible dispatch and travel 50 times farther than they need to for safety. I wanted to shout out to them, not waste so much energy. But maybe something else chases after them that does go that far. Perhaps they are wary of wolfs.

We saw plenty of fish surfacing, but we didn't want to add to our loads by carrying heavy fish over the portages. So we saved the fishing for late in the day, but by then it was too late, their wasn't good area for fishing around the evening camp.

At the northwest end of the first real lake (just southeast of Afridi Lake) we came to a sight that defied description. It really took us aback. From a distance we asked ourselves: It that what it looks like? Were we living in denial. No, it couldn't possibly be! The closer we got, there was no denying. The river was five times wider than what we had been traveling, very shallow, and jam-packed with rocks. Just a huge field of rocks. This was completely unexpected. Of course this required another extended portage (with a few brief stretches of paddling).

The day was starting to get late, relative to our supply of energy. We completed three-quarters of the first portage and at 6:15 pm stopped to made a nice camp on a bluff overlooking the boulder field. At 7:00 pm the evening turned warm, with sunshine and no wind. It was a luxury, not having to wear a pile of clothes. Jenny even went down to the river for a clothes-on bath. And when the wind is blowing now, it is not nearly as frigid as the past few days.

Day's mileage: 17 mi in 11.25 hours
Camp 22: Map

Day 23 - Thonokied Lake

July 28, 2005

Light rain much of the night. And the rain continued in the early morning so we slept in.

The rain stopped about 9:00 am and we set off an hour later. I had the bright idea of carrying fully loaded pack boards, as before, but carrying the canoe over our heads this time. This worked great for the first 100 yards. The second 100 yards our loads felt heavy, and by the end of the third 100 yards we had to set the canoe down. The canoe weight was pressing down on the pack frames, and combined with our loads it was too much to bear on the shoulder straps, at least for our present level of conditioning.

So still carrying the loaded pack boards, we hand-carried the canoe and rested often. Soon we were at the first bit of navigable water. As we worked our way through shallows among the boulders, we saw a wolf on shore. It was white, large, and somewhat mangy-looking. For a while he acted like he didn't see us. Then he looked at us and actually walked toward us. but soon he must have caught our scent because he turned and trotted cautiously away.

We crossed to the right side and lined the boat quite a ways. This was difficult because the shore was not accessible because of the rocks and willows. So we had to wade on unsure and slippery footing.

After a great deal more paddling in shallows, every now and then having to get out and wade a ways, we reached the open water of Afridi lake. This lake was windy out of the south, with some whitecaps far out, but not much fetch where we were, so the water wasn't very rough. the wind quit, and we had four miles of wide lake, like a placid river, and beautiful, sunny warm weather.

We made a 1.5 mile crossing to where the Thonokied River emptied into Afridi Lake. Here the map showed what was to be our final rapids for the day. And here we found a great fishing hole where the rapids spilled into the lake. I handed Jenny the rod and reel with the blue moon lure attached. The blue moon is her lure, and she has caught a bunch of fish with it.

The first cast didn't go too far, maybe 30 feet, but it was enough to catch the attention of a sizeable fish. Unfortunately when Jenny tried to set the hook, she pulled the lure out of the fish's mouth. She cast again and it looked like the same fish followed the lure back to shore. On the third cast the fish took the lure right away, but then to our surprise, a second fish about the same size started parlaying for the lure. Quite a tussle ensued. The second fish followed the first one to within a few feet of shore. Jenny dragged the hooked fish out of the water and onto the bank. After a couple of photos she measured it at 30 inches. It didn't quite look like a lake trout. It had an orange/golden hue on the fins and belly and it was not so rotund.

With our present portage system, as described we keep the gear loaded on the pack boards, so it is a simple matter when starting the next portage to put on the backpacks, pick up the canoe, and go. A couple hundred yards later we were back on the water enjoying the beautiful Thonokied Lake.

We passed to the right of a tall, striking island and then made our way north following the left shore. The wind died again and the sun came back out and it was a glorious afternoon paddling. Earlier during our portaging we had heavy cloud cover, cold and light wind, perfect for portaging.

We saw a small caribou with an injured front leg, limping along. It was trying to use the leg, but it looked in pain. It is not uncommon to see young caribou by themselves, but we felt sorry for this fellow. A few hours later was saw another lone caribou.

On one of the portages we saw fresh tracks of a large herd, so for the second time in a few days we had just missed them. Across Thonokied Lake was a camp of some sort. Very strange, shiny structures or objects. Most likely a fish camp.

We crossed the lake in perfectly flat water. We saw another bald eagle. Where the lake pinches off before entering a large circular area, we pulled out and made camp on the left bank, at 9:00 pm.

Day's mileage: 25 mi in 11 hours
Camp 23: Map

Day 24 - Height of Land

July 29, 2005

The night was wonderfully still and quiet. At six o'clock in the morning, the heat of the sun drove us out of the tent. The fly was covered with dew. We spent a few extra minutes drying the fly, then set off at 6:25 am.

The lake was flat calm and it was nice to have the sun directly behind us, instead of glaring in our eyes. We paddled close by three seagulls protecting their nest which they had built on a solitary rock about three feet in diameter and about two feet off the water. We saw one downy chick scurry behind the rock, down the backside. We made our way to the large round section of the lake, then paddled to the very end. Here was the start of our portage over divide and into the Coppermine River drainage.

What ensued was a succession of lakes and portages. The first portage went up 100 feet altogether across a broad expanse of tundra with willow and hummocks. As usual, caribou tracks and trails were everywhere. The footing was generally challenging and required slow, careful going. We each had our magnum-sized loads on our backs and we hand carried the canoe with Jenny at the stern while I led the way, referring to my compass often. This first portage was half a mile. Then we paddled the first lake, about one mile long and surprisingly deep with fish.

The second portage was 2/3 miles long, and it climbed another 50 to 100 feet. And this was our high point, although not technically the height of land yet. This portage finished with a long steep descent into the next small lake. This lake was 1.25 miles long, again with fish.

And then over the height of land to a smaller lake. This lake looked like a tarn with rocks all around it. From there we made a mistake in following the drainage to the next lake: it was boggy and marshy with tall willows and large hummocks. Another mistake was that I saw another survey marker out on the peninsula of the next lake so I made a beeline for it and that put us in a gnarly area of rocks.

My pet peeve against survey markers in the wilderness caught up with me, and we had to make a long traverse out of that area and over rocks in the water.

The next portage was half a mile, followed by a half-mile long pond. The next portage was half a mile over difficult terrain, hummocks and thick willow. With each portage we became more tired and so each successive one seemed more difficult. Typically we would walk for about 40 yards before we would set the canoe down and rest. We left the packs on our shoulders for these rests. The packs were so heavy it was an ordeal getting them on and off.

All of the small lakes had unique landings and exits, mainly because of the rocks and some bogs. Typically we shouldered our packs while standing in the water on slippery, algae-covered rocks. Then at the next lake we'd wade in far enough to set the canoe down floating, then we set our loaded backpacks into the canoe.

Twice during the portaging Jenny took a nasty tumble - once into the water and once onto the canoe. Her problem was not being able to see the terrain at her feet, because the canoe blocked her view. She had to second-guess, pronto, where the secure footing might be. And the problem with falling such as this, is it is very difficult to get back up with the heavy pack on, even with someone helping. A more serious problem is the danger of injury of the person - and to the canoe, should he or she fall on the canoe.

It was very hot with only a waft of breeze. We sweated profusely. the bugs were thick, requiring us to wear our bug clothing. And the bogs were regular enough to require us to wear our waders the entire way. Most of the walking was on dry ground and we could have worn shoes.

We took all the portages slow, so it wasn't a huge ordeal. We stayed positive minded about it. We were very pleased to be able to do the portages in one go. The idea of having to go back each time for a second load had no appeal.

We used our gps on the first lake to make sure we were at the right place. Otherwise we used the compass and that worked quite well.

For the second half of the portage we were going downhill for the first time on the trip. We had crossed the height of land. So that was a major milestone. The last lake was quite silty. We saw sandstone, the first we had seen. With the final portage over rough terrain, we finished off on a beautiful rock slab on the shore of Lac de Gras, at 2 pm. The portage had taken 6 hours.

Here on the lake's shore there was a slight breeze and not too many bugs. There was a deep pool right off the rock slab, so we washed our hair and faces and it felt wonderful. There was a large mining camp just to the northeast by the esker. A major eyesore, but it paled in comparison to the mine which was visible up ahead. We were very thirsty and dehydrated but decided not to drink the water from this part of the lake. It was somewhat turgid and too close to the camps and mines.

We paddled west along the north shore of a large island, made the crossing straight west a couple miles to Pointe de Misere and then southwest across the wide bay to the next point. On the right shore was the largest eyesore we have ever seen in the Barrens, the diamond mine operation with building, roads, vehicles and huge mountainous tailings pile. Words cannot express our disgust. The earth was being exploited and permanently scarred, all for glittery trinkets and of course the fortunes that these greedy corporations make off them.

We followed a channel inside a group of islands, trying to ignore an even more massive scar across the way to south. While I paddled, Jenny washed some clothing. We made another 1.5 mile open crossing, then at 8 pm we stopped for the day on a small island, unfortunately still within earshot of the mammoth dump trucks. Nevertheless, the evening was gorgeous: sunny and warm, and a bit buggy.

Day's mileage: 25 mi in 13.5 hours
Camp 24: Map

Day 25 - Coppermine River

July 30, 2005

We awoke to the sound of a light east wind causing a flapping of the tent-fly. The sky was smudged with cirrus and the bugs were mostly absent. We set off at 7:00 am and sped off west across Lac de gras with a nice tailwind shoving us along.

We rounded the big island to the south and reached the first big crossing. The wind was building but still manageable so we set off southwest across the two-miles wide channel, then rounded the next point.

We paddled a few miles along the shore. The wind was gradually building. We stopped in the lee of a small island to fit the spray cover and to put on more clothes and our waders.

In another 9 miles the wind was approaching 20 knots and in front of us was a half mile short-cut across a 90-degree bay. I was feeling reluctant. We were in the lee of the land. I told Jenny that the seas would get big real fast if we set off across. She wanted to go for it, so we did. By the time we reached the far shore the wind was 25 gusting to 30. The waves were 3 to 4 feet. It was to the point where we had to keep the stern into the wind to avoid a broach.

At one point I decided to get off my seat and kneel on the floor. This is no easy task in my waders because the seat doesn't leave much room on either side. So for a few moments while I was wrestling with that, the boat started to go broadside. Jenny starting squawking at me to get the stern back into the wind. This was the roughest lake water we had ever paddled in a canoe. But it didn't seem to bother Jenny.

When we finally reached a pull out and I turned into it, Jenny, looking disappointed, said, "where are we going, what are we doing?!" She wanted to keep going! The lake was covered in white caps, with surf smashing the shore.

So we landed on a slab and had lunch: the last of the peanut butter and jam with crackers and cheese. Jenny bathed while I scouted around. The wind was slackening somewhat so we figured we'd be ok. So we set off again.

In another mile we rounded the main peninsula in 15 knots of tail wind. We paddled the gap directly to the outermost point. The final 15 minutes of this was pretty wild and the wildness continued for the next 5 miles.

This part of the shoreline was challenging because of the clapitus bouncing back at us. There were a number of good pullouts that we could have used. The wind was southeast at 20, whitecaps were everywhere.

Beyond the constriction, the waves were much reduced. Near the lake's outlet were three very small but new cabins. No one in evidence. At the end of the lake we rounded the final point and started experiencing a favorable current pulling us along, the first of the trip. After 25 days of travel we have reached the Coppermine River.

We had seen a couple of gaggles of Brandts geese on Lac de Gras, but no other animals. The river's outlet was difficult to see, even from close. It made a hard left and sluiced through a remarkably narrow slot. We pulled out on the right and noticed quite a number of canoe scrape marks on the rocks, blue, green and red. Now for the first time on the trip we are in an area that is commonly canoed.

The bugs today were absolutely fierce, mainly black flies bashing into the clothes, we were just getting hammered by them. We take this to be a good sign so late in the season. Hopefully it means more good weather to come. We need another 10 days to 2 weeks of good weather to finish the trip.

We portaged the first rapid 100 yards on the right. This rapid emptied into a small lake area.

There was a perfect fishing hole at the bottom of the rapid. I figured it was probably fished out, but decided to try anyway. My first cast was an easy-going trial. The second cast I flung out into the current, let it drift a bit, then reeled it in.

The third cast was a repeat of the second, when I caught a fish. The lure was a barbless, 2-piece plastic minnow. The fish fought hard and I landed it on the large rock I was standing on. I thought it was too small. Jenny said, no, it was just right, 22 inches. I asked if I should catch another. She said no, this one is perfect.

We cleaned the fish, then as we paddled away, a seagull came in for the feast of entrails. We paddled the very short distance across the little lake section, then pulled out again on the right. Portaged several hundred yards through willows and put in at the bottom of the rapids, then paddled another short lake section to where the river made a hard left turn and went through a narrow defile.

This rapid didn't look like much from the canoe, even standing up. We were tempted to run it, sight unseen. In retrospect this would have been a big mistake. I decided to play it safe and scout it. I saw there was more to it than first appeared. Even so, there was a nice, easy, but narrow run on river right, so we ferried across, lined up and had to draw left and right a few times to miss some rocks. The rapid was 75 yards long and we made it with no problems. It was actually very fun.

We paddled a mile on the next lake. The sky was black with ragged-bottom clouds, curtains of rain in the distance. We wanted to reach the next rapids before making camp. But we also wanted to get camp set up before the onset of rain.

So we pulled out on the right bank at 7:00 pm and made a fast camp. I had just pulled the gear bags into the tent when the first drops of rain fell.

Day's mileage: 31 mi in 12 hours
Camp 25: Map

Day 26 - Desteffany Lake

July 31, 2005

At about 3:30 am I awoke to find 13 mosquitoes in the tent. Most of them with blood - namely mine. Apparently the tent mate was not being careful when opening and closing the tent door in the dark for the pee bailer. We all make mistakes and while on the subject Jenny is absolutely the finest padding partner I could wish for. She is amazingly strong, good natured, and she is a great cook! And she does fifty percent of the work, whether paddling or portaging.

We began our day with something completely new and surprising. Fog, thick, soupy, dark. We set off at 5:00 am navigating by compass, we could see virtually nothing. We crossed the small lake to its end, but we could not find the river. We realized we must have gone into the wrong bight. To add to the confusion we could hear the roar of water in the opposite direction, from a creek coming into the lake somewhere we thought.

Now on the river, we encountered about a dozen sections of rapids and had to portage every one. The river is low and it's difficult to wade because of the slippery algae on the submerged rocks. In higher water I think one would be wading on submerged clean rocks, which would offer vastly better footing.

There were a couple of nice looking runs that would have fun had they not terminated in boulder fields. Hitting these rocks at speed would be ugly. Some of the portages were easier than others. All were reasonably short.

Between each rapid was a section of lake and for most of the day the wind was blowing northwest, so the lake paddling was not much of a respite from the exertions of portaging.

At last we reached Desteffany Lake and headed for the island, which was a real long grind straight into the wind, blowing steady 15 to 18 knots. We went around the island to the left. At the constriction we had to portage 100 feet. We were very tired at this point, so decided to stop and cook a pot of corn spaghetti, an early dinner for some energy and also a rest.

When we left the dinner rest stop, the wind had reduced by about half, so we set a course directly for the north end of the island due west. This took us about one mile from shore.

The closer we got to the island the stronger the headwind. We reached island, then around the back side the waves were getting worryingly large for an open canoe. So we stopped on a rocky slab and fitted the spray cover. We found that putting on the spray cover makes a big difference in seaworthiness and in the comfort factor.

So we pressed ahead, continuing west and eventually reached the end of the lake. With a great deal of effort I scouted then next rapid. At first glance from the canoe it looked like an easy sluice, but on closer inspection I found that the sluice led directly into a boulder field.

We hauled out and made camp at 8:30 pm. The wind died and the bugs were thick. Jenny said the day felt like and uphill day.

Day's mileage: 28 mi in 15.5 hours
Camp 26: Map

Day 27 - Lake Providence

Aug 1, 2005

The night went by very fast. We both had slept like logs. We set off at 7:20 am, starting by hand carring the gear across the short 75 yard portage then returning for the canoe. The sky was clear and no wind to speak of.

We paddled a couple miles on a small lake and just behind an esker was an old tent cabin frame. The next section of rapids in retrospect we could have run. However, we couldn't scout it. We couldn't see the water because of the willows and rocks, and we couldn't get close to it without wasting a lot of time. Because of the inaccessibility, in the same amount of time it would take to scout it, we could portage around it. So we did the portage on river right.

Once at the bottom of the 150 yard sluice we finally laid eyes on the river. It was a fairly clear run with lots of small rapids. We put back in, paddled to the start of the next section of rapids, quite close. This one was obviously not for us, but we couldn't find a good place to pull back out, so we had to paddle back to nearly where we had just put in.

This portage was about half a mile and a real blubber burner. We waded through thick willows for 2/3 of that distance, with lots of step ups and step downs on the uneven terrain, with rocks and hummocks. For most of the way we couldn't even see the river. Add to all that: broiling sun, hoards of bugs, sweat pouring down our faces and salt stinging our eyes. It was not a torment by any means. We went slow and took plenty of rests without removing our loads. And I worked hard to stay centered, which was big help.

Eventually we gained a higher slope where the willow was not so dense or tall, affording a great view of the river rushing below. Before long we were down at the water's edge at the bottom of the rapids, putting the canoe afloat and setting our packs into it.

Looking back upriver we could see that this rapid was a straight, long and very boisterous chute. Definitely not for the likes of us. Now on Lake Providence, we headed north across perfectly calm water, in the company of a hoard of lively bugs, mostly black flies. The bugs are very numerous which seems odd for this late in the season. We are hoping this means many more days of good weather to come.

A couple hours in the day's paddling, the squeaking of my seat became too much to bear, so kneeling in my cockpit and facing aft I lubricated everything with WD40.

Late afternoon the northwest wind piped up, but nothing more than 8 or 10 knots. Amazingly, all the bus stayed with us. I was surprised they could fly and keep up with us in that strong of a breeze. And they stayed with us all day as we paddled. I thought what a remarkable little system to have that much power and endurance in such a tiny package.

At one point we were surprised to see a moose standing in the willow close to shore. It looked like a small female, a little skinny, it was remarkable to see a moose this far north. The willow, which they love to browse is incredibly abundant all along here.

This was a very pretty lake with an interesting shore of beautiful rock slabs. As usual in calm weather, we saw quite a few fish rising to the surface, fins out of the water. At the north end of the lake on the east bank was installation of some sort. An aluminum structure, it looked like Tin Man City. Perhaps related to the infernal diamond mine operations.

Reaching the next section of rapids, or nearly so, we stopped at 7:45 pm, at what looked like would be the last decent camping, and made a pleasant camp.

Day's mileage: 31 mi in 12.5 hours
Camp 27: Map

Day 28 - Point Lake

Aug 2, 2005

We awoke to a cloudy sky with the wind from the northeast at about 8 knots. We set off at 7 am. We expected the portage to be marshy and very brushy. We chose the right side. Surprisingly, the willow gave way in only 50 feet. The rest of the 200 yard portage was fairly easy going.

Paddling a couple miles on the small lake, we reached Obstruction Rapids which again we portaged on the right. Once through the dense willows it was easy going, and in about 20 minutes we reached paddle-able water again. This was a short section of calm river, then we pulled out at the gnarly section to portage it. This part was along the river bank, easy for the first half, rocky for the second half. Along the way was saw two large piles of bear scat.

At the bottom of the rapids I tossed out the fishing lure, the 2-segmented barbless minnow. My first cast is normally an easy trial, it doesn't go very far out. The second cast I slung it way out there, let it drift just a bit, and had a fish. While reeling it in, another fish followed. Quite a wrestling match ensued.

As I was landing the fish over the rocks, the hook came free and the fish got away. This did not disappoint me in the slightest because it meant more fishing fun. I threw the lure out again and in a couple seconds had another fish. This one put up an enormous fight. But when I finally brought it ashore, I was surprised to see it was quit small, maybe 18 inches. This one got away too, while I was trying to haul it ashore. No disappointment there either. The next cast I let the lure drift down and was feeling disappointed having reeled it most of the way back in with no strike. I thought perhaps the fish had all been alerted and they were no longer biting.

Then suddenly I had another one. This time I was more careful landing it. Again the lure fell out of its mouth, but by then it was on the dry rocks and was not going to get away. It measured 28 inches. I cleaned and sectioned it, and put the chunks in a plastic bag.

So much for the fun time. Now we had some real work to do in the form of major headwinds and seas. It was a windy day on Point Lake. The winds were out of the northeast and we were generally heading north. We crossed the narrow winding lake many times, short cutting the zig-zagging channel, which on average was about 1.5 miles wide. Then the lake opened wide and larger waves started rolling in. It would have been a great day to make an early camp, but the season is growing late and we need to keep moving.

Today was marginal. Without the spray cover we would not have been able to be out on the water paddling today. At least not in safety. In this area there are a great many beautiful low lying rock slab islands. Behind one of these we stopped to collect our equilibrium after a huge downpour of rain.

This storm cell moved on so we continued ahead. And while rounding the first major point to the northeast we found ourselves in huge clapitus. It was very amusing to watch Jenny bouncing up and down so hard, in fact almost dizzying. But of course I was doing the same.

We paddled another hour. We had started a 3-mile crossing in calmer conditions, but another storm cell began materializing and moving toward us, so we turned 90 degrees to the left and paddled south to a point of land. There, on a beautiful slab about 8 feet above the water, we stopped at 6:00 pm to make camp.

Jenny cooked tonight's dinner of fish chowder, which was delicious. And also tomorrow's breakfast of corn grits. This fish contained maybe a couple dozen (plus or minus) peas-sized, cream-colored cysts. Probably parasites of some sort. All of the fish we've eaten so far has had these, but this one had more than the others. The cysts are cooked along with the fish, and of course this kills them. They are lumpy so we spit them out. But anyway, after cooking they are very unlikely cause harm.

One of Jenny's wader boots shows small bubbles all around the sole rim. After so much use, both in the canoe and portaging, we suspect that the upper fabric on both of our boots is not as waterproof any more. Both of our socks are always damp.

Day's mileage: 26 mi in 11 hours
Camp 28: Map

Day 29 - Point Lake

Aug 3, 2005

Our camp on the rock above the water was comfortable, but the sound of the water waves lapping at the base of our rock woke us several times.

We set off at 7:30 am. The sky was mostly clear and the bugs were few. The wind was out of the north and the air temperature was pleasant as usual.

We paddled the two miles across the bay, in 12 to 16 inches of chop, and at the far point made a minor mistake in navigating. I jumped across the lake to the north instead of the west. I wasn't watching my map often enough. I soon realized the mistake, which added a mile or more. The wind was shifting and diminishing, but no matter where we went, we had headwinds, whether we were paddling north or south. The wind seemed to be following the long and narrow serpentine lake.

A couple hours later the wind died and we began making some longer jumps, point to point to straighten our course somewhat. The rest of the afternoon was beautiful, sunny and windless. We kept away from shore and did not have very many bugs. In such calm weather we tend to get drowsy, but on other hand, the calm allows us to make the miles much easier, less strenuously.

We made a couple of stops on small islands of flat slabs, just to get out of the canoe and restore circulation. At one stop we removed the spray cover partially.

Late afternoon, with the sun glaring, we began shedding layers. At one point we saw a small snowbank on shore near the water. How ironic because the sun was so intense, and we were so warm.

We saw lots of fish rising to the surface. The first half of the lake was lined with beautiful rock slabs. Away from shore in the protected vales were stands of tall spruce. We saw very little bird life.

We paddled past a 5-foot tall rock cliff that had cracks and crevices that look like the profile of a face. Remarkably, it looked like a face from any angle as we passed by it. The "eye" was actually a large, unoccupied bird nest.

We stopped at 7:30 pm and set up camp. I sealed Jenny's leaking boot. The night is still calm but the sky has clouded over.

Day's mileage: 35 mi in 12 hours

Day's mileage:
Camp 29: Map

Day 30 - Redrock Lake

Aug 4, 2005

We awoke to cloud and some southwest wind. As soon as we set off (6:30 am) the wind began picking up. We followed the left shore, cutting across the bays in strong headwinds.

We cut through a group of islands to the other side (the big clover-leaf island), cut across it's bays and then back to the mainland at its northeast tip. The wind had subsided and this part was easy going. At one point we passed two fresh orange peel slices floating on the water.

We island hopped across to the north shore in fresh southwesterly wind. There is a fishing camp visible on the far western shore, at the end of an esker, but we didn't see any fishing boats. Across from the fish camp, were some cliffs where we saw three Peregrine falcons. We did not see any nests.

We followed the lake channel north, now in a perfect calm and reached the end of Point Lake at 1 pm. A bit of fast water with ripples took us into Red Rock Lake. After entering Red Rock Lake we paddled past 3 fishing boats, all in the same area, at the end of the fast water. On shore was a house.

The calm persisted as we followed this lake north and then west, and no matter far from shore we were followed by a huge number of black flies, with a good many mosquitoes.

Then a fresh wind piped up from the northeast and we clawed our way to the point where Max Ward had built his complex. The Twin Otter was not there and we saw no one. The house was all picture windows overlooking the beautiful lake, and had several outbuildings.

We continued north to a low lying island and then in somewhat heavy seas we arced across the bay to the north shore and there we climbed a steep rock slab and made camp at 7 pm. The black spruce grows fairly dense here. All along the way today the willows have dominated the shorelines, covering the ground thickly.

Today we paddled 12.5 hours and did not take any shore breaks.

Day's mileage: 37 mi in 12.5 hours
Camp 30: Map

Day 31 - Rocknest Lake

Aug 5, 2005

The sky was mostly sunny, the wind was blowing a bit. We set off at 8 am and paddled west along the shore. We had a nice, easy downwind run for a couple of mi in but as soon as we turned the corner to the north we had a strong headwind. These were kicking up a fair chop and that chop was smashing into a line of rapids that stretched across a gap, caused by a not so gradual decline in the river bottom.

From our vantage, and me standing in the boat, the rapids didn't look like much. Ignoring an easy out to the right, we ran the rapids. They were much bigger than they had looked. Three-foot waves that we barely avoided. Then it was strong current against strong wind, creating a gnarly chop, necessitating our steering for the right shore, several hundred yards away. We negotiated the remainder of the northward channel, mostly in strong headwind.

In Rocknest Lake the wind was northeast and variable in strength, most strong. The shores and hills were all spruce and willow and alder. The spruce is a genuine forest through here and the willow and alder understory is pervasive.

Just before exiting Rocknest Lake we stopped to burn our paper trash. (We use paper to wrap our provisions because we can burn it when no longer needed. And of course we carry the paper wrapped provisions in waterproof boat-bags.) We found a couple of dead spruce with lots of good twigs and sticks and branches. We built the fire right at the water's edge, kept it small but hot, and when we were finished we doused it with dozens of buckets of water, washing it all away.

The river began to pick up a little speed and with that we said goodbye to our last lake. At the first marked rapid we portaged the first one third of it on the right. This started in tall dense willow, but once through that the going wasn't bad at all. We put back on to the river and by staying to the right we managed to paddle the rest of this rapid without problems.

From there the river seemed to us to have rapids all along the way. Until we reached one monster which we portaged on the right, following a well-worn trail. In fact, it had very fresh boot prints which looked like today or yesterday. And Y group from Ontario, and they had started at Lac de Gras. They were taking a rest day today. They told us of another group thay had met from Japan who was 81 days out.

We paddled a ways farther and reached a large rock shelf on the right and did a short 50-yard portage on the river. This rapid had large, standing waves, the largest I have seen in a long while, since the Back River in 1999.

We put back in, in the calm water next to these waves and hugged the right shore, with no problems. The 4-mile section of rapids we found wide and shallow. We banged along the right shore for awhile but decided it wasn't worth it. We waded a short ways and then lined on the right. It was easy lining and fairly speedy. While lining, we walked by lots of wildflowers: cinquefoil, fireweed, buttercups, arctic poppy and spring beauties.

A couple hundred yards from the end we stopped at 7:30 pm for the day. I found a beautiful campsite on top of the bank overlooking the river.

Day's mileage: 30 mi in 11.5 hours
Camp 31: Map

Day 32 - Coppermine River

Aug 6, 2005

We awoke early, 5:30 am, but fog pervaded the scene. The next time we woke, 6:30 am, the fog was dissipating, so we set off at 7 am. We finished lining the rapids, a couple hundred yards, then paddled across the lake. Then it was another few miles of slow to medium river to the next lake.

At the north end of this lake is a large island. The right channel is much shorter. We paddled into the right channel and found it very shallow, although current was flowing into it. We eventually found the deeper channel and followed it around the island without problem.

The next several miles were fast and easy, with many small rapids which we ran without difficulties. For the next 6 or 7 hours we glided along. There were 3 sections where the river widened and terminated in boulder fields. The first was at 619/7317 and it was fairly easy.

The second one, at 618/7327 went on and on for about 2 miles. We lined most of it on the right. It was easy lining.

The third one was at the mouth of Fairy Lake River, and this is where our day became adventurous. This one took us 3 hours to get past. We had been running the rapids fairly well and we got a little over-confident. We took too big of a bite. We were going around the first island to the left, but close to the island. Big mistake. We should have stayed on the river left. Coming around the end of the island we totally messed up and were inadvertently sucked into the channel between the first and second islands.

In the process we had to negotiate some much more dicey water than we would have liked, steering around a number of rocks at speed. We did ok, to our credit.

What happened was, we were paddling along the first island with the intention of jumping the second gap to the top of the second island. I underestimated the river's speed. In retrospect, we could not jump a gap like this. We started across, realized we were being sucked into the channel, turned around and tried to claw our way back out to the head of the first island - and failed. In part because Jenny wasn't following my lead to switch sides, and she continued to paddle on the left. So I couldn't turn the boat left because I needed to apply full ahead. By then there was no time for her to draw or switch sides. So the only thing to do was go with the flow.

We spun the boat bow downstream and then drew left of right to avoid rocks. This was in fairly good sized rapids. Not huge, but certainly much larger than we would have tackled by choice. Fortunately we made it through. Lesson learned there was, stay away from the islands and hug the very far shore in rough water to avoid being sucked into channels.

We followed the left shore of the island down to the bottom of the island. We landed and I climbed up on the island for a good look around. From here, the many channels joined and there was a clear line through it, but it looked very dangerous.

At this point we were fairly stranded. To the east was the first channel with very swift whitewater. To the west was the second island. I could not see around the island to see the channel beyond that. So we paddled back up the second channel a ways and ferried across west to the second island.

I climbed up on that and looked at the third channel and could see that it would be out of the question to cross it: too many rapids, whitewater and too swift to take a chance.

So we ferried back across the second channel to the bottom of the first island again, then lined up the first channel along the shore of the first island. This took a lot of tugging on the boat because the water was so fast. Here on the island was a huge field of ice, several acres in size.

About half way along the island we reached the base of a big set of rapids in the first channel. Had we come down the first channel, that would have been a portage. But there was a small length of river here, between the upper and lower rapids where we could ferry across.

This we did, with a bit of wading in the intervening shallows. Reaching the river bank, we were quite relieved because we had felt trapped out on the island. From here we lined the canoe down the right bank, which was steep and unsure footing, about 1/3 miles. We finally reach the end of the rapids.

Those 3 hours were very strenuous for both of us, with all the precarious lining up and down. Jenny waded and shoved and tugged and pulled, while I managed the line. Jenny had a tough job, but she is good on her feet in the water. Then we paddled about three more miles of easy, but slower water.

All day had been calm and buggy with quite a bit of sun. A beautiful day. And the river and surrounding hills were gorgeous. But in the late afternoon the sky grew overcast and dark.

As we were looking for a campsite we saw a moose on a small swampy island. When she saw us she swam away, back to the main shore. We could see the bugs were bothering her, she shook her ears constantly. We also saw a flock of very pretty birds, we hadn't seen this type before. They looked like terns but larger, black on the leading edges of the winds, broad tail with a black tip, white underneath, gray on top. They were not very afraid of us, they flew close by.

We searched a fair amount and finally at 7 pm. found a small, steep beach, and pitched the tent on a small level patch of sand in the willows.

We scurried quickly to pitch the tent, and Jenny cut boughs for a doormat, to keep the sand out of the tent. We had just finished setting up, with our gear in the tent, when the first dollops of rain began to fall. Then just as we zipped the tent door shut, the deluge let loose.

We were very glad to in our fragile shelter, warm and dry. The rain was intermittent for the half hour. Jenny didn't feel like going back out into the bugs and rain to cook, so we ate some meusli and a pudding.

We were very pleased with the day's run and most of the river had been enjoyable. We learned a lot about paddling. We had been trying a number of methods for following close to shore with rapids and rock bars and the one that is working the best is to point the stern 30 degrees toward shore and back paddle so that we are back ferrying in to shore. With this we can go around rocks by easing out a bit, and we can come in to shore when the current is very swift, by back paddling. Using this method we can also punch in to an eddy behind a rock bar. This is the only way we have found that can safely do that.

Day's mileage: 41 mi in 12 hours
Camp 32: Map

Day 33 - Coppermine River

Aug 7, 2005

It rained much of the night and in the morning Jenny had to use the bailer to empty the boat, rather than just the usual sponging. I dismantled the tent very carefully to avoid the wet sand. We packed away the tent soaking wet, although I had sponged the outside of the fly and then shook it hard to removed much of the inside condensation.

We are using an aluminized ground sheet and this has been invaluable. It protects the bottom of the tent; on hot and sunny days we cover the tent with the aluminized side up and this greatly reduces the heat coming into the tent. In a pinch the ground sheet would serve as a covering for the gear or for us.

To avoid the wet sand, we placed the canoe at the waterline and loaded the gear directly into the canoe. The morning was very blustery, clouds hanging only a couple hundred feet above the river, obscuring the hills. Drizzle. Lots of wind out of the north-northwest which is our direction of travel, of course.

We set off at 7 am with a few extra layers of clothing for warmth. The temperature was in the low 40s. So began an arduous morning of slogging into the wind. The wind was so strong at times that our speed through the water was very low. However, the current was flowing at 1 or 2 knots and that made all the difference. Because of the chop we had to stay within 5 or 10 feet of shore. This necessitated our going in and out of every indentation.

At one point we saw two moose, a mother and calf, a couple hundred feet away in an estuary. They stood looking at us curiously for awhile. The mother took some steps toward us. But the moment she caught our scent she turned, and the two of them trotted away.

We saw a group of 7 or 8 swans on the other side of the river, swimming upriver with their backs to the wind. Because we were so close to shore we also could see innumerable moose tracks in the sand. Also wolf tracks. We saw a few ducks and ducklings close at hand in the grasses. They were not too alarmed and swam into the grasses where they disappeared from sight.

The wind kept building in strength and the drizzle and light rain was continuous. Eventually we were having great difficulty holding a course. In one area we were only moving about an inch per stroke for about 3 or 4 minutes until a lull allowed us to proceed. It got to the point where I could no longer steer by myself. Jenny had to draw right or left to keep us parallel to shore. The gusts were incredible. One of them hit so hard, like a bullet, it threatened our equilibrium.

Eventually we had to call it quits. All along this stretch, camping had been sparse. But we landed on a promising, somewhat solid bank, non-brushy and non-muddy. Climbing a short ways into the spruce forest, I found a lovely spot on cushy tundra, somewhat protected in the trees. The wind was gusting 45 knots and it was nice to be among the trees for the protection.

We stopped at 11 am. We spent a restful day sleeping, cooked a couple meals, discussed paddling technique, studied our maps. We have been in strong winds on river trips, but have never seen these microburst type gusts.

It rained lightly all day, and the temperature remained in the low 40s. We discussed what we could do to improve our paddling technique, and how we could better work together as a team. When Jenny is not reacting in the ways I would expect, with her paddling technique and so forth, I need to be more patient. But she is very strong and is doing a fantastic job. She cannot see me behind her, so her tendency is to let me do all the steering while she only paddles forward, like we are on a lake. Which leaves me, alone, to read the river and react accordingly. So Jenny will be working on her river awareness. We also figured that, in swift water and strong wind, the bow person needs to paddle on the side of the boat opposite shore, whether the bow is pointed downriver or upriver, as this will help drive the boat toward shore if needed in a pinch.

Day's mileage: 12 mi in 4 hours
Camp 33: Map

Day 34 - Coppermine River

Aug 8, 2005

We had had lot of good rest from our forced half-day of rest, so woke early and set off at 5:30 am. It was very cold, in the high 30s, cloudy and with a faint whisper of headwind. The storm had not completely passed, the clouds still hung fairly low.

In a couple miles we came to a group of canoeists camped on the right shore. Everyone was tucked away up in the spruce, except for one early riser who was near the water's edge. We could see they had a community cooking tarp pitched under the trees.

We pulled up and talked to the one fellow for 15 minutes. He was from Edmonton. Part of his group had started at Hilton, somewhere near Jasper. They had been going for 84 days. He had been going for 60 days. They had come down the Athabascan and the Slave rivers. From Fort Resolution they had driven around to Yellowknife. Then with 60 days of food they had gone up the Yellowknife River which he said was quite tough.

They, too, had been stopped by yesterday's storm, after paddling until 11 in the morning. His expression was "the robins were flying backwards."

As we continued on, the headwinds gradually picked up and these persisted throughout most of the day, sometimes more, sometimes less. Fortunately not as strong as yesterday. And fortunately they were not so strong that we could not stay in the best current. And the current for the first half of the day was pretty good, 1 to 2 knots, sometimes more.

We had a fair bit of cold rain. We were feeling quite cold. Our feet mostly and our hands. Despite the exercise we couldn't seem to warm up. Then came a bit of sun so we landed ashore and spread our wet socks and mittens to dry on the rocks. Jenny made hot cuppas and they were wonderful. Holding the hot cups in our hands warmed our hands.

With everything spread out to dry, suddenly the sky went dark with a cloud that started raining. We quickly put things away, pulled our waders and rain jackets back on. We couldn't afford to stand around in the cold rain. We needed metabolic warmth, so we set off again with bowls of hot corn grits ready to eat.

In the next bit of sun we got our socks and mittens back out to dry again, as we continued paddling. And so it went for the next couple of hours. With the onset of every shower I stuffed the socks and mittens down the front of my rain jacket and into the sleeves. Then in the next bit of sun I pulled them out again and laid them on the cross bar.

At regular intervals throughout the day we saw some type of wildlife. First it was three swans, then a moose, a wolf, another wolf, a moose, a siksik, a bald eagle, a third moose, a gaggle of geese approximately 60 or them, a flock of ducks, probably over 100 of them, a small flock of maybe 15 terns. These birds seem to be gathering their numbers here, readying for migration. Then four more swans, a caribou and a wolverine.

As usual up here in the far north, our depth perception is sometimes off. What we thought at first was a moose, from quite a distance away, shape-shifted to a duck, and then back to a moose, and so on.

For the second half of the day the river was slower. We passed through a lot of sand flats with sand bars and shallows. For awhile the wind died and we had more trouble following the current. Then the next black cloud came along and we again had headwinds and waves, wind against current. It seemed that every few miles there was some place we could have camped, contrary to what the guidebook says.

Finally at 6 pm we pulled off on a sand bank, found a nice protected camp up in the spruce, very cozy and beautiful. There was light drizzle while we set up camp and cooked dinner.

Day's mileage: 50 miles! 12.5 hours
Camp 34: Map

Day 35 - Rocky Defile

Aug 9, 2005

Low hanging clouds and some fog. Chilly but no wind. We set off at 6:30 am and just around the corner from camp were two moose.

The type of duck that flee by swimming furiously, in effect running on the water and flapping its wings against the water very rapidly, we call moto-ducks. They look like small motorboats, kicking up the spray behind them. Thus they proceed away from us at quite a distance. We see them often and only when they exhaust themselves will they turn and hide in the reeds or simply stop and sit there, like regular ducks, as we paddle past. But it takes a few miles for them to reach exhaustion. On the river we have seen them perform this routine on and off for 10 or 12 miles. Throughout this section of many sand banks and sand bars, the moto-ducks often lead the way, showing us the route. They know the best way and they know where the fastest water is.

This area is also full of estuaries and it is a haven for waterfowl of all types. Ducks, geese, swans. We saw two groups of swans this morning, one of 7 and the other 5. They are large birds and brilliantly white - and the whiteness stands out for miles.

We saw a seagull perched on a treetop near the water and Jenny happened to notice it's chick at the waterline, a furry ball of gray that blended in perfectly with the rocks.

A ways further we saw a grizzly bear prowling along the shoreline. It, too, was visible and stood out against the background for a long ways, with a very dark coat against the light shoreline. The river was very wide here so we did not get close enough for a good look.

Just downriver of Big Bend we paddled past a solitary caribou standing on shore, watching us go by. It was in its winter coat, the color and the richness of its coat was absolutely gorgeous. The animal looked regal. We are used to seeing them in their tattered summer coats, looking rather thin and scraggly.

We saw a half dozen bald eagle, plus one extremely large eagle, possibly an immature golden eagle. It was perched on a branch near shore as we paddled close by.

Five miles before Big Bend there was a nice little run through a constriction. Perhaps because of all our lake paddling we have become very attuned to flat, level water. On the river when going through a fast section, the entire river slopes downward and to us this slope is very noticeable. We have a strong sensation of sliding downhill, reminiscent of the first downward hill on a roller coast ride, but of course not that pronounced but still intense.

At Big Bend there was a bit of light rain so we fitted the spray cover.

Below Big Bend the river was quite swift in many places, and we made excellent progress. A couple of times we stopped to inspect some rapids. A couple times we lined a short bit, more for leg exercise than for safety.

At 4:30 pm we reached Rocky Defile and pulled out on the right, a little early just to be on the safe side, then lined on the right until we could line no further.

We pulled out and loaded our packs for the portage. These rapids looked intimidating and we could not imagine anyone running them, but of course lots of people do. A few people have drowned also. These rapids run through a deep canyon and the portage goes up and over.

The portage was about one-third mile, a good trail but very wet. We made the mistake of wearing running shoes rather than waders. Once on top, there are several places where you can walk over to the edge of the cliff and look down at the raging river.

Eventually the trail led down to a beautiful sand beach. Here we found more fresh boot tracks of the canoeists just ahead of us.

I grabbed the fishing pole and spent a long time getting over to the edge of the last rapids, crashing through brush and scrambling over rocks. Because of the rain in the last couple hours, the bushes were quite wet.

Eventually I reached my intended fishing spot. The river was racing past it, at least 15 knots. I threw the lure in and within just a few moments all the line had peeled out, off the reel. It wasn't a fish; but the current tugging on the lure, almost like I had caught a fish. I tried half a dozen times with my standard 2-segmented minnow lure, with no results.

Then I tried Jenny's blue moon and got a good couple of bites, but with a small fish that lost interest. Because of the heavy cloud cover the sky was pretty dark. I figured that was why the fish weren't biting.

Finally I tried my red and white spoon, thinking that might show up a little better. I cast, let it drift down, letting out all the line. I reeled it in half way and caught a fish. It put up quite a fight. Every time I had it almost in, it ran back out, pulling the line with it. I am using 17-pound test line, so I have to be careful not to set the reel tension too high.

After about 10 minutes I landed it, a beautiful lake trout, 30 inches. I found a fairly easy way back to the beach. Jenny had the canoe reloaded, ready to go. I cut the fish into pot size chunks, Jenny washed them put them in a plastic bag, then we shoved off at 6:30 pm. As we were preparing to leave, a seagull flew in for the fish head and scraps. Amazing how they know.

We did not fit the spray cover and so it was a bit dicey, out in the rougher water with a strong tailwind. Less than half mile from the beach we crossed the river and landed on the left bank, at 7 pm. After scouting around we found 2 possible tent sites. One was on the gravel and rock bank, very handy. The other, which we selected was very snug, up in the trees. A longer carry but well worth the outstanding protection from the wind.

There were virtually no bugs, so while Jenny cooked the fish I spread our gear out to dry before the next round of rain had me scurrying around collecting gear. My final chore was a sponge bath, stripped down, in a light rain, scrubbing vigorously with a hand towel.

Jenny had found a protected spot behind some large spruce for cooking, dressed in all her rain gear. By then the wind was positively howling down on the beach. We were glad not to be down there and grateful to have a comfortable and secure campsite under the trees.

Overall it was our easiest day of paddling, thanks to the current. We had to be very attentive in maneuvering the canoe, but it was not very strenuous.

The rain persisted most of the night.

Day's mileage: 43 mi in 12.5 hours
Camp 35: Map

Day 36 - Impenetrable winds

Aug 10, 2005

In the early night, the wind increased, still from the southwest and blew about 40 mph continuously. Quite a lot of rain during the night. In the morning we had to bail out the canoe.

The morning was still very blustery, with a fine drizzle, clouds low and dark. The wind was much less and had veered to the northwest which was here perpendicular to the river.

We spent 20 extra minutes before breaking camp, working on the spray cover, installing tie-up cords on the cockpit collars, to get the infernal collars out of our way. We set off at 7 am.

The river was flowing fast, with one-foot waves everywhere. We had high hopes of many good miles again today. Before reaching the Kendall River, the river widened and was festooned in gravel bars, some exposed, some just below the surface, requiring us to snake our way carefully among them. But the three rapids marked on the map never materialized, for which we were thankful on a day like this.

The northwest wind was picking up quickly and it was quite chilly. We paddled while bundled up. Typically we wear our life jackets inside our rain parkas for the extra warmth, along with our fleece mitts and waterproof shell mitts.

The scenery was extremely pretty, even on such a cold and cloudy day. We rounded the big island to the right, paddled among half a dozen strikingly white boulders in the river, admiring the limestone and sandstone cliffs on the left bank.

Following the land bank, we proceeded down a narrow, shallow channel and at this point the wind had increased to about 40 knots, now a direct headwind. We were paddling very hard, the current was flowing at about 3 knots in our favor, and we were barely making progress. And we had a great deal of difficulty controlling the boat.

We persisted for 15 minutes, came to what looked like the last good camping for a long ways, and stopped on the left bank, pulled the canoe on shore and scouted for a tent site.

Climbing the short rise and stepping into the trees felt almost like stepping indoors. The wind felt like it shut off, so effective was the shelter of the trees. Back at the canoe, I had to hold down the bow while Jenny unloaded the gear, to prevent the canoe from blowing away. Leaving the gear on the shore, we carried the canoe up to camp and tied it to a tree. Then we brought up the gear.

Fortunately the rain was holding off, so we spread things to dry and hung our wet socks and clothing on the tree limbs. Everything dried mostly, except for the wool socks. For the first time, things are mostly dry. This was the driest we've been in a week.

Jenny made hot cuppas and a large pot of corn grits. Light rain drove us into the tent. The ground was very lumpy. I had to put my life jacket under my bed, among a number of other items of clothing and empty gear bags. We slept for several hours.

We were disappointed to have been stopped by the weather. Our food supply is starting to run low, which is why we fished yesterday. We have enough food left for 3 or 4 days, but no more munchies.

Today we found lots of berries, cranberries, tiny blackberries, huckleberries.

Day's mileage: 10 mi in 3 hours
Camp 36: Map

Day 37 - Muskox Rapids

Aug 11, 2005

The sky was very dark, with low hanging clouds, light wind and quite cold. We set off at 5 am. We followed the narrow channel and in about 3/4 mile we came to some canoeists camped on the right shore. It was a very low-lying and exposed area to camp. We stopped to talk. They said they had been here 2 nights, all day yesterday. It was a Blackfeather guided group. Very nice folks, we talked for about 10 minutes. They had all run Rocky Defile.

Continuing down the river was easy going as the river made a long bend to the right around the September Mountains and then headed east for a good 10 miles. The current was swift and we made excellent time.

Where the map shows marked rapids at the end of the eastward arm, we didn't find any. We saw a Brandts goose with three goslings. They let us get quite close. They climbed up onto the bank and waddled up onto the land a ways as we glided by.

A while later we saw two moose, a mother and a calf, then later a loner, a young one.

The northwest stretch seemed a little slower and then the north stretch had quite a number of gravel bars and shallows out in the river which required continual navigating around.

At the mouth of the Melville River we saw another group of canoeists camped on the bluff, overlooking both rivers. We had heard about them from the first group. They were just breaking camp. We were on the opposite shore, the river was very wide here, so we didn't get to talk to them.

Reaching Muskox Rapids we pulled out on the right. The first one was a 50 yard portage over really sharp, extremely angular, gnarly rocks.

Sandstone Rapids was a bit of a quandary. We stopped much too soon on the left bank and I climbed 200 feet up a steep, muddy, dirt, slippery slope and hiked along the edge a quarter mile from where I could see it was safe to proceed a ways ahead.

I also watched the previous group paddle past us. They were out in the middle of the river in the larger waves. They made it look easy and relaxing and fun. These were waves that we would try very hard to avoid.

We paddled along the left bank, passed the island on the left, and at the end of the island was a narrow slot which I scouted. A pair of Peregrine falcons had a nest on the sandstone cliff and they both gave me a very hard time, squealing and squawking and diving at me.

This is a very small rapid with a tongue between two rocks and a couple of three-foot standing waves. We lined up on it and glided through. Surprisingly, one greenie washed entirely over the deck. We thought we were through Sandstone Rapids, but this was not the case. A ways further we spotted the party of four out scouting the real Sandstone Rapids.

We pulled out on the cove on the left and enjoyed a 15 minute chat with these four from Alberta. Two men in solo canoes with kayak paddles, and a couple in a double canoe. They had started at Rocknest Lake and had been on the river 11 days.

We watched them paddle through the upper rapids and they it look very easy, but we were not about to follow them. So for the second time today we loaded our packs, then carried up the 100 foot rise to the flat tundra topped bluffs, and gradually down to the bottom of the rapids. Up high on the tundra, the huckleberries were ripe. Lots of them.

Back on the water, we saw 11 or 12 muskox, very close on shore on the right bank. Unfortunately I had to get out and scout, and spooked them. They ran about 10 yards, then meandered downriver. They were on a large gravel bar with some grasses and willows.

In a couple of miles we came to the first rapid in a long series. We landed on river right. To our dismay it was more than we were willing to tackle. So we loaded our packs again and carried up the slope 150 feet, along the tundra top edge for 1/8 mile to the next ravine. Above us on the hill was a camp. A yellow pyramid teepee tent. It looked like they were going to portage the entire ridge, at least a couple of miles.

We dropped down the ravine to the water's edge, reloaded the canoe and ferried across the wide, rushing river at full tilt. Round the left bend carefully, along the shore, we were presented with a dilemma. We could go no further on the left side because of cliffs and between us and the left side portage looked like quite an ordeal. And so did crossing the river here, because of large waves and whitewater everywhere.

After studying it carefully we decided to give it a try. So we soon found ourselves in quite large waves, 3 feet and sometimes more, confused and coming at us from all directions. We kept going across, it was a bit frightening.

Unfortunately we were not able to traverse above one of the areas of large whitewater waves. So I called a halt, hoping to pass short of them, but this didn't work, and we went right through them sideways. It wasn't dangerous but it was unnerving with the 4-foot breaking waves tossing us around.

We kept going and eventually made the far side and calmer water, though still swift against the cliff face.

The rest of the day was for us, difficult paddling in and among big rapids. We were starting to get used to it a little bit, always keeping to the inside of every bend, then crossing to the next inside bend, in 2-foot waves. At one point we came to a very imposing gap which the river ran through and to our delight, almost unbelievably, the water was calm through it.

All along the way the river and surroundings is very beautiful. Canyon walls, red sandstone, lots of expansive rock bars, lots of places to pull out. We saw a lone caribou high up on the bank, very regal and beautiful.

We were extremely tired and looking for camp. The place we intended to land, the 4 canoeists from Alberta were camped. We didn't want to impose, so we gave them hearty waves and crossed the river to the next inside bend. We rounded that bend along the gravel bar and pulled out, at 6 pm, and made camp on the gravel bar a short ways up from the water.

Because of all the rain, the terrain is very wet except for the gravel bars. The afternoon had warmed with lifting clouds. The evening was warm, no wind. We pitched the tent, then sat outside to cook and eat a large pot of corn spaghetti. Across the way is a waterfall that plunges 100feet into the river. Also across the river from us is a Peregrine falcon nest. An ideal spot half way up the cliff face.

Day's mileage: 52 mi in 13 hours
Camp 37: Map

Day 38 - Bloody Falls

Aug 12, 2005

Nighttime brought a light drizzle, off and under a dark, cloudy sky. It was a peaceful, relatively warm night. I had very carefully constructed the bed, spending 15 minutes removing the more obtrusive stones, It was the most comfortable bed we've had in a long while because it was flat, unlike the tundra tussocks. Even this far north this time of year the sky did not get black-dark at night. Barely dark enough, possibly, to see a few of the brighter stars. We needed a flashlight to read and write.

We awoke first at 3 am, a little too dark for negotiating river rapids. We arose again at 4 am. Loading up was easy with the rock and gravel shore so close. We set off at 4:45 am in a light rain. At least there was no wind and the morning was not freezing cold.

The first paddling task was to cross the river through the lumpy chop, to reach the inside corner of the right bend. The next eight miles to Escape Rapids consisted of just enough bits of quiet water to catch our breaths between gnarly sections.

We checked the gps to confirm our proximity to Escape Rapids, and then as we were nearing the canyon we came to a cliff with a blind right turn. So we stopped and I scouted it, climbing the high bluff up the muddy steep slope, then walking along the edge for a third mile. On my way back, half way down the hill I saw Jenny coming up, looking for me, with the shotgun in hand. She said I had been gone nearly an hour. That was how long it had taken me to get to a place where I could see the next landing in the canyon.

We paddled the right shore, relatively easy water, but had to crank in to the indentation to the landing through a few waves with the main river rapids just beside us. Fifty yards below this landing is a spectacular waterfall that plunges into the river from the cliff top. Just before reaching the landing we passed by two young caribou standing together.

We started the portage by climbing straight up the steep hill. It had been raining all morning and still was, so the slope was slick with mud. Once we reached the tundra top, the portage became much easier, level, following caribou trails, slopping through bogs from all the rain in the last week. This portage is about 2 km. We noticed very fresh boot tracks on the portage trail.

During this portage we removed our rain jackets even thought there was a light rain because we were sweating so much. All I had on was my shell jacket and waders. At the end of the portage I put my sweat soaked brown polypropylene fleece shirt back on and it kept me surprisingly warm. This fabric is good and dries surprisingly fast.

With Escape Rapids behind us, we figured that the river's rapids were behind us. But we found ourselves dealing with an endless succession of more rapids, mostly small by expert standards, but they certainly had us in high gear. We scouted them all from the boat, lined a few times, and this went on for mile after mile.

There were a lot of shallow, fast runs into large rocks which we were able to avoid, if only just. After what seemed like forever we reached the lake. The rain kept intensifying, without let-up. We were thoroughly soaked. Our exertions were keeping us marginally warm. It was only less than a couple of miles of lake paddling that brought us to the funneling at the head of Bloody Falls. Even in the gloomy rain the scenery was fantastic in the lake area.

The portage trail leading up the slope from the water's edge was clearly evident from the water. It was well-worn, steep and extremely slippery from the mud. We had to step on the tundra and willows alongside for safe footing. Again, very fresh boot tracks, just hours' old. Also fresh grizzly bear tracks, size GIANT.

For some reason we expected the portage to be easy, but it was actually one of the most intricate of the trip due to the rugged landscape. The Nunavut government had recently built a boardwalk over the bogs, a real treat, for as long as it lasted. On all the portage trails today, almost every step of the way was wet. The entire land was saturated, right down to the permafrost.

Once past the picnic area, with picnic tables, an outhouse, utility buildings and huts in the making, the route led down the pretty bedrock slabs to the water's edge. Bloody Falls is not a waterfall, but it is an incredibly impressive stretch of rapids which even the expert paddlers are said to avoid. Some of the waves looked 7 or 8 feet high.

At the end of the portage, was a golden eagle perched on the rock, intently watching the water below. It didn't notice us right away. Who would have thought you would see a golden eagle on the Arctic Ocean coast.

We paddled a few fast and shallow places where the name of the game was Avoid The Rocks. Speaking of technique, when following the shore close in, in fast water we point the stern 30 degrees toward shore. Jenny back paddles on the side opposite shore, while I draw, pry or back paddle as necessary. If we need to move out away from shore we both draw. This works quite well.

While paddling rough water, crossing the river, we try not to look at the water because it is very disorienting. The large waves leap and throw us around dizzyingly. Instead, we focus on the far shore and try to ignore what the water is doing. In very rough water it is hard to ferry glide because there is not much for the paddle grab onto.

Very soon we reached flat water although some current remained with us nearly all the way out, one or two knots at times. It was just pouring with rain the whole time. We had a light tailwind. We went outside some extensive sand bars and shoals, then rounded the final headland and suddenly there was Kugluktuk with dozens of outboard skiffs lining the shore. It was still raining. We kept going to the end of town. I noticed what looked like RCMP vehicles. Jenny noticed the First Air building and truck. So we landed at 4 pm and dragged the boat up onto a sand beach.

We grabbed our valuables and the sea bags containing dry clothing. We ourselves were soaked to the bone. We went to the First Air office building and bought tickets for tomorrow's flight to Yellowknife. In the restrooms we changed out of our wet shirts and into our dry insulated jackets. We put our wet rain jackets back on then went next door to the Coppermine Inn and asked about a room for the night. The price was USD200 per person per night, which was more than eight times the price of a room in the Lower 48. No thanks. Next we phoned the B&B, but they had no rooms available.

Back out into the rain, we walked across the street to the RCMP and notified them of our arrival and our trip's successful completion. From there we walked through town to the Co-Op store and bought a bunch of food and enjoyed the ineffable luxury of table and chairs, french fries and chicken wings.

It was wonderful to be among the native people, the Inuit. They have a distinctive look and manner because they are the descendants of the people who inhabited this land before the arrival of modern civilization.

Back at the waterfront, Jenny walked along the shore-front road while I paddled the canoe a few hundred yards west of where we had stopped, to the official campground. The ground everywhere is soaking wet, with puddles and streamlets. There are very few camping possibilities. But here at the campground are a few wooden platforms. These platforms are only about 30 feet from shore and a scant three feet above the Arctic Ocean. Not the best location in a northwest blow.

We pitched the tent in the rain, sponged off the bags that normally go inside the tent, tied out the vestibule with four modest-sized rocks, and climbed gratefully into the tent. It was a tremendous feeling to be out of the rain, even though we could see our breaths in the tent. However, the situation soon changed. The wind started blowing northwest and blew stronger and stronger.

Soon we both had to sit on the windward side of the tent to hold it down. The wind was 40 plus knots with higher gusts. We packed everything up again, preparing to abandon this site and relocate. Before Jenny could come out of the tent, I had to tie it down with a number of large rocks. Surprisingly, that did a good job, so the situation no longer seemed as dire as it had.

I scouted the area far and wide, looking for a better tent site and found a couple possibilities. One was behind a boat shed, but it was very close to the water. It was ironic to think that we completed out trip and reached Kugluktuk, but we were still in the elements.

I secured the tent with a ton of rocks. This tremendously stabilized the tent, thanks also to my home-made 11-mm tent poles. Jenny said it felt rock solid. It was quite a sight to see a tent ring on a tent platform. The old people might appreciate seeing this after we have departed.

Day's mileage: 31 mi in 12 hours
Camp 38: Map

Day 39 - Arctic Ocean

Aug 13, 2005

It felt ironic, having arrived at Kugluktuk, to realize that the trip was not yet over. We were still out in the elements, enduring this storm. But this was a familiar situation. Here on the coast of the Arctic Ocean we have experienced many storms like this, during our trips across the top of Alaska - with persistent strong and cold northwest wind lashed with rain.

During the night we had very strong wind and lots of rain, but we were snug, warm, and dry. The tent was solid and stable, and held up surprisingly well for such an exposed location.

The campground consisted of the wooden platforms, a repulsive outhouse, a couple trash cans, and a couple fire rings. But it lacked water spigots so Jenny walked 1/8 mile back to the First Air building where in the large, clean and warm restrooms she took a sponge bath and filled our water bottles. These water bottles were 39 days old and suddenly seemed incredibly grody. Strange that we hadn't noticed this earlier. The drinking water here tastes over-treated with chemicals.

The next job was to dismantle the canoe. First we stripped off the spray covers, removed all extraneous items, then tipped it upside down to drain it, After that we dismantled the frames and longerons, and wiped clean the foam floor on both sides.

We laid the longerons on the fabric and rolled the fabric tightly around them. We wrapped one half of the spray cover tightly around that, then lashed it all secure with cords and a great many knots. Jenny set on pack frame on the wooden tent platform, carefully placed the frames and seats on top, then sandwiched the frames with the second pack frame.

We tied this bundle together tightly, wrapped it with the other spray cover, then lashed it all together, like the first bundle. So our canoe now consisted of two compact and secure bundles.

Then we lashed our gear bags together in two equal-sized bundles. All this was done in a bitterly cold wind and rain. Our fingers and hands were numb and stiff, but we knew we would soon be warm and dry inside the airport terminal.

During this time we had two visits from locals. One fellow, Joe, the former mayor of Kugluktuk, and his wife Suzie. He now held some high government position. They were very nice, personable and on our wavelength concerning the value of the land and the wildlife. Joe opposed damming the river, mining, and other exploitation. He was concerned with conserving resources and managing wildlife. He said he was born on a small island (Deer Island?) just east of here. In the 1950s his family was relocated here and they moved all the houses here. They couldn't build new houses because there of the lack of wood. Suzie was from Holman (on Victoria Island?). No doubt we were getting the garnished native viewpoint, but it was wonderfully refreshing talking with people like this. We felt very comfortable with all the people here. I'm reluctant to compare them with people back home, but back home we know very few people we feel comfortable with. But neither would we want to live here and get to know these people too well :) (tongue in cheek) Joe and Suzie wished us well then departed.

A short while later another truck drove up, two women and a child. Jenny had grown chilled while standing idle talking with Joe, so had retreated into the tent to pack bags. The women invited both of us back to their house for coffee to warm up and talk. I stood outside the tent, leaning against their truck with my elbows on the open window and talked with them for another 10 or 15 minutes. Again, friendly and warm people. They wanted to know about our trip, but mainly I was asking them about life here and about the wildlife, their boating and fishing way of life.

At the appointed time Al, the taxi driver, came by and helped load our wet gear into the back of his large van then whisked us away to the airport. The warm dry air on board the airplane signified that the trip had finally reached it's successful conclusion, as we settled into the comfortable seats.

Trip Notes

We are not trying to impress anyone with our northern trips, or set any kind of examples. Rather, we are undertaking them for our own personal enjoyment. And as you can see from these photos, they are lots of fun!

The preceding story was taken from our daily journals. We wrote every night, in the tent. Of prime importance to us was where we went, and under what weather conditions. For example, we lined such and such rapids on the right; and so forth. We wrote like this for ourselves, in case we want to do the trip again, and also for other people who might be interested in researching such a trip of their own.

Disclaimer

Our story might warrant this disclaimer, which probably goes without saying - but just in case anyone gets the idea of repeating our summer's trip, please be advised that unless you are an experienced Class III whitewater canoeist, you might enjoy something a little easier. Actually, much easier - such as the Thelon river; and be sure to go with a guide your first time. Before our trip, only one other party (that we knew of) had completed the route, at least in modern times, and they took about twice as long. Plenty of people were flying to the headwaters of the Coppermine river each year, but the only ones to finish even that are very skilled with white-water canoeing.

Since we published this Coppermine story on the internet, in it's basic form in 2005, a number of people have paddled and portaged essentially the same route. Our route map near the top of this page became something of a blue-print for other paddlers with similar ambitions. And that's good. The route is a real gem.

* * *

Heavy Pack Loads

A few people have expressed amazement at the size of our backpacking loads, during this trip. At least we did not have to carry those loads far - 15 miles total, spread out over 44 portages. But the reactions bring up a good point: that the lightweight approach to backpacking can become almost like a religion, and anything different might seem sacrilege. In our eight journeys to the far north, we have reduced our loads to about half or a third of what most hearty folks up there carry. We have not yet figured out how to reduce them to what we would consider reasonable size. But does that stop us from undertaking these journeys? Would a refusal to carry huge loads be worth sacrificing such a mind-boggling incredible adventure? Not in our estimation.

For our subsequent Journey's Flow class, the students averaged 8 to 10 lbs of gear, not including food and water, and the clothing and shoes they will wear. This was quite good for a week in the wilds, and a late-season week at that. The late season requires a few extra clothes and a thicker quilt. But contrast, the packs shown in this story weighed from about 75 to 100 lbs.

The bear gun I was carrying (modified extensively to reduce its weight) loaded with seven rifled slugs weighs 6.1 lbs, including the home-made neoprene case. We did not need that at the Journey's Flow. Nor did we need the six weeks of provisions that felt like they weighed a ton, or the expedition grade tent with its home-made 11 mm poles for the howling frigid gales blowing off the polar ice pack, or the inflatable pads for sleeping on permafrost and the ubiquitous heat-sapping bare rock of the Canadian Shield. At Journey's Flow, we did not wallow in frigid swamps or incessantly along the shores of the lakes and rivers, we didn't need our special, home-made waders that weigh about 5 lbs each. Nor did we need the two bags each of warm clothing, including insulated parkas and insulated, waterproof paddling mittens. We didn't need the stove and gallon of fuel, necessary in the subarctic often because of a lack of firewood and occasionally the howling gales that can keep a party stormbound for days at a time. We didn't need three layers of bug clothing head to toes (not worn all at the same time). We didn't need the large pile of maps, nor the gps, emergency telephone (not used) or the PLB w/ gps which I sewed to Jenny's life jacket. We didn't need the life jackets, or the fishing pole, reel, line and lures, and the fish knife for chopping the fish into pot size chunks. We didn't need the pair of 50' lines and one spare, used to line the canoe along the shores on occasion. We didn't need the heavy-grade, waterproof bags to keep all these items in. We didn't need the two paddles and the spare paddle. And of course at the Journey's Flow we didn't need the canoe.

This does not imply that the Journey's Flow outdoor class, and in fact all hiking and backpacking in the "lower 48" and elsewhere, is not a great deal of fun. It certainly is. And it can be quite challenging, for some people more than others depending on experience and conditions. I enjoy these trips immensely, but once again I also like a little variety thrown into the mix for good measure. And our trips to the far north are variety with a capital "V".

Commentary

To help facilitate a journey of this magnitude we conditioned ourselves ahead of time with months of strenuous exercise and optimum diet. In the final few weeks we worked late into the nights, sewing special gear and clothing, researching the route and studying maps.

During the trip we tended to eat only one cooked meal per day, and of course this was usually corn spaghetti seasoned with Jenny's garden-grown tomato leather. Never did this fail to satisfy our huge appetites and enormous energy requirements. On occasion, however, we dined on succulent, pink-fleshed lake trout twenty-five to thirty inches in length and caught on the first cast almost every time. A few mornings we indulged in a breakfast of thick-porridge of corn grits.

On the portages we carried backpacks that began in the 100 pound category, and with less food near trip's end were down to about half that. Each of us also hand-carried one end of the canoe. This arrangement enabled us to traverse the portages in one go, without having to return for a second or even third load as most canoeists do.

The Barrens tundra tends to be fairly rugged, and we spent a lot of time sloshing through swamps and marshes, trudging over muskeg and stumbling across unending hummocks. We crossed innumerable fields of rain-soaked, slippery and loose rocks, and often thrashed through dense willow or alder. Laboring up, over, or down the steep, muddy, slippery slopes while hanging onto the canoe with one hand, we sometimes had to clutch the willow branches with the other for stability. And of course the mosquitoes and black flies swarmed seemingly in their millions, while our sweat streamed down our faces inside the bug nets.

On some of the trip we traveled up large and powerful rivers, and where paddling was not possible we lined the canoe along shore. Otherwise, we spent most of our wakeful hours paddling, often 11 or 12 hours a day and hundreds of hours altogether across about 710 miles of lakes. Often this was in frigid headwinds often laced with rain, and large waves common to such immense lakes. On the Coppermine River it was often rapids, up to class III. All along the way the water was pristine, crystal clear, and perfectly suitable for drinking.

The trip was thirty-nine days of elbow room. For a full month and more, we saw very few people. But we did enjoy daily encounters with the abundant wildlife, which included dozens of moose and muskox altogether, half a dozen wolves and about that number of wolverine, quite a few caribou, a few grizzly and a couple of siksik. The birds were constantly around us, and these included bald and golden eagle, peregrine falcon, ducks and geese innumerable, large and beautiful tundra swans, loons, grebes, and gulls.

Due to the remoteness, we were far beyond assistance from the outside world. Here one's fortunes might depend on one's skills, abilities, and inner resources. Survival can sometime hang on a thread, for example in a river so wide that the shores are essentially inaccessible and each section of rapids threatens a long and frigid swim all the way to the next stretch of rapids.

The Barrens are an intense, raw land. They are a mind-boggling expanse of unspoiled wilderness that would sooner chew a person up and spit them out. Only by sheer grit and good luck does one forge through. But persistence reaps rewards: the Barrens are also the beauty of nature at her very finest. At every bend in the rivers, beyond each headland, and in every cove on each lake, always there is something interesting to see and new to discover.

The Barrens are an untainted land, vast, unforgiving, merciless. A land that trims the ragged edges of the soul and pulls you deeper into its vastness as you push on, day by glorious day. With every breath of cold, raw air, you give thanks for the gift of life, and for the purity that brings you back in touch with the forgotten self that is your real self.

The Barrens are one of the last remaining expanses of wilderness. And as such, they are of inestimable value in their natural and pristine condition, not only to a few hardies who explore its wonders, but to humankind and all life on earth.

Our lack of understanding of its value does not diminish that value. Here is balance in a world that elsewhere we have thrown off-kilter. And in that balance could be vital information yet to be realized by science, information that may hold the key to the survival of humankind and all other life forms. If we breach the land, contaminate it, destroy it, like we have nearly everywhere else, its secrets may never be unlocked and could be lost, to our peril. For we may need to know more about that balance in the coming decades, as our unbridled technologies continue to turn the world inside-out.

Fishing

With all the fishing we had done, we had lost only one lure. Casting from shore it had snagged on the bottom. Our ideal lures are the 2-segmented minnow, the red and white spoon, and the blue moon. Next time we will two of each of these, so we have spares. We also used snap swivels, a large folding knife, one pole and reel, and one extra spool of line.

In order to render barbs useless, a person squeezes each one down with a pair of pliers. Barbless hooks are more fun to fish with, because they take more skill, and also they enable a fish to be released without much damage.

A little rant, if I may: I hate to see people catching monster fish and not releasing them. The Monster fish (Lake Trout and Northern Pike) found in these BarrenLands waters are essentially irreplaceable. This is because of their slow growth rate, caused by the cold, dark and long winters. So when you catch one, handle it gently while taking your photos, then release it back to the water ASAP. And with the slightly smaller fish, I would encourage not keeping any more than you and your party can eat. Beyond fishing for dinner, catch and release is the best plan.

Pike's Portage is about half trail and half lakes. This was early in our trip, and sometimes we double carried - one trip with the canoe and a second trip with the gear. But usually we single carried as shown here. Either way, that next lake was invariably the most beautiful sight imaginable.