Smallwood Reservoir
7/21/2003 - 7/26/2003
The 80 miles of open water paddling on Smallwood Reservoir made me
more nervous than any other part of our expedition. This lake is like an
inland sea and has the potential to be whipped into a mess of ocean
sized swells be the prevailing northwesterly winds. Natives were
routinely kept from traveling for weeks at a time by rough conditions. All
we could do was hope for the best.
Resupplied and joined by our member, Caroline Scully, our team
headed out into the big blue eager to be traveling again. As luck would
have it, the huge lake let us pass in four days. Even with the calm
conditions that graced our passage, there were a few exciting moments.
Still, what I will remember the most, are the few incredible periods when
the massive body of water became totally still. At times the surface of
the lake was so calm that it looked like a mirror and it felt as though
Hubbard's spirit was watching over us.
7/21/2003 - 7/26/2003
The 80 miles of open water paddling on Smallwood Reservoir made me
more nervous than any other part of our expedition. This lake is like an
inland sea and has the potential to be whipped into a mess of ocean
sized swells be the prevailing northwesterly winds. Natives were
routinely kept from traveling for weeks at a time by rough conditions. All
we could do was hope for the best.
Resupplied and joined by our member, Caroline Scully, our team
headed out into the big blue eager to be traveling again. As luck would
have it, the huge lake let us pass in four days. Even with the calm
conditions that graced our passage, there were a few exciting moments.
Still, what I will remember the most, are the few incredible periods when
the massive body of water became totally still. At times the surface of
the lake was so calm that it looked like a mirror and it felt as though
Hubbard's spirit was watching over us.
Expedition Journal
7/21
Our first whole day on Michikamau saw the team making twelve miles at
the most. Incredible lake. It was a great day in terms of what I saw
despite the lack of any major progress. Group dynamics all messed up
now. To cross the lake successfully we need to be paddling in the
morning and evening when it is calm out, and this is not happening. The
fact that this is the first real issue of group dynamics is truly remarkable.
We are a very tight group and I can not speak enough about the skills
and determination of everyone involved. The bonds we have made on
this trip are more powerful than any disagreement we could have on the
water.
Did not get paddling until ten this morning. By this time a headwind was
already building and storms were scattered all around. Dark clouds and
even a lightning strike spotted to the north. Sheets of rain can be seen
falling from a dark cloud to our south. Amazingly, we are able to slip
between the storms for now. The swells being kicked up by the breeze
are not huge, but their close spacing gets enough water into our low
canoe to require bailing. Troy and I out paddle Jim and Caroline, so we
switch bow partners and I paddle with Caroline. This works well because
my boat is lighter and I paddle harder.
Our first whole day on Michikamau saw the team making twelve miles at
the most. Incredible lake. It was a great day in terms of what I saw
despite the lack of any major progress. Group dynamics all messed up
now. To cross the lake successfully we need to be paddling in the
morning and evening when it is calm out, and this is not happening. The
fact that this is the first real issue of group dynamics is truly remarkable.
We are a very tight group and I can not speak enough about the skills
and determination of everyone involved. The bonds we have made on
this trip are more powerful than any disagreement we could have on the
water.
Did not get paddling until ten this morning. By this time a headwind was
already building and storms were scattered all around. Dark clouds and
even a lightning strike spotted to the north. Sheets of rain can be seen
falling from a dark cloud to our south. Amazingly, we are able to slip
between the storms for now. The swells being kicked up by the breeze
are not huge, but their close spacing gets enough water into our low
canoe to require bailing. Troy and I out paddle Jim and Caroline, so we
switch bow partners and I paddle with Caroline. This works well because
my boat is lighter and I paddle harder.
The end of the southeast arm of Smallwood is reached and we are forced to pull over at a
point to wait out an approaching storm from shore. The wind builds and a tarp is set up for
cover in a dense stand of spruce that block the wind and the cold. The rain blows through
quickly and the lake is kicked up but paddleable. However, Jim sleeps under the tarp refusing
to move. Eventually he gets motivated and makes his way back to the boat. Meanwhile, I
photograph amazing swirly metamorphic rocks and some pink flowered fireweed. The array of
rocks exposed on shore from the low lake level is remarkable.
Paddling at three forty five and make a rough two mile crossing that is the largest mandatory
crossing of the reservoir paddle. Big rolling swells come in and break on rocky islands and
bars a few hundred yards to the right of the canoes. This type of travel requires constant
attention to keep the canoe at a proper angle to prevent it from being slapped by a wave and
swamped. The side wind does not completely shut us down and the swells are spaced enough
so we can avoid swamping and dumping into the cold water. A point is reached and we pull in
to check what is ahead. The land here is open with widely scattered trees on a prominent hill.
The area has a very clean look, much like that of a state park. I walk to the top of a hill and
look out over this majestic lake. Endless water can be seen to the west beyond a string of
islands and more barren ground to the north. The ground is covered with blueberry plants still
in the flower stage. While walking back I see white against a rock and think it might be a
Caribou antler or a bone. Closer inspection shows it is an antler, which I am happy to take
along. This is the first antler I have ever found. Reviewing the journals shows that Mina
Hubbard also dealt with some rough conditions on Michikamau.
During the afternoon there was more wind, and the lake grew rougher. It was fine to see the
way the men managed the canoes. Sometimes we seemed almost to lose ourselves in the
trough of the big waves, but there was not a dipper of water taken in. There was a head wind
and hard paddling for a time, but towards evening it grew calmer, and the lake became very
beautiful.
Cook mac n’ cheese on the rocky beach and rest until the afternoon winds die and the lake
calms down around seven or thereabouts. While doing dishes and packing up food a large
black bear is spotted three hundred meters away and walking towards us. Binoculars show
that it has a white patch of fur on its chest. Over the next few minutes the bruin ambled along
the shore and approached us, carefully sniffing the air around him between steps. This is the
first time I have seen a bear approach humans with such a nonchalant attitude.
The time has come to decide if this should be our home for the evening, or if we should
continue paddling too take advantage of the paddling conditions. Troy and I want to paddle to
escape the bear and make miles while conditions are good. The lake is calm, but Jim
disagrees and says that it is not. His argument is ludicrous. Any conditions that allow us to
move should be considered favorable. We paddle for an hour or so before Jim wants to
camp. I can not believe time is being wasted when we could be paddling the lake in calm
conditions. Anyhow, the campsite is awesome. We are at the base of a fifty foot high barren
point to wait out an approaching storm from shore. The wind builds and a tarp is set up for
cover in a dense stand of spruce that block the wind and the cold. The rain blows through
quickly and the lake is kicked up but paddleable. However, Jim sleeps under the tarp refusing
to move. Eventually he gets motivated and makes his way back to the boat. Meanwhile, I
photograph amazing swirly metamorphic rocks and some pink flowered fireweed. The array of
rocks exposed on shore from the low lake level is remarkable.
Paddling at three forty five and make a rough two mile crossing that is the largest mandatory
crossing of the reservoir paddle. Big rolling swells come in and break on rocky islands and
bars a few hundred yards to the right of the canoes. This type of travel requires constant
attention to keep the canoe at a proper angle to prevent it from being slapped by a wave and
swamped. The side wind does not completely shut us down and the swells are spaced enough
so we can avoid swamping and dumping into the cold water. A point is reached and we pull in
to check what is ahead. The land here is open with widely scattered trees on a prominent hill.
The area has a very clean look, much like that of a state park. I walk to the top of a hill and
look out over this majestic lake. Endless water can be seen to the west beyond a string of
islands and more barren ground to the north. The ground is covered with blueberry plants still
in the flower stage. While walking back I see white against a rock and think it might be a
Caribou antler or a bone. Closer inspection shows it is an antler, which I am happy to take
along. This is the first antler I have ever found. Reviewing the journals shows that Mina
Hubbard also dealt with some rough conditions on Michikamau.
During the afternoon there was more wind, and the lake grew rougher. It was fine to see the
way the men managed the canoes. Sometimes we seemed almost to lose ourselves in the
trough of the big waves, but there was not a dipper of water taken in. There was a head wind
and hard paddling for a time, but towards evening it grew calmer, and the lake became very
beautiful.
Cook mac n’ cheese on the rocky beach and rest until the afternoon winds die and the lake
calms down around seven or thereabouts. While doing dishes and packing up food a large
black bear is spotted three hundred meters away and walking towards us. Binoculars show
that it has a white patch of fur on its chest. Over the next few minutes the bruin ambled along
the shore and approached us, carefully sniffing the air around him between steps. This is the
first time I have seen a bear approach humans with such a nonchalant attitude.
The time has come to decide if this should be our home for the evening, or if we should
continue paddling too take advantage of the paddling conditions. Troy and I want to paddle to
escape the bear and make miles while conditions are good. The lake is calm, but Jim
disagrees and says that it is not. His argument is ludicrous. Any conditions that allow us to
move should be considered favorable. We paddle for an hour or so before Jim wants to
camp. I can not believe time is being wasted when we could be paddling the lake in calm
conditions. Anyhow, the campsite is awesome. We are at the base of a fifty foot high barren
knoll. From the top the huge expanse of this body of water can start to be
conceived. There is a very, very big sky. It seems like the curvature of
the earth is even noticeable. Our route to the north is stretched out
before us.
The lake is very calm now (10:36 pm). Things should still be calm in the
morning, but I am certain that time will be wasted. We need to hope for a
few rare occasions where there is no wind all day, or else there will be
problems getting off of this lake. Although I do not agree with our daily
schedule, the lake will be completed at some point. I am trying not to let
the pacing of things bother me, although there may have to be a group
discussion soon. I think that Troy is with me on the matter of the daily
routine. It would be great to have extra time on the George River. Since
Jim is the one on a schedule it seems odd that he is not concerned about
making it off of the reservoir. The days are noticeably shorter now. It is
our twenty eighth day out of Northwest River Post and I may get up to look
for northern lights tonight.
7/22
Miraculous day. God was certainly with us. Troy and I are out of the tents
by eight in the morning, packed and ready to go within a half hour. I
cooked oatmeal for breakfast and ate one of the Power Bars that mom
gave me in the resupply. While Jim and Caroline slept, Troy and I
explored the hill behind out campsite. It was covered with blueberry
bushes and a lone Tamarack. The berries are still unripe green balls. I
went to the bathroom up on the hill where a light breeze did an acceptably
good job of keeping insects away for a while.
conceived. There is a very, very big sky. It seems like the curvature of
the earth is even noticeable. Our route to the north is stretched out
before us.
The lake is very calm now (10:36 pm). Things should still be calm in the
morning, but I am certain that time will be wasted. We need to hope for a
few rare occasions where there is no wind all day, or else there will be
problems getting off of this lake. Although I do not agree with our daily
schedule, the lake will be completed at some point. I am trying not to let
the pacing of things bother me, although there may have to be a group
discussion soon. I think that Troy is with me on the matter of the daily
routine. It would be great to have extra time on the George River. Since
Jim is the one on a schedule it seems odd that he is not concerned about
making it off of the reservoir. The days are noticeably shorter now. It is
our twenty eighth day out of Northwest River Post and I may get up to look
for northern lights tonight.
7/22
Miraculous day. God was certainly with us. Troy and I are out of the tents
by eight in the morning, packed and ready to go within a half hour. I
cooked oatmeal for breakfast and ate one of the Power Bars that mom
gave me in the resupply. While Jim and Caroline slept, Troy and I
explored the hill behind out campsite. It was covered with blueberry
bushes and a lone Tamarack. The berries are still unripe green balls. I
went to the bathroom up on the hill where a light breeze did an acceptably
good job of keeping insects away for a while.
I followed a Caribou trail inland for a ways and heard a clucking noise in a tree off to my left.
A quick search showed a Ruffed Grouse sitting in a clump of spruce. I tell Troy and we head
back to photograph the bird. We are able to creep to within five feet of the Grouse, which is
sitting at head level in the tree. This would have been easy game to take with the .410, but
the expedition is all set with food for the time being. It’s a lucky day for that grouse.
Jim and Caroline are still eating breakfast when we return at ten. They called the Canadian
Broadcasting Company on the satellite phone and have set up a phone interview for eleven
that will be aired on public radio. It is nice they are taking care of this. It will be nice to get
word of the expedition out. I just don’t understand why we can’t get going and make the call
from the canoe later in the day.
Paddling by eleven forty five finally. The headwind is pretty strong by this time and we paddle
hard to make the first three miles. Rest and eat lunch on a rocky point. The wind calms
during this rest and the next four miles are good going. Stop again at a deep channel with a
high bald hill to our east. I fish the deep channel with a spinner bait and after thirty casts land
a laker. I played the fish for a few minutes and find it weighs around two pounds when I land
it, which is small, but still good eating.
After the rest it is more paddling in calming conditions. In an hour the lake starts to turn to
glass. Barren hills still rise up to the east. To see a body of water as large as Smallwood
glass out is amazing. The swells settle to ripples, the sound of the breakwater on shore
stops, and the day becomes placid. By six the lake was almost perfect glass. Eight miles are
covered in what seems like no time with very little effort. It almost seems like a current has
set up to help move us along. The low sun makes me very happy I remembered to pack
sunglasses. As the sun sets the lake grows even calmer. You can see for miles now. High
land rises up to the north and west. We will have to swing around these highlands tomorrow
before heading due north again. Troy catches a small one to two pound laker and all of a
sudden we have a great dinner supplement.
Since the conditions are so favorable we make a mile and a half open water crossing that
saves us from paddling four miles of shore. It is late but we keep paddling. “Can’t pass on
glass.” is a good slogan for being on big lakes. As the sun sets the lake turns an amazing
aqua blue and the clouds ripple away to the west radiating a delicate purple and pink color
with the yellow sunset behind them. Pinkish hazy clouds hang behind us to the south. This is
surreal lighting. It is one of the greatest displays of color I have ever seen and it is amazing
to have it all to ourselves. I feel like I am paddling in another world altogether.
We made twenty miles today due to the good fortune of having perfect conditions at the end
of the day. In camp at ten thirty and setting up tents in the last of the long twilight. Made a
big driftwood fire on the rocks to cook fish over. Also have beans and rice with pudding.
Around midnight the northern sky grows bright and bands of green northern lights shimmer
and wave while loons call on the clam lake. There is not a stir of wind. Another twenty mile
day would put us in great position, but we could still be wind bound at any moment.
Compromise with Jim and agree to try to wake up at eight tomorrow morning. At best we will
be on the water by ten. Jim is very selfish in this regard. At least there were better group
dynamics today. This was an incredible afternoon on the water.
We are nearing the northern end of Michikamau and will paddle into Lake Michikamats either
late tomorrow or the day after. Clouds building to the south may mean rain tomorrow. Puffy
clouds built over the sun heated land today, but none made their way over the cold clear
water of the lake. The expedition is in a good position, with twenty to twenty three days of
food remaining. This ocean like body of water has been very kind to us so far. Now eleven
eighteen pm. Will sleep. Maybe climb the three hundred foot hill behind camp tomorrow
morning if it is nice out.
A quick search showed a Ruffed Grouse sitting in a clump of spruce. I tell Troy and we head
back to photograph the bird. We are able to creep to within five feet of the Grouse, which is
sitting at head level in the tree. This would have been easy game to take with the .410, but
the expedition is all set with food for the time being. It’s a lucky day for that grouse.
Jim and Caroline are still eating breakfast when we return at ten. They called the Canadian
Broadcasting Company on the satellite phone and have set up a phone interview for eleven
that will be aired on public radio. It is nice they are taking care of this. It will be nice to get
word of the expedition out. I just don’t understand why we can’t get going and make the call
from the canoe later in the day.
Paddling by eleven forty five finally. The headwind is pretty strong by this time and we paddle
hard to make the first three miles. Rest and eat lunch on a rocky point. The wind calms
during this rest and the next four miles are good going. Stop again at a deep channel with a
high bald hill to our east. I fish the deep channel with a spinner bait and after thirty casts land
a laker. I played the fish for a few minutes and find it weighs around two pounds when I land
it, which is small, but still good eating.
After the rest it is more paddling in calming conditions. In an hour the lake starts to turn to
glass. Barren hills still rise up to the east. To see a body of water as large as Smallwood
glass out is amazing. The swells settle to ripples, the sound of the breakwater on shore
stops, and the day becomes placid. By six the lake was almost perfect glass. Eight miles are
covered in what seems like no time with very little effort. It almost seems like a current has
set up to help move us along. The low sun makes me very happy I remembered to pack
sunglasses. As the sun sets the lake grows even calmer. You can see for miles now. High
land rises up to the north and west. We will have to swing around these highlands tomorrow
before heading due north again. Troy catches a small one to two pound laker and all of a
sudden we have a great dinner supplement.
Since the conditions are so favorable we make a mile and a half open water crossing that
saves us from paddling four miles of shore. It is late but we keep paddling. “Can’t pass on
glass.” is a good slogan for being on big lakes. As the sun sets the lake turns an amazing
aqua blue and the clouds ripple away to the west radiating a delicate purple and pink color
with the yellow sunset behind them. Pinkish hazy clouds hang behind us to the south. This is
surreal lighting. It is one of the greatest displays of color I have ever seen and it is amazing
to have it all to ourselves. I feel like I am paddling in another world altogether.
We made twenty miles today due to the good fortune of having perfect conditions at the end
of the day. In camp at ten thirty and setting up tents in the last of the long twilight. Made a
big driftwood fire on the rocks to cook fish over. Also have beans and rice with pudding.
Around midnight the northern sky grows bright and bands of green northern lights shimmer
and wave while loons call on the clam lake. There is not a stir of wind. Another twenty mile
day would put us in great position, but we could still be wind bound at any moment.
Compromise with Jim and agree to try to wake up at eight tomorrow morning. At best we will
be on the water by ten. Jim is very selfish in this regard. At least there were better group
dynamics today. This was an incredible afternoon on the water.
We are nearing the northern end of Michikamau and will paddle into Lake Michikamats either
late tomorrow or the day after. Clouds building to the south may mean rain tomorrow. Puffy
clouds built over the sun heated land today, but none made their way over the cold clear
water of the lake. The expedition is in a good position, with twenty to twenty three days of
food remaining. This ocean like body of water has been very kind to us so far. Now eleven
eighteen pm. Will sleep. Maybe climb the three hundred foot hill behind camp tomorrow
morning if it is nice out.
7/23
Another incredibly lucky day on Smallwood. Maybe Hubbard is looking out
for us. I woke up at seven thirty to glass conditions on the lake.
Mosquitoes and flies were moderate in the woods, but out on the rocky
beach they were not so bad. There was not a cloud in the sky. The sun is
already up and very strong. Sunglasses, chap stick, and sun block go on
immediately. I prepared a Tortellini breakfast and boiled water for Jim’s
coffee to speed up the morning process. The glassy conditions and vast
expanse of flat water make odd mirages. Islands over fifteen miles away
appear inverted and floating above the horizon. This is bizarre. Maybe it
has something to do with the reflections of the mountains on the water.
Mina Hubbard’s journal from her 1905 expedition tells of a similar
experience she had, and explains some of her worries which where much
the same then as ours are now.
Next morning I rose early. It was cloudy but calm, and Michikamau was like
a pond. How I wondered what fortune would be ours in the voyage on this
big water. The canoes seemed so tiny here.
I fish a spinner bait after breakfast from a ledgy point. On the second cast
a five pound laker is hooked that put up a great fight. I reeled him in to
shore before the fish made a run out. I walked the fish into the shallows
and was ready to release it when it shook free. A few more casts
produces a twenty four inch, four pound laker. I watch the fish follow my
lure to within five feet of shore in the clear cold water. Another great fight
is had with lots of jumping and spinning. I am able to land and release the
fish with only minor gill damage. The lake trout swam away after a brief
rest.
The day has already been great and we haven’t even gone anywhere yet.
The team paddles out and makes a five mile crossing. This crossing will
save us a few miles of paddling along the shore and save an hour or two.
We are heading for what appears to be an open channel between two
islands. During the crossing a light breeze began to stir and Troy and
myself easily outdistanced Jim and Caroline. Our boat reached shore
about twenty minutes before the other canoe. As the other boat
approached we noticed that it was not coming towards us, but instead
heading to another passage between the islands that lay in front of us.
This was infuriating because it is best to stay together. In order to do so
we would need to back track a half kilometer. When Troy and I joined the
other tandem crew for lunch, he mentioned that he was frustrated with
always having to do what Jim wanted. There was some tension for the
next few days, but we still enjoyed each others company. Its not really
possible to be isolated in a group of three or four people for fifty days
without any arguments.
After lunch we found ourselves in a narrower northerly bay of Michikamau.
It was still five miles wide and thirty five miles long, but at least we no
longer had to deal with the ocean like expanse of the main lake. The
Petskapiskau Hills rose isolated and majestic to our west. These hills were
a spiritual place for the natives that inhabited this land as recently as fifty
years ago. We are in the land of the Innu people, the group of natives
that inhabited this area well into the 20th century. The fact is that the
Innu, not to be confused with the Inuit, were one of the last native groups
to be assimilated into western culture in North America. An expert from the
website http://www.cqsb.qc.ca/svs/434/fninnu.htm, produced by the Innu
tribal counsel provides a beautiful explanation of their history.
Approximately 16,000 Innu (formerly known as Montagnais or Naskapi)
inhabit Nitassinan (eastern Quebec and Labrador). They are based in 13
different communities - Utshimassit, Sheshatshiu, Pakuashipi, La Romaine,
Natashquan, Mingan, Uashat, Maliotenam, Betsiamites, Les Escoumins,
Mashteuiatsh, Schefferville, and Kawawachikamach.
According to Innu oral tradition, the world is an island created by wolverine
and muskrat after a great flood. The Innu, however, came from another
land situated to the southeast called Tshishtashkamuku which is
connected to the world by a narrow bridge.
The archaeological record shows that Labrador and eastern Quebec were
inhabitated more than 8,000 years ago. The first people to live in the
territory are called Maritime Archaic Indians and their remains can be
found all along the coast of Labrador as far north as Saglek Bay. Whether
the Innu people are related to these early residents has not yet been
determined. But one thing is clear - the Innu and their ancestors have
occupied Labrador and eastern Quebec for a minimum of two thousand
years. Archaeologists say the Innu descended from the "Point Revenge
Indians." Point Revenge sites have been found in many parts of Labrador
including Voisey's Bay and the Meshikamass area north of Churchill Falls.
Another incredibly lucky day on Smallwood. Maybe Hubbard is looking out
for us. I woke up at seven thirty to glass conditions on the lake.
Mosquitoes and flies were moderate in the woods, but out on the rocky
beach they were not so bad. There was not a cloud in the sky. The sun is
already up and very strong. Sunglasses, chap stick, and sun block go on
immediately. I prepared a Tortellini breakfast and boiled water for Jim’s
coffee to speed up the morning process. The glassy conditions and vast
expanse of flat water make odd mirages. Islands over fifteen miles away
appear inverted and floating above the horizon. This is bizarre. Maybe it
has something to do with the reflections of the mountains on the water.
Mina Hubbard’s journal from her 1905 expedition tells of a similar
experience she had, and explains some of her worries which where much
the same then as ours are now.
Next morning I rose early. It was cloudy but calm, and Michikamau was like
a pond. How I wondered what fortune would be ours in the voyage on this
big water. The canoes seemed so tiny here.
I fish a spinner bait after breakfast from a ledgy point. On the second cast
a five pound laker is hooked that put up a great fight. I reeled him in to
shore before the fish made a run out. I walked the fish into the shallows
and was ready to release it when it shook free. A few more casts
produces a twenty four inch, four pound laker. I watch the fish follow my
lure to within five feet of shore in the clear cold water. Another great fight
is had with lots of jumping and spinning. I am able to land and release the
fish with only minor gill damage. The lake trout swam away after a brief
rest.
The day has already been great and we haven’t even gone anywhere yet.
The team paddles out and makes a five mile crossing. This crossing will
save us a few miles of paddling along the shore and save an hour or two.
We are heading for what appears to be an open channel between two
islands. During the crossing a light breeze began to stir and Troy and
myself easily outdistanced Jim and Caroline. Our boat reached shore
about twenty minutes before the other canoe. As the other boat
approached we noticed that it was not coming towards us, but instead
heading to another passage between the islands that lay in front of us.
This was infuriating because it is best to stay together. In order to do so
we would need to back track a half kilometer. When Troy and I joined the
other tandem crew for lunch, he mentioned that he was frustrated with
always having to do what Jim wanted. There was some tension for the
next few days, but we still enjoyed each others company. Its not really
possible to be isolated in a group of three or four people for fifty days
without any arguments.
After lunch we found ourselves in a narrower northerly bay of Michikamau.
It was still five miles wide and thirty five miles long, but at least we no
longer had to deal with the ocean like expanse of the main lake. The
Petskapiskau Hills rose isolated and majestic to our west. These hills were
a spiritual place for the natives that inhabited this land as recently as fifty
years ago. We are in the land of the Innu people, the group of natives
that inhabited this area well into the 20th century. The fact is that the
Innu, not to be confused with the Inuit, were one of the last native groups
to be assimilated into western culture in North America. An expert from the
website http://www.cqsb.qc.ca/svs/434/fninnu.htm, produced by the Innu
tribal counsel provides a beautiful explanation of their history.
Approximately 16,000 Innu (formerly known as Montagnais or Naskapi)
inhabit Nitassinan (eastern Quebec and Labrador). They are based in 13
different communities - Utshimassit, Sheshatshiu, Pakuashipi, La Romaine,
Natashquan, Mingan, Uashat, Maliotenam, Betsiamites, Les Escoumins,
Mashteuiatsh, Schefferville, and Kawawachikamach.
According to Innu oral tradition, the world is an island created by wolverine
and muskrat after a great flood. The Innu, however, came from another
land situated to the southeast called Tshishtashkamuku which is
connected to the world by a narrow bridge.
The archaeological record shows that Labrador and eastern Quebec were
inhabitated more than 8,000 years ago. The first people to live in the
territory are called Maritime Archaic Indians and their remains can be
found all along the coast of Labrador as far north as Saglek Bay. Whether
the Innu people are related to these early residents has not yet been
determined. But one thing is clear - the Innu and their ancestors have
occupied Labrador and eastern Quebec for a minimum of two thousand
years. Archaeologists say the Innu descended from the "Point Revenge
Indians." Point Revenge sites have been found in many parts of Labrador
including Voisey's Bay and the Meshikamass area north of Churchill Falls.
At the time of contact with Europeans, the Innu had established an extensive trading network
throughout the Quebec-Labador peninsula. Ramah chert, a strong quartz material from
Ramah Bay, Labador, was exchanged in one direction, and pottery and other products in the
other direction. The caribou herds of the peninsula supplied the Innu with clothing, tent
covers, babiche for their snowshoes, tools, as well as meat. The caribou also nourished the
Innu spiritually. To this day, the caribou master is the most important of all the spirits in the
Innu religion, to whom great respect must be shown. This respect is shown is various ways
including the communal feast known as makushan and the disposal of caribou bones in the
fire or on scaffolds.
A few elders from Davis Inlet remember the days when caribou were speared from canoes as
they crossed the George River. They remember living in mitshaupa (teepees) and when such
dwellings were heated by open fires on a hearth in the tent. They remember hunting partridge
with bow and arrow, and wearing caribou-hide clothing.
Since the mid-1970s, the Innu Nation has been recording the history of their people on maps.
These maps show travel routes, camp sites, burials, birth locations, harvest areas for caribou
and other wildlife, locations of mythological significance, caribou migration routes and other
details. The maps also record Innu names for many of the lakes and rivers in Labrador and
eastern Quebec. Some of these names are recorded on Canadian government maps. For
example, Minipi Lake located south of Goose Bay, is an anglisized version of the Innu name
Minai-nipi, meaning "Burbot Lake." Innu elders can describe their lives on the land with the
assistance of Innu placenames. They are further proof that Labrador and eastern Quebec
are not a "wilderness" but a cultural landscape that the Innu have left their mark on for
numerous generations.
To the Innu, the land is their history, their culture, and their future. It is like a bank, a
storehouse of wildlife, that has sustained them for generations, and which, they hope, will
continue to provide for them in future years. Tshishe-manitu gave the Innu a special custodial
responsibility towards the territory and its resources, which partly explains why environmental
protection features so strongly in the Innu Nation's response to resource exploitation on their
lands.
The arrival of Europeans disrupted Innu history in many ways. Their integration into the fur
trade made them increasingly dependent on the Hudson's Bay Company and other
merchants. The traders tried to manipulate them so as to "attach" them in one way or the
other to various trading posts. Missionaries tried to manipulate them as well to get them to
abandon their religion and to try to "civilize" them into the mainstream of the industrial society.
In the late 1800s, non-Innu trappers invaded some of the best Innu trapping regions which
contributed to the economic hardship of the Innu.
throughout the Quebec-Labador peninsula. Ramah chert, a strong quartz material from
Ramah Bay, Labador, was exchanged in one direction, and pottery and other products in the
other direction. The caribou herds of the peninsula supplied the Innu with clothing, tent
covers, babiche for their snowshoes, tools, as well as meat. The caribou also nourished the
Innu spiritually. To this day, the caribou master is the most important of all the spirits in the
Innu religion, to whom great respect must be shown. This respect is shown is various ways
including the communal feast known as makushan and the disposal of caribou bones in the
fire or on scaffolds.
A few elders from Davis Inlet remember the days when caribou were speared from canoes as
they crossed the George River. They remember living in mitshaupa (teepees) and when such
dwellings were heated by open fires on a hearth in the tent. They remember hunting partridge
with bow and arrow, and wearing caribou-hide clothing.
Since the mid-1970s, the Innu Nation has been recording the history of their people on maps.
These maps show travel routes, camp sites, burials, birth locations, harvest areas for caribou
and other wildlife, locations of mythological significance, caribou migration routes and other
details. The maps also record Innu names for many of the lakes and rivers in Labrador and
eastern Quebec. Some of these names are recorded on Canadian government maps. For
example, Minipi Lake located south of Goose Bay, is an anglisized version of the Innu name
Minai-nipi, meaning "Burbot Lake." Innu elders can describe their lives on the land with the
assistance of Innu placenames. They are further proof that Labrador and eastern Quebec
are not a "wilderness" but a cultural landscape that the Innu have left their mark on for
numerous generations.
To the Innu, the land is their history, their culture, and their future. It is like a bank, a
storehouse of wildlife, that has sustained them for generations, and which, they hope, will
continue to provide for them in future years. Tshishe-manitu gave the Innu a special custodial
responsibility towards the territory and its resources, which partly explains why environmental
protection features so strongly in the Innu Nation's response to resource exploitation on their
lands.
The arrival of Europeans disrupted Innu history in many ways. Their integration into the fur
trade made them increasingly dependent on the Hudson's Bay Company and other
merchants. The traders tried to manipulate them so as to "attach" them in one way or the
other to various trading posts. Missionaries tried to manipulate them as well to get them to
abandon their religion and to try to "civilize" them into the mainstream of the industrial society.
In the late 1800s, non-Innu trappers invaded some of the best Innu trapping regions which
contributed to the economic hardship of the Innu.
The worst impact of European presence, however, was disease. At the turn
of the century, the Innu were still being hit by several European diseases.
In 1918, 40 Innu died of smallpox and are buried in the Voisey's Bay area.
Spanish flu, tuberculosis, syphillis, scarlet fever, whooping cough, measles
and other diseases took a horrible toll and reduced the Innu population by
as much as two-thirds. A Canadian government ethnologist by the name of
Frederick Waugh reported in the 1920s that the Innu population at
Voisey's Bay had fallen from about 250 to 75 people in the space of 8
years as a result of disease. The crossed-out names of dead people in
family trees of all Innu people in Labrador reflect the impact of disease and
the extremely high mortality rates they experienced just a few decades ago.
By the 1940s and 50s, the Innu were in a desparate situation. The fur
trade had collapsed, and the industrial society had expanded into more of
their harvesting areas. For example, the iron ore mines in Schefferville,
Labrador City and Wabush, the shipping terminus at Sept-Iles, and the
military base at Goose Bay alienated vast quantities of land from the Innu
even though no treaty had been concluded with them. Tuberculosis was
still a major scurge and starvation was a frequent threat.
While the federal and provincial governments were eager to settle the Innu
in coastal communities so as to assimilate them into the mainstream of
Canadian society, the the Innu "were ready for settlement" due to disease,
starvation, and loss of land to European settlement and resource
extraction.
of the century, the Innu were still being hit by several European diseases.
In 1918, 40 Innu died of smallpox and are buried in the Voisey's Bay area.
Spanish flu, tuberculosis, syphillis, scarlet fever, whooping cough, measles
and other diseases took a horrible toll and reduced the Innu population by
as much as two-thirds. A Canadian government ethnologist by the name of
Frederick Waugh reported in the 1920s that the Innu population at
Voisey's Bay had fallen from about 250 to 75 people in the space of 8
years as a result of disease. The crossed-out names of dead people in
family trees of all Innu people in Labrador reflect the impact of disease and
the extremely high mortality rates they experienced just a few decades ago.
By the 1940s and 50s, the Innu were in a desparate situation. The fur
trade had collapsed, and the industrial society had expanded into more of
their harvesting areas. For example, the iron ore mines in Schefferville,
Labrador City and Wabush, the shipping terminus at Sept-Iles, and the
military base at Goose Bay alienated vast quantities of land from the Innu
even though no treaty had been concluded with them. Tuberculosis was
still a major scurge and starvation was a frequent threat.
While the federal and provincial governments were eager to settle the Innu
in coastal communities so as to assimilate them into the mainstream of
Canadian society, the the Innu "were ready for settlement" due to disease,
starvation, and loss of land to European settlement and resource
extraction.
Unfortunately, life in government-built villages turned out to be a major trauma for the Innu.
Treated like children by missionaries and government bureaucrats, subject to humiliating
racism by their non-Aboriginal neighbours, punished by Newfoundland hunting regulations,
the Innu fell into a quagmire of rock-bottom self-esteem, alcohol abuse, family violence, and
other forms of cultural collapse.
In the late 1970s, the Innu began to turn the tide on this terrible situation. They lobbyied for,
and obtained, programmes to transport their people out to the country again so that
harvesting skills, knowledge of the land, and oral traditions could be passed onto younger
generations. The Innu language and culture were introduced to the school curriculum to
counter the negative messages conveyed to them in the regular curriculum that relegated
their culture to the dustbins of history.
In the 1980s, they began intensive alcohol treatment programmes so that they could heal the
wounds inflicted upon them as a result of government policies and alcohol abuse. Hand-in-
hand with these developments, the Innu have been assuming increasing levels of control over
their lives by taking over many elements of public administration, municipal services, and local
government.
This is just the beginning as far as the Innu are concerned. They look forward to the day when
their history in, and rights to, the territory are properly recognized, and when they will be equal
partners in all decisions that affect their land and wildlife.
A tailwind sped us across the next five miles, and relatively calm lake conditions allowed us to
take another chance at a crossing as opposed to following the shoreline closely. After this
crossing we landed at an open mossy point vegetated with scattered Tamarack. While
walking around and stretching I found three caribou antlers in five minutes. During this stop a
pasta dinner is prepared that is completed with a cheesecake dessert. The meal is good and
everyone manages to talk to each other a little. I am even able to coax a laugh out of Jim.
After eating it is back on the water. The tailwind has increased a little and we have to deal
with two foot swells coming on from behind while paddling the next five miles. This makes the
crossing a little more exciting and everyone is glad to reach shore again. Scattered clouds
and showers are seen to the northwest, but none move over the lake. The canoes land at the
southerly point of a large island and we survey the surrounding land. It is getting late in the
day and the camping in the immediate area looks to be poor at best. With the exception of
our current position, the shoreline is very low and wet, so it is decided to explore our high
ground more thoroughly for tent sites. By nine thirty everyone has found a satisfactory spot.
Just after my tent is pitched there is an amazing sunset through the rain clouds to the west.
Pink, orange, and yellow radiate through the dark clouds. As soon as the sun sets there is an
instant chill in the air, partly caused by having been baked in the heat all day long.
Only fifteen to twenty miles of paddling on Michikamau are left before reaching Lake
Michimkamats to our north. Once off of that large lake we are almost at the height of land
between Labrador and Quebec. One more day of calm weather is needed to reach the
smaller waters north of here. Still, there is enough lake paddling so that being wind bound
could be a problem. Smallwood has been so kind by showing us its gentlest of sides. There
is a much more secure feeling to be able to see land on all sides again. The flies and
mosquitoes are absolutely terrible outside now. There is a constant buzzing outside of the
tent. It is very hard to believe that an entire month has been spent out in the bush already. I
am missing summer at home a little. I love the warm bug free July nights of New England.
Still, I am so happy to be here. So few people have ever had the chance to see this land or
fish its waters. I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. I consider myself one of the
luckiest people in the world to be able to do this. The expedition could theoretically reach
Kangiqsualluajuaq in eighteen days, although twenty is probably more realistic. I lost my
spinner bait on a snag today. It is 11:04 pm now and we are looking to wake up by seven
tomorrow.
7/24
Our luck has continued to be amazing as far as the weather is concerned. A very light tailwind
and no clouds this morning. Our morning routine was plagued by bugs, but was not quite
unbearable. Everyone is awake by seven and the day’s paddling commences by nine after a
breakfast of cold cereal and a power bar. The first two miles sees us paddling due west to
round the southerly point of an island. Once out there we turned due north and paddled with
a building tailwind. Effortless paddling moved us along at a good pace.
A lunch stop is made at noon. I spend the stop stretching my legs by climbing a small sandy
hill that affords a spectacular view up and down the lake. A quick nap is taken and the day
could not be better. By the time everyone is ready to move along the tailwind has increased
and clouds are building to the north. A few rumbles of thunder are heard and sheets of rain
can be seen falling, but none of this weather makes its way over the lake.
Out on the water again growing swells are rode northward. Effortless moving brings the team
to the northern end of Michikamau. From here we must turn to the west and paddle through a
cross wind to reach a channel leading into Lake Michikamats. It is difficult being broadside to
the swells that have had thirty miles of open water to build over.
One can't help but notice the similarities of our experience to that had by Mina Hubbard and
George Elson when they passed this way nearly one hundred years before us. The following
excerpt sounds remarkably familiar to my journal.
Treated like children by missionaries and government bureaucrats, subject to humiliating
racism by their non-Aboriginal neighbours, punished by Newfoundland hunting regulations,
the Innu fell into a quagmire of rock-bottom self-esteem, alcohol abuse, family violence, and
other forms of cultural collapse.
In the late 1970s, the Innu began to turn the tide on this terrible situation. They lobbyied for,
and obtained, programmes to transport their people out to the country again so that
harvesting skills, knowledge of the land, and oral traditions could be passed onto younger
generations. The Innu language and culture were introduced to the school curriculum to
counter the negative messages conveyed to them in the regular curriculum that relegated
their culture to the dustbins of history.
In the 1980s, they began intensive alcohol treatment programmes so that they could heal the
wounds inflicted upon them as a result of government policies and alcohol abuse. Hand-in-
hand with these developments, the Innu have been assuming increasing levels of control over
their lives by taking over many elements of public administration, municipal services, and local
government.
This is just the beginning as far as the Innu are concerned. They look forward to the day when
their history in, and rights to, the territory are properly recognized, and when they will be equal
partners in all decisions that affect their land and wildlife.
A tailwind sped us across the next five miles, and relatively calm lake conditions allowed us to
take another chance at a crossing as opposed to following the shoreline closely. After this
crossing we landed at an open mossy point vegetated with scattered Tamarack. While
walking around and stretching I found three caribou antlers in five minutes. During this stop a
pasta dinner is prepared that is completed with a cheesecake dessert. The meal is good and
everyone manages to talk to each other a little. I am even able to coax a laugh out of Jim.
After eating it is back on the water. The tailwind has increased a little and we have to deal
with two foot swells coming on from behind while paddling the next five miles. This makes the
crossing a little more exciting and everyone is glad to reach shore again. Scattered clouds
and showers are seen to the northwest, but none move over the lake. The canoes land at the
southerly point of a large island and we survey the surrounding land. It is getting late in the
day and the camping in the immediate area looks to be poor at best. With the exception of
our current position, the shoreline is very low and wet, so it is decided to explore our high
ground more thoroughly for tent sites. By nine thirty everyone has found a satisfactory spot.
Just after my tent is pitched there is an amazing sunset through the rain clouds to the west.
Pink, orange, and yellow radiate through the dark clouds. As soon as the sun sets there is an
instant chill in the air, partly caused by having been baked in the heat all day long.
Only fifteen to twenty miles of paddling on Michikamau are left before reaching Lake
Michimkamats to our north. Once off of that large lake we are almost at the height of land
between Labrador and Quebec. One more day of calm weather is needed to reach the
smaller waters north of here. Still, there is enough lake paddling so that being wind bound
could be a problem. Smallwood has been so kind by showing us its gentlest of sides. There
is a much more secure feeling to be able to see land on all sides again. The flies and
mosquitoes are absolutely terrible outside now. There is a constant buzzing outside of the
tent. It is very hard to believe that an entire month has been spent out in the bush already. I
am missing summer at home a little. I love the warm bug free July nights of New England.
Still, I am so happy to be here. So few people have ever had the chance to see this land or
fish its waters. I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. I consider myself one of the
luckiest people in the world to be able to do this. The expedition could theoretically reach
Kangiqsualluajuaq in eighteen days, although twenty is probably more realistic. I lost my
spinner bait on a snag today. It is 11:04 pm now and we are looking to wake up by seven
tomorrow.
7/24
Our luck has continued to be amazing as far as the weather is concerned. A very light tailwind
and no clouds this morning. Our morning routine was plagued by bugs, but was not quite
unbearable. Everyone is awake by seven and the day’s paddling commences by nine after a
breakfast of cold cereal and a power bar. The first two miles sees us paddling due west to
round the southerly point of an island. Once out there we turned due north and paddled with
a building tailwind. Effortless paddling moved us along at a good pace.
A lunch stop is made at noon. I spend the stop stretching my legs by climbing a small sandy
hill that affords a spectacular view up and down the lake. A quick nap is taken and the day
could not be better. By the time everyone is ready to move along the tailwind has increased
and clouds are building to the north. A few rumbles of thunder are heard and sheets of rain
can be seen falling, but none of this weather makes its way over the lake.
Out on the water again growing swells are rode northward. Effortless moving brings the team
to the northern end of Michikamau. From here we must turn to the west and paddle through a
cross wind to reach a channel leading into Lake Michikamats. It is difficult being broadside to
the swells that have had thirty miles of open water to build over.
One can't help but notice the similarities of our experience to that had by Mina Hubbard and
George Elson when they passed this way nearly one hundred years before us. The following
excerpt sounds remarkably familiar to my journal.
We were off early next morning with a fine southwest wind, and were at the head of the lake
sooner than we had expected. From here we had to cross almost to the west shore to reach
the bay at the north end of the lake. It had grown rough since we left camp, and it did not
seem to me that we could get to the point, for it meant running into the wind part of the way. It
was an exciting hour's work, and the men were very quiet. There was none of the usual merry
chat. Evidently a storm was coming, and unless we could pass that long, rocky point, and win
the shelter of the bay beyond, we might be delayed for days. The big waves came rolling up
the lake, and as each reached us the bottom of the canoe was tipped towards it a little to
prevent its coming over, and George's head turned slightly to see how it was treating his
charge. At the same time I could feel my fingers which were just over the edge on the other
side run along the top of the water, and now and then it came over and slipped up my sleeve.
Our predicament was incredibly similar to the one Mina Hubbard had nearly a hundred years
ago. Troy and I manage to reach a sheltered spot behind an island where it is agreed to stop
and wait for Jim and Caroline. A quick rest is taken as a stiff south wind continues to develop
and waves crash into shore.
Leaving the beach after our rest is difficult because of the waves breaking on shore and the
hard headwind that has to be overcome. Troy and I barely force our way out through the
breakers and paddle hard for ten minutes until the point is rounded and our course takes us
due north once again. Jim and Caroline are able to push through the breakwater and they join
us after twenty minutes. The weather continues to improve and we use the tailwind to cover
the next three miles in no time at all.
At the north end of Michikamau we reach a wide and shallow connecting river coming down
from Michikamats. This connector is only a few hundred yards long and we are soon paddling
again, now on Lake Mickikamats. The expedition makes four easy miles in the strong tailwind.
Being pushed by the swells is quite the experience. Another excerpt from Mina’s journal shows
the nearly identical conditions they faced at this stage of their expedition.
It was a glorious afternoon, and the canoes scudded at racing pace before a heavy south wind.
Basically we have crossed our largest flatwater obstacle in four full days and two half days.
This is unreal. What could have been a nightmare of headwinds and windbound days turned
out to be a relaxing and leisurely paddle. In fact, the last five days have been the best
weather of the trip. We are now only a handful of miles from getting to the height of land and
into the George River drainage. This may even be reached tomorrow.
A good campsite has been found for the evening on the west side of the lake on open ground
that had been burned over long ago. Low lichens and blueberry bushes covered the sandy
soil, and trees are scattered here and there.
sooner than we had expected. From here we had to cross almost to the west shore to reach
the bay at the north end of the lake. It had grown rough since we left camp, and it did not
seem to me that we could get to the point, for it meant running into the wind part of the way. It
was an exciting hour's work, and the men were very quiet. There was none of the usual merry
chat. Evidently a storm was coming, and unless we could pass that long, rocky point, and win
the shelter of the bay beyond, we might be delayed for days. The big waves came rolling up
the lake, and as each reached us the bottom of the canoe was tipped towards it a little to
prevent its coming over, and George's head turned slightly to see how it was treating his
charge. At the same time I could feel my fingers which were just over the edge on the other
side run along the top of the water, and now and then it came over and slipped up my sleeve.
Our predicament was incredibly similar to the one Mina Hubbard had nearly a hundred years
ago. Troy and I manage to reach a sheltered spot behind an island where it is agreed to stop
and wait for Jim and Caroline. A quick rest is taken as a stiff south wind continues to develop
and waves crash into shore.
Leaving the beach after our rest is difficult because of the waves breaking on shore and the
hard headwind that has to be overcome. Troy and I barely force our way out through the
breakers and paddle hard for ten minutes until the point is rounded and our course takes us
due north once again. Jim and Caroline are able to push through the breakwater and they join
us after twenty minutes. The weather continues to improve and we use the tailwind to cover
the next three miles in no time at all.
At the north end of Michikamau we reach a wide and shallow connecting river coming down
from Michikamats. This connector is only a few hundred yards long and we are soon paddling
again, now on Lake Mickikamats. The expedition makes four easy miles in the strong tailwind.
Being pushed by the swells is quite the experience. Another excerpt from Mina’s journal shows
the nearly identical conditions they faced at this stage of their expedition.
It was a glorious afternoon, and the canoes scudded at racing pace before a heavy south wind.
Basically we have crossed our largest flatwater obstacle in four full days and two half days.
This is unreal. What could have been a nightmare of headwinds and windbound days turned
out to be a relaxing and leisurely paddle. In fact, the last five days have been the best
weather of the trip. We are now only a handful of miles from getting to the height of land and
into the George River drainage. This may even be reached tomorrow.
A good campsite has been found for the evening on the west side of the lake on open ground
that had been burned over long ago. Low lichens and blueberry bushes covered the sandy
soil, and trees are scattered here and there.
Caribou trails beaten down as clear as hiking paths are scattered everywhere. I light a big driftwood fire while dinner is prepared in the bug tent. The meal consists of
canned ham, potatoes, rice, and pudding. This is the last of the extra food from the cache. The variety provided by some of these items will be missed. The meal is
toped off with some Crown Royal Whiskey.
This has been an awesome day. Sun set at ten after nine and it is eleven now. I will look for northern lights if I am awake later on. There is a great view to the north
through the door of my tent. Mosquitoes are buzzing outside again. Saw some Sandpipers today and a lot of Loons yesterday. The Loons were flying and landing by
bouncing on their bellies in the water. This was pretty entertaining for us to watch.
7/25
A little hazy with scattered clouds this morning. Walked up a caribou path to a sandy barren hill for morning business. After breaking camp I made flat bread for breakfast
along with some oatmeal. Jim’s maple syrup was an outstanding addition. A tailwind was already setting up when we got moving at ten. Rounded a point out from our
campsite and headed north with tailing swells that moved us along at a good clip. Everyone is excited to leave the big water behind. Bare hills with scattered spruce and
Tamarack are much more frequent now. In all likelihood this is where Mina Hubbard saw her first herd of caribou. The openness of this new landscape is remarkable and
leaves me wondering what the true barrens will look like.
From the canoe I spot a jet black shape on the open ground to our left. The spot is a bear walking around quickly. The animal must have been foraging and stayed two
hundred yards away from us. It is great to finally see some wildlife. In less than a mile up the lake another bear is spotted. On closer inspection this was seen to be a
mother bear with two small cubs following her around. What a great way to start the day.
By noon the northern end of Lake Michikamats has been reached. We are a little confused about our exact location due to the low swampy shoreline and the size of the
lake. Eventually an inflowing stream is spotted and our position is triangulated with a few islands and a distant hill. Once pinpointed on the map we carefully located the
stream that needs to be followed up and out of this lake. It is extremely important that the correct stream is followed or else we will not end up in the George River system,
which would be a major problem.
After a quick lunch one mile is paddled to the east before finding the stream that will be followed through a chain of lakes to the height of land. The height of land marks
the border between Labrador and Quebec. Once in Quebec our route will be all downhill. The stream we are ascending starts out wide and shallow. I put on my dry
pants and the boats are lined and dragged upstream. Jim and Caroline are very slow at this, but the extra time gives us an opportunity to do some fishing
canned ham, potatoes, rice, and pudding. This is the last of the extra food from the cache. The variety provided by some of these items will be missed. The meal is
toped off with some Crown Royal Whiskey.
This has been an awesome day. Sun set at ten after nine and it is eleven now. I will look for northern lights if I am awake later on. There is a great view to the north
through the door of my tent. Mosquitoes are buzzing outside again. Saw some Sandpipers today and a lot of Loons yesterday. The Loons were flying and landing by
bouncing on their bellies in the water. This was pretty entertaining for us to watch.
7/25
A little hazy with scattered clouds this morning. Walked up a caribou path to a sandy barren hill for morning business. After breaking camp I made flat bread for breakfast
along with some oatmeal. Jim’s maple syrup was an outstanding addition. A tailwind was already setting up when we got moving at ten. Rounded a point out from our
campsite and headed north with tailing swells that moved us along at a good clip. Everyone is excited to leave the big water behind. Bare hills with scattered spruce and
Tamarack are much more frequent now. In all likelihood this is where Mina Hubbard saw her first herd of caribou. The openness of this new landscape is remarkable and
leaves me wondering what the true barrens will look like.
From the canoe I spot a jet black shape on the open ground to our left. The spot is a bear walking around quickly. The animal must have been foraging and stayed two
hundred yards away from us. It is great to finally see some wildlife. In less than a mile up the lake another bear is spotted. On closer inspection this was seen to be a
mother bear with two small cubs following her around. What a great way to start the day.
By noon the northern end of Lake Michikamats has been reached. We are a little confused about our exact location due to the low swampy shoreline and the size of the
lake. Eventually an inflowing stream is spotted and our position is triangulated with a few islands and a distant hill. Once pinpointed on the map we carefully located the
stream that needs to be followed up and out of this lake. It is extremely important that the correct stream is followed or else we will not end up in the George River system,
which would be a major problem.
After a quick lunch one mile is paddled to the east before finding the stream that will be followed through a chain of lakes to the height of land. The height of land marks
the border between Labrador and Quebec. Once in Quebec our route will be all downhill. The stream we are ascending starts out wide and shallow. I put on my dry
pants and the boats are lined and dragged upstream. Jim and Caroline are very slow at this, but the extra time gives us an opportunity to do some fishing
Once this first section was attained, three hundred meters of flatwater
opened ahead. Troy and I explored this and found a tiny stream trickling
into this area on the left. Troy catches two big brook trout here. The fish
are fourteen and seventeen inches respectively and came out of water
less then a foot deep. This made Troy’s day or sure. The stream is
unlineable and is even too shallow to drag up. The outfit was portaged
three hundred meters upstream through open grassy bogs and clumps of
spruce and fir trees. Since Jim and Caroline portaged so slowly I was
able to make three leisurely trips. The ground was somewhat rocky and
full of places to slip and hurt yourself, so the slow pace was appreciated.
A small patch of woods held more caribou trails. The animals obviously
migrate, or used to migrate through here in great numbers, because
there are trails all over the place. I would really like to see some Caribou
before the end of the trip.
At the top of the portage there is a marshy bog extending for a long ways
off to the east before ending in a wall of barren hills that mark the
Quebec and Labrador border. The feeling of approaching the height of
land is indescribable. This has been such a land mark and goal for us.
The canoes can be dragged and lined up the next three hundred meters
of fast water to a sizeable pond. Troy and I paddle to the stream entering
this pond and are able to see Adelaide Lake less than a hundred yards
away. Adelaide Lake is the last sizeable lake in Labrador and is very
close to the height of land. The inlet stream was fished and Troy caught
one small trout. This looked like a great fishing spot, but was not very
productive. Maybe Pike live in the pond and eat all of the trout.
The short stretch of class I and II rapids were lined up and we were into
Adelaide Lake, which is about seven miles long. A few strokes out and
we are slammed by a strong tailwind being generated by a fast
approaching storm that has been building for some time now. The sky is
very black but no thunder and lightning is detected. It is agreed to take
advantage of the wind and five miles are covered in less than an hour.
As the storm draws near it is decided to camp to avoid setting up tents in
the rain. A rainbow faintly forms to the south just as a good take out is
found. The land near shore is a mudhole and string bog full of caribou
paths for fifty meters until higher ground and some woods are reached. It
looks like all one million animals in the George River caribou herd walked
through here yesterday. Good tent sites are found in the woods and the
storm either skirted us or turned out to be a harmless shower. Still, I set
up the rainfly for the bug tent.
Mac and cheese with trout and pistachio pudding is dinner. In all
likelihood this will be our last campsite in Labrador. This is a little sad,
but these feelings are forgotten because everyone is so excited to enter
Quebec and start paddling the George River. Can hardly picture what
things will look like and we are so excited to see. The team is almost
guaranteed to reach the height of land tomorrow, which is only three
miles away. It should take fifteen days to paddle the river from the outlet
of Cabot Lake.
opened ahead. Troy and I explored this and found a tiny stream trickling
into this area on the left. Troy catches two big brook trout here. The fish
are fourteen and seventeen inches respectively and came out of water
less then a foot deep. This made Troy’s day or sure. The stream is
unlineable and is even too shallow to drag up. The outfit was portaged
three hundred meters upstream through open grassy bogs and clumps of
spruce and fir trees. Since Jim and Caroline portaged so slowly I was
able to make three leisurely trips. The ground was somewhat rocky and
full of places to slip and hurt yourself, so the slow pace was appreciated.
A small patch of woods held more caribou trails. The animals obviously
migrate, or used to migrate through here in great numbers, because
there are trails all over the place. I would really like to see some Caribou
before the end of the trip.
At the top of the portage there is a marshy bog extending for a long ways
off to the east before ending in a wall of barren hills that mark the
Quebec and Labrador border. The feeling of approaching the height of
land is indescribable. This has been such a land mark and goal for us.
The canoes can be dragged and lined up the next three hundred meters
of fast water to a sizeable pond. Troy and I paddle to the stream entering
this pond and are able to see Adelaide Lake less than a hundred yards
away. Adelaide Lake is the last sizeable lake in Labrador and is very
close to the height of land. The inlet stream was fished and Troy caught
one small trout. This looked like a great fishing spot, but was not very
productive. Maybe Pike live in the pond and eat all of the trout.
The short stretch of class I and II rapids were lined up and we were into
Adelaide Lake, which is about seven miles long. A few strokes out and
we are slammed by a strong tailwind being generated by a fast
approaching storm that has been building for some time now. The sky is
very black but no thunder and lightning is detected. It is agreed to take
advantage of the wind and five miles are covered in less than an hour.
As the storm draws near it is decided to camp to avoid setting up tents in
the rain. A rainbow faintly forms to the south just as a good take out is
found. The land near shore is a mudhole and string bog full of caribou
paths for fifty meters until higher ground and some woods are reached. It
looks like all one million animals in the George River caribou herd walked
through here yesterday. Good tent sites are found in the woods and the
storm either skirted us or turned out to be a harmless shower. Still, I set
up the rainfly for the bug tent.
Mac and cheese with trout and pistachio pudding is dinner. In all
likelihood this will be our last campsite in Labrador. This is a little sad,
but these feelings are forgotten because everyone is so excited to enter
Quebec and start paddling the George River. Can hardly picture what
things will look like and we are so excited to see. The team is almost
guaranteed to reach the height of land tomorrow, which is only three
miles away. It should take fifteen days to paddle the river from the outlet
of Cabot Lake.
Everyone was glad that the sun was not as strong today. I will use the
satellite phone to call home tomorrow and let everyone know that we are
about fifteen days away from the village. The fact that thirty five days
have been spent in the bush is amazing, but I am still excited for the
fishing that lays ahead. I can only hope that Quebec treats us as well as
Labrador has. This point of the trip seemed so far away only a couple of
weeks earlier. Now the end is actually tangible. The days are starting to
blur. In fact I don’t even know what day it is. We are five and a half days
from the resupply though. Amazing progress has been made this week,
and the team is very happy to have Smallwood behind us. It was an
amazing place, but there was to much potential for being windbound and
unable to move. Too many uncontrollable variables. Fair weather is
predominating now and the mosquitoes out hard. Still, it is difficult to
predict tomorrow’s weather. Ten fifty five now after being at camp by
seven. Still starting late, but the sleep feels good. Maybe we will see
caribou soon since there have been lots of signs. Two planes were
spotted today, indicating that we may see other paddlers on the George.
7/26
Up at seven thirty five and cooking pasta breakfast in bug tent shortly
afterwards. Patchy clouds with faint sunshine greet us. Mornings may be
a little more efficient since our conversation on Smallwood. There is still
a south wind which is remarkable. A more agreeable weather pattern for
traveling across these lakes couldn’t have been hand picked.
One mile up Adelaide Lake and a wind driven mist starts to fall. I
suppose it is fitting that we leave Labrador in the rain. Gusts of wind
speed us across the lake yet again and force us to wear foul weather
gear. A low strip on the northern end of Adelaide Lake indicates where
the last pond before the height of land is located. A thirty yard drag up
this stream takes us to the last pond in Labrador. Low wetland spruce
with tamarack are the vegetation. The immediate landscape is very flat,
but hills rise up to the southeast. The paddle to the height of land
separating waters draining to the Atlantic from those draining to the Arctic
takes a brief five minutes. The height of land is an unspectacular
hundred meters of flat string bog covered with grasses and low alders.
Crossing this is the easiest portage of the whole trip. A steady soaking
mist greets us as we arrive in Quebec.
Here is Mina Hubbard’s journal entry for the day she crossed this same
divide in 1905.
That afternoon our journey carried us northwest through beautiful Lake
Adelaide, where long wooded points and islands cutting off the view
ahead, kept me in a constant state of suspense as to what was to come
next. About 4 P.M. we reached the northern extremity of the lake, where
the way seemed closed; but a little searching discovered a tiny stream
coming in from the north and west of this the well marked Indian trail.
What a glad and reassuring discovery it was, for it meant that we were on
the Indian highway from Lake Michikamau to George River. Perhaps our
task would not be so difficult after all.
The portage led north one hundred yards to a little lake one mile long
and less than one quarter wide, and here we found ourselves at the very
head of the Nascaupee River. There was no inlet to the lake, and north
of it lay a bog two hundred yards wide which I knew must be the Height of
Land, for beyond it stretched a body of water which had none of the
appearance of a still water lake, and I felt sure we should find its waters
flowing north.
It was just 5 P.M. when, three hundred miles of my journey into the great,
silent wilderness passed, I stepped out of the canoe to stand at last on
the summit of the Divide—the first of the white race to trace the
Nascaupee River to its source.
I had a strange feeling of being at the summit of the world. The country
was flat and very sparsely wooded, but I could not see far. It seemed to
fall away on every hand, but especially to north and south. The line of the
horizon was unnaturally near, and there was more than the usual
realising sense of the great space between the earth and the sky. This
was enhanced by the lifting of a far distant hill-top above the line as if in
an attempt to look across the Divide.
In a wonderfully short time the outfit had been portaged across, and we
were again in the canoes, the quest now being, not for the inlet but for
the outlet of the lake, a much less difficult task. Less than an hour's
paddling carried us to the point where the George River, as a tiny stream,
steals away from its source in Lake Hubbard, as if trying to hide in its
rocky bed among the willows, to grow in force and volume in its three
hundred mile journey to Ungava, till at its discharge there it is a great
river three miles in width.
satellite phone to call home tomorrow and let everyone know that we are
about fifteen days away from the village. The fact that thirty five days
have been spent in the bush is amazing, but I am still excited for the
fishing that lays ahead. I can only hope that Quebec treats us as well as
Labrador has. This point of the trip seemed so far away only a couple of
weeks earlier. Now the end is actually tangible. The days are starting to
blur. In fact I don’t even know what day it is. We are five and a half days
from the resupply though. Amazing progress has been made this week,
and the team is very happy to have Smallwood behind us. It was an
amazing place, but there was to much potential for being windbound and
unable to move. Too many uncontrollable variables. Fair weather is
predominating now and the mosquitoes out hard. Still, it is difficult to
predict tomorrow’s weather. Ten fifty five now after being at camp by
seven. Still starting late, but the sleep feels good. Maybe we will see
caribou soon since there have been lots of signs. Two planes were
spotted today, indicating that we may see other paddlers on the George.
7/26
Up at seven thirty five and cooking pasta breakfast in bug tent shortly
afterwards. Patchy clouds with faint sunshine greet us. Mornings may be
a little more efficient since our conversation on Smallwood. There is still
a south wind which is remarkable. A more agreeable weather pattern for
traveling across these lakes couldn’t have been hand picked.
One mile up Adelaide Lake and a wind driven mist starts to fall. I
suppose it is fitting that we leave Labrador in the rain. Gusts of wind
speed us across the lake yet again and force us to wear foul weather
gear. A low strip on the northern end of Adelaide Lake indicates where
the last pond before the height of land is located. A thirty yard drag up
this stream takes us to the last pond in Labrador. Low wetland spruce
with tamarack are the vegetation. The immediate landscape is very flat,
but hills rise up to the southeast. The paddle to the height of land
separating waters draining to the Atlantic from those draining to the Arctic
takes a brief five minutes. The height of land is an unspectacular
hundred meters of flat string bog covered with grasses and low alders.
Crossing this is the easiest portage of the whole trip. A steady soaking
mist greets us as we arrive in Quebec.
Here is Mina Hubbard’s journal entry for the day she crossed this same
divide in 1905.
That afternoon our journey carried us northwest through beautiful Lake
Adelaide, where long wooded points and islands cutting off the view
ahead, kept me in a constant state of suspense as to what was to come
next. About 4 P.M. we reached the northern extremity of the lake, where
the way seemed closed; but a little searching discovered a tiny stream
coming in from the north and west of this the well marked Indian trail.
What a glad and reassuring discovery it was, for it meant that we were on
the Indian highway from Lake Michikamau to George River. Perhaps our
task would not be so difficult after all.
The portage led north one hundred yards to a little lake one mile long
and less than one quarter wide, and here we found ourselves at the very
head of the Nascaupee River. There was no inlet to the lake, and north
of it lay a bog two hundred yards wide which I knew must be the Height of
Land, for beyond it stretched a body of water which had none of the
appearance of a still water lake, and I felt sure we should find its waters
flowing north.
It was just 5 P.M. when, three hundred miles of my journey into the great,
silent wilderness passed, I stepped out of the canoe to stand at last on
the summit of the Divide—the first of the white race to trace the
Nascaupee River to its source.
I had a strange feeling of being at the summit of the world. The country
was flat and very sparsely wooded, but I could not see far. It seemed to
fall away on every hand, but especially to north and south. The line of the
horizon was unnaturally near, and there was more than the usual
realising sense of the great space between the earth and the sky. This
was enhanced by the lifting of a far distant hill-top above the line as if in
an attempt to look across the Divide.
In a wonderfully short time the outfit had been portaged across, and we
were again in the canoes, the quest now being, not for the inlet but for
the outlet of the lake, a much less difficult task. Less than an hour's
paddling carried us to the point where the George River, as a tiny stream,
steals away from its source in Lake Hubbard, as if trying to hide in its
rocky bed among the willows, to grow in force and volume in its three
hundred mile journey to Ungava, till at its discharge there it is a great
river three miles in width.
We were greeted by several storm rolling across Michikamau during our first day of paddling on this
tremendous body of water.
tremendous body of water.
The large beaches of exposed rocks are due to lowered reservoir levels which are a result of poor
climatoogical research during the development of the Smallwood Resrvoir complex and drier times.
climatoogical research during the development of the Smallwood Resrvoir complex and drier times.
To make time we are dinner during a late afternoon rest before continuing on for a
few more miles later that evening.
few more miles later that evening.
Sun sets over Smallwood Reservoir. The maze of islands seen in the lake were part of the mainland before
the hydroelectric project raised the lake level.
the hydroelectric project raised the lake level.
As luck would have it, the first caribou antler I found on the trip turned out to be in
great shape, nicely sun bleached, and compact enough to take in the canoe.
great shape, nicely sun bleached, and compact enough to take in the canoe.
Glass like conditions and a following current let us make many miles in the afternoon
of our second day on Michikamau.
of our second day on Michikamau.
A surreal purple light fell across the massive lake as evening faded on towards nightfall. We paddled until
dark following the motto "Can't pass on glass." On big lakes you must paddle when conditions allow.
dark following the motto "Can't pass on glass." On big lakes you must paddle when conditions allow.
On the morning of the third day we woke up to conditions that were so calm it was hard to see where the water
ended and the sky begin. I've never seen such a huge body of water totally smooth.
ended and the sky begin. I've never seen such a huge body of water totally smooth.
To save time, we capitalized on the calm conditions and made an open water crossing to cut across a deep
bay. We saved four or five miles by doing this and managed to complete it before strong winds developed.
bay. We saved four or five miles by doing this and managed to complete it before strong winds developed.
Troy heads towards our canoe with the lone Petskapiskau Hills in the background. The hill played a
significant roll in the religion of the local Innu people.
significant roll in the religion of the local Innu people.
Smallwood was so still and clear when I caught this Lake Trout that I was able to
watch it fight all of the way in fro nearly fifty feet out.
watch it fight all of the way in fro nearly fifty feet out.
The large rocky beaches made great places to stop and rest while making our way across the big blue
expanse of Smallwood Reservoir.
expanse of Smallwood Reservoir.
At the northern end of Michikamats we worked our way upstream to the height of land
separating the Atlantic and Arctic watersheds.
separating the Atlantic and Arctic watersheds.
Although still quite large, the narrower northern bay of Michikamau made for less
stressful paddling. At least we could see the opposite shore again.
stressful paddling. At least we could see the opposite shore again.
Troy fries up two huge brook trout that he caught in an unlikely shallow bay at the north
end of Michikamats.
end of Michikamats.
Jim and Caroline paddle hard as we race to find a campsite before the impending storm hit and soaked us at
the end of what was otherwise a great day.
the end of what was otherwise a great day.
After scrambling to set up the bug tent and tarp the rain only lasted for a few minutes. Still, it was nice to have a
shelter up in case the morning brought rain.
shelter up in case the morning brought rain.
This tiny brook is the last bit of river that we had to travel up before starting our journey down the George River.
The portage across the height of land into the George River drainage could not have been much easier.
Troy stands at the edge of the first lake we came to in the Arctic Watershed. The outlet of this body of water
flowed due north to Ungava Bay. It was all downhill from here!
flowed due north to Ungava Bay. It was all downhill from here!