Lower George River
8/5/2003 - 8/9/2003
The northern end of Indian House Lake drains through a narrow
passage and into a series of heavy class III rapids that rush for several
miles. These are some of the biggest rapids of the trip and paddlers
should stay far to the right. While the lower reaches of the George
River seldom become as violent as in this stretch, the outlet rapids set
the tone for the rest of the distance to Ungava Bay. The river runs
incredibly fast over a cobble bottom for mile after mile.
We knocked off mile after mile faster than at any other point in time on
the trip. We raced long, caught and released trout by the dozens, and
enjoyed a relaxing end our expedition. The expedition was blessed with
day after day of incredible weather and even though we felt the end of
the trip pulling us along, we managed to take the time to explore some
side creeks and enjoy ourselves. The George River is truly an
incredible place and I can't wait to return to this gem of the north.
8/5/2003 - 8/9/2003
The northern end of Indian House Lake drains through a narrow
passage and into a series of heavy class III rapids that rush for several
miles. These are some of the biggest rapids of the trip and paddlers
should stay far to the right. While the lower reaches of the George
River seldom become as violent as in this stretch, the outlet rapids set
the tone for the rest of the distance to Ungava Bay. The river runs
incredibly fast over a cobble bottom for mile after mile.
We knocked off mile after mile faster than at any other point in time on
the trip. We raced long, caught and released trout by the dozens, and
enjoyed a relaxing end our expedition. The expedition was blessed with
day after day of incredible weather and even though we felt the end of
the trip pulling us along, we managed to take the time to explore some
side creeks and enjoy ourselves. The George River is truly an
incredible place and I can't wait to return to this gem of the north.
Below the outlet rapids of Indian House lake, Slanting Lake is
encountered. This is a wide area with current leading to a six and a half
kilometer section of class II and III rapids. We decided to follow the guide’
s advice and hug the right shore. The huge river is two hundred yards
wide and the current is incredibly fast. Waves in the middle of the river
reach heights of over six feet and the shoreline scenery speeds past as
fast as if we were on a bike. The current must have been over ten miles
an hour at times. It felt like we were being expelled from the interior of
the land. Five miles are covered in thirty minutes without much paddling
at all, the way being continuously rapid. Views of increasingly larger
mountains appear as we sneak along the shore at break neck speeds.
Troy is a bit hesitant, but we paddle well together. After the rapids
everyone is exhilarated and amazed that in half an hour we covered a
distance that took us over two days to travel in places on Susan Brook.
After the rapids the Riviere Falcoz enters from the right just as the
George makes a sweeping bend to the left. Collines Hades is an eight
hundred foot barren mountain wall rising above river right in an almost
vertical cliff face. We eddy out to look for a campsite and I take a few
casts since it is almost dinner time. On the second cast I catch a three to
five pound lake trout that manages to slip itself off of the hook. On the
next cast another fish the same size is landed and it finds its way into the
canoe. There will be fresh fish for dinner again. The George narrows
here and the current is ripping by in a smooth ramp of water. It looks like
incredible time will be made on the lower river if this is any indication of
what to expect.
encountered. This is a wide area with current leading to a six and a half
kilometer section of class II and III rapids. We decided to follow the guide’
s advice and hug the right shore. The huge river is two hundred yards
wide and the current is incredibly fast. Waves in the middle of the river
reach heights of over six feet and the shoreline scenery speeds past as
fast as if we were on a bike. The current must have been over ten miles
an hour at times. It felt like we were being expelled from the interior of
the land. Five miles are covered in thirty minutes without much paddling
at all, the way being continuously rapid. Views of increasingly larger
mountains appear as we sneak along the shore at break neck speeds.
Troy is a bit hesitant, but we paddle well together. After the rapids
everyone is exhilarated and amazed that in half an hour we covered a
distance that took us over two days to travel in places on Susan Brook.
After the rapids the Riviere Falcoz enters from the right just as the
George makes a sweeping bend to the left. Collines Hades is an eight
hundred foot barren mountain wall rising above river right in an almost
vertical cliff face. We eddy out to look for a campsite and I take a few
casts since it is almost dinner time. On the second cast I catch a three to
five pound lake trout that manages to slip itself off of the hook. On the
next cast another fish the same size is landed and it finds its way into the
canoe. There will be fresh fish for dinner again. The George narrows
here and the current is ripping by in a smooth ramp of water. It looks like
incredible time will be made on the lower river if this is any indication of
what to expect.
After much discussion it is agreed to camp on a sand and grass beach. Jim argues that he
does not want to camp on sand, but the options are few and far between. He urges us to
continue, but the hour is late and the odds of finding a better site are very slim. Getting into
camp late and cooking in the dark is no fun for me, and I am in no mood to continue on to
search for Jim’s mythical “perfect site”. Some time was spent collecting wood from a clump of
trees so a fire could be made to cook the fish over. A rice dish and chocolate pudding cake
was cooked in addition to the lake trout. We discuss our odds of making the village in seven
days. I think it is possible, but eight may be more realistic. Who knows, there are lots of
factors. The hills light up with the glow of sunset followed quickly by the setting half moon.
The dark blue evening sky gives way to complete darkness and then the best northern lights
display of the trip. Bands of green dance and fill the sky like shifting streamers rising from the
earth. The display is enjoyed until mosquitoes come out in ferocious numbers and put a
damper on things. The biggest danger of the lower George seems like it will be avoiding
does not want to camp on sand, but the options are few and far between. He urges us to
continue, but the hour is late and the odds of finding a better site are very slim. Getting into
camp late and cooking in the dark is no fun for me, and I am in no mood to continue on to
search for Jim’s mythical “perfect site”. Some time was spent collecting wood from a clump of
trees so a fire could be made to cook the fish over. A rice dish and chocolate pudding cake
was cooked in addition to the lake trout. We discuss our odds of making the village in seven
days. I think it is possible, but eight may be more realistic. Who knows, there are lots of
factors. The hills light up with the glow of sunset followed quickly by the setting half moon.
The dark blue evening sky gives way to complete darkness and then the best northern lights
display of the trip. Bands of green dance and fill the sky like shifting streamers rising from the
earth. The display is enjoyed until mosquitoes come out in ferocious numbers and put a
damper on things. The biggest danger of the lower George seems like it will be avoiding
In a slower section Troy and I spot fins of fish rising everywhere. Just
before our lunch stop I catch a fourteen inch brook trout and release it
because the day is warm and the meat would have spoiled. The
weather is phenomenal for canoeing, with temperatures in the mid
eighties, too hot for flies and crystal clear. With just easy paddling
fifteen miles lay behind us at lunch time. Just before our stop was an
incredible section of river.
A stretch of marked rapids started in a right turn as the George River
dropped around Collines Wedge. The entire section is very fast and
runnable. All of the heavy water was snuck on river right along side
barren fields of rock. A few spruce line the river on its left side and
fluted, water worn ridges rise up on the left with snow patches and
metamorphic ledges in front of us. The river is flowing through an
amphitheater of wonder, reaching into the mountains as a ramp of huge
class II water moving at least five miles and hour. I could look at this
scenery all day long and not tire of it. The George moved back to the
left and entered a two mile long class II rapid that spilled from between
the mountains into a lake expansion.
We stopped on river right below here for a stretch and a swim. I catch a
tiny brook trout and release it back to its watery home. Our stop is at
the base of a fifteen foot pile of loose boulders tossed up by the river.
An otter swims in front of us while we are eating and hangs around for a
while. The animal dove and played while barking curiously as a warning
for us to vacate its land and move along. Basking in the sun was very
enjoyable, especially since there were no bugs, but the time came to
cover some ground.
After our rest the remainder of the flats were crossed to some outlet
rapids. The next ten to twelve miles are the fastest of the trip. Ripping
current and runnable class II sneak lines typify this section of river.
Huge waves fill the middle of the George and we even move out and
take on a few of them. The rocks below speed past as the canoes are
rocketed on a ramp through more barren scenery into a slightly wooded
valley. The whole world is on a tilt. Troy and I eddied out on river right
near the bottom of a left turn in the middle of a class II rapid. In two
casts I manage to land two twelve inch brook trout. The fish jumped
and put up a great fight and were covered with colorful speckles. Both
were released. I believe there are almost limitless numbers of trout in
the river now. A few hours earlier I caught a fifteen inch brookie on my
before our lunch stop I catch a fourteen inch brook trout and release it
because the day is warm and the meat would have spoiled. The
weather is phenomenal for canoeing, with temperatures in the mid
eighties, too hot for flies and crystal clear. With just easy paddling
fifteen miles lay behind us at lunch time. Just before our stop was an
incredible section of river.
A stretch of marked rapids started in a right turn as the George River
dropped around Collines Wedge. The entire section is very fast and
runnable. All of the heavy water was snuck on river right along side
barren fields of rock. A few spruce line the river on its left side and
fluted, water worn ridges rise up on the left with snow patches and
metamorphic ledges in front of us. The river is flowing through an
amphitheater of wonder, reaching into the mountains as a ramp of huge
class II water moving at least five miles and hour. I could look at this
scenery all day long and not tire of it. The George moved back to the
left and entered a two mile long class II rapid that spilled from between
the mountains into a lake expansion.
We stopped on river right below here for a stretch and a swim. I catch a
tiny brook trout and release it back to its watery home. Our stop is at
the base of a fifteen foot pile of loose boulders tossed up by the river.
An otter swims in front of us while we are eating and hangs around for a
while. The animal dove and played while barking curiously as a warning
for us to vacate its land and move along. Basking in the sun was very
enjoyable, especially since there were no bugs, but the time came to
cover some ground.
After our rest the remainder of the flats were crossed to some outlet
rapids. The next ten to twelve miles are the fastest of the trip. Ripping
current and runnable class II sneak lines typify this section of river.
Huge waves fill the middle of the George and we even move out and
take on a few of them. The rocks below speed past as the canoes are
rocketed on a ramp through more barren scenery into a slightly wooded
valley. The whole world is on a tilt. Troy and I eddied out on river right
near the bottom of a left turn in the middle of a class II rapid. In two
casts I manage to land two twelve inch brook trout. The fish jumped
and put up a great fight and were covered with colorful speckles. Both
were released. I believe there are almost limitless numbers of trout in
the river now. A few hours earlier I caught a fifteen inch brookie on my
I set my tent quickly, grab the survival rifle, and set out to hike up the
mountain rising behind camp. The climb is all over open rocks and
very steep. I set out at eight thirty and made my way up the five
hundred foot hill by eight forty five. Sweat is pouring from me and I
am breathing hard at the top. The view is incredible up and down the
river. From here it is clear that the water level is much lower than it is
at its maximum height because a good deal of exposed river bed can
be seen. Barren land extends for as far as the eye can see. A set of
rapids was spotted downstream that looked large even from this
vantage point. Farther up on the actual summit I spot a cairn that
must have been made by Inuit to mark the location. A short walk
brings me to the marker. The Inukshuk has a narrow base with a flat
angular stone laid flat at its top. These markers are supposed to
resemble the form of a human and I can see the resemblance. I feel
very connected to this place that seems so remote, but has been
inhabited for thousands of years by native people.
The hike was great and I found myself back in camp by nine fifteen.
The others had not motivated to prepare dinner yet so I helped make
some pasta and pesto sauce. A big bowl of pudding with dream whip
was made for dessert and Jim prepared a batch of bread for the next
few days. The time is eleven twenty eight and I have accidentally let
over fifty mosquitoes into the tent. A solid five minutes of mashing
and smearing them was required before I could get ready for bed.
Seeing the sun set from the hilltop this evening was one of the
highlights of the trip. It is to bad there has not been more time for
hiking on the lower river.
8/7
Up a little after seven to sunny and warm blue skies yet again. This
is an absolutely amazing string of weather. We paddled away from
camp and after a small lake section, six miles of fast water and rapids
came at us. The speed of the current is still unbelievable. Below
here the George runs into a longer flat water section with fish rising
all over the place, and the fisherman in us can’t resist a cast. In two
minutes both Troy and I have caught, landed, and released a few
brook trout. The rest of the morning is alternating flat and fast
sections of river. Eventually a river is met entering from the right. Its
green and aqua colored water flows separately from the darker blue
waters of the George before mixing and carrying on towards the sea.
The Pyramid Hills can be seen ahead. These mountains are
distinctively shaped with flat terraces from old ocean levels eroded
into the hills at different levels.
mountain rising behind camp. The climb is all over open rocks and
very steep. I set out at eight thirty and made my way up the five
hundred foot hill by eight forty five. Sweat is pouring from me and I
am breathing hard at the top. The view is incredible up and down the
river. From here it is clear that the water level is much lower than it is
at its maximum height because a good deal of exposed river bed can
be seen. Barren land extends for as far as the eye can see. A set of
rapids was spotted downstream that looked large even from this
vantage point. Farther up on the actual summit I spot a cairn that
must have been made by Inuit to mark the location. A short walk
brings me to the marker. The Inukshuk has a narrow base with a flat
angular stone laid flat at its top. These markers are supposed to
resemble the form of a human and I can see the resemblance. I feel
very connected to this place that seems so remote, but has been
inhabited for thousands of years by native people.
The hike was great and I found myself back in camp by nine fifteen.
The others had not motivated to prepare dinner yet so I helped make
some pasta and pesto sauce. A big bowl of pudding with dream whip
was made for dessert and Jim prepared a batch of bread for the next
few days. The time is eleven twenty eight and I have accidentally let
over fifty mosquitoes into the tent. A solid five minutes of mashing
and smearing them was required before I could get ready for bed.
Seeing the sun set from the hilltop this evening was one of the
highlights of the trip. It is to bad there has not been more time for
hiking on the lower river.
8/7
Up a little after seven to sunny and warm blue skies yet again. This
is an absolutely amazing string of weather. We paddled away from
camp and after a small lake section, six miles of fast water and rapids
came at us. The speed of the current is still unbelievable. Below
here the George runs into a longer flat water section with fish rising
all over the place, and the fisherman in us can’t resist a cast. In two
minutes both Troy and I have caught, landed, and released a few
brook trout. The rest of the morning is alternating flat and fast
sections of river. Eventually a river is met entering from the right. Its
green and aqua colored water flows separately from the darker blue
waters of the George before mixing and carrying on towards the sea.
The Pyramid Hills can be seen ahead. These mountains are
distinctively shaped with flat terraces from old ocean levels eroded
into the hills at different levels.
In three miles we reach Peter Mae’s camp on river left and Peter has
a buddy up from Moosonee to help him with his camp for a while.
These guys are all about having a good time and are the friendliest
people we have met yet. This is a great spot for a camp, with a long
flat esker serving as a runway for planes. Pete tells us that he used
to see herds of a hundred thousand caribou at a time. They are full
of stories and show us a spot in a sandy rock pile across the river
that is full of ice buried by debris during break up. The rocks and
sand act as insulation and keep the ice there all summer. He tells us
that the river has been dropping fast and that the water has gone
down two feet in the last three days, but is apparently not at its lowest
level. He does say that this stretch of calm and dry weather is
unusual for August and more typical of July. Pete thinks that the best
time of the year is June when the weather is good and the insects are
not out yet. We learn much more valuable information. The Des Pas
River can be boated from Schefferville into the George, which would
allow for very cheap and easy access to this incredible land. It
sounds like the Salmon should start to run any day now. We are told
about fast current running for the next twenty miles and given a little
advice about a few of the rapids waiting below.
After eating lunch goodbyes are exchanged before headed
downstream. Continuous fast water and easy rapids lead for what
may have been ten miles to a harder rapid. We run the first set
through a shallow shoreline route leading to the right of ledges and a
big hole. After this I spot another ledge extending out from the right
shore so an eddy is caught from which a boat scout is made. It looks
like we can run to the left of the hole while staying inside of the
largest waves. The line is narrow, but appears simple enough.
Peeling out into the fast current is a little tricky, and I have to lean the
canoe so much that its downstream gunnel almost dips into the
water. Fifty meters below here Troy and I are forced in to the center
of the river to miss the hydraulic. It quickly becomes obvious that we
are committed to running two huge waves, the first of which is
breaking. It sure looked like we were heading for a swamp and swim
from my seat in the back of the canoe, and I am sure that Troy
thought like wise. The water simply looked too big to run in an open
canoe. I yelled up to Troy to power ahead at full speed. Back
paddling to stay dry was obviously not going to work with that
breaking wave. Our boat rose nicely over the first wave but slammed
into the second, half filling us with water. Somehow we managed to
brace the canoe into a river right eddy and bail her dry. This was
real exciting and a good adrenaline rush, but certainly a situation to
avoid in the future.
More fast water follows and Troy caught two brook trout in the
current. The fish are absolutely everywhere. Not far after the rapid a
pair of Geese was spotted standing on shore. Their flight feathers
were not back yet and they decided to hide by standing perfectly still.
This interesting behavior made one of them a very easy target for
Troy, and with the
a buddy up from Moosonee to help him with his camp for a while.
These guys are all about having a good time and are the friendliest
people we have met yet. This is a great spot for a camp, with a long
flat esker serving as a runway for planes. Pete tells us that he used
to see herds of a hundred thousand caribou at a time. They are full
of stories and show us a spot in a sandy rock pile across the river
that is full of ice buried by debris during break up. The rocks and
sand act as insulation and keep the ice there all summer. He tells us
that the river has been dropping fast and that the water has gone
down two feet in the last three days, but is apparently not at its lowest
level. He does say that this stretch of calm and dry weather is
unusual for August and more typical of July. Pete thinks that the best
time of the year is June when the weather is good and the insects are
not out yet. We learn much more valuable information. The Des Pas
River can be boated from Schefferville into the George, which would
allow for very cheap and easy access to this incredible land. It
sounds like the Salmon should start to run any day now. We are told
about fast current running for the next twenty miles and given a little
advice about a few of the rapids waiting below.
After eating lunch goodbyes are exchanged before headed
downstream. Continuous fast water and easy rapids lead for what
may have been ten miles to a harder rapid. We run the first set
through a shallow shoreline route leading to the right of ledges and a
big hole. After this I spot another ledge extending out from the right
shore so an eddy is caught from which a boat scout is made. It looks
like we can run to the left of the hole while staying inside of the
largest waves. The line is narrow, but appears simple enough.
Peeling out into the fast current is a little tricky, and I have to lean the
canoe so much that its downstream gunnel almost dips into the
water. Fifty meters below here Troy and I are forced in to the center
of the river to miss the hydraulic. It quickly becomes obvious that we
are committed to running two huge waves, the first of which is
breaking. It sure looked like we were heading for a swamp and swim
from my seat in the back of the canoe, and I am sure that Troy
thought like wise. The water simply looked too big to run in an open
canoe. I yelled up to Troy to power ahead at full speed. Back
paddling to stay dry was obviously not going to work with that
breaking wave. Our boat rose nicely over the first wave but slammed
into the second, half filling us with water. Somehow we managed to
brace the canoe into a river right eddy and bail her dry. This was
real exciting and a good adrenaline rush, but certainly a situation to
avoid in the future.
More fast water follows and Troy caught two brook trout in the
current. The fish are absolutely everywhere. Not far after the rapid a
pair of Geese was spotted standing on shore. Their flight feathers
were not back yet and they decided to hide by standing perfectly still.
This interesting behavior made one of them a very easy target for
Troy, and with the
This was perhaps the single most spectacular spot of the entire trip.
The aqua blue water spills out of a range of jagged mountains, through
a spectacular gorge of falls and cascades, and over a final sheer drop
before spilling into the George. The water is so clear that tiny pebbles
can be seen at the bottom of twenty foot deep pools. I took a few casts
and caught a fourteen inch brook trout in this most incredible of places.
Initially we stopped here for a quick snack. I walked up the hill to look
at the falls and came across a flat area carpeted with moss and lichen
and saw an old fire ring. This could be the most spectacular campsite
ever. Twenty five miles have been paddled today, which helps me
convince Jim to stop here at five thirty. He is reluctant, but gives in.
Had he said he wanted to proceed I believe this would be where we
would have parted ways and sent Jim and Caroline off on their own.
Stopping here did much to improve group dynamics. I have never
been more struck by a single place and the desire to stay and explore
was overwhelming.
Fat blueberries and hairy gooseberries are everywhere. After setting
up my tent I hike up the creek and explore the series of falls. At one
point I waded across the river and scrambled over water worn ledges
and rocks to access a better view of a cascade. It looks like the water
can get to be eight feet higher in here, which would be a truly unreal
sight to behold. One forty foot sliding double falls has a pothole off to
its side that contains a lone trout stuck here when the water from spring
receded. Thousand foot mountains rise above Nutililik River, and fresh
caribou tracks are found along a trail running up the north side of the
creek. Down in the gorge I catch and release a small brook trout. This
is certainly one of the top ten most incredible places I have ever seen
on a river.
The aqua blue water spills out of a range of jagged mountains, through
a spectacular gorge of falls and cascades, and over a final sheer drop
before spilling into the George. The water is so clear that tiny pebbles
can be seen at the bottom of twenty foot deep pools. I took a few casts
and caught a fourteen inch brook trout in this most incredible of places.
Initially we stopped here for a quick snack. I walked up the hill to look
at the falls and came across a flat area carpeted with moss and lichen
and saw an old fire ring. This could be the most spectacular campsite
ever. Twenty five miles have been paddled today, which helps me
convince Jim to stop here at five thirty. He is reluctant, but gives in.
Had he said he wanted to proceed I believe this would be where we
would have parted ways and sent Jim and Caroline off on their own.
Stopping here did much to improve group dynamics. I have never
been more struck by a single place and the desire to stay and explore
was overwhelming.
Fat blueberries and hairy gooseberries are everywhere. After setting
up my tent I hike up the creek and explore the series of falls. At one
point I waded across the river and scrambled over water worn ledges
and rocks to access a better view of a cascade. It looks like the water
can get to be eight feet higher in here, which would be a truly unreal
sight to behold. One forty foot sliding double falls has a pothole off to
its side that contains a lone trout stuck here when the water from spring
receded. Thousand foot mountains rise above Nutililik River, and fresh
caribou tracks are found along a trail running up the north side of the
creek. Down in the gorge I catch and release a small brook trout. This
is certainly one of the top ten most incredible places I have ever seen
on a river.
We paddled until eight thirty and camped on river left at the top of a
sixty foot high bluff. The ground at the top of the bluff was as flat as
pool table, open, and covered in carpet like moss. The only problem
was that a steep sandy slope had to be climbed in order to reach it. A
series of cliffs lined a mountain wall behind here and there was a big
sunset over the hazy blue mountains to the north west.
Dinner was prepared down by the river so everything did not have to be
carried up the steep sandy hill. Macaroni and Cheese and a pudding
dessert was made. The menu was getting a little monotonous, but at
least there was plenty of food. From here it looks like we could reach
the village late Sunday evening or Monday if the weather holds and we
have good luck with the tides. It is now eleven fifty four and we are
turning our clocks back to Quebec time so there is no confusing
transition when the town is reached. This makes it ten fifty five.
8/9
Up to sun and more hot clear weather yet again. This stretch of perfect
weather is as remarkable as the period of rain and gloom that was
experienced in July. After breakfast I caught three small trout off of the
beach and released them all. The morning was lazy, but it felt good to
relax. The expedition is coming to a close quickly now and I wanted to
enjoy every last minute out here.
sixty foot high bluff. The ground at the top of the bluff was as flat as
pool table, open, and covered in carpet like moss. The only problem
was that a steep sandy slope had to be climbed in order to reach it. A
series of cliffs lined a mountain wall behind here and there was a big
sunset over the hazy blue mountains to the north west.
Dinner was prepared down by the river so everything did not have to be
carried up the steep sandy hill. Macaroni and Cheese and a pudding
dessert was made. The menu was getting a little monotonous, but at
least there was plenty of food. From here it looks like we could reach
the village late Sunday evening or Monday if the weather holds and we
have good luck with the tides. It is now eleven fifty four and we are
turning our clocks back to Quebec time so there is no confusing
transition when the town is reached. This makes it ten fifty five.
8/9
Up to sun and more hot clear weather yet again. This stretch of perfect
weather is as remarkable as the period of rain and gloom that was
experienced in July. After breakfast I caught three small trout off of the
beach and released them all. The morning was lazy, but it felt good to
relax. The expedition is coming to a close quickly now and I wanted to
enjoy every last minute out here.
getting sucked into big rapids by the unusually fast current. There is
the need to make time, but safety should not be jeopardized. This is a
big river that must be respected. The trip should be comfortably
completed in eight days since forty mile days do not seem to be out of
the question. It is eleven fifteen now and plans are made to be up at
seven tomorrow morning.
Far beyond my wildest thought, however, was the reality. Immediately at
the outlet the canoes were caught by the swift current and for five days
we were carried down through almost continuous rapids. There were
long stretches of miles where the slope of the river bed was a steep
gradient and I held my breath as the canoe shot down at toboggan
pace. There was not only the slope down the course of the river but
where the water swung past long points of loose rocks, which reach out
from either shore, a distinct tilt from one side to the other could be
seen, as when an engine rounds a bend. There were foaming, roaring
breakers where the river flowed over its bed of boulder shallows, or
again the water was smooth and apparently motionless even where the
slope downward was clearly marked.
8/6
Today was one of the best days I have ever had on a river. I was
awake at seven and we were in the canoes and moving by nine o’clock.
The current of the lower George River moves us under Collines Hades
with great speed and the super fast current continues, alternating with
brief flatter sections. The landscape is hilly and absolutely barren of
trees after lunch. Piles of huge boulders are lined up along the river
banks from spring floods and many ice out events. Ancient water levels
have left their mark higher up on the hillsides in the form of flat
terraces. The banks of the George are simply piles of rock deposited
by the river in massive heaps. The volume and velocity of the river is
tremendous and even a little intimidating. This may be the fastest
current that I have ever been on.
the need to make time, but safety should not be jeopardized. This is a
big river that must be respected. The trip should be comfortably
completed in eight days since forty mile days do not seem to be out of
the question. It is eleven fifteen now and plans are made to be up at
seven tomorrow morning.
Far beyond my wildest thought, however, was the reality. Immediately at
the outlet the canoes were caught by the swift current and for five days
we were carried down through almost continuous rapids. There were
long stretches of miles where the slope of the river bed was a steep
gradient and I held my breath as the canoe shot down at toboggan
pace. There was not only the slope down the course of the river but
where the water swung past long points of loose rocks, which reach out
from either shore, a distinct tilt from one side to the other could be
seen, as when an engine rounds a bend. There were foaming, roaring
breakers where the river flowed over its bed of boulder shallows, or
again the water was smooth and apparently motionless even where the
slope downward was clearly marked.
8/6
Today was one of the best days I have ever had on a river. I was
awake at seven and we were in the canoes and moving by nine o’clock.
The current of the lower George River moves us under Collines Hades
with great speed and the super fast current continues, alternating with
brief flatter sections. The landscape is hilly and absolutely barren of
trees after lunch. Piles of huge boulders are lined up along the river
banks from spring floods and many ice out events. Ancient water levels
have left their mark higher up on the hillsides in the form of flat
terraces. The banks of the George are simply piles of rock deposited
by the river in massive heaps. The volume and velocity of the river is
tremendous and even a little intimidating. This may be the fastest
current that I have ever been on.
Thomas Bouyant lure and played it in for a while before releasing it.
Jim and Caroline flew past us a while ago and we headed out to
prevent us from getting too separated.
The next rapid and stretch of fast water takes us past more amazing
hills. I am still in awe of the fast powerful current and the size of the
river that is up to three hundred meters wide in places. A swim
anywhere would be horrendous. By six thirty it is time to start
looking for a camp. There seem to be no good spots because the
shores are rock fields and away from the river are either piles of
boulders or land covered with low thick spruce. One potential site is
checked out on river right, but it is at the top of a thirty foot slope of
loose rocks and boulders that is too treacherous to climb more than
once.
After noon, more rapids and I got out above one of them to walk. I
climbed up the river wall to the high, sandy terrace above. This
great wall of packed boulders is one of the most characteristic
features of the lower river. It is thrown up by the action of ice in the
spring floods, and varies all the way from twenty feet at its
beginning to fifty and sixty feet farther down. One of the remarkable
things about it is that the largest boulders lie at the top, some of
them so huge as to weigh tons. On the terrace, moss berries and
blue berries were so thick as to make walking slippery. The river
grows more magnificent all the time. I took one photograph of the
sun's rays slanting down through a rift in the clouds, and lighting up
the mountains in the distance. I am feeling wretched over not having
more films. How I wish I had brought twice as many.
From the top of the rock heap Jim and I spot a potential open spot
on river left just upstream. The canoes are ferried to the other side
of the river and I run up the few hundred yards to scout out the site.
The spot is absolutely perfect. The ground is flat and covered with
tight moss on the edge of a stand of spruce. Mountain and river
views dominate the scenery at this little piece of heaven. The boats
are lined upstream so camp can be made here and the work is well
worth the effort.
Jim and Caroline flew past us a while ago and we headed out to
prevent us from getting too separated.
The next rapid and stretch of fast water takes us past more amazing
hills. I am still in awe of the fast powerful current and the size of the
river that is up to three hundred meters wide in places. A swim
anywhere would be horrendous. By six thirty it is time to start
looking for a camp. There seem to be no good spots because the
shores are rock fields and away from the river are either piles of
boulders or land covered with low thick spruce. One potential site is
checked out on river right, but it is at the top of a thirty foot slope of
loose rocks and boulders that is too treacherous to climb more than
once.
After noon, more rapids and I got out above one of them to walk. I
climbed up the river wall to the high, sandy terrace above. This
great wall of packed boulders is one of the most characteristic
features of the lower river. It is thrown up by the action of ice in the
spring floods, and varies all the way from twenty feet at its
beginning to fifty and sixty feet farther down. One of the remarkable
things about it is that the largest boulders lie at the top, some of
them so huge as to weigh tons. On the terrace, moss berries and
blue berries were so thick as to make walking slippery. The river
grows more magnificent all the time. I took one photograph of the
sun's rays slanting down through a rift in the clouds, and lighting up
the mountains in the distance. I am feeling wretched over not having
more films. How I wish I had brought twice as many.
From the top of the rock heap Jim and I spot a potential open spot
on river left just upstream. The canoes are ferried to the other side
of the river and I run up the few hundred yards to scout out the site.
The spot is absolutely perfect. The ground is flat and covered with
tight moss on the edge of a stand of spruce. Mountain and river
views dominate the scenery at this little piece of heaven. The boats
are lined upstream so camp can be made here and the work is well
worth the effort.
crack of the rifle a goose dinner was obtained. Shortly below here the George bends to the
right and we scout the blind corner to avoid running any other exciting rapids without seeing
them from shore first. A tight line on the right shore is run and the rapid is behind us. The
George now enters an area with bigger mountains and endless hiking opportunities. Fluted
sides, loose rock piles, hanging glacial valleys, and scenery as incredible as on the Moise but on
a larger scale greets us. The current is fast and we are covering lots of ground, so I have us
stop at the entrance of the Nutililik River.
right and we scout the blind corner to avoid running any other exciting rapids without seeing
them from shore first. A tight line on the right shore is run and the rapid is behind us. The
George now enters an area with bigger mountains and endless hiking opportunities. Fluted
sides, loose rock piles, hanging glacial valleys, and scenery as incredible as on the Moise but on
a larger scale greets us. The current is fast and we are covering lots of ground, so I have us
stop at the entrance of the Nutililik River.
For dinner we had a meal provided by the bush. Goose, trout, and
berries with rice,and a cheesecake topped with blue berries for
dessert. What a great day. Fifty five miles have been covered in two
days and only ninety five miles remain to Kangiqsuallujuaq which
should be reached by Monday. Four days from now and we will be at
the end of our trip. It is eleven forty seven and a few high clouds are
drifting overhead, hiding any northern lights display.
8/8
Getting up this morning was so hard. The sun was shining in the tent
and it was so warm. I threw my wet clothes out to dry and stayed in
bed until seven thirty. We all ate cold cereal and a candy bar for
breakfast. It was amazing to wake up and see the falls on the side
creek. This has definitely been one of the most memorable spots on
the trip.
The day starts by paddling a fast ten miles on a ramp of quickwater.
Troy catches a trout and releases it before moving into a flat section
and having lunch. I catch four or five twelve to fifteen inch brookies by
fishing off of a ledge. Three or four fish are following the lure at a
time. This is unreal. All trout caught were released. Troy lands
another. The fish are literally too easy to catch. The skies are crystal
clear again with temperatures in the eighties and a nice breeze
blowing.
The breeze blows as a tailwind for two miles of flatwater before the
river turns and we are faced with a headwind. The breeze is fought for
a while before the current picks up and helps us along again. Huge
mountains line the river and act as a wind tunnel of sorts. Barren
ledges, waterfalls, domes, and ridges stretch up and away from the
George. A person could spend an entire summer paddling and hiking
the river. Big cliffs rise up above the George now, with talus slopes
lying below them. At the end of a long straight away we break for an
hour at a rocky island, lounging around and enjoying the massive
landscape.
Some fun rapids follow for two miles before coming to a heavier pitch.
Three quarters of a mile of class II+ are paddled before the river
narrows at a ledgy constriction and the George spills through a big
rapid. A series of huge green water waves ten to fifteen feet tall
dominated the center of the rapid. We lined this drop through some
side channels on river right under the humbling mountain scenery all
around us. I took a cast in the swirling eddy below the rapid and
caught a great fifteen inch trout that put up a big fight in the heavy
current. I released it since we were near the end of the trip and had
lots of food now. There were fish absolutely everywhere in the river.
berries with rice,and a cheesecake topped with blue berries for
dessert. What a great day. Fifty five miles have been covered in two
days and only ninety five miles remain to Kangiqsuallujuaq which
should be reached by Monday. Four days from now and we will be at
the end of our trip. It is eleven forty seven and a few high clouds are
drifting overhead, hiding any northern lights display.
8/8
Getting up this morning was so hard. The sun was shining in the tent
and it was so warm. I threw my wet clothes out to dry and stayed in
bed until seven thirty. We all ate cold cereal and a candy bar for
breakfast. It was amazing to wake up and see the falls on the side
creek. This has definitely been one of the most memorable spots on
the trip.
The day starts by paddling a fast ten miles on a ramp of quickwater.
Troy catches a trout and releases it before moving into a flat section
and having lunch. I catch four or five twelve to fifteen inch brookies by
fishing off of a ledge. Three or four fish are following the lure at a
time. This is unreal. All trout caught were released. Troy lands
another. The fish are literally too easy to catch. The skies are crystal
clear again with temperatures in the eighties and a nice breeze
blowing.
The breeze blows as a tailwind for two miles of flatwater before the
river turns and we are faced with a headwind. The breeze is fought for
a while before the current picks up and helps us along again. Huge
mountains line the river and act as a wind tunnel of sorts. Barren
ledges, waterfalls, domes, and ridges stretch up and away from the
George. A person could spend an entire summer paddling and hiking
the river. Big cliffs rise up above the George now, with talus slopes
lying below them. At the end of a long straight away we break for an
hour at a rocky island, lounging around and enjoying the massive
landscape.
Some fun rapids follow for two miles before coming to a heavier pitch.
Three quarters of a mile of class II+ are paddled before the river
narrows at a ledgy constriction and the George spills through a big
rapid. A series of huge green water waves ten to fifteen feet tall
dominated the center of the rapid. We lined this drop through some
side channels on river right under the humbling mountain scenery all
around us. I took a cast in the swirling eddy below the rapid and
caught a great fifteen inch trout that put up a big fight in the heavy
current. I released it since we were near the end of the trip and had
lots of food now. There were fish absolutely everywhere in the river.
Six miles of flatwater led to Helen Falls. A kilometer of class II was
lined and run to a sandy beach above the main drop at Helen Falls.
The falls is actually a huge class V rapid that is some of the most
spectacular, potentially runnable, whitewater I have ever seen. Large
cliff lined mountains are all around us. Before starting the portage we
explore the rapid. It features a drop of thirty to fifty feet throughout its
distance. There must be a vertical ledge under there somewhere, but
the volume is so great that it makes a series of holes and waves that
are immense. One hole in particular must have a twenty foot high
foam pile.
And still the river roared on down through its narrow valley, at Helen
Falls dropping by wild and tempestuous cascades, and then by
almost equally wild rapids, to a mile below where it shoots out into an
expansion with such terrific force as to keep this great rush of water
above the general level for some distance out into the lake. Here we
made the longest portage of the journey down the George River,
carrying the stuff one and a quarter mile.
Back at the canoe a short bushwhack leads to a three foot wide
portage trail. The trail has been used for years and has been
cleared out by camp owners portaging freighter canoes upstream. All
of the bigger boats with engines on the George motored up from
Ungava Bay. Helen Falls is the only place where they have to
portaged, which is remarkable in its own right. Although the trail is
well established, the temperature is out of control hot. It is easily in
the nineties and way to hot for any insects so I made the portage in a
pair of shorts with no shirt on. At the end of the carry I jumped into
the cold water for a refreshing swim before walking up to the woods at
the edge of the river and collapsing in the shade while waiting for the
others to complete the carry.
In two miles we approached another rapid with a fishing camp on river
right. As we arrived three canoes motored downstream with fishing
clients on board, each giving a wave as it passed. Then the noise of
a floatplane taking off was heard. The plane circled and started to
cruise up the river a mere thirty feet above the water. The plane
buzzed us and we carried on our way a little overwhelmed by all of
this chaos. The trip was clearly coming to an end. A class II side
channel was run through the big ledge rapid next to the camp before
putting in to a beach.
lined and run to a sandy beach above the main drop at Helen Falls.
The falls is actually a huge class V rapid that is some of the most
spectacular, potentially runnable, whitewater I have ever seen. Large
cliff lined mountains are all around us. Before starting the portage we
explore the rapid. It features a drop of thirty to fifty feet throughout its
distance. There must be a vertical ledge under there somewhere, but
the volume is so great that it makes a series of holes and waves that
are immense. One hole in particular must have a twenty foot high
foam pile.
And still the river roared on down through its narrow valley, at Helen
Falls dropping by wild and tempestuous cascades, and then by
almost equally wild rapids, to a mile below where it shoots out into an
expansion with such terrific force as to keep this great rush of water
above the general level for some distance out into the lake. Here we
made the longest portage of the journey down the George River,
carrying the stuff one and a quarter mile.
Back at the canoe a short bushwhack leads to a three foot wide
portage trail. The trail has been used for years and has been
cleared out by camp owners portaging freighter canoes upstream. All
of the bigger boats with engines on the George motored up from
Ungava Bay. Helen Falls is the only place where they have to
portaged, which is remarkable in its own right. Although the trail is
well established, the temperature is out of control hot. It is easily in
the nineties and way to hot for any insects so I made the portage in a
pair of shorts with no shirt on. At the end of the carry I jumped into
the cold water for a refreshing swim before walking up to the woods at
the edge of the river and collapsing in the shade while waiting for the
others to complete the carry.
In two miles we approached another rapid with a fishing camp on river
right. As we arrived three canoes motored downstream with fishing
clients on board, each giving a wave as it passed. Then the noise of
a floatplane taking off was heard. The plane circled and started to
cruise up the river a mere thirty feet above the water. The plane
buzzed us and we carried on our way a little overwhelmed by all of
this chaos. The trip was clearly coming to an end. A class II side
channel was run through the big ledge rapid next to the camp before
putting in to a beach.
After landing the four of us walked up to see who was at the camp. Two guys from Maine were
the first to spot us and we tried to talk with them. These guys were thick as a brick, and it was
hard to tell if they were being unfriendly or just socially inept. After five minutes of painful
attempts to chat, the camp cook came out and invited us in. Now we were getting somewhere.
Our Yogi Bear action looked like it was going to pay off. Her name was Treena and she gave
us bread, cookies, and soup. We talked to a few clients, one from northern New York State,
who gave us cheese and sausage. After an hour we left and Jim had managed to get a pack
of cigarettes from Treena, much to his delight. Good thing those bonehead Mainers didn’t
keep us out of that kitchen.
Two more miles were paddled before stopping on river left at a shoreline beach type spot that
was dry enough to set up tents. From the maps it looked like there were only twelve miles to
cover until tidewater was reached, and only thirty miles to the town. Our plan was to come
close to the village tomorrow, figure out the tides, and paddle in on the high tide sometime
Monday. This has been a great trip, but with the end so close the desire to get there is nearly
overwhelming. The time has come for the expedition to end and everyone is so excited.
Before going into camp Troy catches three brookies for dinner, two of which are kept. Rice
and Beans are on the menu tonight. Stopping at the fishing camp was a little strange. It was
hard to socialize with ten people after being in the wilderness for forty eight days. Things are
starting to cloud up. Perhaps it will rain tomorrow. Twelve after ten now on Eastern Standard
Time.
the first to spot us and we tried to talk with them. These guys were thick as a brick, and it was
hard to tell if they were being unfriendly or just socially inept. After five minutes of painful
attempts to chat, the camp cook came out and invited us in. Now we were getting somewhere.
Our Yogi Bear action looked like it was going to pay off. Her name was Treena and she gave
us bread, cookies, and soup. We talked to a few clients, one from northern New York State,
who gave us cheese and sausage. After an hour we left and Jim had managed to get a pack
of cigarettes from Treena, much to his delight. Good thing those bonehead Mainers didn’t
keep us out of that kitchen.
Two more miles were paddled before stopping on river left at a shoreline beach type spot that
was dry enough to set up tents. From the maps it looked like there were only twelve miles to
cover until tidewater was reached, and only thirty miles to the town. Our plan was to come
close to the village tomorrow, figure out the tides, and paddle in on the high tide sometime
Monday. This has been a great trip, but with the end so close the desire to get there is nearly
overwhelming. The time has come for the expedition to end and everyone is so excited.
Before going into camp Troy catches three brookies for dinner, two of which are kept. Rice
and Beans are on the menu tonight. Stopping at the fishing camp was a little strange. It was
hard to socialize with ten people after being in the wilderness for forty eight days. Things are
starting to cloud up. Perhaps it will rain tomorrow. Twelve after ten now on Eastern Standard
Time.
Troy looks ahead and scouts the rough water that was the cause of our
concern. The rapid ended up being no problem.
concern. The rapid ended up being no problem.
The next morning brought more clear and warm weather. Here Jim and Caroline cautiously hug the shore
while approaching a blind corner that looked as though it might have hidden a large rapid.
while approaching a blind corner that looked as though it might have hidden a large rapid.
After leaving Indian House Lake the George River runs for mile after with through swifts,fastwater, and
runnable rapids as it cuts its way through a picture perfect valley.
runnable rapids as it cuts its way through a picture perfect valley.
To my surprise, I caught a bunch of nice Lake Trout in the lower stretches of the George River.
Jim and Caroline enjoy a calm section of river. As you can see here, trees were found clinging to the edge of
the river for most its distance, with barren hills all around us
the river for most its distance, with barren hills all around us
The ramp of fastwater that is the George River can be seen sliding away
around the corner and out of the picture.
around the corner and out of the picture.
The brook trout fishing on the lower George was even more spectacular than on the rest of the trip. At times
schools of trout could be seen following our lures through the clear water.
schools of trout could be seen following our lures through the clear water.
Most of our trip down the lower George felt like an actual vacation, with sunny skies, easy paddling, and great
views. Day after day of hot and dry weather is rare in the north.
views. Day after day of hot and dry weather is rare in the north.
This picture given you some idea of how overloaded my small fifteen foot Explorer was on the second half of
the trip. It felt like a toy on the massive lower George River.
the trip. It felt like a toy on the massive lower George River.
Jim and Caroline cruise along a fast stretch of river with a big barren hill behind
them.
them.
The lower George really was a ramp of fast moving water. When Mina Hubbard's used the words "Th whole
world on a tilt" to describe the last days of their journey, she was right on the mark.
world on a tilt" to describe the last days of their journey, she was right on the mark.
Jim and Caroline head down a typical stretch of the lower George River. The fast current made covering 30
miles each day a relatively easy task.
miles each day a relatively easy task.
The barrenlands along the George River are the southern harbingers of the vast tundra that lies not far to the
north, Some hardy trees manage to cling to the river edge for the entire length of the river.
north, Some hardy trees manage to cling to the river edge for the entire length of the river.
Although the river was not at its lowest when we paddled through, it was well below
spring flows. Rubble left from ice out can be seen across the river in this picture.
spring flows. Rubble left from ice out can be seen across the river in this picture.
We paddled for miles without any obstructions that required a scout or portage on the George River. This is oe
of the fastest flowing barrier free rivers I have paddled in the sub arctic.
of the fastest flowing barrier free rivers I have paddled in the sub arctic.
Campsites were often tricky to find on the lower George, but this flat bench made a great home for the
evening. The smooth ground here was covered by tiny alpine vegetation that made it like a carpet.
evening. The smooth ground here was covered by tiny alpine vegetation that made it like a carpet.
From the summit of the hill the extent of the isolation started to become apparent. Rolling hills and an almost
unfathomable emptiness spread for as far as the eye could see.
unfathomable emptiness spread for as far as the eye could see.
The hill behind our camp this evening was irresistible and I made a fast
climb before dinner and darkness.
climb before dinner and darkness.
On reaching the top of the hill, I was surprised to find that I was not alone. This Inukshuk, built by the Inuit to
resemble a human in size and form, was a reminder that this land was once more inhabited that it is today.
resemble a human in size and form, was a reminder that this land was once more inhabited that it is today.
Despite our location well north of treeline, the evening was humid and warm. I was quite overheated and
sweaty when I took this less than flattering self portrait.
sweaty when I took this less than flattering self portrait.
The lower George River can perhaps best be described as BIG. Big scenery, big river, big sky. All of these
factors combine to make paddlers feel really small.
factors combine to make paddlers feel really small.
The George was so large that we treated any larger rapid with respect. This scout showed that everything was
fine, but when all of your possesions are in the canoe you are paddling prudence is best.
fine, but when all of your possesions are in the canoe you are paddling prudence is best.
In places the terrain was quite incredible. If we had been on a more leisurely schedule there would have
been nearly endless hiking opportunities along the entire river.
been nearly endless hiking opportunities along the entire river.
Caroline and Jim get ready to peel out and run a fun set of class II rapids that led
for a mile or so around a sweeping bend in the river.
for a mile or so around a sweeping bend in the river.
Despite having the appearance of a large lake, the George moved along quickly over a cobble bottom.
Nutililik Creek dropped over many slides and falls as it ran from the mountains into the valley of the George
River. If we had had extra time I would have happily spent a day exploring upstream.
River. If we had had extra time I would have happily spent a day exploring upstream.
The campsite at the junction of Nutililik Creek and the George was one of the highlights of the trip for me.
Incredible views and an amazing creek to explore were just a few of the benefits of stopping here.
Incredible views and an amazing creek to explore were just a few of the benefits of stopping here.
The alpine views from this campsite were some of the most spectacular I have been treated to in northern
Quebec, and that is saying a lot. If you find yourself here be sure to treat the area with the respect it deserves.
Quebec, and that is saying a lot. If you find yourself here be sure to treat the area with the respect it deserves.
Despite looking really stupid and having pants tucked into my socks, I was perfectly content at this most
perfect of campsites.
perfect of campsites.
Troy fishes in the aqua colored waters of Nutililik Creek in the early evening hours.
The evening's dinner was provided entirely by the country and features goose, brook trout, and wild
blueberries, which were so prolific that we gathered this bowl full in about two minutes.
blueberries, which were so prolific that we gathered this bowl full in about two minutes.
If I could have picked one day on the trip that never ended, it would have been the one that brought us here.
Perhaps we were getting nostalgic as the trip drew to an end, but this spot had a certain power to it.
Perhaps we were getting nostalgic as the trip drew to an end, but this spot had a certain power to it.
A typical scene on the lower George; clear skies, fast water, and barren hills.
One of the two rapids that we could not paddle on the lower river was easily lined. It looks small in this
picture, but the waves in the main current are huge.
picture, but the waves in the main current are huge.
Troy stands on a large clay beach some fifty feet below the level bench where we decided to camp for the
evening.
evening.
Caroline and Jim scout the entrance to Hellen Falls, a massive class V rapid that is the only mandatory
portage for canoes navigating the lower George River.
portage for canoes navigating the lower George River.
This side channel of the river featured a giant hydraulic and marked the start of the long portage around this
obstacle.
obstacle.
We enjoyed the sights at Hellen Falls, but were eager to get on with our trip.
Tidewater lay not far away and we were eager to complete our journey.
Tidewater lay not far away and we were eager to complete our journey.
Nutililik Creek enters the George River in one of the most picturesque places
imaginable. Catching this nice brook trout here was a special moment.
imaginable. Catching this nice brook trout here was a special moment.
There were not many times during the summer when I missed kayaking, but
looking at this perfectly clean, never run 25 footer was definitely one of them.
looking at this perfectly clean, never run 25 footer was definitely one of them.
We rested under these magnificent mountains as our epic journey across
Labrador and Quebec neared its end. Just when the trip was finally starting to feel
like a vacation it was drawing to an end!
Labrador and Quebec neared its end. Just when the trip was finally starting to feel
like a vacation it was drawing to an end!
Had we been on the opposite side of the river we probably could have paddled
the big rapid, but as it was we were happy to line through the rocks.
the big rapid, but as it was we were happy to line through the rocks.
Big whitewater continued for a few kilometers below the main drop at Hellen
Falls.
Falls.