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Wabakimi solo trip spring 2022

Saturday, June 18, 2022, Day 24

After a warm, rainless night, I woke up quite early. The many mosquitoes on the tent's mosquito net were already waiting for their meal. The rising sun and the wisps of fog over the lake contributed to an almost mystical atmosphere.

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Misty morning mood
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For breakfast I ate the last one of Peter's powerbars. Although there was plenty of firewood, I didn't light a fire. Because of the annoying bugs, I wanted to get going quickly. The bugs accompanied me far out onto the lake. They were truly hungry. Only when the wind picked up – against my direction of travel, of course – did the canoe become bug-free. My destination for the day was one of the campsites at the eastern end of Caribou Bay.

As I paddled towards Caribou Bay, I saw and heard an armada of seven motorboats entering Lonebreast Bay. I was glad they weren't heading in my direction, and to have some peace and quiet again. Because I wanted to take it easy, I took a break at a campsite on a rocky outcrop at the entrance to Caribou Bay. This spot was somewhat exposed to the wind, which is why bugs weren't a nuisance. I lay down to stretch out and enjoyed the warming sun, then dozed off. When I woke up, the saying I had heard from Peter came to mind: A nap is a poor man's pleasure.

Well-rested, I continued paddling against the wind. I had actually hoped to be able to take advantage of the westerly wind that was blowing against me that morning. During my break, the wind seemed to have shifted. After passing a prominent headland with a nice campsite, I spotted a bald eagle perched on a dead pine not far from its nest.

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Around 3:00 PM I reached my destination for the day. The first campsite I checked looked very gloomy and damp. Perhaps the other two would be better. As I approached one of them, a furry creature, probably a marten, fled into the woods. Both campsites were partially flooded, so I returned to the first one. On the way, I fished in the current between Funger Lake and Smoothrock Lake. I hoped I could catch a walleye or at least a pike there. They probably weren't hungry; all I caught was a sunken branch.

The campsite was huge. Several flat areas near the shore were flooded or marshy. I found a suitable site for the tent on a slightly elevated spot, set back a bit in the woods. As the weather seemed to be getting worse, I pitched the tent and the tarp went up. To find firewood, I had to go a little further into the woods. It seemed as if this camp was frequently used.

After plenty of coffee and a hot meal, I tried again to catch a fish. In vain. A little later, the sound of an engine approached. A motorboat with two fishermen was heading for the same spots where I had been fishing. The constant noise of their motor nearby bothered me. They, too, seemed to have had no luck. I was glad when they soon left.

As dusk fell, the mosquitoes became a nuisance. Therefore, I retreated to the tent.

Sunday, June 19, 2022, Day 25

It had started raining during the night. I would have gotten up at 6:00 a.m., but the patter of the rain on the tent kept me from doing so. Around 8:00 a.m., my full bladder finally forced me to get up. It was raining from low-hanging, dark gray clouds. Continuous rain. I lost the desire to continue traveling. I prepared myself for another forced rest day.

Most of the day was spent in the shelter of the tarp. I read, drank coffee, hot chocolate, and tea. I boiled the water for it on the stick stove.

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Stick stove in action

In the late afternoon, the rain eased off a bit. I took advantage of the increasingly frequent breaks in the rain to gather firewood and go fishing.

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Since I didn't catch anything, I had a trekking meal for dinner. I was able to boil the water for it over the fire. At dusk, I caught a pike. It was too big for a second dinner, so it was released. Before going to sleep, I treated myself to a generous portion of rum.
 
You're really taking a beating with the weather on this trip. That's the kind of thing that can really get you down. It's frustrating to deal with things you have no control over.

I had thought I might get back into tripping this summer. Your adventure makes me think otherwise. :)

Alan
 
You're really taking a beating with the weather on this trip. That's the kind of thing that can really get you down. It's frustrating to deal with things you have no control over.

I had thought I might get back into tripping this summer. Your adventure makes me think otherwise. :)

Alan
Alan, please don't let my experiences on this trip discourage you. It was a spring trip, a notoriously unpredictable time of year weather-wise, and I had significantly better weather on subsequent trips (with the exception of Quetico in 2024😇).

Forrest Gump's quote comes to mind: "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."🙂
 
Monday, June 20, 2022, Day 26

I had planned to leave early that day, but I overslept. I didn't get on the water until around 10:00 AM. The weather was good, and I was in good spirits as I paddled towards the Caribou River. The first, short portage, which also had a campsite, was well marked. I was glad that nobody was camping there, because otherwise I would have had the impression that I was walking through their living room. After a short paddle across a pool of the river, I reached the next portage which was also easy to find. The fallen trees encountered there shortly after the start could be bypassed. A caribou had left fresh tracks at the top of it.

I paddled just a few meters upstream towards the next rapids. No portage could be found there. The canoe had to be pulled up while wading through these rapids. In the strong current, this was a strenuous and wet affair. I also had to exert myself quite a bit afterwards in the strong current to avoid being swept back down. My pants dried in the warming sun by the time I reached the next portage.

The portage was well-marked. However, I couldn't discern a clear path. Branches lay on the ground in the shape of an arrow, pointing steeply upwards into the woods. Freshly broken branches suggested that someone had recently passed by. But I couldn't find any clear traces of a path that should have been present on this well-traveled route. When I looked around, I realized: "The path leads through the water!" The water level was so high that the portage looked like a side channel of the river.

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Flooded portage, the path leads through water

The put-in point above the portage was in a strong current. I didn't want to risk being swept into the rapids. So I lined the canoe about 100 meters upstream along the steep bank to a calmer spot. I soon reached another portage. This one was also well marked. In the lower third, several fallen trees blocked the path. I was able to get around the obstacle relatively easily with the bags and the barrelpack. The canoe had to be lifted and pushed over the trees. I got so hot that I started sweating profusely. That was the last portage leading into Caribou Lake; no further portages were expected for a while. Several kilometers of flat water lay ahead.

The wind had picked up. Around midday, I reached a beautifully situated campsite on an island. There, I took a break in the shade of pine trees. I wanted to have enough energy to cross the open water. Well rested, I set off against the wind. Despite the choppy conditions, crossing the open water proved easier than expected. Once I reached scattered islands, which offered good protection from the wind, I was confident I could make it to Little Caribou Lake that same day.

A rumble of thunder made me suspect something unpleasant. When I turned around, I saw storm clouds building up and rapidly approaching. I immediately changed my plans. My next destination was a campsite on Beaver Island. I reached it just before the storm broke. I huddled under the sprawling branches of a spruce tree to wait out a short, heavy downpour with lightning and thunder. The storm then moved eastward. I had originally planned to continue my journey, but I saw more storm clouds approaching from the west. Therefore, I decided to stay put.

As I finished setting up camp, the sun hesitantly appeared. It got very warm. I slowly began to regret my decision to stay. But there was a certain tension in the air, which, combined with the humid heat, did not bode well.

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Beaver Island, view to the east
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Tent spot on Beaver Island


If you ignored the trash, the campsite on Beaver Island was pretty nice. Collecting firewood left me drenched in sweat. It was still humid and warm. Threatening thunderstorms passed north of the island, and every now and then a few raindrops fell, accompanied by strong gusts of wind. After dinner, I had to take refuge in my tent. A violent thunderstorm had rolled in.

Once it had calmed down, I fished from shore, without success. More downpours passed, so I went to my tent early. Around 10:15 p.m., Lindsey sent out a severe weather warning for the following hours and the next day. I received the message as thunder was already rumbling loudly.

Tuesday, June 21, 2022, Day 27

It was a restless night. Many thunderstorms passed by. Towards morning, things calmed down. The sky was overcast, and there was hardly any wind. I postponed breakfast. The pile of firewood I had gathered the day before would surely be useful to the next group. Then I quickly broke camp. I set off at sunrise. About 45 Minutes after my early start, I reached the portage to Little Caribou Lake. It was wet, but without any obstacles. I was glad to leave the vastness of Caribou Lake behind me.

Around 9:00 a.m., I approached a rock that resembled a whale's back. The northernmost campsite on Little Caribou Lake didn't look particularly inviting at first glance. However, it was ideal for a late breakfast. The fire pit had to be completely rebuilt. A total of five toads of varying sizes, which had been hiding among the rocks, fled. Luckily, otherwise I would have unintentionally cremated them. For breakfast, I made bannock. I love these fried rolls spread with peanut butter and jam or honey. They taste even better when enjoyed with coffee. After the hearty breakfast, I felt sluggish. Given the predicted severe weather, I thought: "Why not spend the next night here?" No sooner said than done. By 11 a.m. the camp was ready.

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Last camp of the trip
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Although it was cloudy, it became warm. A squirrel, the permanent resident of the camp, had been watching me for a long time. It had probably concluded that I posed no great threat. Before winter, it had buried small cones, which it now dug up and ate.
I know that one shouldn't feed wild animals, but in this case I unfortunately couldn't resist. It examined the peanut I offered, put it in it's mouth, and spat it out.

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The permanent resident of the campsite
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As the day progressed, it became unbearably hot. The predicted storms seemed to be holding off. I spent a lot of time almost naked in the shade. An occasional dip in the still very cold water helped to cool me down. My repeated attempts at fishing were unsuccessful.

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Tarp and trees provide shade
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On the whale's back
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Throughout the afternoon, very dark clouds repeatedly passed by. However, it remained dry until evening. Dinner, a stew of minced meat, tomato sauce, vegetables, and rice, was a feast.

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I texted Lindsey and asked when I would be picked up. I could only remember the date; I'd forgotten the time. Lindsey replied, "Tomorrow at 3:00 PM."

I spent the rest of the evening in a bitter-sweet mood. I was looking forward to the comforts of civilization, but at the same time, the thought of leaving the wilderness pained me.
 
Man, what a story!

Reading your tour report, I felt like I was right there beside you and could even smell you.
I would love to experience such a wonderful time myself. Will it happen in this lifetime? We'll see.
In any case, a huge thank you for taking me along on your tour.

Best regards,
Michael
 
Thanks so much for sharing your adventure. Lots of challenges and hardships along the way but your description of it all makes it sound wonderful in the end. Sorry the fishing wasn't better but that's been my experience when you have as many storms as you lived through.

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

snapper
 
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