Goose Creek
7/5/2003 - 7/4/2003
After reaching the site of Hubbard's death on the fourth of
July, one of the trip's high points, we still had to move on and
tackle one of the most difficult stretches of the journey.
Goose Creek was little more than a shallow trickle that
gradually petered out into a series of swamps and bogs made
worse by several days in a row of bad weather. We moved on
steadily but there was a certain let down after having reached
Hubbard's memorial, the single thing that had been the target
of our imaginations for the last several years. I found my mind
wandering while working through the swamps at the head of
Goose Creek, but knowing that well over half of the trip lay
ahead helped be refocused and get back to the task at hand.
This area was every bit as confusing for navigation today as
it was 100 years ago when Hubbard's team first came
through. There were several times when we had to circle up
and have serious conversations about where we were in
relation to what we were seeing around us and on the maps,
which were not always as accurate as they could have been.
7/5/2003 - 7/4/2003
After reaching the site of Hubbard's death on the fourth of
July, one of the trip's high points, we still had to move on and
tackle one of the most difficult stretches of the journey.
Goose Creek was little more than a shallow trickle that
gradually petered out into a series of swamps and bogs made
worse by several days in a row of bad weather. We moved on
steadily but there was a certain let down after having reached
Hubbard's memorial, the single thing that had been the target
of our imaginations for the last several years. I found my mind
wandering while working through the swamps at the head of
Goose Creek, but knowing that well over half of the trip lay
ahead helped be refocused and get back to the task at hand.
This area was every bit as confusing for navigation today as
it was 100 years ago when Hubbard's team first came
through. There were several times when we had to circle up
and have serious conversations about where we were in
relation to what we were seeing around us and on the maps,
which were not always as accurate as they could have been.
7/5
Wake up at six to the sound of rain pattering on the tent. I roll
over and go back to sleep until nine. Although late starts need
to be avoided, the rest was obviously needed and well
deserved. It is still raining at nine and hard to get up and out
of the tent, but we all make our way out into the steady rain.
The day is chilly and I am wearing my mesh bug shirt, poly pro,
fuzzy rubber, fleece, and a rain jacket with a winter hat on. It
looks like it's going to be a raw and chilly day. The tent gets
soaked inside and out while taking it down. At least I am
starting to get used to putting on wet pants and boots every
morning. What a great way to start your day!
We proceeded up Goose Creek. The shores are open and
swampy at first, but the creek rapidly gets smaller and rocky.
While shuttling a load up the bank to reduce weight in the
canoe we see a pile of Caribou scat then continue on in the
rain.
Wake up at six to the sound of rain pattering on the tent. I roll
over and go back to sleep until nine. Although late starts need
to be avoided, the rest was obviously needed and well
deserved. It is still raining at nine and hard to get up and out
of the tent, but we all make our way out into the steady rain.
The day is chilly and I am wearing my mesh bug shirt, poly pro,
fuzzy rubber, fleece, and a rain jacket with a winter hat on. It
looks like it's going to be a raw and chilly day. The tent gets
soaked inside and out while taking it down. At least I am
starting to get used to putting on wet pants and boots every
morning. What a great way to start your day!
We proceeded up Goose Creek. The shores are open and
swampy at first, but the creek rapidly gets smaller and rocky.
While shuttling a load up the bank to reduce weight in the
canoe we see a pile of Caribou scat then continue on in the
rain.
By the time I headed to the tent it was still misting and the
inside of my home was very wet. I mopped the inside of the
tent as best as possible with a camp towel and had it tolerably
dry before laying out my sleeping bag. The side hill tent site is
not perfect, but it will have to work now since there is no way I
am heading out into the rain to move things around. I would
love fair weather tomorrow to dry things out, but the sky looks
very socked in. We are three and a half kilometers up Goose
Creek and the maps suggest we may be able to reach its end
sometime tomorrow. Now 10:41 pm.
7/6
Still raining. Spent a very cold and wet day on the river. The
maximum temperature was probably not over fifty degrees.
Everything is starting to get wet now. We could really use a
sunny day. On the bright side, we managed to cover eight
kilometers today! Easy tracking up a shallow gravel bottomed
Goose Creek brought us to a pond section that could be
paddled. I caught five small trout in this section.
We reached the split in Goose Creek that Hubbard spoke of in
his journal and followed the southerly branch as did the 1903
explorers. We were most likely the only people through here
since then.
inside of my home was very wet. I mopped the inside of the
tent as best as possible with a camp towel and had it tolerably
dry before laying out my sleeping bag. The side hill tent site is
not perfect, but it will have to work now since there is no way I
am heading out into the rain to move things around. I would
love fair weather tomorrow to dry things out, but the sky looks
very socked in. We are three and a half kilometers up Goose
Creek and the maps suggest we may be able to reach its end
sometime tomorrow. Now 10:41 pm.
7/6
Still raining. Spent a very cold and wet day on the river. The
maximum temperature was probably not over fifty degrees.
Everything is starting to get wet now. We could really use a
sunny day. On the bright side, we managed to cover eight
kilometers today! Easy tracking up a shallow gravel bottomed
Goose Creek brought us to a pond section that could be
paddled. I caught five small trout in this section.
We reached the split in Goose Creek that Hubbard spoke of in
his journal and followed the southerly branch as did the 1903
explorers. We were most likely the only people through here
since then.
Expedition Journal
We dragged up the five foot wide trickle for a kilometer until it petered out in a swamp. The river became too undefined to follow as it spread out in
the swamp, so we began a half kilometer portage to a lake. The portage led us to a dismal camp at the far end of the swamp. Each step drew up
several inches of standing water and wind driven sheets of rain swept across the open expanse of the swamp. No where in the trip felt as desolate
and useless as this bog. Seeing the figures of Troy and Jim stumbling around made me laugh and wonder for a second what we were doing here.
Then I realized that this was exactly why we were here. This is what differentiates this trip from a walk in the park and keeps masses of people away.
In all likelihood we were the only people through here sense Hubbard, and it felt great. Still, the wetness created an insidious cold that was sapping
our energy and making it very important that we set up camp and get dry and warm soon.
We set up camp in the cold rain and ate in the rain. Dinner was a pathetic bowl of cold and mushy stove top stuffing with fish and a sea gull that we
shot with the .410. The only edible part was the scavenger’s breast meat. It had a curious taste and did little to compensate for the sad bowl of cold
stuffing we had to accompany it. I am finally comfy in the tent now. Cozy in my dry sleeping bag. Could stand to sleep in a little if it is still raining
tomorrow. This afternoon was a mental low point for me. Weather does not look promising. It is windy, which is potentially good because the moving
air could blow the system out.
Hubbard’s description of this place was a little less harsh. This journal entry of Hubbard’s shows that he appreciated the open portaging afforded by
the bogs, but also shows how stubborn he was that his expedition was still on an old trail to Michikamau.
Tuesday, August 4th.—Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Portaged 1 mile to Montagnais Lake. Portage ran through bogs and over low ridges. I sat on edge
of lake looking at rod, when a caribou waded into lake, not 100 feet away. Rifle at other end of portage. Hoped to find inlet to lake, but only one
ends in bog. Lots of old cuttings at northwest corner of lake; two old wigwams. Troubled to know where to go from here. All scouted whole afternoon.
Lake 1 mile west. Old trail runs towards it. George thinks caribou trail, no cuttings found on it yet. I think portage. Looks like portage we have
followed and runs in right direction.
the swamp, so we began a half kilometer portage to a lake. The portage led us to a dismal camp at the far end of the swamp. Each step drew up
several inches of standing water and wind driven sheets of rain swept across the open expanse of the swamp. No where in the trip felt as desolate
and useless as this bog. Seeing the figures of Troy and Jim stumbling around made me laugh and wonder for a second what we were doing here.
Then I realized that this was exactly why we were here. This is what differentiates this trip from a walk in the park and keeps masses of people away.
In all likelihood we were the only people through here sense Hubbard, and it felt great. Still, the wetness created an insidious cold that was sapping
our energy and making it very important that we set up camp and get dry and warm soon.
We set up camp in the cold rain and ate in the rain. Dinner was a pathetic bowl of cold and mushy stove top stuffing with fish and a sea gull that we
shot with the .410. The only edible part was the scavenger’s breast meat. It had a curious taste and did little to compensate for the sad bowl of cold
stuffing we had to accompany it. I am finally comfy in the tent now. Cozy in my dry sleeping bag. Could stand to sleep in a little if it is still raining
tomorrow. This afternoon was a mental low point for me. Weather does not look promising. It is windy, which is potentially good because the moving
air could blow the system out.
Hubbard’s description of this place was a little less harsh. This journal entry of Hubbard’s shows that he appreciated the open portaging afforded by
the bogs, but also shows how stubborn he was that his expedition was still on an old trail to Michikamau.
Tuesday, August 4th.—Temp. 6 A.M. 56 degrees. Portaged 1 mile to Montagnais Lake. Portage ran through bogs and over low ridges. I sat on edge
of lake looking at rod, when a caribou waded into lake, not 100 feet away. Rifle at other end of portage. Hoped to find inlet to lake, but only one
ends in bog. Lots of old cuttings at northwest corner of lake; two old wigwams. Troubled to know where to go from here. All scouted whole afternoon.
Lake 1 mile west. Old trail runs towards it. George thinks caribou trail, no cuttings found on it yet. I think portage. Looks like portage we have
followed and runs in right direction.
7/7
Yesterday night was the most depressing moment of the trip.
Very cold and wet. Woke up at five this morning to the sound
of rain and went back to sleep. Up again at six and it is still
raining. By nine thirty the rain stopped. We rolled out of the
tents and had a slow morning spent making bread and boiling
up tea. Today’s high was a cold forty five degrees. There
was a strong northeast wind that appeared to be breaking up
the clouds. Not much rain today except for an evening
shower. It was so great to be dry today.
We didn’t get moving until noon, at which point we portaged
our gear a half kilometer into Mountaineer Lake. We paddled
the lake and made a one kilometer portage to the next lake.
The carry is through a flat boggy area that makes for easy
walking. The problem is that two hours are wasted looking for
the exact route into the next lake. After a quick scout we
eventually decide on the route make our way in that
direction.
Early in the day we unsuccessfully hunted a Loon that dove
and evaded us. We also squandered a shot at a Goose as we
neared the end of our portage. The bird was smart and ran
into the woods to hide as we approached it. I completed the
portage much quicker than the others since I carried heavier
loads and made only two trips as opposed to three. With the
extra time I paddled out onto the lake and did some fishing in
the cold breeze that was blowing. Nothing was caught.
We eventually paddled to a point with a few good open
campsites. I set my tent up in the breeze so it would dry and
then started up a big campfire. Closer observation of the
maps found a naming discrepancy between the 1:50,000 and
1:250,000 scale maps. Our campsite was on Elson Lake and
we would be making our way to the Beaver River tomorrow.
This was very uplifting since it meant our lake travel and
portaging would be reduced by at least a day. I even think
that rapids can be heard far to the south and east.
Tomorrow’s portage is going to be over two kilometers and it is
likely to take all day. We are up late and it is twelve thirty
now. Everyone should sleep well. We decided to eat
breakfast for dinner and our dinner for breakfast tomorrow
morning. My candy bar and cold cereal provided an adequate
supper. It looks like the ten days left to complete phase one
will be tough.
Yesterday night was the most depressing moment of the trip.
Very cold and wet. Woke up at five this morning to the sound
of rain and went back to sleep. Up again at six and it is still
raining. By nine thirty the rain stopped. We rolled out of the
tents and had a slow morning spent making bread and boiling
up tea. Today’s high was a cold forty five degrees. There
was a strong northeast wind that appeared to be breaking up
the clouds. Not much rain today except for an evening
shower. It was so great to be dry today.
We didn’t get moving until noon, at which point we portaged
our gear a half kilometer into Mountaineer Lake. We paddled
the lake and made a one kilometer portage to the next lake.
The carry is through a flat boggy area that makes for easy
walking. The problem is that two hours are wasted looking for
the exact route into the next lake. After a quick scout we
eventually decide on the route make our way in that
direction.
Early in the day we unsuccessfully hunted a Loon that dove
and evaded us. We also squandered a shot at a Goose as we
neared the end of our portage. The bird was smart and ran
into the woods to hide as we approached it. I completed the
portage much quicker than the others since I carried heavier
loads and made only two trips as opposed to three. With the
extra time I paddled out onto the lake and did some fishing in
the cold breeze that was blowing. Nothing was caught.
We eventually paddled to a point with a few good open
campsites. I set my tent up in the breeze so it would dry and
then started up a big campfire. Closer observation of the
maps found a naming discrepancy between the 1:50,000 and
1:250,000 scale maps. Our campsite was on Elson Lake and
we would be making our way to the Beaver River tomorrow.
This was very uplifting since it meant our lake travel and
portaging would be reduced by at least a day. I even think
that rapids can be heard far to the south and east.
Tomorrow’s portage is going to be over two kilometers and it is
likely to take all day. We are up late and it is twelve thirty
now. Everyone should sleep well. We decided to eat
breakfast for dinner and our dinner for breakfast tomorrow
morning. My candy bar and cold cereal provided an adequate
supper. It looks like the ten days left to complete phase one
will be tough.
The creek itself is gorgeous with cold and clear water. We are able to drag the boats most of the way and even paddle briefly despite the extremely
shallow water. However, in places the river is impossibly dry and we are basically dragging the boats over wet piles of rocks. It would certainly have
made sense to portage in a few places, but we were too tired to take the time and struggled on in the river instead. The slate gray skies and steady
rain did not boost our spirits.
For lunch we stopped at the bottom of a particularly steep and shallow looking section of creek. In the miserable mist and rain we opened our
tattered red cloth lunch bag and pulled its meager contents out. Some wet and soggy GORP, followed by spoon fulls of runny almond butter were
the starters. The last section of pepperoni stick was divided up and then a minor disaster struck. I fumbled and dropped one of the chunks into the
river. A quick grab was too late and the piece of cured meat slipped below a rock forever. We were not starving by any stretch of the imagination,
but those lost calories were mourned. We always looked forward to the variety and sustenance that the pepperoni provided us. It was some
substantive protein rich food and we were all glad to have brought some along. Sinking my last couple of bites was pretty upsetting.
A good campsite was reached at 5:45 and it was still raining. I was surprisingly amazed at how dry and comfy my gear kept me. The site we chose
for our camp was just below a small ledge after Goose Creek ran between some steeper hills. The brook is twenty feet wide here at the most.
Jim worked on starting a fire while Troy and I headed upstream to fish a section of flat water. I only managed to catch two trout, but was too stubborn
to switch to a smaller lure. Troy was casting a tiny spinner and he hauled in eleven tiny trout by jigging from shore. Back at camp the rain eased up
to a light mist and I laid out some clothes to dry by the fire. We ate a good dinner of rice and beans with the fish. I smoked a cigar and had some
banana cream pudding for dessert.
shallow water. However, in places the river is impossibly dry and we are basically dragging the boats over wet piles of rocks. It would certainly have
made sense to portage in a few places, but we were too tired to take the time and struggled on in the river instead. The slate gray skies and steady
rain did not boost our spirits.
For lunch we stopped at the bottom of a particularly steep and shallow looking section of creek. In the miserable mist and rain we opened our
tattered red cloth lunch bag and pulled its meager contents out. Some wet and soggy GORP, followed by spoon fulls of runny almond butter were
the starters. The last section of pepperoni stick was divided up and then a minor disaster struck. I fumbled and dropped one of the chunks into the
river. A quick grab was too late and the piece of cured meat slipped below a rock forever. We were not starving by any stretch of the imagination,
but those lost calories were mourned. We always looked forward to the variety and sustenance that the pepperoni provided us. It was some
substantive protein rich food and we were all glad to have brought some along. Sinking my last couple of bites was pretty upsetting.
A good campsite was reached at 5:45 and it was still raining. I was surprisingly amazed at how dry and comfy my gear kept me. The site we chose
for our camp was just below a small ledge after Goose Creek ran between some steeper hills. The brook is twenty feet wide here at the most.
Jim worked on starting a fire while Troy and I headed upstream to fish a section of flat water. I only managed to catch two trout, but was too stubborn
to switch to a smaller lure. Troy was casting a tiny spinner and he hauled in eleven tiny trout by jigging from shore. Back at camp the rain eased up
to a light mist and I laid out some clothes to dry by the fire. We ate a good dinner of rice and beans with the fish. I smoked a cigar and had some
banana cream pudding for dessert.
We will have to stretch our food if it is going to last us until the seventeenth of July. We are hoping the fish will be bigger on the Beaver River. Our
spirits are high and everyone is excited to enter this new drainage.
7/8
I woke up at seven to a brightness outside, which was very encouraging. Although the sky was mostly cloudy it wasn’t raining. A strong breeze was
drying everything out nicely. I was even able to unzip the tent doors to help it dry since it was too cold and windy for any insects to bother us on this
point of land. I went back to sleep and lounged in the tent until nine thirty. The morning was laid back and we made hot drinks and pasta. We didn’t
get moving until noon. This makes a late start two days in a row, but the rest is necessary at this point.
A short paddle brought us to the shallow outlet of Elson Lake. The canoes were slid one hundred meters down to the next pond. This was exciting as
it was our first, albeit short, piece of downstream travel. From the outlet of this pond a compass bearing was taken and we set out for the Beaver
River, which lay two kilometers to the south. Three trips would be necessary and the portage would be broken into smaller stages to keep the gear
as consolidated as possible. With the exception of the first few hundred meters, the portage consisted of open walking over hilly terrain. Much of
this area was either boggy or burnt over by a large forest fire that had removed all of the snagging and miserable vegetation that makes portaging in
the north so difficult.
spirits are high and everyone is excited to enter this new drainage.
7/8
I woke up at seven to a brightness outside, which was very encouraging. Although the sky was mostly cloudy it wasn’t raining. A strong breeze was
drying everything out nicely. I was even able to unzip the tent doors to help it dry since it was too cold and windy for any insects to bother us on this
point of land. I went back to sleep and lounged in the tent until nine thirty. The morning was laid back and we made hot drinks and pasta. We didn’t
get moving until noon. This makes a late start two days in a row, but the rest is necessary at this point.
A short paddle brought us to the shallow outlet of Elson Lake. The canoes were slid one hundred meters down to the next pond. This was exciting as
it was our first, albeit short, piece of downstream travel. From the outlet of this pond a compass bearing was taken and we set out for the Beaver
River, which lay two kilometers to the south. Three trips would be necessary and the portage would be broken into smaller stages to keep the gear
as consolidated as possible. With the exception of the first few hundred meters, the portage consisted of open walking over hilly terrain. Much of
this area was either boggy or burnt over by a large forest fire that had removed all of the snagging and miserable vegetation that makes portaging in
the north so difficult.
Around two o’clock it started to rain again. The temperature
dropped to forty five degrees and a wind driven mist set up.
The portage wasn’t completed until around seven. It was so
nice to see the Beaver River. This was a big step for the trip
despite the bad weather. Camp was made in a clump of
unburnt spruce above a deep class II-III rapid. Although
elated to see the Beaver, no one had enough energy to cook
a big dinner, so we dipped into the MRE supplies. This was
topped off with chocolate pudding, a strawberry milkshake,
wheat snack bread, and drippy almond butter.
I headed to the tent freezing. Once inside things were much
drier and warmer. It's amazing how much shelter and comfort
a tent can offer. I am happy to be in here listening to the wind
driven mist slapping against the thin nylon wall protecting me
from the elements. I Gold Bonded my feet to dry them out.
My wrist is still recovering, but now my left knee is painfully stiff
and difficult to lift. Hopefully it's not a major problem.
It looks like we are in a bad weather pattern for sure. At least
there are no bugs in these conditions. Seems like good
weather for the birds since they are still chirping. Saw ducks,
goose tracks, and heard a Loon this evening. Perhaps the
Beaver will hold more fish and game for us.
dropped to forty five degrees and a wind driven mist set up.
The portage wasn’t completed until around seven. It was so
nice to see the Beaver River. This was a big step for the trip
despite the bad weather. Camp was made in a clump of
unburnt spruce above a deep class II-III rapid. Although
elated to see the Beaver, no one had enough energy to cook
a big dinner, so we dipped into the MRE supplies. This was
topped off with chocolate pudding, a strawberry milkshake,
wheat snack bread, and drippy almond butter.
I headed to the tent freezing. Once inside things were much
drier and warmer. It's amazing how much shelter and comfort
a tent can offer. I am happy to be in here listening to the wind
driven mist slapping against the thin nylon wall protecting me
from the elements. I Gold Bonded my feet to dry them out.
My wrist is still recovering, but now my left knee is painfully stiff
and difficult to lift. Hopefully it's not a major problem.
It looks like we are in a bad weather pattern for sure. At least
there are no bugs in these conditions. Seems like good
weather for the birds since they are still chirping. Saw ducks,
goose tracks, and heard a Loon this evening. Perhaps the
Beaver will hold more fish and game for us.
Jim and Troy make their way up Goose Creek as we work our way deeper into the interior of
Labrador along the tragic route followed by Leonidas Hubbard's 1903 expedition.
Labrador along the tragic route followed by Leonidas Hubbard's 1903 expedition.
Troy shows off a stringer small of small but delicious brookies at out first camp along Goose
Creek. The extra calories were welcome in this cold and wet weather.
Creek. The extra calories were welcome in this cold and wet weather.
Day after day of cold and wet weather greeted us as we worked our way up Goose Creek and
towards the Beaver River.
towards the Beaver River.
We followed the southerly branch of Goose Creek when it split. Soon the stream spread out into a
swamp and became useless for moving the canoe.
swamp and became useless for moving the canoe.
I manage a smile while portaging a light load through the swamp that we would be forced to cam
in. Most of our time here was spent shivering in a soaking wind blown mist.
in. Most of our time here was spent shivering in a soaking wind blown mist.
Troy nears the end of the portage from Elson Lake to the Beaver River. This carry was mercifully
through open terrain, but it still managed to take many hours.
through open terrain, but it still managed to take many hours.