Beaver River
7/9/2003 - 7/13/2003
After completing the portage into the Beaver River we still had
many miles to travel against the current, but things looked
better almost immediately. Reaching the bigger river meant
easier traveling, more open views, bigger fish, and longer
amounts of time in the canoe actually paddling. Instead of
measuring progress by single kilometers, we were able to
cover more significant distances. Although the work was still
difficult, we were glad to be in new country. Everyone's spirits
lifted and the weather eventually improved as we reached the
height of the land,
I'll always remember those days on the Beaver River and how
we moved into a mountainous region that gave us our first
taste of what traveling through the tundra on the George
River would be like later in the trip. Although our food
supplies were running the fishing and hunting improved and
we did just fine.
7/9/2003 - 7/13/2003
After completing the portage into the Beaver River we still had
many miles to travel against the current, but things looked
better almost immediately. Reaching the bigger river meant
easier traveling, more open views, bigger fish, and longer
amounts of time in the canoe actually paddling. Instead of
measuring progress by single kilometers, we were able to
cover more significant distances. Although the work was still
difficult, we were glad to be in new country. Everyone's spirits
lifted and the weather eventually improved as we reached the
height of the land,
I'll always remember those days on the Beaver River and how
we moved into a mountainous region that gave us our first
taste of what traveling through the tundra on the George
River would be like later in the trip. Although our food
supplies were running the fishing and hunting improved and
we did just fine.
7/9
Rain on and off all day long. Happily, we have found that the going on the Beaver is
incredibly good. So far we have been able to track or line the canoes up the edges
of all the rapids. Some of the whitewater has been solid class III, but the size of the
river allows us to travel along the shore. Between the rapids we are able to paddle
moving flatwater. The river is very pretty with nice rapids spaced good distances
apart. Lining is so much easier than portaging or even dragging. There is more than
enough water to float the canoes. The 1903 expedition expressed similar thoughts
referring to the easier traveling afforded by the Beaver River.
Friday, August 7th.—Portaged 2 miles to river on our south; good paddling save for a
rapid now and then. So big we think, Low's map to the contrary, that it comes from
Michikamau. Anyway it comes from that way and will carry us a piece toward the big
lake. No cuttings. Big trout despite east wind. Caught about fifteen. Cold wind drove
away flies. Fire between big rocks. Moon over bluffs beyond. Fine evening. Fine river.
Fine world. Life worth living.
I am dressed very warm so the rain is not that discouraging until I slip and fall on my
ass. I wasn’t able to get up quick enough to prevent water from running over the top
of my rain pants. Another day soaked. Despite that, it is hard to be discouraged
because our progress is so great. We easily covered ten to twelve kilometers, which
is the farthest we have gone in a single day since Grand Lake. There is great fishing
here as well, especially at the entrance of a side stream. In all we caught sixteen
good sized trout, which helped make dinner filling. Pasta was served with the fish.
The skies broke around 5:00pm and we even saw some streaks of blue. However, it
is raining again now (10:30pm). How long can it keep this up? We set up the rain
tarp in camp tonight and used some fuel to start a fire which we cooked the fish over.
I ate some MnM’s for dessert. Very sleepy now since the work was still difficult.
Should be good going tomorrow. An extensive area of flatwater lies ahead and we
hope it may be possible to reach that tomorrow or the next day. Things are looking
much better and our resupply should be reached by the seventeenth.
Rain on and off all day long. Happily, we have found that the going on the Beaver is
incredibly good. So far we have been able to track or line the canoes up the edges
of all the rapids. Some of the whitewater has been solid class III, but the size of the
river allows us to travel along the shore. Between the rapids we are able to paddle
moving flatwater. The river is very pretty with nice rapids spaced good distances
apart. Lining is so much easier than portaging or even dragging. There is more than
enough water to float the canoes. The 1903 expedition expressed similar thoughts
referring to the easier traveling afforded by the Beaver River.
Friday, August 7th.—Portaged 2 miles to river on our south; good paddling save for a
rapid now and then. So big we think, Low's map to the contrary, that it comes from
Michikamau. Anyway it comes from that way and will carry us a piece toward the big
lake. No cuttings. Big trout despite east wind. Caught about fifteen. Cold wind drove
away flies. Fire between big rocks. Moon over bluffs beyond. Fine evening. Fine river.
Fine world. Life worth living.
I am dressed very warm so the rain is not that discouraging until I slip and fall on my
ass. I wasn’t able to get up quick enough to prevent water from running over the top
of my rain pants. Another day soaked. Despite that, it is hard to be discouraged
because our progress is so great. We easily covered ten to twelve kilometers, which
is the farthest we have gone in a single day since Grand Lake. There is great fishing
here as well, especially at the entrance of a side stream. In all we caught sixteen
good sized trout, which helped make dinner filling. Pasta was served with the fish.
The skies broke around 5:00pm and we even saw some streaks of blue. However, it
is raining again now (10:30pm). How long can it keep this up? We set up the rain
tarp in camp tonight and used some fuel to start a fire which we cooked the fish over.
I ate some MnM’s for dessert. Very sleepy now since the work was still difficult.
Should be good going tomorrow. An extensive area of flatwater lies ahead and we
hope it may be possible to reach that tomorrow or the next day. Things are looking
much better and our resupply should be reached by the seventeenth.
Expedition Journal
We saw lots of ducks and a large beaver today, but all were
either too far away or too quick to shoot. It is so nice to be on
a larger river. Now all we are waiting for is some good
weather. It will be so exciting to see the sun again since it has
been a while now. Its hard to believe we have been out here
for sixteen days already. That means that summer is almost
one third over.
I am trying to dry out my long johns by keeping them in my
warm sleeping bag tonight. This might work well enough to
make them bearable to put on in the morning. We really need
a sunny day to boost our spirits. Even the bugs would be ok.
Anyways, the Beaver River is great traveling. At 10:41 pm a
steady patter of rain is hitting the tent fly. Have not thought
much about the outside world at all. Time is going by very
quickly.
7/10
Up at 6:00am and listening to rain pelting on the tent. Go
back to sleep disgusted. Up again at seven. The rain is still
falling but there is a strong wind from the west. By nine there
is no rain and even a few patches of blue sky. I get out of the
tent and lay out my pants to dry in the breeze. We get on the
water late yet again.
A gusty west wind with gales and rain bursts all day. Very cold
temperatures. Wearing nearly all of the clothes I have
packed. Several rapids are lined and we are forced to battle a
strong head wind while paddling. Lots of stops caused our
progress to be very poor today.
I fished a small rapid and caught four little trout. By five thirty
we reached a falls and decided to camp. The weather was
clearing, blue sky was more common, and the icy west wind
continued. Hopefully this would blow out the bad weather for a
few days. Our campsite was a nice open spot in a dense
patch of spruce next to the falls. The tents were remarkably
sheltered from the frigid wind and I can hear the thundering
rapid from my tent. The river drops eight to ten feet into a big
wave / hole. I fished the bottom of this falls and caught four
more fish. One of these was a nice ten inch brookie.
For dinner we had rice and beans with the fish along with
pudding and some dehydrated strawberries. The rain actually
cleared out. The moon rose and there was a spectacular sun
set with purple and red clouds filling the sky. I stood on the
open ledge next to the falls in chilly forty degree temperatures
with a strong wind blowing. It hardly feels like July tenth. This
scene makes the whole trip worth while. It is even to cold for
the bugs.
The shore above the falls has been scoured of vegetation by
high water and ice out. The lining should be easy here. We
made only four kilometers today but are happy because the
rain stopped. Four more kilometers of marked rapids lie
ahead on the map before the section of flat water. We have
seven days of food left and should make the food cache in this
time frame as long as the weather and paddling conditions
beyond Lake Hope are not problematic. Will save extra
breakfast and lunch bars in case of a delay. 11:08 pm now.
Will try to get an early start tomorrow.
7/11
God has blessed us with good weather again. Dare we think it
could last all day? After all of the rain, waking up to blue skies
and sunshine was fantastic. Even though at 8:30am it was
below forty degrees we’ll call the weather good since it isn’t
raining. Made Ferina with strawberries for breakfast and ate
three candy bars. I have been very hungry lately. I lined and
dragged the canoe around the falls before reloading it.
either too far away or too quick to shoot. It is so nice to be on
a larger river. Now all we are waiting for is some good
weather. It will be so exciting to see the sun again since it has
been a while now. Its hard to believe we have been out here
for sixteen days already. That means that summer is almost
one third over.
I am trying to dry out my long johns by keeping them in my
warm sleeping bag tonight. This might work well enough to
make them bearable to put on in the morning. We really need
a sunny day to boost our spirits. Even the bugs would be ok.
Anyways, the Beaver River is great traveling. At 10:41 pm a
steady patter of rain is hitting the tent fly. Have not thought
much about the outside world at all. Time is going by very
quickly.
7/10
Up at 6:00am and listening to rain pelting on the tent. Go
back to sleep disgusted. Up again at seven. The rain is still
falling but there is a strong wind from the west. By nine there
is no rain and even a few patches of blue sky. I get out of the
tent and lay out my pants to dry in the breeze. We get on the
water late yet again.
A gusty west wind with gales and rain bursts all day. Very cold
temperatures. Wearing nearly all of the clothes I have
packed. Several rapids are lined and we are forced to battle a
strong head wind while paddling. Lots of stops caused our
progress to be very poor today.
I fished a small rapid and caught four little trout. By five thirty
we reached a falls and decided to camp. The weather was
clearing, blue sky was more common, and the icy west wind
continued. Hopefully this would blow out the bad weather for a
few days. Our campsite was a nice open spot in a dense
patch of spruce next to the falls. The tents were remarkably
sheltered from the frigid wind and I can hear the thundering
rapid from my tent. The river drops eight to ten feet into a big
wave / hole. I fished the bottom of this falls and caught four
more fish. One of these was a nice ten inch brookie.
For dinner we had rice and beans with the fish along with
pudding and some dehydrated strawberries. The rain actually
cleared out. The moon rose and there was a spectacular sun
set with purple and red clouds filling the sky. I stood on the
open ledge next to the falls in chilly forty degree temperatures
with a strong wind blowing. It hardly feels like July tenth. This
scene makes the whole trip worth while. It is even to cold for
the bugs.
The shore above the falls has been scoured of vegetation by
high water and ice out. The lining should be easy here. We
made only four kilometers today but are happy because the
rain stopped. Four more kilometers of marked rapids lie
ahead on the map before the section of flat water. We have
seven days of food left and should make the food cache in this
time frame as long as the weather and paddling conditions
beyond Lake Hope are not problematic. Will save extra
breakfast and lunch bars in case of a delay. 11:08 pm now.
Will try to get an early start tomorrow.
7/11
God has blessed us with good weather again. Dare we think it
could last all day? After all of the rain, waking up to blue skies
and sunshine was fantastic. Even though at 8:30am it was
below forty degrees we’ll call the weather good since it isn’t
raining. Made Ferina with strawberries for breakfast and ate
three candy bars. I have been very hungry lately. I lined and
dragged the canoe around the falls before reloading it.
After eighteen days I am finally in the mood to relax and move
slowly. I have accepted the pace that this group is capable of
moving at and have realized we probably can’t expect to speed up
at all. I’m going to try not to worry about the schedule. We
worked our way up three kilometers of rapids this morning. In one
we made a cool ferry across the rapid to get to the opposite side of
the river where there was better lining. At the base of the last
ledge before the flatwater started we fished with great success.
Ten trout all over eight inches were reeled in, with the catch of the
day going to Troy’s fourteen inch brookie. What amazing
coloration these fish have.
After this fishing spot we were able to paddle a good deal of
flatwater as the river entered a section where it makes a huge S
turn. Lots of current and a headwind slow things down, but we are
wearing fair weather clothes and advancing quickly compared to
before. Distant mountains are seen with barren summits and
patches of snow. These are most likely Hubbard’s Kipling
Mountains. Bulldog flies are out today but not many blackflies
yet.
It was already the eleventh of August when Hubbard reached this
spot a full month later than us a hundred years ago. The members
of his crew were in very poor shape already and they were still
pushing on deeper into the unknown. We found ourselves
enjoying the better fishing just as they had even though we were in
perfect health and relatively well fed.
Tuesday, August 11th.—East wind. Warmer a little. Just a little rain.
No fish biting. Slept late. Climbed ridge and tree. See ridge of high
half barren hills away ahead. Think this the ridge east of
Michikamau. Hungry all the time. Down to 40 lbs. of flour, 8 lbs.
tea, about 20 lbs. pea meal, a bit of sugar, bacon, baking powder
and dried apple, just a bit of rice. Saw mountains ahead from a
bluff just below our evening camp. River runs north apparently; it
must therefore be Low's Northwest River I think. Mountains look
high and rugged, 10 to 25 miles away. Ought to get good view of
country from there, and get caribou and bear. Moccasins all rotten
and full of holes. Need caribou. Need bear for grease. All hungry
all day. George weak, Wallace ravenous; lean, gaunt and a bit
weak myself. Fish braced us wonderfully.
slowly. I have accepted the pace that this group is capable of
moving at and have realized we probably can’t expect to speed up
at all. I’m going to try not to worry about the schedule. We
worked our way up three kilometers of rapids this morning. In one
we made a cool ferry across the rapid to get to the opposite side of
the river where there was better lining. At the base of the last
ledge before the flatwater started we fished with great success.
Ten trout all over eight inches were reeled in, with the catch of the
day going to Troy’s fourteen inch brookie. What amazing
coloration these fish have.
After this fishing spot we were able to paddle a good deal of
flatwater as the river entered a section where it makes a huge S
turn. Lots of current and a headwind slow things down, but we are
wearing fair weather clothes and advancing quickly compared to
before. Distant mountains are seen with barren summits and
patches of snow. These are most likely Hubbard’s Kipling
Mountains. Bulldog flies are out today but not many blackflies
yet.
It was already the eleventh of August when Hubbard reached this
spot a full month later than us a hundred years ago. The members
of his crew were in very poor shape already and they were still
pushing on deeper into the unknown. We found ourselves
enjoying the better fishing just as they had even though we were in
perfect health and relatively well fed.
Tuesday, August 11th.—East wind. Warmer a little. Just a little rain.
No fish biting. Slept late. Climbed ridge and tree. See ridge of high
half barren hills away ahead. Think this the ridge east of
Michikamau. Hungry all the time. Down to 40 lbs. of flour, 8 lbs.
tea, about 20 lbs. pea meal, a bit of sugar, bacon, baking powder
and dried apple, just a bit of rice. Saw mountains ahead from a
bluff just below our evening camp. River runs north apparently; it
must therefore be Low's Northwest River I think. Mountains look
high and rugged, 10 to 25 miles away. Ought to get good view of
country from there, and get caribou and bear. Moccasins all rotten
and full of holes. Need caribou. Need bear for grease. All hungry
all day. George weak, Wallace ravenous; lean, gaunt and a bit
weak myself. Fish braced us wonderfully.
Near the end of the day we turned a corner to the north and saw a Loon
swimming. We took three riffle shots and missed each time. Then I paddled
ahead and pushed the bird towards Troy and Jim. Troy shot it and I paddled
over to make the retrieve. Loons are very tough. I clubbed the bird with my
paddle and threw it in the front of my canoe. This wasn’t enough and we ended
up slitting the animal’s throat. It was a long kill, but I didn’t feel too bad because
we were so hungry. Then at a small rapid I caught two twelve inch trout and
Troy shot down a duck. The duck was not immediately killed and it swam
through the rapid we had just lined up. I ran the class II – III rapid and gave
chase for almost three quarters of a kilometer, but the bird dove and I couldn’t
find it. We felt pretty bad, but the duck will feed another animal. Nothing goes
to waste out here.
Late in the day we made our camp on a hillside burned clear by an old forest
fire. This was at the foot of an unmarked rapid that would have to be dealt with
in the morning. I lit a fire and cooked the fish and loon on our grill. Our whole
dinner was provided by the bush today. This is good because it allowed us to
save a dinner in case we are out for longer than planned. Boiled up tea and
had a nice relaxing night.
In my tent now. 11:40pm. It was a long day in the sun and we are all tired but
very well fed. The Loon tasted great. We should reach the portage to Lake
Hope in a day and a half. I felt dehydrated and tired when we pulled into camp
but all that is better now. Should be a great night for sleeping since it is dry and
cool.
7/12
We figured out that today is Saturday. This morning I was awake at eight and
outside quickly. Patchy clouds were giving way to darker lines of cloud banks on
the horizon. As we broke camp a breeze stirred from the east, almost certainly
indicative of rain. I changed into my rain pants and we set out around ten thirty.
Once past the first rapid we were able to paddle for a half hour. After this it was
knee deep into the river and tracking again. Beyond here four kilometers of
lake paddling greeted us. A pair of Loons was spotted but we left them alone
because they may have been nesting and there was need to take another one
of these amazing creatures. Eventually the mountains that were spotted
yesterday grew closer. Snow patches lay in the gullies. This is where we are
heading. The Beaver ends in those mountains and we will portage through a
pass into Lake Hope.
swimming. We took three riffle shots and missed each time. Then I paddled
ahead and pushed the bird towards Troy and Jim. Troy shot it and I paddled
over to make the retrieve. Loons are very tough. I clubbed the bird with my
paddle and threw it in the front of my canoe. This wasn’t enough and we ended
up slitting the animal’s throat. It was a long kill, but I didn’t feel too bad because
we were so hungry. Then at a small rapid I caught two twelve inch trout and
Troy shot down a duck. The duck was not immediately killed and it swam
through the rapid we had just lined up. I ran the class II – III rapid and gave
chase for almost three quarters of a kilometer, but the bird dove and I couldn’t
find it. We felt pretty bad, but the duck will feed another animal. Nothing goes
to waste out here.
Late in the day we made our camp on a hillside burned clear by an old forest
fire. This was at the foot of an unmarked rapid that would have to be dealt with
in the morning. I lit a fire and cooked the fish and loon on our grill. Our whole
dinner was provided by the bush today. This is good because it allowed us to
save a dinner in case we are out for longer than planned. Boiled up tea and
had a nice relaxing night.
In my tent now. 11:40pm. It was a long day in the sun and we are all tired but
very well fed. The Loon tasted great. We should reach the portage to Lake
Hope in a day and a half. I felt dehydrated and tired when we pulled into camp
but all that is better now. Should be a great night for sleeping since it is dry and
cool.
7/12
We figured out that today is Saturday. This morning I was awake at eight and
outside quickly. Patchy clouds were giving way to darker lines of cloud banks on
the horizon. As we broke camp a breeze stirred from the east, almost certainly
indicative of rain. I changed into my rain pants and we set out around ten thirty.
Once past the first rapid we were able to paddle for a half hour. After this it was
knee deep into the river and tracking again. Beyond here four kilometers of
lake paddling greeted us. A pair of Loons was spotted but we left them alone
because they may have been nesting and there was need to take another one
of these amazing creatures. Eventually the mountains that were spotted
yesterday grew closer. Snow patches lay in the gullies. This is where we are
heading. The Beaver ends in those mountains and we will portage through a
pass into Lake Hope.
Once through the lake section a set of marked rapids was reached.
I tried to paddle up a short class II by moving up the eddies, but the
water was too shallow for this. I lined up and quickly jumped into the
canoe at the top without paying attention. Well, the current was
stronger than I thought and the canoe was soon sideways against a
rock for a split second before flipping. I floundered in the water
before grabbing a loose barrel and the canoe. I pulled the shit to
shore, stripped my wet clothes off, and bailed the swamped boat.
Luckily the flies were not bad because I was bailing without a shirt
on. After ten minutes the fiasco was organized and we were ready
to deal with the larger rapid that lay just upstream. Miraculously,
none of the unsecured gear was lost.
To avoid a falls in the middle of the river we lined up a side channel
and waded over slippery rocks while fighting along the alder choked
shoreline. This kilometer took nearly and hour to overcome, but the
flat water above it was a very inviting sight. Ahead we ate a quick
lunch as a misty rain began to fall. While the others kept resting I
paddled up to the base of the last rapid to fish. In fifteen minutes I
landed nine trout over eight inches, released one, and lost three
while trying to land them. By the time I was packing away the fishing
rod rain was really falling.
All afternoon we paddled up moving flatwater into a steady but not
severe headwind. The temperature dropped throughout the day as
we neared the bigger mountains that lay ahead. Their barren
summits, hidden in sheets of mist with occasional snow patches,
were beautiful if not foreboding. By seven thirty that evening we
were all cold wet and hungry enough to start looking for a camp.
The team is camped at a great open spot situated on a lake
expansion in the river about sixteen kilometers from the start of our
portage into Lake Hope. The ground here was moss covered with
scattered spruce and a few tamarack growing over beds of mint
green and white lichen. The gorgeous lake was surrounded by
barren mountains. It would have been hard to find a nicer spot if it
were not raining. Despite the general wetness of the day, we were
lucky to catch a lull in the weather while setting up our tents. Having
a dry tent is such a luxury, and I knew I would enjoy it tonight.
It was so cold that I put on wool pants under my rain gear along with
a fleece top. We made a descent enough dinner of beans and rice
with fish and pistachio pudding. While cooking the weather
deteriorated. The wind picked up and blew sheets of icy mist
against us Everyone huddled around and ate standing with their
backs to the wind. The scene was so ridiculous that we had a few
chuckles between shivers and bites of trout. Once the dishes were
finished up every one was eager to head into the shelter of their
tents.
It is now nine fifty and I am writing with the distant sound of wolves
howling. We should cover the distance to the start of the portage to
Lake Hope tomorrow, barring a major headwind. The distance is
roughly nine and a half miles, but there appears to be a good
amount of flatwater. It does not look like the weather will improve
any time soon. The wild landscape is incredible. We are nineteen
days out and it looks like we should make our resupply point in five
more. It is so warm and cozy in my sleeping bag in this tent. We are
looking for a six thirty wake up, but this will largely depend on the
weather.
I tried to paddle up a short class II by moving up the eddies, but the
water was too shallow for this. I lined up and quickly jumped into the
canoe at the top without paying attention. Well, the current was
stronger than I thought and the canoe was soon sideways against a
rock for a split second before flipping. I floundered in the water
before grabbing a loose barrel and the canoe. I pulled the shit to
shore, stripped my wet clothes off, and bailed the swamped boat.
Luckily the flies were not bad because I was bailing without a shirt
on. After ten minutes the fiasco was organized and we were ready
to deal with the larger rapid that lay just upstream. Miraculously,
none of the unsecured gear was lost.
To avoid a falls in the middle of the river we lined up a side channel
and waded over slippery rocks while fighting along the alder choked
shoreline. This kilometer took nearly and hour to overcome, but the
flat water above it was a very inviting sight. Ahead we ate a quick
lunch as a misty rain began to fall. While the others kept resting I
paddled up to the base of the last rapid to fish. In fifteen minutes I
landed nine trout over eight inches, released one, and lost three
while trying to land them. By the time I was packing away the fishing
rod rain was really falling.
All afternoon we paddled up moving flatwater into a steady but not
severe headwind. The temperature dropped throughout the day as
we neared the bigger mountains that lay ahead. Their barren
summits, hidden in sheets of mist with occasional snow patches,
were beautiful if not foreboding. By seven thirty that evening we
were all cold wet and hungry enough to start looking for a camp.
The team is camped at a great open spot situated on a lake
expansion in the river about sixteen kilometers from the start of our
portage into Lake Hope. The ground here was moss covered with
scattered spruce and a few tamarack growing over beds of mint
green and white lichen. The gorgeous lake was surrounded by
barren mountains. It would have been hard to find a nicer spot if it
were not raining. Despite the general wetness of the day, we were
lucky to catch a lull in the weather while setting up our tents. Having
a dry tent is such a luxury, and I knew I would enjoy it tonight.
It was so cold that I put on wool pants under my rain gear along with
a fleece top. We made a descent enough dinner of beans and rice
with fish and pistachio pudding. While cooking the weather
deteriorated. The wind picked up and blew sheets of icy mist
against us Everyone huddled around and ate standing with their
backs to the wind. The scene was so ridiculous that we had a few
chuckles between shivers and bites of trout. Once the dishes were
finished up every one was eager to head into the shelter of their
tents.
It is now nine fifty and I am writing with the distant sound of wolves
howling. We should cover the distance to the start of the portage to
Lake Hope tomorrow, barring a major headwind. The distance is
roughly nine and a half miles, but there appears to be a good
amount of flatwater. It does not look like the weather will improve
any time soon. The wild landscape is incredible. We are nineteen
days out and it looks like we should make our resupply point in five
more. It is so warm and cozy in my sleeping bag in this tent. We are
looking for a six thirty wake up, but this will largely depend on the
weather.
7/13
Sunday morning I woke up at six thirty to broken low clouds, a west wind and
scattered sucker holes mixed with fast moving showers. This actually looks like
a clearing pattern since most of the moisture with our weather seems to have
been blown in from the East or Southeast. I made flat bread for breakfast while
the others got themselves out of bed. We paddled flatwater in showers
towards the barren mountains to our west. Although progress was slowed by a
headwind all morning, the weather was clearing and the pace was much faster
than it would have been had we been lining or dragging the canoes. It was
such a huge relief to see this flat section. The mountains ahead look huge, but
as you near, their true heights of just over three thousand feet become more
apparent. Gaining a perspective in this semi barren landscape is difficult.
We stopped to eat lunch at a narrow opening between two bodies of water.
The Beaver River is now a lake system with short fast water sections
connecting lakes of all sizes. As we finish eating the wind increases but the
weather clears substantially. We are in the heart of the Red Wine Mountains
now and patches of snow are common. At the end of a large lake we stop to
fish some shallow rapids. Fishing this picture perfect spot gets me seven
brookies in a few minutes, while Troy catches three of his own. The fish are
becoming a little finicky, but they are still good size. The water is very clear
with a slight orange coloration.
Tuesday, August 18th.—Temp. 28 degrees at 4 A.M. Clear sky in morning.
Much worried last night and this morning, about way to Michikamau. Started
early, ready to go at the job harder than ever. Lake expansions, rapids, no
signs of Indians. Afraid this a bad stretch which Indians avoided. Stopped at 10
A.M. for tea. Caught fourteen big trout there, in few minutes. Then river opened
into long narrow lakes, and the going was bully. It turned west, or we did (it
came from the west) and went into the mountains, and we fairly shouted for joy.
George saw caribou. Turned out to be geese. Chased ahead them on bank.
Shot old goose as she lay low in water, swimming and hiding. Broke old one's
wing and took off leg. Then missed four shots. Gander took to woods. George
took after young and killed one with pistol. Came and helped get wounded
goose. Great chase. Trout, pounders, jumping like greedy hogs to fly. Took
about fifty while boys were making two short portages in P.M. Bread, small loaf,
coffee, sugar, goose, trout for supper. Big feed in celebration geese and good
water. At end of to-day's course turned to right into wrong channel, into little
narrow lake half mile long, prettiest I ever saw. Big barren bluff rises from water
on north, barren mountains a few miles to west, ridge of green to west, sun
setting in faces to contrast and darken, two loons laughing, two otters
swimming in lake. One seemed afraid and dived; other more bold, looked at us.
Hoped to kill it to settle question of species, but did not get near enough. Good
water ahead. Hope we are on the road to Michikamau.
Sunday morning I woke up at six thirty to broken low clouds, a west wind and
scattered sucker holes mixed with fast moving showers. This actually looks like
a clearing pattern since most of the moisture with our weather seems to have
been blown in from the East or Southeast. I made flat bread for breakfast while
the others got themselves out of bed. We paddled flatwater in showers
towards the barren mountains to our west. Although progress was slowed by a
headwind all morning, the weather was clearing and the pace was much faster
than it would have been had we been lining or dragging the canoes. It was
such a huge relief to see this flat section. The mountains ahead look huge, but
as you near, their true heights of just over three thousand feet become more
apparent. Gaining a perspective in this semi barren landscape is difficult.
We stopped to eat lunch at a narrow opening between two bodies of water.
The Beaver River is now a lake system with short fast water sections
connecting lakes of all sizes. As we finish eating the wind increases but the
weather clears substantially. We are in the heart of the Red Wine Mountains
now and patches of snow are common. At the end of a large lake we stop to
fish some shallow rapids. Fishing this picture perfect spot gets me seven
brookies in a few minutes, while Troy catches three of his own. The fish are
becoming a little finicky, but they are still good size. The water is very clear
with a slight orange coloration.
Tuesday, August 18th.—Temp. 28 degrees at 4 A.M. Clear sky in morning.
Much worried last night and this morning, about way to Michikamau. Started
early, ready to go at the job harder than ever. Lake expansions, rapids, no
signs of Indians. Afraid this a bad stretch which Indians avoided. Stopped at 10
A.M. for tea. Caught fourteen big trout there, in few minutes. Then river opened
into long narrow lakes, and the going was bully. It turned west, or we did (it
came from the west) and went into the mountains, and we fairly shouted for joy.
George saw caribou. Turned out to be geese. Chased ahead them on bank.
Shot old goose as she lay low in water, swimming and hiding. Broke old one's
wing and took off leg. Then missed four shots. Gander took to woods. George
took after young and killed one with pistol. Came and helped get wounded
goose. Great chase. Trout, pounders, jumping like greedy hogs to fly. Took
about fifty while boys were making two short portages in P.M. Bread, small loaf,
coffee, sugar, goose, trout for supper. Big feed in celebration geese and good
water. At end of to-day's course turned to right into wrong channel, into little
narrow lake half mile long, prettiest I ever saw. Big barren bluff rises from water
on north, barren mountains a few miles to west, ridge of green to west, sun
setting in faces to contrast and darken, two loons laughing, two otters
swimming in lake. One seemed afraid and dived; other more bold, looked at us.
Hoped to kill it to settle question of species, but did not get near enough. Good
water ahead. Hope we are on the road to Michikamau.
At the top of these rapids is another lake followed by another
connecting stream. After dragging up the connector we reached a
gorgeous lake. On the left side of this lake there was a bald and
ledgy knob. We hiked this three hundred foot peak. Reindeer
lichen gave way to open ledge littered with pebbles, rocks, and
boulders scattered around by the last glaciers to move through this
area thousands of years ago. The view from the top is incredible.
Barren hills stretch for as far as the eye can see with no signs of
anyone having ever been here before. Puffy clouds are moving to
the east as the weather continues to clear. A steady breeze helps
keep the flies away and our elevated position gives a heightened
sense of our remoteness. The rugged landscape seemed so
inhospitable.
After this hike we returned to the canoes and paddled the
remaining five kilometers to the last major lake of the Beaver River
system. To get here we had to line up one last six inch deep
stream. At the head of this stream stood one final obstacle. A
huge log lay across the brook requiring us to wrench the loaded
boats up and over the chest high obstacle. Camp was made on a
peninsula at the west end of the lake. There is ample open ground
here, but the flies are horrendous. Fish with rice and beef jerky
soup made our dinner, which was finished with a strawberry
milkshake dessert.
connecting stream. After dragging up the connector we reached a
gorgeous lake. On the left side of this lake there was a bald and
ledgy knob. We hiked this three hundred foot peak. Reindeer
lichen gave way to open ledge littered with pebbles, rocks, and
boulders scattered around by the last glaciers to move through this
area thousands of years ago. The view from the top is incredible.
Barren hills stretch for as far as the eye can see with no signs of
anyone having ever been here before. Puffy clouds are moving to
the east as the weather continues to clear. A steady breeze helps
keep the flies away and our elevated position gives a heightened
sense of our remoteness. The rugged landscape seemed so
inhospitable.
After this hike we returned to the canoes and paddled the
remaining five kilometers to the last major lake of the Beaver River
system. To get here we had to line up one last six inch deep
stream. At the head of this stream stood one final obstacle. A
huge log lay across the brook requiring us to wrench the loaded
boats up and over the chest high obstacle. Camp was made on a
peninsula at the west end of the lake. There is ample open ground
here, but the flies are horrendous. Fish with rice and beef jerky
soup made our dinner, which was finished with a strawberry
milkshake dessert.
There is a two and a half kilometer portage to Lake Hope in front of us that will
probably take all day to complete. About a hundred mosquitoes managed to
get into the tent tonight and I have finally killed almost all of them. It is late
now, just around midnight. Camp was made at eight, which is too late really.
However, this was an amazing day and our side hike was well worth the effort.
The weather is crystal clear tonight and we should have good weather for
tomorrow’s portage festival.
probably take all day to complete. About a hundred mosquitoes managed to
get into the tent tonight and I have finally killed almost all of them. It is late
now, just around midnight. Camp was made at eight, which is too late really.
However, this was an amazing day and our side hike was well worth the effort.
The weather is crystal clear tonight and we should have good weather for
tomorrow’s portage festival.
Jim and Troy line there large tandem canoe up a nice and deep rapid somewhere on the Beaver
River just upstream of where we portaged in from Goose Creek.
River just upstream of where we portaged in from Goose Creek.
With fuel and food supplies running we took to cooking the large brook
trout found on the Beaver River over open fires.
trout found on the Beaver River over open fires.
After days of rain the skies cleared and brought in cold but sunny skies which I am enjoying next to
a larger ledge drop on our way up the Beaver River.
a larger ledge drop on our way up the Beaver River.
A clearing next to a sizeable rapid created by a large ledge gave us plenty of room to set up camp
and make dinner. This was such a likely spot that perhaps Hubbard himself camped here one
hundred years ago.
and make dinner. This was such a likely spot that perhaps Hubbard himself camped here one
hundred years ago.
Fishing on the much larger Beaver River was significantly better than it had been on Susan
Brook. Bigger water meant bigger fish and every likely spot produced good catches.
Brook. Bigger water meant bigger fish and every likely spot produced good catches.
After dragging up fast water and rapids for several days we were excited to reach the largest
piece of open water since Grand Lake.
piece of open water since Grand Lake.
Paddling the canoes after days and days of dragging and portaging was a treat and our
quick progress felt amazing.
quick progress felt amazing.
Troy holds up the Loon that we reluctantly hunted for dinner. With food
supplies running low the protein rich meat did wonders for our energy.
supplies running low the protein rich meat did wonders for our energy.
Although the upper reaches of the Beaver held much flatwater, plenty of rapids
remained and forced more hard work and slow going.
remained and forced more hard work and slow going.
Fire roasted brook trout and loon was our first full meal that was provided
exclusively by the land.
exclusively by the land.
This small and inexpensive cooking grate proved to be very useful when cooking without
our stoves. For trips in wooded country were it is impossible to bring along enough fuel,
such a grill is a huge help.
our stoves. For trips in wooded country were it is impossible to bring along enough fuel,
such a grill is a huge help.
Paddling into the Redwine Mountains near the source of the Beaver River was like paddling
through an alpine paradise. These were the first real hills of the trip and the change in
scenery was much appreciated.
through an alpine paradise. These were the first real hills of the trip and the change in
scenery was much appreciated.
Jim and Troy paddle across a calm stretch of lake near the head of the Beaver were the river
originates from a series of alpine lakes and ponds.
originates from a series of alpine lakes and ponds.
The uppermost stretches of the Beaver were tiny streams connecting some of
the most beautiful and remote lakes anywhere.
the most beautiful and remote lakes anywhere.
Climbing a barren hill above the river was a welcome way to stretch our legs
and get a view of the surrounding land.
and get a view of the surrounding land.
One hundred years ago Hubbard's expedition struggled to find their way in this confusing
maze of lakes. Without a doubt Elson would have experienced a similar view on one of his
many scouting trips.
maze of lakes. Without a doubt Elson would have experienced a similar view on one of his
many scouting trips.
The fishing in the small streams connecting the headwater lakes was fast and furious, but
the wary trout seemed to spoke after about 5 or 6 were caught in each pool.
the wary trout seemed to spoke after about 5 or 6 were caught in each pool.
A clear and calm evening greeted us as we went to sleep at out last camp on
the Beaver River and prepared for the long portage to Hope Lake.
the Beaver River and prepared for the long portage to Hope Lake.