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Down the Bloodvein and back

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A little unsure what to do for a trip report. To be honest I don't normally write or read them. I prefer to go into a trip with only as much information as I need. A wise man once told me, "No expectations, no disappointments." It rang true and I try to live that as much as is possible/reasonable. For that reason I only skimmed Bloodvein trip reports and discussion threads looking for information regarding water levels and current speeds, both of which I found little to no information on. I bought Hap's book and read through the Bloodvein chapter a few times. One sentence mentioning this pool and drop river being historically used for both downstream and upstream travel is what my trip hinged upon. I transferred the rapid classifications and pictograph locations to my topo maps and some input on this forum reassured me that although the river gauge was reading quite low I shouldn't have to worry about running out of water. I tried to avoid looking at too many photographs or reading descriptions of the river and landscape. I wanted as much as possible to be a surprise. I didn't want to know what was around the next corner. For that reason this probably won't be a super detailed trip report but will concentrate more on Sadie and I's personal journey.

I've got a lot of photos and videos that still need to be edited and put together so the entire report will probably come in fits and starts. Tonight I'll try and get the dry part out of the way.

I'd never heard of the Bloodvein River until a few years ago when someone mentioned a river that starts in WCPP and runs a couple hundred miles to Lake Winnipeg with no roads or bridges leading to it for the entire length. That doesn't seem to be an easy thing to find in a river that's still reasonably accessible without the use of a float plane. I could drive to a put-in just outside WCPP and with just a few days paddling be on the Bloodvein. How to get back to the car was the big question. Being a tight arse and preferring to do things on my own I didn't like the idea of hiring a float plane and wondered how long it would take to paddle back upstream. Could I do it in a month? It would mean taking time off work without pay because of the extra paddling time but I'd still be money ahead over paying $1800 for a plane flight plus the added value of spending an extra couple weeks on the water. I thought about it pretty seriously for a while but then gave up the idea as nothing but a daydream because of the time and logistics that would be involved. Then last winter I watched Beav's video on his 6 month trip from Seattle to, through, and around Alaska and figured if he could do something as crazy as that I should be able to paddle down and back up the Bloodvein. So I decided I was going to do it and set out to design and build a canoe for the task.

I wanted something that could handle rapids up to class II, track well for lake travel, carry a month's worth of gear and food, have good speed for upstream travel, and also have room for my constant travel companion: Sadie the wonder-dog. It was very challenging to come up with the design and it was the most complicated and expensive build I've done to date because I can't leave well enough alone and had to try and cut as much weight possible and keep it very strong. In the end I came up with something I thought would fit the bill and after test paddling it over the summer felt pretty confident in its capabilities as we headed north. The entire build thread can be found here: http://www.canoetripping.net/forums...g-discussions/diy/25183-solo-expedition-build.

Something I think should be essential in any river related trip report, but that I never found in anyone's, is the river's gauge reading and a description of the river at that time. Here is a screen capture of the Bloodvein gauge that covers the dates I was on the water (Aug.16-Sept.15):

Bvein_streamflow by Alan, on Flickr

The solid dark blue line is the actual stream flow, the green line is the average, the red line is the upper 90th percentile and the light blue is the lower 90th percentile. As you can see the level kept dropping throughout the summer and was a good deal below the average and getting close to the lower 90th percentile. When I left to head up north it was running about 1450 cfs.

This had me quite worried that I'd be running into long stretches of shallow water which are a real pain in the butt for upstream travel. Turns out that wasn't an issue at all. I've never paddled a river like this and while I can see how high or low water levels would have an effect on the rapids (runnable rapids turn into unrunnable ledges in low water) it doesn't look like it makes much difference in between them. Nowhere did I see any sign of shallow water between sets of rapids.

I was very surprised to get home and look up the historical flow for the time I was on the water to see that it suddenly jumped up to 3200 cfs after about a week on the water and then another jump to over 4000 cfs towards the end of the trip. The first jump would coincide with the 3 days I was pinned down by wind and rain on Stonehouse Lake. The second jump would coincide with what seemed like a solid week of rain towards the end of the trip. I saw no indications the river was rising nor did I ever feel like I was paddling in high water even though after the first jump the flow was well above normal and right around the top 90th percentile. By the time it jumped the second time, to over 4000 cfs, I was pretty much off the river proper and back into lake country.

Despite these higher than normal water levels the speed of the current remained sedate between the rapids. I brought along a GPS to check the speed of the current but most of the time it was too low to record a reading. My GPS doesn't give a speed until it reaches 1mph, then it reads in 1/10th of a mph increments. The only times I could get it to record 1mph or higher was near the bottom of rapids or light swifts. For the most part I'd estimate the speed to be about .5mph. So don't expect to just float along without doing any work.

Upstream travel wasn't difficult with the exception of LOTS of portaging around rapids. I found that many weren't lineable, at least at my weak skill level. The rapids seem to be short and steep rather than longer and shallower. Most don't have any shallow water along the edges to walk through or suitable shorelines for walking when lining. But many times you can paddle past the portage landings to just above or below the rapids for a quick lift over rather than the full portage. Better be sure of your boat handling skills though as many times you're just a few feet from the start of the rapids.

Paddling up swifts got annoying at times but they were also a fun challenge and it was a rewarding feeling to make it up those small drops without having to portage or line.

There was a lot of internal debate about whether I should start at the top of the river and paddle downstream first or start at the bottom and do the upstream leg first. Starting on the downstream side has the obvious benefit that, should something go wrong, you only have to turn around and go back with the current. Starting on the upstream side has the advantage of keeping you from bailing out should the going get tough for a few days. Once you've reached Lake Winnipeg there's nothing to do but do it. I kind of liked that. Incidentally, "nothing to do but do it," was my mantra for the trip.

I came up with many other reasons in favor of and against each starting point but the real deciding factor in the end was logistics. Starting in Red Lake made it easy to meet up with Harlan to arrange a food drop at 30 days and then I could drive to the Johnson Lake parking area and leave my car without any worries.

In hindsight it was absolutely the right decision but not for the reasons I'd imagined. After seeing Bloodvein Village I have no doubt I could have found a place to comfortably leave my car parked for 30 days but if I'd started at Bloodvein Village and headed upstream the numerous portages around rapids with full food pack would have been physically and mentally exhausting at the start of the trip. There was a lot of portaging in the first few days anyway, especially the mucky slog into Knox Lake, but they were all expected and easy to mentally prepare for. The two weeks it took to get downstream was good physical conditioning for the trip back up and it got me into the portaging rhythm on the river. I either remembered where the portage landings were on the rapids I'd already portaged or I knew where to expect the portages to be on the ones I'd run on the way down. The portages are well marked and easy to find heading downstream, not so when going up; especially around the numerous class I's that are not paddleable going upstream but that nearly everyone runs going down.

Ok, that should about do it for tonight. I'll try and have some pretty pictures for the next one.

Alan
 
Can't wait to paddle and talk with you again soon.

You probably don't want to paddle Iowa any more. Thinking the Bloodvein spoiled you ! Clean clear water and all.
Again glad you and Sadie are back, safe and sound ! You have just created a lifetime of memories for yourself, that you can look back on, anytime you want to put a smile on your face !

Jim
 
In the first post I mentioned I subscribe to the philosophy of “No expectations, no disappointments.” But I'm not perfect and failed on two counts.

Expectation #1 was that bugs would be virtually non-existent. It's late in the season and WCPP and the Bloodvein river have a reputation for being pretty bug free. Last time I was in WCPP it was the same time of year and I didn't use bug spray the entire trip.

Luckily the night before I put in I tried sleeping in my car just outside Red Lake with the windows open and the mosquitoes were horrendous. I didn't plan on carrying bug spray with me but now made a point to buy some at Harlan's shop before driving to the put-in. They were terrible the entire trip except for a few nights it was cold and rainy. The black flies even had a second coming and gave Sadie more trouble than me. Most nights found me getting chased into the hammock just after sunset to escape. Sadie was well coated with bug spray each night.

Expectation #2 was nice autumn weather. Warm and sunny days, light winds, and crisp nights is one of the reasons I prefer to trip this time of year. Each night I kept thinking, “tomorrow I'll wake up to the weather I've been waiting for,” but it never happened. I did have some nice weather early in the trip but then it got cold and rainy, then hot and muggy, then warm and rainy, then cold and rainy again.

Other than that I went into the trip with a mostly blank slate before me and let things come as they may. It was a nice way to travel. No doubt there are things I missed along the way that I would have caught with more research but I don't mind. I like this area and will likely return multiple times. Each time I'll discover more things and explore new areas. I feel no need to try and see everything in one trip.

My original thought was to do the trip in 30 days but I'd since adjusted my expectations to 35 seeming more reasonable and I'd packed 40 days worth of food just in case. I was able to cram what I hoped was 30 days of food in my 60l barrel with some overflow in the gear bag but couldn't fit the final 10 days worth without adding a 3rd pack. Instead I arranged a food drop to be flown into Carroll Lake, on the west side of WCPP, 30 days into the trip. If I needed it sooner I could call for it with my SPOT.

I felt no nervousness or apprehension about the trip until the drive up to Red Lake. Until then I'd kept busy working on the boat, planning the trip, and organizing gear and food. That was all done now so my mind was free to comprehend what was really happening. The final drive to the put-in Sunday morning found lots of butterflies in my stomach and wondering just what I was getting myself into. All of a sudden a month seemed like an awful long time.

I put in at Johnson Lake on a cool and overcast day that quickly turned to intermittent rain showers. We got on the water around noon and paddled late, close to 8:00, before finally finding a meager campsite on Page Lake. As soon as I hit the water all nervousness had disappeared. I felt good and the rain had quit earlier that evening.


Loaded and ready at the put-in:

20150816_001 by Alan, on Flickr

20150816_007 by Alan, on Flickr

20150816_010 by Alan, on Flickr

Day one rain blues:

20150816_012 by Alan, on Flickr

20150816_017 by Alan, on Flickr
At the start of the trip I went hard. I didn't know how long it would take to get to Lake Winnipeg or how much longer it would take to paddle upstream. I didn't always mean to paddle until 7:00 or 8:00 but finding a suitable campsite rarely coincided with my decision to stop paddling for the day. As the trip went on and I realized time wasn't going to be a problem I started quitting earlier in the day. I also got better at spotting suitable camp sites.

A quick note about my paddling/tripping style: I like to be in the canoe and I like to paddle. I've got a decent hit and switch stroke and it's what I prefer to use. I paddle harder and faster than most people but it's how I normally paddle so it doesn't feel like work to me. Just like my normal walk is faster than many people's. My cruising stroke rate is 60 strokes/minute. I might slow down and do a Canadian stroke for a while but if I'm moving I'm usually moving pretty quick.

I also don't like to spend a lot of down time in camp. I get bored without something to do. My whole life is lived solo without a lot of commitments so having free time to just laze around with my thoughts isn't a luxury, it's normal. I'm also finding I don't much care to fish anymore and this will probably be the last trip that sees me carrying fishing gear.

My preferred tripping day is waking up just after sunset and eating a leisurely breakfast before breaking down camp, usually getting on the water around 9:00. Paddle until early afternoon and take at least a full hour for lunch, usually starting a fire and cooking an actual meal. Then make camp a couple hours before sunset. Enough time to sit on a rock to wind down, set up my tarp and hammock, and cook dinner. Then into the hammock as it starts getting dark (and the mosquitoes get really bad) to read and write in my journal before going to sleep.

Some days I quit early and it's nice to have the extra time. Other days I quit early and wonder what to do with myself. Days off almost always find my antsy for something to do so I usually only take them when forced by weather.

Ok, back to the trip. Day 2 found pleasant weather that stuck around for most of the first week. A little warmer than I would have liked but sunny and dry. I was working hard to get to Knox Lake, which would put me on the Bloodvein River system and I reached it on day 3 after a tough 1 mile portage that starts with ¼ mile of knee deep muck before turning into a pleasant hiking trail. 5 trips across (3 loaded and 2 empty) took me 3 hours.

It was early afternoon when we got everything to the lake and after a swim to clean off and cool down we paddled out to an island and found a nice flat rock shoreline out of the wind to sit and relax for a few hours eating snacks and doing some fishing. This was one of the happiest times of the trip. We'd made it to the Bloodvein river in good time and it was the first time we really sat back to relax and enjoy.


Relaxing after getting to Knox Lake:

20150818_017 by Alan, on Flickr

20150818_020 by Alan, on Flickr
I was on the fence about paddling over to Paishk Lake, the actual headwaters of the Bloodvein, but decided not to. The wind was blowing at a pretty good clip and I was probably looking at a full day paddle to get there and back. At this point I thought days might be a precious commodity.

So off we went down the river. The days went by smoothly as we settled into a rhythm and before we knew it were out of WCPP and into Atikaki. I'd yet to see another canoe but had seen 4 small fishing boats on lakes with outpost cabins. I'd seen the same number of moose as boats and thought that evened out nicely.


Alan
 
The first day in Manitoba was running long and I was really hoping for a camp site at the next rapid, a C-IV. As I approached I saw an island in the middle of the rapid with 6 large and well spaced jack pines surrounded by grass. I couldn't have asked for more but I got it anyway. As I got closer I saw a picnic table on the small island! I couldn't believe my eyes. They sure do things differently than Ontario. I hung my tarp and hammock while Sadie curled up in the grass for a nap as I cooked supper.

20150821_017 by Alan, on Flickr

20150821_023 by Alan, on Flickr

20150821_024 by Alan, on Flickr

Next morning we awoke to rain. Packed up everything but the tarp and celebrated our first full day in Manitoba by cooking a big batch of pancakes and hoped the rain would quit. It didn't. The skies didn't look that threatening and the wind wasn't blowing so I decided to paddle in the rain. Once we got ¼ mile away from the rapids I could hear the thunder and then I started seeing the lightning. So we pulled over on a Peninsula at the top of Bushie Lake and waited for it to pass.

Where are you supposed to go during a thunderstorm? On the water is bad but so is in the trees. We elected to hang out on the rocks between shore and the tree line. The rain would pick up. Then almost quit and we'd decide to head out. As soon as we started getting in the boat there would be another flash of lightning or crack of thunder. This happened about 5 times. We spent 4 hours just standing there counting the time between flash and thunder to try and get an idea if the storms were getting closer or farther away. It was very boring. The wind had picked up considerably and finally we decided to call it quits and set up camp inside the tree line. This let us dry off a little and cook some food. It was a good call as the wind started blowing much harder with very large white caps coming down the lake.

About 4:00 the rain stopped, the skies cleared, and the wind quit blowing. We were still in 'push hard' mode and I decided to try and get a few hours on the water. It ended up being an absolutely gorgeous evening and paddling was a joy.

That night it started raining again and continued into the morning. It was considerably cooler than the day before. We were on the river just upstream of Stonehouse Lake and since there was no thunder or lightning I decided to paddle in the rain. We set out and after about a mile we paddled into the south end of Stonehouse Lake, which is long and skinny and runs N/S. There was a gale of a wind howling down the lake from the north and it was downright cold. Obviously our paddling was over for the day. We crossed over to the west side of the lake where we got out of the wind on the back side of a peninsula. There we spent two long, wet, and cold days before finally the weather broke and we were back on our way downstream. That made nearly 3 full days of no movement due to weather and had me a bit worried about the schedule.

Seriously considering a rain jacket for Sadie:

20150823_003 by Alan, on Flickr

Fire felt good. We were both cold, wet, and shivering:

20150823_006 by Alan, on Flickr

Mid-40's and rain. Sadie got the sleep in the hammock:

20150823_015 by Alan, on Flickr

The rest of the trip downstream was pretty uneventful with mostly good weather, though getting pretty hot and humid at times. We seemed to be making good progress and I quit pushing so hard. This was my first time running any real rapids and I found it to be a lot of fun. Sadie wasn't quite so sure. Stuck way up in the bow she was taking the brunt of any water splashing in.

We (I) decided to run the biggest rapid we'd done up to that time fully loaded. It had a long sloping tongue that dropped down into the rapids with 3 big haystacks. The first wave wasn't curling back on itself and I figured we could get over that one clean. The rest would dump water in the boat but there were only a couple and then we'd be out of it.

As we approached that tongue the butterflies started appearing. That drop and those waves looked a LOT bigger from the canoe than they did scouting on shore. We started dropping down that tongue and all I could do was stare at that first wave and wonder how good of an idea this was as we picked up speed. Then suddenly I'm staring straight into the eyes of my dog. She was apparently having second thoughts as well and decided way up in the bow was no place to be so she hopped up on the gear pack. Oh crap! Is about the only way to describe my reaction.

Two choices flashed through my head. Shove her back into the bow with the paddle or pull her back towards me. My hand shot out, grabbed her by the neck, and jerked her towards me just in time to get my hand back on the paddle as we hit the first wave. Sadie started squealing like a stuck hog and I had no idea why. Was I kneeling on her foot? Did one of her legs get caught in her life jacket? Did I break one of her legs pulling her down? Would she be able to swim if we dumped? All these things were racing through my head and I took a quick glance or two at her as I braced and tried not to dump the canoe.

Next thing I knew Sadie had stopped yelping, we were out of the rapid, and we had about 10 gallons of water in the boat. I don't remember anything about actually running the rapid or how we got through. I only remember pulling her down, my mind racing, and then being done. I think when I jerked her back towards me she whacked her head against the front edge of my seat. What a rush that was! We (I) laughed about that one for the rest of the day and I thanked Sadie for giving me such a good memory and story to tell. Too bad the camera wasn't rolling for that one.

We took on enough water that I realized Sadie getting pulled back to the center of the boat might have kept us from swamping by taking nearly 30 pounds out of the bow. We ran some more big rapids that day, one or two of which were bigger, and for each one I called Sadie to come back and sit by me. She didn't argue.

It took us exactly two weeks to reach Bloodvein Village and Lake Winnipeg from our starting point at Johnson Lake. Considering our 3 day layover I was very pleased and coupled with the lack of current it didn't look like getting back in time would be a problem. Paddling out to Kanikopak Island on Lake Winnipeg was a great feeling. We'd reached the halfway point and things were going very well, though I was still a bit apprehensive about what the next leg of the trip would be like. It was mid-afternoon when we turned around to paddle back upstream and we found ourselves facing a substantial head wind coming down river. Thankfully it subsided once we got out of the bay and back onto the river. We made better time than I expected and after paddling up a swift or two we found ourselves at the first rapid above Bloodvein Village around 5:00 where we caught quite a few Walleye and made camp for the night. We were having a great time and feeling good.

Well, mostly feeling good. Sadie's front feet were getting pretty raw and red and while she wasn't limping or slowing down I could tell they bothered her by the way she wanted to lick and bite them in camp. I put her on antibiotics and this seemed to clear them up. That was the only time either of us dipped into the first aid kit, not even for a tweezers or aspirin.

After about 4 days on the water my left boot started to aggravate my Achilles tendon. Instead of a nice gradual bend up my heel it seemed to have one hinge spot which was creating a pressure point and giving me a bad bruise on the tendon. I thought either the boots or my body would break-in but neither wanted to give. This really had me hurting and hobbling over some portages. I kept tying the boot looser and looser until the laces were applying hardly any pressure at all. That helped and while it didn't really improve it stopped getting worse and I was able to finish the trip without much pain.

The next day, our first full day paddling upstream, had relatively few portages and again I was surprised by the miles covered. It was a huge relief and I really started to relax finally knowing this would not be an insurmountable task. I began stopping earlier in the day if I felt like doing so.

Yahoo for Lake Winnipeg!

20150830_010 by Alan, on Flickr

20150830_005 by Alan, on Flickr

We (I) ate a great big bar of dark chocolate that night I'd been saving. Sadie had junk food dog food to celebrate with.

Bloodvein from atop a large rock bluff we climbed. Beautiful little hike:

20150825_008 by Alan, on Flickr

Alan
 
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Alan,
Thanks for taking us along on your epic trip. I've read your TR twice now, and will likely read it again and again.
I'm dying to see those videos!!
I can tell you from personal experience, there are certain points in our lives that are life altering...after which it is very difficult (or even impossible) to return to the previous lifestyle or mindset.
You're a lucky guy to have had this great experience, cherish it.

Now, let's see those videos!!
 
I'm happy to hear it's being enjoyed rather than eyes glazing over. It's about 15x longer than I planned on when I sat down to write it but I've never been able to combine the written word and brevity. Too much work. I believe Truman Capote once wrote to a friend something along the lines of, "I apologize for the long letter. I would have written a short one but didn't have the time."

Alan
 
OK a typical non explorer question.
Any bears ?
Oh and make it as long as you like !

Jim
 
We had worse weather going upstream than down. Warm and muggy, then warm and rainy, then cold and rainy. The wind seemed to fight us more although we did get a couple days with nice tail winds. Two days were brutal with many swifts, rapids, and portages coupled with a head wind. Other than those two days upstream travel wasn't so bad. Since I like to paddle hard it didn't seem that tough and powering up swifts and easy class I rapids was a fun and rewarding challenge.

This section took me one day going downstream and I dreaded reaching it heading back up. It took two full days and a lot of work. There were days I'd have 7 or 8 portages or short lift overs by lunch.

20150828_004 by Alan, on Flickr

On the way up it was fun to see rapids I'd run on the way down. The small ones where I was gaining confidence didn't seem nearly as intimidating. The larger ones where I was getting cocky I'd just say to myself, "I can't believe I ran that." This was one of the "can't believe I ran that" ones:

20150902_004 by Alan, on Flickr

It looked bigger from up close and darn near monstrous from the canoe. It wasn't bad except for that one drop that was getting a bit ledgy. Just as we started dropping down I said to Sadie in a calm but serious voice, "oh, this was not a good idea." We took on a lot of water and the stern found a rock to wang off somewhere just below the drop. I also gained some serious respect for those boils that just seem to erupt out of nowhere below the rapids. I was through and starting to congratulate myself when one of those came up underneath us and I guess we must have started sliding off it. It was a strange sensation to be in what seemed like relatively calm water but one of your gunwales seems determined to take a drink of water. We managed to stay upright and after a few minutes of bailing were on our way again.

There were more mishaps going upstream than down. Crossing the river through fast water at the bottom of a C-III to reach the portage landing I got slammed by an unexpectedly strong eddy while doing a crossover stroke, leaving me unable to brace. Over we went but we were close to shore and in the eddy. Sadie went straight to shore and after a few kicks I was able to touch bottom with the canoe in hand. Although nothing was tied in everything stayed put except for the water bottle, which I had to paddle after once emptying the boat of water.

It was just after 4:00 so we camped at the next rapid and I laid everything out to dry. Everything that needed to stay dry was well waterproofed so the worst casualty was a really wet rain jacket and pack towell:

20150902_012 by Alan, on Flickr

The other incident of note was when trying to pull over what looked like a pretty easy drop. There was a nice shallow ledge above the rapids so I could just walk out there and pull the canoe right up. The canoe was coming up the ledge crooked with the stern out of the current in a small pool but that was fine. As soon as I got it pulled up a little ways the stern would be forced into the current and straighten out. But as it started to do just that the stern hung up on a rock. At the same time I ran out of ledge to walk on so I couldn't back up any farther.

I was holding the bow of the canoe up in the air and if I could set it down that would allow the stern to float off the rock but each time I tried to lower it the gunwale would dip under water. Each time this happened the water flowed to the stern, making it heavier. I was stuck and couldn't go forwards or backwards. I made one final hard push to try and shove it backwards off the rock. It didn't budge, the gunwale dipped below the water for the last time, and the rope was ripped out of my hand. I stood there and watched my canoe, half full of water, float away from me down the rapids. It was kinda funny.

I decided to just watch and see what would happen in hopes it would catch the right eddy and come back close to shore. The rapids flowed out into a bay and then the river took a hard left where it narrowed down and went through a swift about 300 yards downstream from me with a vertical rock face on the opposite shore. I really didn't want the canoe to go that way but sure enough it kept heading to the left so I quickly shucked off my shoes and pants, jumped in, and started swimming across the channel at an angle to cut it off. Thankfully I was wearing my life jacket when the canoe got away.

Swimming is hard work and about halfway across the channel I started to get a bit tired out. I kept watching the canoe and instead of taking a left and heading my way it swung around to the right and started getting pushed back into the bay. That's great but here I am swimming across this channel, expecting to intercept my canoe, and now I need to try and swim upstream against a pretty stiff current. No way is that happening so I head for the vertical rock face on the other side hoping to find a narrow eddy running alongside it. No luck so I start looking for any sort of crack or knob to grab hold of and pull myself along. After a little ways there's a small ledge I can crawl up on and then scramble over some rocks which gets me around the corner and out of the current for the most part. Now I can see my boat again and it's up against shore next to a beaver lodge. Jumping back in the water it's an easy swim over to it where I bail the water, climb aboard, and paddle back to the rapid where Sadie is anxiously waiting with my clothes. I thought for sure another canoe would come along while I was swimming or paddling in my underwear but I managed to go unobserved.

Oddly enough I kind of enjoyed those two mishaps: the dumping and the lining fail. Things were going a bit too well and it seems like something needs to go wrong before you can realize just how quickly and easily bad things can happen. They were both good learning experiences. I stayed calm and, I thought, handled both situations well. They worked out fine with nothing more than a small delay in forward progress. It was just another part of the adventure.

There was also the layover day for canoe repairs. The stems had worn down to the wood and I since it was cloudy and raining and I had to roast the canoe over a fire to dry the wood before patching with fiberglass.

20150905_001 by Alan, on Flickr

20150905_003 by Alan, on Flickr

Upstream travel was hard on the paddle as well. I'd added a double layer of Dynel just before leaving on the trip:

20150904_002 by Alan, on Flickr

That day a group of 6 from England, Ireland, and Australia came through camp and lined down the large rapid I was camped by. They made it look easy. They were the 3rd group of canoers I'd seen in as many weeks. Sadie was pretty excited as she'd never been petted by a European before. She said they did a good job but she thought it would be more exotic.

20150905_005 by Alan, on Flickr

It was fun to reach the Gammon river on the upstream leg and turn off for some new scenery. I'd done no research whatsoever on the Gammon and didn't know what to expect other than Aiken's Lake was big and could kick up large waves. Paddling it was similar to paddling the Bloodvein. The current seemed like it may have been a little stronger in-between rapids but still easy enough to paddle against. The rapids seemed to be a little longer with a shallower gradient making them a little more conducive to lining. This also made the rapids look more technical with more obstructions to be maneuvered around. Understandably I was a bit gun shy about lining so I erred towards the side of caution and portaged most of them.

It was a big relief to finally get off the river and back into the system of lakes where I wasn't sleeping next to a rapid every night. I'd so missed the peace and quiet and all the other small sounds that had been drowned out the past 3 weeks. Cutting back to only 3-4 portages a day was a joy as well.

The crossing of Aiken's Lake went smoothly with a bit of a wind from the NW but not too bad. Instead of cutting straight across the lake from west to east I first paddled a little ways up the west shoreline so I could cut down at an angle, keeping the wind partially to my back. I was surprised at the size of the waves considering how light the wind was.

A couple days later I found myself at the east end of Carroll lake 4 days ahead of my scheduled food drop and on the home stretch. All that was left was to paddle across WCPP and I had tons of time to do it. When I got to camp that night I pushed the resupply request button on my SPOT and at noon the next day the plane dropped it off. I decided to take off the rest of the day and ended up being quite bored. Wind was too strong to take a relaxing paddle but we did head over to the portage we'd be taking into Donald Lake the next morning to walk it and do a little exploring.

Underground was a nest of some sort of wasp or hornet in one corner of camp. Of course Sadie can't leave a hole in the ground alone and it didn't take her long to discover it. Next thing I know one of them is chasing Sadie around camp and she doesn't know whether to bite it or hide. I suggested to her that she not bite it and perhaps leave the hole alone. It was tough for her and I'd keep catching her creeping over in that direction just to sit and watch them stream in and out of the hole but she had no more encounters.

Food resupply and a letter from Mom:

20150912_002 by Alan, on Flickr

I had lots of food and lots of time and I seriously considered a detour through the south end of the park. Instead I decided to just paddle straight back along the Gammon and take my time. The following week was the last one I actually had scheduled off work, although I had told my boss (dad) that it may take longer. Also, the goal of this trip was the paddle down the Bloodvein and then back to my car. Any detour south would have to be a short one and seemed gratuitous. The south side of the park deserves a trip all its own.

I awoke the next morning feeling like a million dollars. I felt like I could take on the world and though it wasn't what I'd planned to do I felt like paddling hard and did so. The miles flew by and I felt unstoppable. I fought a south wind all day as I went through Donald and Hammerhead lakes and had to face it straight on with good sized white caps as I ran down Rostoul. I stopped at my normal time, around 5:30, but I found myself well into Hansen Lake and I'd covered in one day what I thought would take me two. The wind died down and it was a perfect evening. I don't know if I've ever felt better in my life than I did that day.

Great night to be alive on Hansen Lake. This is facing north from the position of my hammock (that's foreshadowing):

20150913_004 by Alan, on Flickr

That night the wind switched to the north and my exposed campsite saw some hellacious winds whipping down the lake with thunder and lightning but thankfully no rain. I had to get up and add more tarp lines. The wind blew really hard (I'd say gusts to 30mph or more) for about an hour before backing off to just “hard” the rest of the night.

Reinforced hammock the next morning on Hansen. Thank goodness for all those tie-outs Dan sews in.

20150914_001 by Alan, on Flickr

By morning it was swinging to the NE with threatening looking clouds. I decided this campsite was no place to stick it out and after scarfing a quick breakfast of oatmeal and breaking camp I was on the water early in long sleeves, jacket, and stocking cap to ride a partial tail wind down Hansen and search for a more protected site should the weather decide to turn nastier. But it never got worse. At the first portage the jacket came off and after lunch so did the stocking cap. The wind had now turned due east, the direction I was heading into. I reached Optic Lake around 2:00 and decided to call it a day not wanting to face those winds on Telescope Lake.

I tried to keep busy at camp and stacked in a large wood supply but I would have rather been on the water. It was chilly and camp was only partially protected from the wind so a long evening in front of the fire wasn't much of an option. It was one of the few nights we were left alone by bugs though. Looking at the map I could either go hard and get out tomorrow or take two leisurely days. I'd let my mood and the weather make that determination the next morning. Just before bed the east wind was still blowing but I could see the high level clouds were moving in from the west so I was hopeful.

I awoke at 5:00 AM to go to the bathroom and found clear skies and no wind. I awoke at 7:15 to start the day and found it heavily overcast and the east wind had returned even stronger than the day before. I was quite frustrated. I'd been waiting so long for nice weather and I had really wanted to end my trip with it. I said screw it and decided I was getting out that day, headwind or not.

The paddle across Telescope Lake was long, hard, and cold but it was over before noon and we lunched on the calm side of the lake at an island near the portage. Most of the day we'd be paddling into the wind but the rest of the lakes were smaller and not as bad. My spirits improved, my stocking cap came off, and I began enjoying myself and the lakes I was paddling through again.

At 3:00 we got off Onnie Lake and turned north up Douglas Creek. This was a welcome break as we were now protected from the east wind on a narrow and winding waterway. We'd stay on this creek the next couple hours until we had to cross two small lakes to get back to the car. It was a great way to end the day and the trip. A simple slow, quiet, and relaxing paddle where you expected to see a moose around every corner.

Derelict wood canvas rowboat on Douglas Creek. Nice little fixer upper and only a couple short carries in. Would make a nice project for Karin and Christine.

20150915_012 by Alan, on Flickr

20150915_014 by Alan, on Flickr

Vintage oar included!

20150915_015 by Alan, on Flickr

At 6:00 we made it back to Johnson Lake and the car. I spent a long time just standing on shore, next to the canoe, looking out over the lake before making that climb up the hill and back to civilization. I felt like I could have kept going forever. I loved everything about the trip: the solitude, the self reliance, the hard work, and the challenges. I was very sad to be done but at the same time proud and happy to have completed the task, and in the original time-line of a month which included 4 days stopped by the weather, one day for boat repairs, and one day waiting for food resupply.

Back where it all started - Johnson Lake:

20150915_019 by Alan, on Flickr

20150915_030 by Alan, on Flickr

I see more long trips in my future. This was the neatest thing I've ever done.

Alan
 
Any bears ?

I saw three, all swimming across the river ahead of me.

Probably would have missed one of them without Sadie. She was sleeping in the canoe and suddenly got up with her nose in the air. Hackles went up and started growling while sniffing hard. I started keeping a keen eye and about 1/8 mile later saw a bear at the bottom of a swift just easing into the water to swim across.

Good chance there was one on a portage just before we arrived or possibly just up the hill. As soon as we got out of the boat Sadie went on high alert. It was a recently burned area so lots of heavy brush and undergrowth all along the trail. I was a little nervous not being able to see more than 10 feet to the side and did some singing as we walked along.

Something came close to camp one day while we were weather bound on Stonehouse Lake too. Sadie jumped up barking and bluffing at the woods. I never saw or heard anything running off and she wasn't sniffing so much as looking so I think she actually saw whatever it was. It was thick enough I would have expected to hear a bear. Maybe a wolf or lynx? Whatever it was it kept her on edge the rest of the afternoon. She'd get her hackles up at any noise from that direction.

Alan
 
Thanks for finishing the report! I'm glad your canoe survived the trials and tribulations. I have a problem waiting out wind too, so I totally understand pushing on into it. Solo trips are a joy when you want to push hard, but can be a drag when you get tired of your own company. That's why you should bring some booze, for the wind days, you can have a few shots and have a conversation with the new you. Sounds to me like you hit that magic endorphin high at the end there, used to happen to me once in a while before the French cuisine put my fitness level into the hibernation status. Anyway, glad you enjoyed it, will you build a new canoe for your next foray, or will you keep the Bloodvein Express going?
 
You must think highly of my skills considering we cannot even see the bottom of that boat, ha ha. We can dig the moss out and see if anything survived.

I have a short route I planned out using the Johnson Lake entry point from 2014 when Christine had her heart attack that I may use next year when I take my 3 month adventure, I'll look for that boat if I go in that way, thanks.

Karin
 
That was a good trip Alan, I'm glad you were able to pour out as much as you did onto the page to share with us. There were definitely some scary moments, but some exquisitely joyous ones too. The trip can be summed up by the expression on your face at the final take out. Sadie must've enjoyed the trip too. Will she ever be happy with just a walk around the block ever again? Thanks for writing a TR and sharing it.
 
Solo trips are a joy when you want to push hard, but can be a drag when you get tired of your own company.

I really don't think I'd enjoy solo as much if I didn't have a dog. We're constantly having (one way) conversations. The scary part is I know most of those conversations would take place even without her but at least with her along I can tell myself I'm not crazy, I'm just talking to my dog. I can see where having an actual person along would make camp time more enjoyable for just relaxing all day.

That's why you should bring some booze, for the wind days, you can have a few shots and have a conversation with the new you.

I think what I really need is to start smoking pot. Lightweight and compact. Kind of like booze but dehydrated. I came across someone's stash they forgot at a rapid in a waterproof match case. No intentions of packing it out (Honest officer, it's not mine! I'm just cleaning up other people's garbage.) so I just left it be thinking it might make someone's day. Bet that guy was pretty disappointed when he found he'd left it 10 miles upstream.

Sounds to me like you hit that magic endorphin high at the end there, used to happen to me once in a while before the French cuisine put my fitness level into the hibernation status.

Whatever it was 'magic' is an apt description. What I wouldn't give just to feel like that one day a month.

will you build a new canoe for your next foray, or will you keep the Bloodvein Express going?

I suppose that will depend on the next adventure. Been starting to think about the Berens for next summer and with a little touching up this one should be ready for another month (or two?). I would really like to build a fully composite version of the boat but we'll see how things go this winter. That's not going to be cheap and I have plenty of other things I should be spending money on, plus saving up for my next trip.

Alan
 
That was a good trip Alan, I'm glad you were able to pour out as much as you did onto the page to share with us.

It was enjoyable to sit down and write it. I usually try to write something after trips/vacations I take but I don't normally take the time to insert pictures and share online. It was fun to share.

Sadie must've enjoyed the trip too. Will she ever be happy with just a walk around the block ever again?

She's always happy no matter where we go. I fear that I, on the other hand, may have been permanently damaged.

Alan
 
Now, let's see those videos!!

The initial theatrical release was scheduled for sometime this weekend but I'm afraid that might have to be pushed back a bit. Their is more video than I realized and I have many hours to go before it's all edited and put together. Hopefully I can get part 1 out by the end of the weekend.

Alan
 
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