Cree River Summer 2023

[Erica]

Cree River flows north out of Cree Lake to Black Lake. Paddling here was a constant surprise. Previously my canoe tripping has been done in Quebec. The rivers I had to fly in to some 30 years ago, now have roads and houses on them. I wanted to find a less crowded locale.

Being 69, I also wanted a river with no portages and rapids CII and under. After purusing many books and trip reports, I decided the Cree River fit the bill. The only trouble; the Cree River is located in northern Saskatchewan and I am located in south Florida. It was going to be a long drive. 3,191 miles one way per google maps. I broke it up by visiting botanical gardens along them way, a family reunion in Vermont, some whitewater instruction with Rolf Kraiker on the Palmer Rapids, a visit with memaquay, and a visit with Paddling Pitt and his lovely wife.

Rolf Kraiker teaches what he calls Paddle Smart Not Hard. He spent time with me not on the typical eddy turns, etc., but learning to slow down in the rapids and put the bow of the boat right on the cushion of water that builds up on a boulder as you go around it. Amazing. Rolf has little figures to use on the kitchen island top to illustrate current, boat and paddle. He taught me a couple of knots, the Figure 8 knot being most useful for me. He also taught how to configure a bridle for lining the rapids. We walked the rapids and talked about how to determine waves the come from water hitting rocks and waves generated by water hitting water. I was pleased that I in general agreed with him on interpretation. This was important to me because I have never before had a professional walk a river rapids with me. Rolf has lots of interesting videos on his website: https://rolfkraiker.com/canoeing

Leaving the Ottawa area, I drove up to Route 11, a drive I really like. It is peaceful, little traffic, quite relaxing. Canadian drivers are so calm and polite It is joy to drive in Canada. Plus, I got to drive through Moonbeam, ONT, and visit their space ship.



I had the happy occasion to meet memaquay and his wife. Most of you probably know he has spent a lifetime bringing school children on canoe trips and clearing portages. He also, I learned, advocated to require the timber industry to leave a buffer zones of natural forest along the rivers most used by canoeists. This is a great service to the future of canoe tripping in his region of Canada.

Next stop was the home of Paddling Pitt, who provided email considerations for my trip, and his wife. We sat in their sunroom and talked canoe trips, families, forums, all kinds of things. They have a bed and breakfast there. Their home is beautiful, tucked into acres of natural forest. I had a panic attack thinking I had left behind the poles for the screen room. They came up with some kind of leftover poles. They are slowing giving away their tripping gear and they have decided not to do remote trips anymore. We have all enjoyed his trip reports and it is sad there will be no more.

Next stop was Churchill River Canoe Outfitters in Missinipe SK. Ric Driediger is the personable and helpful owner who has been guiding trips in the area for more than 30 years. Ric answered many of my questions about the Cree River by email in advance of my trip. From his book, I learned he also values tripping alone. His book Stories of the Churchill documents many of the stories of canoe trippers he has known over the years. I stayed in the Fox Den for one night and it was clean and comfortable.

The drive from Missinipe to Stony Rapids generally takes about 10 hours. I was lucky in that graders had been out recently and it took me only eight and a half hours. Here is what the road looks like:



It is a new road, just a few years in service. Paddling Pitt told me an acquaintance told him it was impossible to drive this road and you would get two flat tires if you tried. It is a bit scary because you can't tell exactly where the hardpack ends and the crumbly shoulder is very soft. Sometimes the shoulder drops straight down far enough to kill you. But you can't tell exactly where it is. This becomes important when a logging truck approaches you and you want to make sure he does not hit you and you don't go over the side. You might notice, there are drops that you can't see over. A little like going over a ledge.

I stopped at Points North for fuel. I was expecting a small little town. Nope. Points North looks like a large army base, flat out hardpan and warehouses and trucks with no people in them. I drove all around the compound and could not see anywhere to get gas, or even anyone to question. Suddenly I saw two women coming out of one building and headed for another. I quickly drove to them before they disappeared inside. One kindly pointed out the gas pump and where to pay. There's a little commissary there where you can purchase sodas or candy bars



I arrived in Stony Rapids midafternoon. It was a bright and sunny day. I found the float plane landing and introduced myself and confirmed my flight for tomorrow. The office and flights are pretty busy, making this feel less remote and quite routine to be taking a plane somewhere. Sort of like hailing a taxi. A big group of six came in. A loud man was exclaiming how wonderful it was. Lots of gear. They had been fishing.





Stony Rapids is not a bustling community. There is only one full time motel, The White Water Inn. There are two others that open apparently sporadically. I had a reservation at the White Water Inn and I have got to say it was creepy. I hate to say this, but the owner/worker seemed to resent my presence and each piece of information had to be dragged out of him. The hall way was narrow, dim, and appeared to have been last carpeted some 50 years ago. The door to the room was flimsy and had a button lock that could be easily popped open.

Interestingly, this establishment was described in Water and Sky as a central meeting place in town. In addition to the hotel, there was a restaurant and there were parties and food and drink and the proprietors were friendly. I wish someone would buy that place and restore it.

Despite the problems, I survived the night and woke to: Smoke. As most of you know, wildfires have been raging all across Canada. I kept an eye on the fires as my launch day approached and so far, things had looked okay. But now fires were going to interfere.



It turns out the wind had shifted and was blowing smoke and ash from what was described as a huge wildfire in the Northwest Territories. All flights were grounded due to being unable to see anything at all. I learned there were two reservations ahead of me; ie if the smoke cleared enough to fly, they would be first. By the end of the day there was clearing in one direction enough for the first to board and fly out. Two of us were stuck in Stony Rapids and there were no rooms available. The other passenger was a fishing guide who was flying out to the camp where he worked. He was just going to sleep in his truck. Wings over Kississing put me up in a disused building across the street, except there were no locks on the doors. The man in charge (I can't remember his name) put locks on all the doors and I got out my camping gear and slept on the floor. It was more comfortable than the White Water Inn.


Smoke again the next morning. It looked as bad as yesterday. The weather forecast showed the winds staying steady for three days. Planes were still grounded. I was now second in line. I did not repack all my gear because I thought I was not going to get out today either. A plane did come in from the east, dropping off six people who had been at a fishing camp. I checked in with the charter office and told them if the smoke cleared and I was to go, to please let me know 30 minutes ahead of time so I could repack. Then I went to my truck and cranked the seat back and napped.

Suddenly there was a banging on my window. It was time for me to go, NOW. The smoke had cleared enough to fly south. The guide was not yet able to go. My gear was not fully packed, but I scrunched things in as fast as I could and their staff put my gear on a huge wagon and pulled it down and loaded it into the plane in seconds it seemed. And suddenly, we were off. My pilot was laid back, calm and quiet. He exuded competence and I was very comfortable in the plane.

The pilot is a quiet man with a Toronto accent. He said he lives north of Toronto and "flies all over." It did not take long to lift off from the water. The ride was smooth - no bumps or stomach lurching drops or turns. I sat up with the pilot. It is an old plane. One can see the paint chips and dents and repairs of long use. I actually found this comforting. The plane was well maintained.



I've been told by two people who know something about planes that this was a de Havilland Single Otter.



The flight was about 90 minutes and the smoke continued as you can see, but apparently with enough visibility to fly the plane. The pilot seemed fine with it. When we crossed the Cree River, he pointed it out to me.

I wanted to land in Widdess Bay on Cree Lake. Typically, canoeists running the Cree River get dropped off in the far northern bay, but I wanted to spend some time exploring the lake. The pilot was unable to bring the plane into shore. The lake was shallow with packed sand. So he dropped the canoe into the water and dropped my gear into the canoe and helped me step down into it. As I took off, he asked "Do you have a satellite phone? Do you have a map?" I assured him I was prepared with these things and thought to myself it was kind of late to be asking those questions.

Here is the messily packed boat upon landing on the shores of Cree Lake.



The canoe was tossed around by the wind and waves. It felt stern heavy and some gear was well above the gunwales. The pilot sat on the water until I reached shore safely. I felt the care and knew it probably looked like I didn't know what I was doing.



August 15, 2023. Cree Lake. I am here! I can hardly believe it, the culmination of years of dreams. Alone in the wilderness. Sat on the beach and just looked around. Grateful. Waves rough and noisy. Cloudy with some smoke. With all the smoke flying in, I was afraid Cree Lake would be full of smoke and unpleasant but it is barely noticeable. Its hard to tell what is smoke and what is fog or mist. I had lots of fears coming here: what did I forget to bring was among the top contenders. (As it turned out, I did forget some critical things, but more on that later.)

After grounding out on the sand, I took off my socks and shoes and pulled up my pants, secured with nifty elastic. The water was cold, but not excruciating. I stood up and stretch, pulled the canoe up far enough not to drift away. I walked the beach to find the best place to camp, which was down at the north end. I walked back to the canoe and stood looking out on the lake. As I stood there, a tooth crumbled and fell out. No pain, luckily. I pushed the canoe out into the water and walked it to the campsite.

Sent a Zoleo check in after landing and setting up camp. Checked the Zoleo weather. Zoleo has some problems in this remote area and I'll review it at another time. Let's just say at this point that the weather forecasts were unreliable. But I did not know that at this time and was pleased there was no rain in the forecast for the next 3 days. It's cool. The wind drives the black flies away. Once the basics were set up I conked out for a nap. I woke up at 6:30 pm. It started raining right as I got up: a drizzle that steadily increased. I ate a few M&Ms and retreated to the tent. I could stay out, but why get wet?

The beaches were generally narrow as seen here.


This my first camp is on a bench just above the beach,


I would learn that variations of the landscape behind the tent is typical of this river's shore. Jack pine amid carpet of blueberry bushes or lichen.



August 16, 2023. Wind and rain all night. The wind shifted from SW to NW. The waves constantly crash against the the sand beach. Noisy. It reminds me of a storm that came up when camping in the Ten Thousand Islands, listening to the waves all night long, fearing the rising tide and wind could rise to the level of the tent, which was the highest point on the island. Here, I remind myself, there are no tides.



Breakfast time, but where is the silverware? Set up the Trangia in the lee of a birch bush and sea grasses. The granola and cocoa were pressed tight into cakes due to more than 2 weeks packed in duffels. Ate the granola in hot water with my knife and sipping from the bowl.

In the tent, I read North to Athabasca by David Curran. It takes almost half the slim volume to describe getting ready for the trip, along with some history of the area. He provides elaborate details on the plane they chartered, but not any mention of the kind of canoe they paddled. Strange. He writes about fear and points out many who travel in the wilderness have some fear. I supposed this could be attributed to his profession as a psychologist.

To be continued....

 

[Erica]

Cree River Part 2

As the morning progressed, the sky began to clear. Patches of blue appeared between skittering clouds. I wandered around the area. There are jack pines running up the hill with a ground cover of reindeer lichen. Ripe blueberries abound. And they a large and succulent. I can stuff myself sitting in just one place, except there is always a better looking bush just out of reach....

Bright red rock cranberries added color to the scene. I was pretty sure these were cranberries, but I did not know for sure, so did not try them. Later, after I came out, Paddling Pitt told me they are insipid, so I didn't miss out on anything. He said they overwinter and provide spring food for wildlife.

The rock cranberries and blueberries were present in abundance on all the lake sites. I could not resist taking more and more pictures; each fruit grouping more attractive than the rest, at least in my eyes. After I got home, I realized all the photos were more or less the same in beauty.

The black flies were not bad on the beach, but entering the jack pine forest, they made their presence felt. Jack pine forests are good places to look for the premium edible mushroom, the chanterelle. Mid-late August is peak time for fruiting, so I was looking carefully. A variety of mushrooms were sprouting among the bushes and lichens, but no chanterelles.

For those of you who don't know, chanterelles are a delicious wild mushroom. While I was in the office at CRCO a man came in with a handful of chanterelles and a mushroom identification book. He was eager for a confirmation, which I was happy to do. (My original degrees were in mycology.) According to Ric at CRCO, 80% of the chanterelles served in the best French restaurants come from Saskatchewan. So I had high hopes of finding some on this trip. Pair that with the real possibility of hooking grayling, I was looking forward to a dinner of grayling and chanterelles, sautéed in butter.

I picked these chanterelles in south Quebec last summer. I have also found them on the Suwannee River and in the Adirondacks. As always, do not eat any mushroom unless you are positive of its identification and edibility. This photo is just so you can see what they look like.

Chanterelles are harvested by plain old people who go in to the bush to find and pick them. While some are locals or First Nations peoples, others come from as far away as Europe to get in on the harvest. The pickers sell their harvest to intermediaries who then deal with the wholesale marketing. As might be expected, the people working in the bush get little for their efforts, with the big profits going to the wholesalers. That said, I saw no evidence of any chanterelle hunters on Cree River. Perhaps they had already gone through the area and picked all the chanterelles. I didn't find any.

The wind blew hard all day yesterday and did not lay down at night as Canadian winds are supposed to do. The clouds mostly cleared off, but the wind and waves continued and it was starting to get to me. Constant. Loud. Wind. Wind. Wind. Waves crashing against the shore. Crash. Crash. Crash.

It appears I have forgotten the UV water purifier. I try to get the water filtration system set up. Careful examination and testing of all parts indicate a plugged port to which there is no access. Hmmm. Luckily this year I brought a lot of iodine tablets. A tripper once told me he usually drinks right from the lake. He checks to see there are no beaver nearby and considers the risk of giardia negligible. He could be right. Maybe I will try untreated water when I get into the river. Fast water is generally considered safer.

Some information from my Wilderness First Aid Course: The top 10 cm of water has been sterilized by exposure to the sun. If you must drink untreated water choose water that is higher in elevation (ie in mountains) or swifter.

I did set up the solar charger, which worked great even on a semi-cloudy day. I am impressed.

Moose tracks on the beach are fresh, made since yesterday. A raven flew over, eyeing me and then moving on. Two sea gulls. A variety of small birds flitting about in the bushes and making little chipping/chirping type noises.

Lunch was wheat thins and mango roll-ups.

Robert Perkins paddled the Back River solo. He acknowledged there are risks, but pointed out there are risks to just staying in Boston.

I'll be happier when the wind stops. I am still at the original campsite, where the plane set me down. Can you tell what this photo portrays?

I hung my pants in a nearby jack pine to dry. The wind picked up the pant leg and acted like a wind sock.

August 17, 2023. Another night of crashing surf which lasts into the morning. I'm getting rather tired of being windbound. I am not going to be able to explore Cree Lake with this kind of weather. Paddling south seems foolish as I could get stuck there even further from the outflow into Cree River. I check the waves further out with my binoculars. Perhaps I am exaggerating the waves. Nope. Binocs reveal high waves and white caps further out.

The Zoleo weather function shows winds of 3 mph. This is so wrong. Wind is coming in hard, though a bit less than yesterday. Another tip that Zoleo weather may have some glitches.

Started breakfast prep and it started sprinkling. Clouds cover most of the sky, but they are mostly light, not serious. Except for the one straight overhead which is dark and threatening. The sprinkles get harder and faster. I put away breakfast and went to hang out in the tent. As soon as I got comfy in the tent, the rain stopped. Resumed breakfast.

It may be my imagination but the wind has laid down some. I pick and eat blueberries. I get prepared for paddling in the rain. I have the jacket but not the skirt. I've looked everywhere, but no rain skirt. It is crossed off on the packing list which means it was packed, but clearly that is an error. I think I thought the stuff sack with the poly jacket in it was the rain skirt. Not good. Then...

The sun comes out!

It is amazing how much a bit of sun and some warm apple crisp can do for one's spirits. I glass the waves in the lake and they are filled with menacing white caps. The water is cold, but I need more drinking water. It is too shallow to take from the shore, so I roll up my pants and walk out into the shallow, sandy bay. The water is crystal clear. Watching the waves roll in over sand and rocks is mesmerizing. Catching the view through the back of the wave, the water looks like old glass.

I wandered through the jack pines on a well used animal trail. Saw some moose scat and maybe some very old, crumbly bear scat. The blueberries continue unabated. I can't eat them all, but I try.

As I settled into a comfortable spot, I allowed my gaze to linger, and to my surprise, the world around me began to reveal hidden treasures. The details that had eluded me during my walk suddenly came into focus, as if they had been patiently waiting for me to take notice. A small yellow flower was just to the front and left of me. It looked a bit like a cinquefoil, but the leaves had only three lobes. Cinquefoil, as you might imagine, has five. After staring at them for some time I realized it was all one plant pruned at 8-10 inches presumably by moose. The green and yellow stems were just coming back after a recent "pruning." I noticed the dead chipped ends of the main branches and the healthy growth at the base. A few mature white birch accent the landscape.

The my eyes opened to nearby tall grasses also had dead, shredded foliage. Nearby, a white birch tree displayed the telltale holes left behind by a sapsucker.

The afternoon grew hot in the sun; cold in the wind. The waves began to relax. Took another walk down my beach and found fresh moose tracks. There seemed to be an adult with a calf. They must have passed while I was taking a sleepless (reading) nap. I thought I had heard something but did not get up to check. The waves make so much noise, it is difficult to hear anything.

I am tired of being windbound. I optimistically set the alarm for 5 am in hopes the waves will lie down tonight.

August 18, 2023. Determined to make it out of Widden Bay, I rose at 5:20 am and limited my activity to breaking camp. No breakfast, no morning pills. But the wind was calm. I hurried as fast as I could but it takes a long time for one person to take down a camp.

At launch time, the winds rose as if they had been waiting for me. Winds rose briskly and increased intensity as I drew further away from shore. I became frightened, although the boat seemed solid. My arms became tired. Shoulder muscles in pain.

I had to keep paddling in spite of the discomfort in order to keep control of the boat or ship water, or even capsize. Yikes! It is so cold I wouldn't last long enough to make it to shore with or without the canoe. The wind would help push both into the shore. But I really don't want to try that experiment. So, must paddle on.

I started counting strokes and stopped looking at the distant shore except once every 100 strokes. I picked this technique up from one of the books I read; I can't remember which. It does help time go by when one is making a crossing and the destination never seems to get any closer. I also did not change sides paddling. There wasn't time to switch and I was paddling on the best side to keep the canoe straight in the wind.

This eventually brought me to a beach in the lee. I could now see all the islands due south on the map and this meant I had done all this paddling and had not left Widden Bay. I had misjudged distances and at this rate it will take me days to reach the headwaters of the Cree River.

In the rush this morning, and with the choppy waters, I had been unable to put on my neoprene booties and knee protectors. The dragonfly must be paddled in a kneeling position. This causes pressure on the top of my feet and on my knees. Without protection I ended up with the tops of my feet and toes and my knees were red and raw . Some skin wore open.

So I pulled on my knee pads and neoprene booties, threw a bunch of Good n Plenty candies in my mouth and set out again. Paddling in the lee and out to the point was not too bad. Whew. The wind hit again as I rounded the point.

The north end of Cree Lake is where all the sand is driven. Hence the beaches and the shallow waters of the bays. The shallow water can stretch kilometers into the main lake. So I was unable to paddle near the shore. I could look down through the clear, crystalline water and see even grains of sand. I am aware that I am cold. And have not eaten anything, nor taken my morning pills. Nothing to be done about. I concentrate on making it to the next lee.

Also, I am not sure exactly where I am. But I know exactly where I came from, so I am not actually lost. Just a bit confused. At some point I pull my way up a slight rise to see if there was water on the other said, but there was not. My feet are now wet, abraded and cold.

Around the next bend is a long high sand dune peppered with jack pine. The sand goes straight up from the water. The top appears to be solid jack pine seedlings as if planted there as an agriculture project. It isn't of course. Jack pines reseed only when a fire comes through hot enough to burst open their cones. Hence, after a fire, there are millions of jack pine seedlings, all the same size. I saw many variations on this theme during the trip and wondered how these seedlings ever get thinned enough to become the mature jack pine benches with lots of reindeer lichen and blueberries as ground cover.

Lunch was in an unpleasant place; at least it was out of the wind. I needed to get some calories in. Wind was from the northwest. I was exhausted and dangerously cold. Hauled the big black duffel out of the canoe. Rummaging through, I came up with Three-Cheese Mac and Cheese and hot cocoa. Heated up water in the Trangia, which is very quick. Drank the hot chocolate while waiting for the mac and cheese to rehydrate.

Back in the canoe, retied in, and paddled around the next point. I can't paddle. My limbs are exhausted. I thought the heat and calories would renew me, but not so. I paddle in to a beach and put my head down on the pack.

To be continued...

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Quite a struggle, Erica. I admire your perseverance. Very challenging conditions, particularly when all alone.

 

[Boreal Birch]

I have waited a long time for this trip report, ever since Rob told me of your plans. Looking forward to further episodes.
Great writing!!
B. Birchy

 

[Mason]

Ahhhh, Stony Rapids and the Whitewater Inn! We were there over a month before you on our Dubawnt trip. Most of us flew there, but one of our party drove. We even flew in on the same Otter. When you were stormbound on Cree Lake (15 Aug), we were happily sailing our PakBoats (yes, Glenn, we got to use the WindPaddle I got from you) down the Thelon towards Baker Lake on our last day of the trip. The wind worked well for us, allowing us to sail 29 of the 32 miles we covered that day.

 

[kahel]

@Erica

I am speechless. - what a wonderful story ...
and the best is - it still goes on!


Great. Absolutely great.! I give you my utmost respect


(I've modificated the logo a bit, if I am not allowed to do so or it is not desired please notice me, then I'll delete it.)

 

[Robin]

Nice writing, I'm enjoying this. That road trip was a good read, I'm glad you included it.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Nice writing, I'm enjoying this. That road trip was a good read, I'm glad you included it.

I also always like the road trip portions, which are integral to the actual paddling.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Erica,

I was very interested in your session with Rolf Kraiker. When Kathleen and I accidentally discovered the value of using the cushion of water coming off large rocks, it made running rapids much less stressful! With the proper angle, one can easily just slip on by.

 

[Glenn MacGrady]

Wow, you meet with Kraiker, Memaquay and the Pitts even before reaching the put-in. Quite a celebrity start.

Excellent writing. The most unexpected sentence and detail to me was: "As I stood there, a tooth crumbled and fell out." A 69-year-old woman shroomaphile all alone in smokey wilderness in a "hot" Dragonfly canoe. The suspense is building. Can't wait for the next episode.

 

[snapper]

Looks like I'm not alone in being on the edge of my seat. Thanks for taking us along on your adventure. I admire your bravery in taking this on as a solo trip.

That's all for now. Take care and until next time...be well.

snapper

 

[Rubbaboo]

We had the same pilot this summer. Probably the nicest pilot I’ve ever flown with. Looking forward to the next instalment!

 

[Gamma1214]

I love reading your TRs & I am impressed by your tenacity. Keep up the great work!

 

[JohnSand]

Impressive, thanks for sharing.

 

[Gerald]

I'm also impressed, Erica. Enjoyed reading about your visits to Rolf and members of this forum. Then the canoeing part of your adventures begins, and I'm glued to the PC screen trying to digest every moment and emotion you experienced. Great report, can't wait for the remainder to be posted.
Thanks for sharing,
Gerald

 

[Erica]

(Mason, interesting indeed that you were in Stony Rapids. I hope your trip was a good one.)

Cree River Part 3.

Head down, I pondered my options. I thought I should continue because I hadn't paddled all that far. My mind tries to consider all options and I become aware my mind is muddled. I need to stay put. There is a flattish bench of sand just above the high water mark. The sand is soft and doesn't hold stakes. The wind was from the northwest. I pitched the tent so it was sheltered by a short bench and white birch and Labrador tea bushes.



I found some maybe three pound rocks that I could move to anchor the tent. I used the large duffel bag, which weighed 29 pounds when I left to anchor the fly because the sand would not hold anything. On the other side, I used some exposed birch roots for anchors. It turns out birch roots have lovely bark. It is almost maroon and shiny. It took a long time to unload the canoe because I rested frequently.

I remembered my trip from Little Tupper Lake to Lake Lila in the ADKs when I become very ill and when I finally found a place to shove the canoe onto, I got out of the canoe and just lay flat on the sand for sometime. So I am not sick here and this just reminds me I can continue even when faced with obstacles.

Every up and down movement progressively is harder to manage. Close to the end, in a bit of sun, I sit down and then lay down on the sand. It felt so good to have the sun on my face and the support on my back from the sand and blocked from the wind. It was wonderful. This is why I go tripping. These marvelous unexpected moments when one is one with the universe.

Finished up with the last stone and tether and crawled inside to make up the tent. Lay down and read for the rest of the day. Even though I was tired, I did not fall asleep until after it got dark. Being in the lee of the wind, I had a break from the sound of pounding surf.

August 19, 2023. This is a comfortable site. I slept well until 7 am, then rolled over and slept another couple of hours. Pleasant morning until...

The wind shifted. It is now coming out of the southwest setting up a crashing surf and it is cold. Walked the beach looking for a more sheltered site because now the tent was directly in the wind. The wind was blowing so strongly it was not possible to do anything in its face. No comfort to be found!

The most sheltered spot was positioned in the narrow gap between the tent and the low sand bank. I dragged the canoe over to the front of the tent to be an anchor. Set up the yellow tarp with tied it to rocks and roots.


It is definitely colder today than yesterday. I prepared breakfast under the yellow tarp. Read, took a few short walks. Pondered the effects of having a Zoleo on the trip. Just having the device makes me aware that at any time I can text out and someone will rescue me. That was so not true when I was younger and paddling in Quebec. There were no GPSs or communication devices. You went out and you were gone. It's an experience that is becoming harder and harder to find. The Zoleo's ability to text keeps me tethered to the outside. The iphone camera keeps me tethered to photos. And the use of electronic devices keeps me tethered to the solar charger and the weather.

I remind myself that I can go as slowly as I want. This is not a race; it is a pilgrimage of sort, into the northern wilderness of Saskatchewan. Apparently the rivers in the interior drainage into Lake Athabasca. The territory from the Athabasca River (which was well used) to Lake Wolston, had few beaver and were difficult to navigate. All the rivers flowed north into Lake Athabasca and it was a troublesome route. So, in a sense, this area is less trammeled than other areas of Canadian wilderness.

In my wanders, I found this oddly marked piece of driftwood. Brown circles, all about the same size. I find nature kicks up all manner of odd things to look at and contemplate.



August 20, 2023. A glorious day! Packed and ready to go. The boat is a Colden Dragonfly. I am carrying three paddles. The front paddle was made by Dave Kavner in 1988. It has come with me on all trips since. and feels like an extension of myself when I am paddling. To the right is a ZRE with 12% angle. At 10 ounces, it is the lightest paddle. I will often start a day with the Kavner paddle and then switch to the lighter paddle later in the day. On the left, my spare, is a Redtail paddle that I have never really used, but was thrown in with a previous canoe purchase.

The sun came out around midday. The sky has stayed more or less blue skies since. There are clouds, but they pass by without much interruption of the sun's rays. Paddling felt really good today in my arm and shoulder muscles. The dragonfly bobs over the waves like a cork. None of the rough water or deep waves have fazed her at all. She seems happy dancing with the water. I shall call her Dancer.

I was headed to a narrow land bridge where I was hoping to portage to avoid a long trip around a long peninsula. Such a narrow neck of land, I thought there was likely a path or at least ground one could portage over.


There was no path, no ground one could even walk over. The downed trees were scattered like pick up sticks perched above, through or under hefty Labrador tea bushes. The ground underneath was pocked with depressions. I couldn't even walk through it without falling over and over again. Oh, well. There were blueberries. Then I had my lunch and took a decent break. I love to lie back on my packs and put my feet up the gunwales. This is one of my very favorite positions. Not just canoeing, but in the sense of all my experiences. The canoe drifted in the sheltered bay while I laid back. A flock of Canada geese flies over head. I hear more flocks throughout the day.


Paddling now around the peninsula; I sing as loud as I can. I'm paddling with long strokes as recommended by Rolf Kraiker and as described in a novel I am reading. I also recall a video of a Maine guide paddling. She had long, steady strokes. Me too, now.

The beauty of this place takes my breath away. This is paradise. No wind. Just some mild breezes.



There is a fish camp ahead marked on the topo. I don't want to be camping near them, so I tuck into another slip of a beach - just enough space for the tent and a place to cook.

Bird life has been sparse, except for a couple of gulls and a few songbirds twittering in the bushes. At night, I can faintly hear loons.

This site has black spruce trees, the first I have seen of them. Previously it was jack pine and the occasional white birch. Labrador tea bushes were by far the dominant shrub along all the shores. At this site, I saw a few alder bushes. When I was paddling in Quebec, my recollection is alders were abundant.



Despite being small, it was one of the most beautiful. When the sun was shining, it could have been in the Florida Keys or even Tahiti.



A squirrel of some sort chattered at me. I watched several go back and forth through the bushes. It was not any of the squirrels I know, such as red squirrel, gray squirrel, chipmunk, etc. Perhaps it was a gray squirrel smaller than usual due to being so far north. Not much time to eat enough calories to get through the winter. I wondered if they would try to get in my packs. This is such as tiny site I'm sure no one else has camped here to give them the idea.

August 21, 2023. I woke last night to the sound of waves crashing against the sand. My respite from the constant battering of waves was just 12 hours. Still, I am grateful for every one of those hours! I had to get up to see how high the water had come. I had vision of packs bobbing in the surf. The main pile of packs was well up on the beach and were fine. The black duffel however, was right in the waves' spray. I pulled it up further on the beach. It did not seem as heavy as yesterday. Rested muscles are marvelous things. Double checked the boat. Went back to bed.

The morning dawned with blue skies! What a marvel. The wind is not bad, although the waves look frisky.

There is something I don't understand about wind and waves and I shall expose my ignorance here. Last night when the waves kicked up there was no accompanying wind. I was standing on the sand. Virtually no wind. How is it there are waves? I didn't hear any wind either. I looked at the sky. No moon. One bright star. The clouds were illuminated by the stars they hid. Ghostly. No chance of seeing the Perseid meteors or the northern lights.

I keep forgetting to mention; No bugs! No mosquitos. The very occasional handful of blackflies easily discouraged with Deep Woods Off spray.

Occasionally a butterfly or two will sail or flutter by. Yesterday there were some Whites puddling in the sand, probably some animal urinated there and they were gathering salts and minerals. Today I am watching two different kinds of smaller dark butterflies. One I'm pretty sure is a Mourning Cloak, with it's ragged wing edges. The other I'm not sure of. Brown wings are accented with yellow squares around the edges.

Welcome is today's broad sunlight. Waves continue. A good day for bathing and laundry.

Blueberries abound. It is impossible to walk, or set up the tent, without crushing blueberries.

August 22, 2023. I'm up at 5 am and launch at 7 am. It's a beautiful morning with a slight tail wind. Instead of hugging the shoreline here, I take a heading on an island and paddle on.

I reach the island, but it doesn't look like I think it should. I'm taking compass readings, looking at the maps. I get out the Zoleo. The Zoleo's GPS is supposed to pop up with the lat/long and a topo of where you are. I get an error message instead of a map saying something like my area is too remote and they don't have maps for it. Also, the lat/long that Zoleo reported doesn't match the topo map.

I think I know where I am, but north seems to be south, and south is north. Either that or the islands are in the wrong place.

All around me is water, green trees and blue sky.

I'm not lost. I know where I came from.

But I don't know where I am going.

Continued...

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Wonderfully intimate writing, Erica. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings with us. I very much look forward to the next installment.

I’m wondering if you could provide some detail about what you mean by taking “long strokes.” In the stern as tandem, or near the centre as solo, I begin my stroke by reaching as far forward as comfortably possible to plant the paddle vertically in the water. Then, depending on conditions, I use either a ”pitch“ or “j“ correction stroke. On long paddling days I much prefer the “pitch” because it is much easier on my wrist. Either way, I continue the stroke until it passes my hip, and end the stroke before my single blade, straight shaft paddle begins to lift water. I thought this is what most people do. I don’t see how my stroke could be any longer, but I’m certainly willing to learn. Although it’s too late for me now that my tripping days are over.

Again, very much enjoying your trip report.

 

[Gamma1214]

I too am really enjoying your writing style. I think "intimate" is a great descriptor... one can feel the angst, the relief and the serenity as you describe each...

 

[Cheeseandbeans]

Fantastic Erica. I am really enjoying the journey!

Bob

 

[Glenn MacGrady]

Cree River flows north out of Cree Lake to Black Lake.

I also wanted a river with no portages and rapids CII and under.

Me too.

Where's the darn river!? So far, I'm bogged down on a big shallow lake with endless wind and pounding waves. Oops, I mean you are—I'm so personally involved in this trip. You have so much more patience and contemplative ability than I would.

I've never paddled in northern Canada and never will, but I don't like big lakes in the U.S.—wind and wave fetching machines that they are—so in my next paddling life I doubt that I would want to be on a big remote lake in the barren sub-arctic. It's tough for this snowflake to be there even vicariously. I hope I get to the river . . . er . . . I mean you.

Erica, what kind of camera did you use and what did you keep it in?