Upper George River
7/26/2003 - 8/1/2003
Once we crossed into Quebec and started downstream the old familiar
pull of river travel quickly set in. Still, the upper George is really more of
a series of interconnected lakes than a true river. Still, these lakes are
linked by short stretches of river that contain some surprisingly big
rapids.
To the north of Lac Advance the geology changes, the George briefly
divides into three channels, and plunges through a violent canyon. At
the tail end of these canyons the channels consolidate again and the
river races along. Mile of fast current and interesting rapids lead all of
the way to the last major flatwater obstacle we wold encounter on the
trip, Indian House Lake.
We enjoyed our days on the upper George. The fishing started to pick
up again, we encountered a migrating herd of caribou, had a few
exciting moments in some of the rapids, and spotted a giant wolf, the
first I had ever seen in the wild.
7/26/2003 - 8/1/2003
Once we crossed into Quebec and started downstream the old familiar
pull of river travel quickly set in. Still, the upper George is really more of
a series of interconnected lakes than a true river. Still, these lakes are
linked by short stretches of river that contain some surprisingly big
rapids.
To the north of Lac Advance the geology changes, the George briefly
divides into three channels, and plunges through a violent canyon. At
the tail end of these canyons the channels consolidate again and the
river races along. Mile of fast current and interesting rapids lead all of
the way to the last major flatwater obstacle we wold encounter on the
trip, Indian House Lake.
We enjoyed our days on the upper George. The fishing started to pick
up again, we encountered a migrating herd of caribou, had a few
exciting moments in some of the rapids, and spotted a giant wolf, the
first I had ever seen in the wild.
Now on Hubbard Lake the rain picks up to a steady wind driven downpour
as we paddle the three miles to the outlet. A flock of ten Geese is
chased, but they are too quick and smart to shoot. Their flight feathers
are returning and they can skim themselves across the water very
quickly. Some even dive and hide underwater. These are smart birds,
owing in part to the fact that they have been hunted for a long time.
Alder cones are coming out now as are Cloudberries. The outlet of
Hubbard Lake is unfortunately shallow and only twenty yards wide. The
canoes are dragged and floated again, this time heading downstream. A
small lake is reached and paddled across before coming to another river
stretch that is runnable. Quickwater and class I rapids bring us to Elson
Lake. This four mile body of water is paddled in a crosswind with good
sized swells. Once clear of the lake a wide shallow class I is paddled into
Cabot Lake.
Cabot Lake is the traditional starting point for a trip down the George
River. It feels tremendous to have reached this point in such good time.
The weather is to thank for our rapid progress. In fact, the weather
began to clear as we crossed Elson Lake. Sucker holes gave way to
bands of darker clouds and blue. The steady wind from the southeast
dried us out and blew us four kilometers across Cabot Lake to a point of
land.
Signs of the Indians became more numerous, and on a point near the
head of Cabot Lake we found a camp but lately deserted, and left,
evidently, with the idea of return in the near future. The Indians had been
there all through the spring, and we found a strongly built cache which
the men thought probably contained furs, but which we did not, of course,
disturb. It was about ten feet long and six feet wide at the base, and built
in the form of an A, with the trunks of trees from five to six inches in
diameter set up close together and chinked with moss and boughs.
This point was used as a resting spot. It was five o’clock and well past
the time for a snack. While eating I found a caribou skull with both antlers
still attached in the water. After resting, the remainder of Cabot Lake was
paddled in a crossing tailwind. The George River exits Cabot Lake in two
channels at its north western end. We followed the more northerly of the
two channels which is two hundred meters wide. Three quarters of a mile
of swift water rushes us along. It is so great to be on the George. No
more upstream work! An eagle’s nest was passed around seven and the
adults circled and cried out to protect their baby. The nest was an
enormous pile of sticks situated at the top of a spruce tree about twenty
feet off of the ground.
Just beyond here we landed the canoes at a firm sand beach and found
campsites on a small strip of high ground with a game trail running along
it. A swamp lay behind the site, but there was plenty of room for tents
and our bug tent. Millions of mosquitoes swarmed and a few rumbles of
thunder were heard. Bands of dark clouds were seen in the distance, but
no storm appeared to be anywhere close to us.
as we paddle the three miles to the outlet. A flock of ten Geese is
chased, but they are too quick and smart to shoot. Their flight feathers
are returning and they can skim themselves across the water very
quickly. Some even dive and hide underwater. These are smart birds,
owing in part to the fact that they have been hunted for a long time.
Alder cones are coming out now as are Cloudberries. The outlet of
Hubbard Lake is unfortunately shallow and only twenty yards wide. The
canoes are dragged and floated again, this time heading downstream. A
small lake is reached and paddled across before coming to another river
stretch that is runnable. Quickwater and class I rapids bring us to Elson
Lake. This four mile body of water is paddled in a crosswind with good
sized swells. Once clear of the lake a wide shallow class I is paddled into
Cabot Lake.
Cabot Lake is the traditional starting point for a trip down the George
River. It feels tremendous to have reached this point in such good time.
The weather is to thank for our rapid progress. In fact, the weather
began to clear as we crossed Elson Lake. Sucker holes gave way to
bands of darker clouds and blue. The steady wind from the southeast
dried us out and blew us four kilometers across Cabot Lake to a point of
land.
Signs of the Indians became more numerous, and on a point near the
head of Cabot Lake we found a camp but lately deserted, and left,
evidently, with the idea of return in the near future. The Indians had been
there all through the spring, and we found a strongly built cache which
the men thought probably contained furs, but which we did not, of course,
disturb. It was about ten feet long and six feet wide at the base, and built
in the form of an A, with the trunks of trees from five to six inches in
diameter set up close together and chinked with moss and boughs.
This point was used as a resting spot. It was five o’clock and well past
the time for a snack. While eating I found a caribou skull with both antlers
still attached in the water. After resting, the remainder of Cabot Lake was
paddled in a crossing tailwind. The George River exits Cabot Lake in two
channels at its north western end. We followed the more northerly of the
two channels which is two hundred meters wide. Three quarters of a mile
of swift water rushes us along. It is so great to be on the George. No
more upstream work! An eagle’s nest was passed around seven and the
adults circled and cried out to protect their baby. The nest was an
enormous pile of sticks situated at the top of a spruce tree about twenty
feet off of the ground.
Just beyond here we landed the canoes at a firm sand beach and found
campsites on a small strip of high ground with a game trail running along
it. A swamp lay behind the site, but there was plenty of room for tents
and our bug tent. Millions of mosquitoes swarmed and a few rumbles of
thunder were heard. Bands of dark clouds were seen in the distance, but
no storm appeared to be anywhere close to us.
Dinner was potatoes and gravy with no dessert. I can offer no forecast for tomorrow. Anyone’s
guess goes since it is cool with scattered clouds and a few rumbles of thunder. Poor fishing
today in the headwater lakes, but it is good to be going downstream at last. Two hundred and
fifty to three hundred miles remain to the end of the trip. It is five after eleven now. I called
home to check in today and told my parents the trip would conclude in about fifteen days.
7/27
A little lazy this morning getting going, but this doesn’t matter now. Pace is irrelevant. We will
make it, and I am happy to go slowly. Clouds are patchy but plentiful. There was a brief rain
shower around six this morning before I got out of my tent. While the others were waking up I
made a pasta breakfast. Before moving downstream we paddled a hundred meters to the Eagle’
s nest and managed to walk to within ten yards of the tree that the nest was in. A huge baby
eagle stood there for photographs.
After the Eagle encounter we paddled away and entered swift water. The current was running
fast, and strong downpours alternated with nicer weather for most of the day. This kept us
changing clothes frequently, but at least the day was not a complete washout. Several easy
class I and II rapids were run. Although these were easy it is obvious that this is still a large
river that needs to be treated with respect. Below the first rapid I caught a six or seven pound
pike that was at least twenty seven inches long. The fish put up a good fight and forced us to
paddle to shore to land it. At least it was hooked in the lip and easy to release. The upper
George is a study in contrasts. Larger lake expansions are connected by steep pitches and
rapids. It would be nice to have some full days of real river travel farther downstream.
The next rapid began as an easy class II, but built and became deceptively steep at the end.
Heavy three foot waves swamped our canoe and almost sent Troy and myself into the water.
My canoe is a very wet ride for a tandem crew, especially with as much gear as our boat held.
After much bailing, a second, more difficult rapid is encountered. This is a straightforward class
II – III set of whitewater, but the rapid is too heavy for our open canoes.
guess goes since it is cool with scattered clouds and a few rumbles of thunder. Poor fishing
today in the headwater lakes, but it is good to be going downstream at last. Two hundred and
fifty to three hundred miles remain to the end of the trip. It is five after eleven now. I called
home to check in today and told my parents the trip would conclude in about fifteen days.
7/27
A little lazy this morning getting going, but this doesn’t matter now. Pace is irrelevant. We will
make it, and I am happy to go slowly. Clouds are patchy but plentiful. There was a brief rain
shower around six this morning before I got out of my tent. While the others were waking up I
made a pasta breakfast. Before moving downstream we paddled a hundred meters to the Eagle’
s nest and managed to walk to within ten yards of the tree that the nest was in. A huge baby
eagle stood there for photographs.
After the Eagle encounter we paddled away and entered swift water. The current was running
fast, and strong downpours alternated with nicer weather for most of the day. This kept us
changing clothes frequently, but at least the day was not a complete washout. Several easy
class I and II rapids were run. Although these were easy it is obvious that this is still a large
river that needs to be treated with respect. Below the first rapid I caught a six or seven pound
pike that was at least twenty seven inches long. The fish put up a good fight and forced us to
paddle to shore to land it. At least it was hooked in the lip and easy to release. The upper
George is a study in contrasts. Larger lake expansions are connected by steep pitches and
rapids. It would be nice to have some full days of real river travel farther downstream.
The next rapid began as an easy class II, but built and became deceptively steep at the end.
Heavy three foot waves swamped our canoe and almost sent Troy and myself into the water.
My canoe is a very wet ride for a tandem crew, especially with as much gear as our boat held.
After much bailing, a second, more difficult rapid is encountered. This is a straightforward class
II – III set of whitewater, but the rapid is too heavy for our open canoes.
I ferried to river right and ran our canoe down a sneak channel before lining the last drop. Below the rapid, I fished the eddy at the bottom of the rapid with a five of
diamonds lure. This fishing break produced a fifteen inch, and a nine inch brook trout. In addition to this, I hooked monster of a fish that got away.
The next rapid was a long and runnable class II that was dealt with on river left. Alternating sections of lake and quick water followed, and the going was very easy. By two
or three this afternoon the weather improved and the warm sun was shining. The only downfall was that the flies came out in renewed hordes. For an hour or so we
watched a string of storms building to our south and east. As they crept north towards us a large thunderstorm beyond the hills to our east became a concern. Rumbles
of thunder were heard and the black cloud towering above us occasionally lit up with lightning. Still, things did not seem severe over us, so we stayed on the water and
followed the shore closely. After a nervous hour of sprinting across open water and trying to stick to shore, the storm finally blew past us and out of mind.
The wind shifted to blow from the north and we fought our way through a headwind to a high esker that ran perpendicular to the river. Once landed our group climbed the
steep sided seventy foot esker and enjoyed the extensive view it provided. This was a caribou highway with a wide path worn into the ground. Semi ripe blueberries, old
bones, wolf tracks, and stones littered the top of the esker. I plan on hiking the caribou trail to a ridge it connects with. There should be enough time for this in the
morning.
Tonight’s camp is made on an island just north of the esker. Before putting in to set up the tents I caught and released a small Pike. The island is a great spot and the
first thing noticed was a huge Caribou antler lying on the ground. It must have weighed over twenty pounds and been four and a half feet tall, making the animal this fell
from an enormous specimen. I had a good tent site out of the wind, but the soil was thin and rocks were used to help stake and secure the tent with guy lines.
diamonds lure. This fishing break produced a fifteen inch, and a nine inch brook trout. In addition to this, I hooked monster of a fish that got away.
The next rapid was a long and runnable class II that was dealt with on river left. Alternating sections of lake and quick water followed, and the going was very easy. By two
or three this afternoon the weather improved and the warm sun was shining. The only downfall was that the flies came out in renewed hordes. For an hour or so we
watched a string of storms building to our south and east. As they crept north towards us a large thunderstorm beyond the hills to our east became a concern. Rumbles
of thunder were heard and the black cloud towering above us occasionally lit up with lightning. Still, things did not seem severe over us, so we stayed on the water and
followed the shore closely. After a nervous hour of sprinting across open water and trying to stick to shore, the storm finally blew past us and out of mind.
The wind shifted to blow from the north and we fought our way through a headwind to a high esker that ran perpendicular to the river. Once landed our group climbed the
steep sided seventy foot esker and enjoyed the extensive view it provided. This was a caribou highway with a wide path worn into the ground. Semi ripe blueberries, old
bones, wolf tracks, and stones littered the top of the esker. I plan on hiking the caribou trail to a ridge it connects with. There should be enough time for this in the
morning.
Tonight’s camp is made on an island just north of the esker. Before putting in to set up the tents I caught and released a small Pike. The island is a great spot and the
first thing noticed was a huge Caribou antler lying on the ground. It must have weighed over twenty pounds and been four and a half feet tall, making the animal this fell
from an enormous specimen. I had a good tent site out of the wind, but the soil was thin and rocks were used to help stake and secure the tent with guy lines.
Dinner was rice and beans with the fish from earlier in the day. After
eating I caught a thin twenty five inch Pike which was released without
harm. Great day. Good to see some rapids at last. Looks like it will be
back to lake paddling tomorrow. Ten forty eight now. A gusty north wind
may make paddling difficult if it continues to blow.
7/28
Ninth day out from our resupply. A gusty northeast wind has forced us to
stay in camp today. If the blow eases up we will move later in the day.
The conditions would allow paddling, but it would be such slow going that
the amount of energy expended would not be worth while. A rest day is
sort of nice anyways.
I was up at six this morning and it is nine forty five now. Troy and I went
for a hike this morning. We left so early because we thought paddling
would be possible later in the day. The hike brought us along the top of
the esker and up a two hundred and fifty foot hill on the east side of the
river. Barren tundra covered the hill tops. Yesterday’s route could be
seen stretching away to the south, and about eight miles of the waterway
we would be traveling could be seen ahead. Narrow lakes stretch north
from here, and it should be good going. So much empty land can be
seen from our position atop this hill. Barren landscape rolls away to the
north with trees spanning out in what appear to be random directions
from the river. The wind is tearing across the hilltops with increased
speed. It feels great to be walking around for a change. While walking I
eating I caught a thin twenty five inch Pike which was released without
harm. Great day. Good to see some rapids at last. Looks like it will be
back to lake paddling tomorrow. Ten forty eight now. A gusty north wind
may make paddling difficult if it continues to blow.
7/28
Ninth day out from our resupply. A gusty northeast wind has forced us to
stay in camp today. If the blow eases up we will move later in the day.
The conditions would allow paddling, but it would be such slow going that
the amount of energy expended would not be worth while. A rest day is
sort of nice anyways.
I was up at six this morning and it is nine forty five now. Troy and I went
for a hike this morning. We left so early because we thought paddling
would be possible later in the day. The hike brought us along the top of
the esker and up a two hundred and fifty foot hill on the east side of the
river. Barren tundra covered the hill tops. Yesterday’s route could be
seen stretching away to the south, and about eight miles of the waterway
we would be traveling could be seen ahead. Narrow lakes stretch north
from here, and it should be good going. So much empty land can be
seen from our position atop this hill. Barren landscape rolls away to the
north with trees spanning out in what appear to be random directions
from the river. The wind is tearing across the hilltops with increased
speed. It feels great to be walking around for a change. While walking I
think about how amazing it is that so much open land can exist in a world as crowded as ours.
As far as the eye can see there is peace and harmony. Being so far removed from the bustle
and hassles of our cruel and unfair world is incredible.
After the hike I make oatmeal for breakfast and fish for a little while without luck. The wind is
showing no signs of letting up, but we may get to paddle in the evening when this new weather
system moves in and establishes itself. A float plane was seen in the distance today and has
been the first reminder of the outside world for some time now. At least the wind keeps the
bugs away and allows us to sit outside while stuck in camp. A nice set of wolf tracks were
found up on the esker this morning. To be immersed in a world with predators such as the
majestic wolf roaming is fantastic.
It is eleven in the morning now. Just woke up again from a nice nap. The wind is still blowing
pretty hard. Since there is little else to do now I’ll take a few minutes to talk about what the
camp routine has been like on this trip. The first thing is to do in the evening is to find a
suitable campsite. This can be difficult because often times the tangled shoreline alders and
willows are too thick to walk through. The site also has to be open enough and free from
fallen trees so tents can be set up. Once a suitable location is selected individual tent sites
have to be found. Tents are pitched and all of the gear is unloaded from the boats. The bug
tent is set up using two paddles and guy lines. Cooking gear is unpacked from its numerous
containers and a water bag is filled at the river to reduce the number of trips that have to be
made between the bug tent and the water. The stoves are unpacked, set up and turned on.
Water is boiled and dinner prepared. After eating pots must be cleaned at the river. The
kitchen is packed up and food bags put away so bears are not attracted to camp. Then its
into the tent for the night. All of the flies and mosquitoes that made their way into your tent
have to be killed. After the battle with the insects its time to undress and dry off wet things if it
is possible. Contact lenses come out, teeth are brushed, write in the journal, pack it all up
again, make a pillow out of clothes in a stuff sack, and go to sleep.
I have tallied our fishing totals for the trip by looking at old journal entries. One hundred and
ten brook trout have been caught, with the largest being twenty four inches. Four lake trout,
and three pike. I’d call those pretty good numbers. Its hard to believe that there was a time
when rivers and streams in New England ran full of fish like these remote waterways in
Quebec. How amazing it would be to go back in time and experience those days. For now I’ll
have to be content traveling to the Canadian bush to catch glimpses of an unspoiled
world. It is two in the afternoon now and windier than ever. Bread was made out of flour
and water for lunch and a good bit of it was ate with syrup. Lounged around some more and
made better guy lines for my tent because the wind has actually increased. This wind is a
show stopper for sure. It is probably blowing at a sustained twenty miles an hour. I am happy
that my tent is pitched in a slightly sheltered spot in the lee of a small hill and behind a few
small trees. It is so nice to rest. Still hopeful that a few miles may be paddled tonight.
As far as the eye can see there is peace and harmony. Being so far removed from the bustle
and hassles of our cruel and unfair world is incredible.
After the hike I make oatmeal for breakfast and fish for a little while without luck. The wind is
showing no signs of letting up, but we may get to paddle in the evening when this new weather
system moves in and establishes itself. A float plane was seen in the distance today and has
been the first reminder of the outside world for some time now. At least the wind keeps the
bugs away and allows us to sit outside while stuck in camp. A nice set of wolf tracks were
found up on the esker this morning. To be immersed in a world with predators such as the
majestic wolf roaming is fantastic.
It is eleven in the morning now. Just woke up again from a nice nap. The wind is still blowing
pretty hard. Since there is little else to do now I’ll take a few minutes to talk about what the
camp routine has been like on this trip. The first thing is to do in the evening is to find a
suitable campsite. This can be difficult because often times the tangled shoreline alders and
willows are too thick to walk through. The site also has to be open enough and free from
fallen trees so tents can be set up. Once a suitable location is selected individual tent sites
have to be found. Tents are pitched and all of the gear is unloaded from the boats. The bug
tent is set up using two paddles and guy lines. Cooking gear is unpacked from its numerous
containers and a water bag is filled at the river to reduce the number of trips that have to be
made between the bug tent and the water. The stoves are unpacked, set up and turned on.
Water is boiled and dinner prepared. After eating pots must be cleaned at the river. The
kitchen is packed up and food bags put away so bears are not attracted to camp. Then its
into the tent for the night. All of the flies and mosquitoes that made their way into your tent
have to be killed. After the battle with the insects its time to undress and dry off wet things if it
is possible. Contact lenses come out, teeth are brushed, write in the journal, pack it all up
again, make a pillow out of clothes in a stuff sack, and go to sleep.
I have tallied our fishing totals for the trip by looking at old journal entries. One hundred and
ten brook trout have been caught, with the largest being twenty four inches. Four lake trout,
and three pike. I’d call those pretty good numbers. Its hard to believe that there was a time
when rivers and streams in New England ran full of fish like these remote waterways in
Quebec. How amazing it would be to go back in time and experience those days. For now I’ll
have to be content traveling to the Canadian bush to catch glimpses of an unspoiled
world. It is two in the afternoon now and windier than ever. Bread was made out of flour
and water for lunch and a good bit of it was ate with syrup. Lounged around some more and
made better guy lines for my tent because the wind has actually increased. This wind is a
show stopper for sure. It is probably blowing at a sustained twenty miles an hour. I am happy
that my tent is pitched in a slightly sheltered spot in the lee of a small hill and behind a few
small trees. It is so nice to rest. Still hopeful that a few miles may be paddled tonight.
Fixed the stern seat in my canoe with duct tape and an NRS strap
because the cane has blown out from dry rot. A good bit of fishing done
while sitting around and a pike follow my lure to shore but did not strike
hard enough to set the hook on. Whitecaps are kicked up on the open
water just below camp and it makes no sense to move. Napping again
for the time being.
Five thirty and blowing harder than ever. I am making a more concerted
effort to catch a pike for dinner. We could theoretically be stuck for
some time, in which case food conservation would be a good idea. I’ll
write more later.
Ten thirty. We were wind bound all day long. I actually enjoyed the rest
very much. Caught a nice twenty some inch pike for dinner. I scaled
and filleted the fish as best as possible with the knives we had and
cooked it with Cajun spices in addition to pasta and Oreo cheesecake.
The wind has finally settled down some now. I have agreed to wake up
at five thirty the following morning to check on conditions. Hopefully it
will be possible to move again. There are between fifteen and twenty
miles of lake paddling before the upper George river moves out of these
lakes. Saw a muskrat swimming by the campsite tonight just before bed.
What a great place that little creature has to live in. It is very
encouraging that the wind has stopped. Waves can be heard lapping
against the shore now instead of the wind raging and buffeting the tent.
I spent a little more time fishing for the finicky Pike. These fish would
follow the lure to shore but it was hard to get them to strike. When one
followed it to shore I played the lure back and forth a little and watched
the Pike play with it. The fish was still there and interested so I cast
again and the Pike hit the lure when the slow retrieve started. I landed
the Pike and released it as quickly as possible.
It is chilly tonight and the wind has picked up again a little. There are
approximately three hundred miles left to Kangiqsuallujjuaq and we
need to average about twenty two miles per day to reach our destination
in fourteen days. This is certainly possible if the weather conditions
cooperate.
7/29
I managed to wake up at five thirty as planned. The morning is cold and
clear with a steady but manageable north breeze. Good to see that
paddling is possible in these conditions. For breakfast I have a little
cereal and a power bar plus my two lunch bars. Everyone is eager to
go and the first few miles of lake paddling are quickly covered despite a
steady head wind. In less than an hour a narrow river like section
leading down to Lac Lacasse is reached. As we round a left turn above
some quickwater and class I rapids Jim yells ahead to us that there are
caribou.
Troy and I look up at a barren hill about twenty feet above the river and
see the deer. A mass of moving antlers and gray brown animals are
walking towards the water. We get out of the canoe and walked through
some alders to get a better look. Some of the caribou returned to the
bush when they saw us standing so we returned to the canoes and
paddled around the corner. There are Caribou everywhere now. I pull
over our canoe at the bottom of the rapid and watch. The animals are
very persistent about crossing the river at this narrow spot. Females
and babies start to swim the river. A few are swept downstream towards
us during their ferry. A handful even walk right between our canoes.
Once the deer hit the shoreline they disappear in a matter of seconds.
Another small herd of thirty or so crosses, and then another. After
these main groups smaller pods of animals continue to cross. In all
about a hundred have been seen, and the shorelines look like many
more animals have crossed not so long ago. Fresh trails and tracks are
everywhere and fur lines the shore. I am so glad to have had the
chance to see the caribou. It would be amazing to come across a bigger
herd. Pretty awesome day.
The river widened here, and on the left bank, at short intervals broad
trails with fresh cut tracks led down to its edge, and along the shore a
wide band of white caribou hair clung to the bank four feet above the
river, where it had been left by the receding water. So we knew that the
caribou had been in possession of the region since shedding their
winter coats.
because the cane has blown out from dry rot. A good bit of fishing done
while sitting around and a pike follow my lure to shore but did not strike
hard enough to set the hook on. Whitecaps are kicked up on the open
water just below camp and it makes no sense to move. Napping again
for the time being.
Five thirty and blowing harder than ever. I am making a more concerted
effort to catch a pike for dinner. We could theoretically be stuck for
some time, in which case food conservation would be a good idea. I’ll
write more later.
Ten thirty. We were wind bound all day long. I actually enjoyed the rest
very much. Caught a nice twenty some inch pike for dinner. I scaled
and filleted the fish as best as possible with the knives we had and
cooked it with Cajun spices in addition to pasta and Oreo cheesecake.
The wind has finally settled down some now. I have agreed to wake up
at five thirty the following morning to check on conditions. Hopefully it
will be possible to move again. There are between fifteen and twenty
miles of lake paddling before the upper George river moves out of these
lakes. Saw a muskrat swimming by the campsite tonight just before bed.
What a great place that little creature has to live in. It is very
encouraging that the wind has stopped. Waves can be heard lapping
against the shore now instead of the wind raging and buffeting the tent.
I spent a little more time fishing for the finicky Pike. These fish would
follow the lure to shore but it was hard to get them to strike. When one
followed it to shore I played the lure back and forth a little and watched
the Pike play with it. The fish was still there and interested so I cast
again and the Pike hit the lure when the slow retrieve started. I landed
the Pike and released it as quickly as possible.
It is chilly tonight and the wind has picked up again a little. There are
approximately three hundred miles left to Kangiqsuallujjuaq and we
need to average about twenty two miles per day to reach our destination
in fourteen days. This is certainly possible if the weather conditions
cooperate.
7/29
I managed to wake up at five thirty as planned. The morning is cold and
clear with a steady but manageable north breeze. Good to see that
paddling is possible in these conditions. For breakfast I have a little
cereal and a power bar plus my two lunch bars. Everyone is eager to
go and the first few miles of lake paddling are quickly covered despite a
steady head wind. In less than an hour a narrow river like section
leading down to Lac Lacasse is reached. As we round a left turn above
some quickwater and class I rapids Jim yells ahead to us that there are
caribou.
Troy and I look up at a barren hill about twenty feet above the river and
see the deer. A mass of moving antlers and gray brown animals are
walking towards the water. We get out of the canoe and walked through
some alders to get a better look. Some of the caribou returned to the
bush when they saw us standing so we returned to the canoes and
paddled around the corner. There are Caribou everywhere now. I pull
over our canoe at the bottom of the rapid and watch. The animals are
very persistent about crossing the river at this narrow spot. Females
and babies start to swim the river. A few are swept downstream towards
us during their ferry. A handful even walk right between our canoes.
Once the deer hit the shoreline they disappear in a matter of seconds.
Another small herd of thirty or so crosses, and then another. After
these main groups smaller pods of animals continue to cross. In all
about a hundred have been seen, and the shorelines look like many
more animals have crossed not so long ago. Fresh trails and tracks are
everywhere and fur lines the shore. I am so glad to have had the
chance to see the caribou. It would be amazing to come across a bigger
herd. Pretty awesome day.
The river widened here, and on the left bank, at short intervals broad
trails with fresh cut tracks led down to its edge, and along the shore a
wide band of white caribou hair clung to the bank four feet above the
river, where it had been left by the receding water. So we knew that the
caribou had been in possession of the region since shedding their
winter coats.
The day gets even better just ahead. A merganser is sitting on a rock
about forty yards away. Troy and I paddle closer and the bird remains
still. At twenty five yards a shot is taken with the .410 and incredibly the
duck takes off. Troy quickly switches to the twenty two hornet and
manages to shoot the duck down with the rifle from thirty five yards. This
amazingly lucky shot will provide us with a tasty addition to dinner.
After shooting the duck we make our way across Lac Lacasse in a
moderate but manageable headwind. Several rest stops are taken and
the duck is cleaned at one of them. A short section of narrow riffles is
passed through before reaching Lac Resolution. Two more caribou are
seen crossing the river here and I fish briefly with no luck. Hard paddling
is needed to move the canoes across five or six miles of lake into an
increasingly strong headwind. Slow, slow going at times. The lake is
very shallow and there are many rocks just below the surface that cause
some frustrations. By seven pm an esker running west to east is
reached. This is the most commanding spot around and an obvious
place to camp.
The top of the esker is open ground with low evergreen bushes growing
and a ground cover of berries. Great tent sites with commanding views
are protected from the north wind by a band of small spruce that act as a
wind block, while the open areas are exposed to the breeze enough to
keep insects away. This is the only likely campsite in the area and there
were a few signs that it had been used before. Reviewing Mina Hubbard’
s journal shows that this is where her party encountered a band of
Montagnais Indians.
It was a glorious day, the kind which almost all the eventful days of our
journey had been. I wanted to compel it to yield me something of value
and interest, and it did; for after we had passed down the stretch of river
below Long Lake and out into the larger one which I afterwards named
Resolution, we came upon the first camp of the Indians. When we
entered the lake we were surrounded by numbers of islands in its upper
extremity, but beyond it was clear and stretched away northward calm
and beautiful after the storm. Its shores were low for the most part, but
four miles down the lake a high, sandy point reached far out from the
east shore, and it was there we found the Indians.
By the time camp was up clouds could be seen moving in from the north
and rain would not be out of the question. A rice and bean dinner with
picante sauce is prepared while the duck is marinated in Teryaki sauce
and cooked in the frying pan. For dessert I had some of the MnM’s mom
packed for me in the resupply package.
It was so great to see the caribou today. This was one of the things I
really wanted to see on the trip. I can’t help but winder how many we
would have seen if our windbound camp was made at the crossing
place. It took fifteen minutes to kill all of the flies and mosquitoes in the
tent tonight. Awful buzz of mosquitoes under the rainfly now. Saw two
otters today and two bald eagles. The team should certainly get off of the
lakes tomorrow and a probable portage lies ahead. Excited for a few
days of river travel. Before dinner heard a yipping and whining noise.
Maybe a wolf? 10:46 now. Looking for a 6:30 wakeup.
about forty yards away. Troy and I paddle closer and the bird remains
still. At twenty five yards a shot is taken with the .410 and incredibly the
duck takes off. Troy quickly switches to the twenty two hornet and
manages to shoot the duck down with the rifle from thirty five yards. This
amazingly lucky shot will provide us with a tasty addition to dinner.
After shooting the duck we make our way across Lac Lacasse in a
moderate but manageable headwind. Several rest stops are taken and
the duck is cleaned at one of them. A short section of narrow riffles is
passed through before reaching Lac Resolution. Two more caribou are
seen crossing the river here and I fish briefly with no luck. Hard paddling
is needed to move the canoes across five or six miles of lake into an
increasingly strong headwind. Slow, slow going at times. The lake is
very shallow and there are many rocks just below the surface that cause
some frustrations. By seven pm an esker running west to east is
reached. This is the most commanding spot around and an obvious
place to camp.
The top of the esker is open ground with low evergreen bushes growing
and a ground cover of berries. Great tent sites with commanding views
are protected from the north wind by a band of small spruce that act as a
wind block, while the open areas are exposed to the breeze enough to
keep insects away. This is the only likely campsite in the area and there
were a few signs that it had been used before. Reviewing Mina Hubbard’
s journal shows that this is where her party encountered a band of
Montagnais Indians.
It was a glorious day, the kind which almost all the eventful days of our
journey had been. I wanted to compel it to yield me something of value
and interest, and it did; for after we had passed down the stretch of river
below Long Lake and out into the larger one which I afterwards named
Resolution, we came upon the first camp of the Indians. When we
entered the lake we were surrounded by numbers of islands in its upper
extremity, but beyond it was clear and stretched away northward calm
and beautiful after the storm. Its shores were low for the most part, but
four miles down the lake a high, sandy point reached far out from the
east shore, and it was there we found the Indians.
By the time camp was up clouds could be seen moving in from the north
and rain would not be out of the question. A rice and bean dinner with
picante sauce is prepared while the duck is marinated in Teryaki sauce
and cooked in the frying pan. For dessert I had some of the MnM’s mom
packed for me in the resupply package.
It was so great to see the caribou today. This was one of the things I
really wanted to see on the trip. I can’t help but winder how many we
would have seen if our windbound camp was made at the crossing
place. It took fifteen minutes to kill all of the flies and mosquitoes in the
tent tonight. Awful buzz of mosquitoes under the rainfly now. Saw two
otters today and two bald eagles. The team should certainly get off of the
lakes tomorrow and a probable portage lies ahead. Excited for a few
days of river travel. Before dinner heard a yipping and whining noise.
Maybe a wolf? 10:46 now. Looking for a 6:30 wakeup.
7/30
Thirty seven days out from Goose Bay and what a world away. Our
expedition is hoping to reach George River Post in twelve more days.
This morning was cool and clear with a north / northwest headwind
blowing at a steady, but very manageable clip. Pasta breakfast. I was
out of the tent at seven this morning but we didn’t get on the water until
just before ten.
Leaving our esker campsite we paddled for a mile through shallow
channels and islands with a good current. Through Lac Advance a
steady headwind was battled along with a monotonously flat and swampy
landscape. Tiring of lake paddling and gladtosee that after lunch river
paddling is had again. A good current leads into a ledge section before
a series of unmarked rapids are encountered. The first rapid is in a
sweeping right hand turn. I steered us just left of a curler before driving
right to avoid big waves in the center of the river. This ended up being a
dry line between two large wave trains. The large volume of the river
makes even small rapids like this have big waves, especially when the
geology is ledgy.
The next rapid is in another right turn. There is pretty heavy water in the
center so I run a sneak line on river left with Troy in the bow. This is a
technical route and involves backferries and maneuvering, but the line is
fun and safe. The last rapid in this set comes after a left turn by some
islands. A huge five foot deep hole and a couple of monster waves lie in
the center of the river. However, the rapid is run tight to the left shore
and is nothing harder than class II.
The directions we had received enabled us to find the river without
difficulty, and passing down through a succession of small expansions
with low, swampy shores where the wood growth was almost altogether
tamarack, we camped in the evening ten miles below Resolution Lake, at
the point where the river drops down through three rocky gorges to flow
with strong, swift current in a distinct valley.
After this whitewater a small section of flatwater is crossed to a place
where the George River divides into three parallel channels and drops at
least thirty feet. Our maps indicate that the shortest portage route
involves following the channel that is farthest to the right. A quick scout
shows fast class II leading to a must make eddy above an awesome
looking gorge. We all get to this eddy without incident and it is pretty
exciting to have to think again while paddling. From the head of the
gorge the river is seen dropping between gray and reddish canyon walls
that range between ten and thirty feet high. Boiling water slams out of
sight around a right hand bend. The vegetation around here is stunted
spruce or balsam fir growing on a carpet of minty green and white
caribou moss. I climb a low hill to observe the dramatic beauty of the
scene. The George drops ten feet into a mega hole before flowing
around and over house sized boulders. A few slight bends later and
huge class IV - V whitewater leads to flatwater spotted about five
hundred meters downstream. This very impressive canyon is the most
dramatic riverscape of the trip so far. Very glad and excited to see it.
The portage around this gorge is super easy. A side channel allows us
to paddle and line the canoes fully loaded for a third of the distance
around the canyon. It is then simple portaging across open hills
scattered with spruce. Caribou trails and past canoe parties have
created an easy route leading to a gentle downhill that stops at the shore
of the river at a pool. The entire portage is completed in around thirty
minutes, which is remarkable.
I am in favor of camping here since the spot is spectacular, but Jim sees
the need for haste and we agree to paddle the next three miles down to a
swift marked on the map. An easy class II rapid is run after the
confluence of a side channel and major tributary entering from the east.
The others try to explore a closed up hunting camp while I remain in the
boat and fish an eddy. A huge Pike is hooked that I play to shore. The
thirty plus inch fish is powerful and shakes when I grab the steel leader
causing the wire to digs into my hand leaving a nasty little cut. I loose
grip of the fish just as it falls off of the lure and escapes. The Pike must
have weighed over twenty pounds and it is pretty disappointing to have
lost this fish. We saw another eagle earlier today.
Thirty seven days out from Goose Bay and what a world away. Our
expedition is hoping to reach George River Post in twelve more days.
This morning was cool and clear with a north / northwest headwind
blowing at a steady, but very manageable clip. Pasta breakfast. I was
out of the tent at seven this morning but we didn’t get on the water until
just before ten.
Leaving our esker campsite we paddled for a mile through shallow
channels and islands with a good current. Through Lac Advance a
steady headwind was battled along with a monotonously flat and swampy
landscape. Tiring of lake paddling and gladtosee that after lunch river
paddling is had again. A good current leads into a ledge section before
a series of unmarked rapids are encountered. The first rapid is in a
sweeping right hand turn. I steered us just left of a curler before driving
right to avoid big waves in the center of the river. This ended up being a
dry line between two large wave trains. The large volume of the river
makes even small rapids like this have big waves, especially when the
geology is ledgy.
The next rapid is in another right turn. There is pretty heavy water in the
center so I run a sneak line on river left with Troy in the bow. This is a
technical route and involves backferries and maneuvering, but the line is
fun and safe. The last rapid in this set comes after a left turn by some
islands. A huge five foot deep hole and a couple of monster waves lie in
the center of the river. However, the rapid is run tight to the left shore
and is nothing harder than class II.
The directions we had received enabled us to find the river without
difficulty, and passing down through a succession of small expansions
with low, swampy shores where the wood growth was almost altogether
tamarack, we camped in the evening ten miles below Resolution Lake, at
the point where the river drops down through three rocky gorges to flow
with strong, swift current in a distinct valley.
After this whitewater a small section of flatwater is crossed to a place
where the George River divides into three parallel channels and drops at
least thirty feet. Our maps indicate that the shortest portage route
involves following the channel that is farthest to the right. A quick scout
shows fast class II leading to a must make eddy above an awesome
looking gorge. We all get to this eddy without incident and it is pretty
exciting to have to think again while paddling. From the head of the
gorge the river is seen dropping between gray and reddish canyon walls
that range between ten and thirty feet high. Boiling water slams out of
sight around a right hand bend. The vegetation around here is stunted
spruce or balsam fir growing on a carpet of minty green and white
caribou moss. I climb a low hill to observe the dramatic beauty of the
scene. The George drops ten feet into a mega hole before flowing
around and over house sized boulders. A few slight bends later and
huge class IV - V whitewater leads to flatwater spotted about five
hundred meters downstream. This very impressive canyon is the most
dramatic riverscape of the trip so far. Very glad and excited to see it.
The portage around this gorge is super easy. A side channel allows us
to paddle and line the canoes fully loaded for a third of the distance
around the canyon. It is then simple portaging across open hills
scattered with spruce. Caribou trails and past canoe parties have
created an easy route leading to a gentle downhill that stops at the shore
of the river at a pool. The entire portage is completed in around thirty
minutes, which is remarkable.
I am in favor of camping here since the spot is spectacular, but Jim sees
the need for haste and we agree to paddle the next three miles down to a
swift marked on the map. An easy class II rapid is run after the
confluence of a side channel and major tributary entering from the east.
The others try to explore a closed up hunting camp while I remain in the
boat and fish an eddy. A huge Pike is hooked that I play to shore. The
thirty plus inch fish is powerful and shakes when I grab the steel leader
causing the wire to digs into my hand leaving a nasty little cut. I loose
grip of the fish just as it falls off of the lure and escapes. The Pike must
have weighed over twenty pounds and it is pretty disappointing to have
lost this fish. We saw another eagle earlier today.
From here down the George is a ramp of fast current and small waves
running in a rocky banked mini valley. The speed of the current is
amazing and the three miles to the marked swifts is covered in twenty
minutes with no paddling. In twenty minutes we covered more ground than
it took us full twelve hour days to covered back on Susan Brook. It feels
so good to be on a real river at last. The next rapid is run far left. The
waves are just large enough to force Troy and myself into back paddling to
keep the canoe dry. This technique is key in a boat as small and as low
as ours.
The lakes of the upper country were here left behind, and when we
resumed our journey the following morning it was to be carried miles on a
current in which the paddles were needed only for steering. Stretches of
quiet water were succeeded by boisterous rapids, and sometimes I walked
to lighten the canoe where the rapid was shallow. Tributaries entered on
either hand, the river increased in force and volume, and when we halted
for lunch some ten miles below Canyon Camp, the George had come to be
a really great river.
Every one starts looking for campsites below here, but the banks are a
mess of alders. A scout is made on river right where lower bushes lead
down to the water’s edge. Very fresh caribou sign litter the area. Trails
mashed into mud, fresh scent, and tufts of fur everywhere suggests that
maybe the caribou even bedded down here last night. It is a good spot
and some higher ground is bush free where the tents can be set. Mac n
Cheese dinner is made and I am in my tent by 9:45pm. Clouds to the west
on this warmish evening that actually feels like summer. Moderate
blackflies but no mosquitoes because it is still too warm for them. It is nice
to hear rapids from our campsite again. Hope to run some interesting
rapids tomorrow and make twenty miles. 10:36pm. Up at 8:30 if possible
tomorrow morning. Chocolate pudding for dessert.
7/31
One of the trip’s best days. Our goal of twenty miles was made in good
fashion. Up at 6:30 and on the river by 9:30 or so. It was a hazy and
warm morning and by the time we were on the river it was down right hot.
The bugs were moderate and it was nice to load the canoes without being
completely swarmed.
The first two miles on the river are quickwater and we are able to cruise.
This brought us to a class II rapid that grew larger and continued out of
sight downstream. Heavy water in the middle of the river forced us to hug
the left shore. This fun ramp of whitewater extended for about two miles
and the rapid was exciting and manageable until a slight horizon was
reached. Troy and I focused on running dry lines since our canoe was still
overloaded and running low to the water. This required a great deal of
back paddling and back ferrying at angles along the shore. This was most
effective and carried us to a river left eddy above the aforementioned
horizon. Here the George runs over a ledge and into a wave train that is
too big for our boats. This ledge can be easily lined on river left, but a
sweeping left turn hides the bottom of the rapids. I scout ahead from
shore and from the top of a hill covered in low spruce can see almost a
kilometer downstream to the bottom of the swift water. Everything looks
fine except for one more piece of heavy water that seems like it can be
lined as well.
The canoes are lined around the first ledge and we paddle down to the
last bit of heavy water I spotted during the scout. Troy and I backferry into
shore above the drop and scramble onto the ledge before lowering the
boat through with our ropes. This is a tough move and we walk back
upstream to catch and hold Jim and Caroline’s boat as they approach.
After this big fun class II water leads to the lake expansion below. By
eleven thirty everyone is landed at a sandy beach by a fishing and hunting
camp.
The main building begs to be explored so we walk over and have
ourselves a look. The place is nice, but there is a dead duck in a room off
of the kitchen. This is odd, and suggests that someone must have been
here not long ago. It is very hot in the building so I head back outside as
quickly as possible.
The day is hot and humid and I wash up in the river after following a set of
wolf tracks back to our canoes. After bathing, lunch is had on the beach
under a blazing hot sun. This rest stop turns into an event and a good bit
of time is wasted away by lounging and napping. By the time we are
leaving around one or one thirty thunder clouds are seen building to the
west and moving in quickly.
running in a rocky banked mini valley. The speed of the current is
amazing and the three miles to the marked swifts is covered in twenty
minutes with no paddling. In twenty minutes we covered more ground than
it took us full twelve hour days to covered back on Susan Brook. It feels
so good to be on a real river at last. The next rapid is run far left. The
waves are just large enough to force Troy and myself into back paddling to
keep the canoe dry. This technique is key in a boat as small and as low
as ours.
The lakes of the upper country were here left behind, and when we
resumed our journey the following morning it was to be carried miles on a
current in which the paddles were needed only for steering. Stretches of
quiet water were succeeded by boisterous rapids, and sometimes I walked
to lighten the canoe where the rapid was shallow. Tributaries entered on
either hand, the river increased in force and volume, and when we halted
for lunch some ten miles below Canyon Camp, the George had come to be
a really great river.
Every one starts looking for campsites below here, but the banks are a
mess of alders. A scout is made on river right where lower bushes lead
down to the water’s edge. Very fresh caribou sign litter the area. Trails
mashed into mud, fresh scent, and tufts of fur everywhere suggests that
maybe the caribou even bedded down here last night. It is a good spot
and some higher ground is bush free where the tents can be set. Mac n
Cheese dinner is made and I am in my tent by 9:45pm. Clouds to the west
on this warmish evening that actually feels like summer. Moderate
blackflies but no mosquitoes because it is still too warm for them. It is nice
to hear rapids from our campsite again. Hope to run some interesting
rapids tomorrow and make twenty miles. 10:36pm. Up at 8:30 if possible
tomorrow morning. Chocolate pudding for dessert.
7/31
One of the trip’s best days. Our goal of twenty miles was made in good
fashion. Up at 6:30 and on the river by 9:30 or so. It was a hazy and
warm morning and by the time we were on the river it was down right hot.
The bugs were moderate and it was nice to load the canoes without being
completely swarmed.
The first two miles on the river are quickwater and we are able to cruise.
This brought us to a class II rapid that grew larger and continued out of
sight downstream. Heavy water in the middle of the river forced us to hug
the left shore. This fun ramp of whitewater extended for about two miles
and the rapid was exciting and manageable until a slight horizon was
reached. Troy and I focused on running dry lines since our canoe was still
overloaded and running low to the water. This required a great deal of
back paddling and back ferrying at angles along the shore. This was most
effective and carried us to a river left eddy above the aforementioned
horizon. Here the George runs over a ledge and into a wave train that is
too big for our boats. This ledge can be easily lined on river left, but a
sweeping left turn hides the bottom of the rapids. I scout ahead from
shore and from the top of a hill covered in low spruce can see almost a
kilometer downstream to the bottom of the swift water. Everything looks
fine except for one more piece of heavy water that seems like it can be
lined as well.
The canoes are lined around the first ledge and we paddle down to the
last bit of heavy water I spotted during the scout. Troy and I backferry into
shore above the drop and scramble onto the ledge before lowering the
boat through with our ropes. This is a tough move and we walk back
upstream to catch and hold Jim and Caroline’s boat as they approach.
After this big fun class II water leads to the lake expansion below. By
eleven thirty everyone is landed at a sandy beach by a fishing and hunting
camp.
The main building begs to be explored so we walk over and have
ourselves a look. The place is nice, but there is a dead duck in a room off
of the kitchen. This is odd, and suggests that someone must have been
here not long ago. It is very hot in the building so I head back outside as
quickly as possible.
The day is hot and humid and I wash up in the river after following a set of
wolf tracks back to our canoes. After bathing, lunch is had on the beach
under a blazing hot sun. This rest stop turns into an event and a good bit
of time is wasted away by lounging and napping. By the time we are
leaving around one or one thirty thunder clouds are seen building to the
west and moving in quickly.
To think that we are camped at the same spot where Mina Hubbard encountered the Innu Indians is pretty amazing. More amazing is that many Innu lived off of the land
until as recently as the 1960’s. The Innu were probably the last native group in North America to hold onto their indigenous ways of life. What has happened to this group
of people since the collapse of their traditional lifestyle is heart breaking. Excerpts from a journal on Canadian studies help explain the situation.
"In 1967, the Newfoundland government convinced the Mushuau Innu (the people of the barrens) to abandon their traditional location on the mainland of Labrador where
they had been nomadic hunters of caribou for about six millennia. Unfortunately, nobody in the government appears to have taken into account that centuries of their
"pride, traditions, and spirituality [were] tied to the land of their ancestors..." They were resettled on the Davis Inlet where they were expected to establish a fishery. "...their
social fabric soon fell apart." The provincial government reneged on its promises of fresh water and sewage systems. Suicide rates mounted.
Canada's northeastern regions have the highest suicide rate in the world: 178 per 100,000 persons per year. This compares to an average suicide rate of 14 per 100,000
elsewhere in Canada, and 12 per 100,000 in the U.S. The report states that "Utshimassits is a community living in almost unimaginable squalor and disarray. They
described wooden shacks with no running water, poor roads and scant health care."
until as recently as the 1960’s. The Innu were probably the last native group in North America to hold onto their indigenous ways of life. What has happened to this group
of people since the collapse of their traditional lifestyle is heart breaking. Excerpts from a journal on Canadian studies help explain the situation.
"In 1967, the Newfoundland government convinced the Mushuau Innu (the people of the barrens) to abandon their traditional location on the mainland of Labrador where
they had been nomadic hunters of caribou for about six millennia. Unfortunately, nobody in the government appears to have taken into account that centuries of their
"pride, traditions, and spirituality [were] tied to the land of their ancestors..." They were resettled on the Davis Inlet where they were expected to establish a fishery. "...their
social fabric soon fell apart." The provincial government reneged on its promises of fresh water and sewage systems. Suicide rates mounted.
Canada's northeastern regions have the highest suicide rate in the world: 178 per 100,000 persons per year. This compares to an average suicide rate of 14 per 100,000
elsewhere in Canada, and 12 per 100,000 in the U.S. The report states that "Utshimassits is a community living in almost unimaginable squalor and disarray. They
described wooden shacks with no running water, poor roads and scant health care."
Leaving the lake the river narrows and the current accelerates. Another
class II rapid is entered. The water speeds up and waves grow larger and
larger, forcing us to run a line tight to the left shore. The center becomes
big class III, but our route remains boat scoutable. While the sneak route
along shore is not very tough, the huge volume and speed of the Upper
George demands respect. Any swim would be long and problematic in the
event of a mishap.
After this rapid the river incised itself into a mini canyon. Red and gray
rock walls line the river with stunted trees clinging to the banks in places.
Beyond the river corridor very lightly wooded hills are predominant. The
land is becoming much more barren now and not far below the base of
the long class II rapid the first storm of the day is on us. Thunder is
getting louder and the clouds are particularly black and ominous, so we
eddy out on river left and scramble to shore to take cover. Just as I
manage to get my rain jacket on the skies open up and a downpour falls.
I manage to keep my legs dry by squatting and pulling the long plastic
jacket down and huddling under some willow and alder bushes. The dark
cloud passes directly over us and a few lightning bolts seem to hit nearby,
but in ten or fifteen minutes the storm is seen blowing away diagonally to
the east and north. It is agreed that traveling close to shore is probably
safe now.
Back on the river things happen fast again. The current is ripping and
distance is covered as if we were flying. Lightning can be seen away to
the north east and scattered storms are all around us, but we seem to be
traveling in a small pocket of fair weather for the time being. Long and
easy class I rapids continue to a horizon line which is scouted from river
right. A falls leads into a mini canyon with very heavy rapids that force a
portage. It is insanely hot and humid again, feeling more like southern
Florida than northern Canada. I grab a heavy load and blast through the
high wall of tangled alders and willows that line the river. Once up above
the water a trail is found running through open woods to the bottom of the
gorge. The total portage takes only forty five minutes, which really isn’t
that bad. It is so hot though. I am sweating bullets and by the end of the
carry my clothes are saturated. The insects are down enough so I can
open my head net enough to get a clear look at the area and allow some
fresh air to cool my head.
Our group is dodging storms again. At the bottom of the portage a storm
looks imminent, but it missed to the west, moving more north than east.
We paddle the run out rapids from the gorge to flaterwater below, and a
flock of baby sea gulls is passed before canoeing by an old esker. More
fun fast water and runnable rapids lead to a stretch of river that becomes
divided by a mess of islands. A quick glance at the maps causes us to
decide to stay left since it looks like a shorter and more runnable route.
Most of the river’s volume heads right, meaning that the rapids are likely
to be more difficult on that side of the river.
The first rapid is a long class II leading to a heavier section culminating in
a ledge that Troy and I lined. After this a tight chute is run that Jim
paddles based on my hand signals. It is good to see that he trusts us in
this respect. It is so much fun to be in rapids again. Great sneak routes
allow most of this section to be paddled. This left channel is farther
subdivided, giving the river the feel of a small ledge run like Ontario’s
Lawagamau River. Some class II is run to a horizon hiding a big class III+,
which we line on river right. Troy and I fish the eddy, and up to three trout
follow my lure in to shore on the first cast. In less than ten minutes I land
three while Troy pulls out two fish. All of these trout are in the ten to
fifteen inch range. There literally must be hundreds of trout in this one
section alone.
Some more rapids are run, and one more is quickly lined. The channel
we are following continues to branch and subdivide until I lead down a
small creek like section with some very narrow ledge drops that deposit us
back in to the main George River. Once on the main river we ferry to the
right and run a long class II –III section by means of tight and technical
shoreline sneaks that are loads of fun. An awesome rugged bare peak
rises up in front of us and dominates the view. The land on river right is
all open and ledgy, vegetated only with widely scattered spruce and
tamarack. The barrens are not far to the north now. The scene is
remarkably arctic and the barren lands are foreboding, especially with a
massive dark thunderhead rumbling angrily and drawing closer by the
minute. The lone peak ahead looks like a perfect lightning rod, and I
expect to see a bolt of lightning rip out of the tortured atmosphere and
crash into its summit.
class II rapid is entered. The water speeds up and waves grow larger and
larger, forcing us to run a line tight to the left shore. The center becomes
big class III, but our route remains boat scoutable. While the sneak route
along shore is not very tough, the huge volume and speed of the Upper
George demands respect. Any swim would be long and problematic in the
event of a mishap.
After this rapid the river incised itself into a mini canyon. Red and gray
rock walls line the river with stunted trees clinging to the banks in places.
Beyond the river corridor very lightly wooded hills are predominant. The
land is becoming much more barren now and not far below the base of
the long class II rapid the first storm of the day is on us. Thunder is
getting louder and the clouds are particularly black and ominous, so we
eddy out on river left and scramble to shore to take cover. Just as I
manage to get my rain jacket on the skies open up and a downpour falls.
I manage to keep my legs dry by squatting and pulling the long plastic
jacket down and huddling under some willow and alder bushes. The dark
cloud passes directly over us and a few lightning bolts seem to hit nearby,
but in ten or fifteen minutes the storm is seen blowing away diagonally to
the east and north. It is agreed that traveling close to shore is probably
safe now.
Back on the river things happen fast again. The current is ripping and
distance is covered as if we were flying. Lightning can be seen away to
the north east and scattered storms are all around us, but we seem to be
traveling in a small pocket of fair weather for the time being. Long and
easy class I rapids continue to a horizon line which is scouted from river
right. A falls leads into a mini canyon with very heavy rapids that force a
portage. It is insanely hot and humid again, feeling more like southern
Florida than northern Canada. I grab a heavy load and blast through the
high wall of tangled alders and willows that line the river. Once up above
the water a trail is found running through open woods to the bottom of the
gorge. The total portage takes only forty five minutes, which really isn’t
that bad. It is so hot though. I am sweating bullets and by the end of the
carry my clothes are saturated. The insects are down enough so I can
open my head net enough to get a clear look at the area and allow some
fresh air to cool my head.
Our group is dodging storms again. At the bottom of the portage a storm
looks imminent, but it missed to the west, moving more north than east.
We paddle the run out rapids from the gorge to flaterwater below, and a
flock of baby sea gulls is passed before canoeing by an old esker. More
fun fast water and runnable rapids lead to a stretch of river that becomes
divided by a mess of islands. A quick glance at the maps causes us to
decide to stay left since it looks like a shorter and more runnable route.
Most of the river’s volume heads right, meaning that the rapids are likely
to be more difficult on that side of the river.
The first rapid is a long class II leading to a heavier section culminating in
a ledge that Troy and I lined. After this a tight chute is run that Jim
paddles based on my hand signals. It is good to see that he trusts us in
this respect. It is so much fun to be in rapids again. Great sneak routes
allow most of this section to be paddled. This left channel is farther
subdivided, giving the river the feel of a small ledge run like Ontario’s
Lawagamau River. Some class II is run to a horizon hiding a big class III+,
which we line on river right. Troy and I fish the eddy, and up to three trout
follow my lure in to shore on the first cast. In less than ten minutes I land
three while Troy pulls out two fish. All of these trout are in the ten to
fifteen inch range. There literally must be hundreds of trout in this one
section alone.
Some more rapids are run, and one more is quickly lined. The channel
we are following continues to branch and subdivide until I lead down a
small creek like section with some very narrow ledge drops that deposit us
back in to the main George River. Once on the main river we ferry to the
right and run a long class II –III section by means of tight and technical
shoreline sneaks that are loads of fun. An awesome rugged bare peak
rises up in front of us and dominates the view. The land on river right is
all open and ledgy, vegetated only with widely scattered spruce and
tamarack. The barrens are not far to the north now. The scene is
remarkably arctic and the barren lands are foreboding, especially with a
massive dark thunderhead rumbling angrily and drawing closer by the
minute. The lone peak ahead looks like a perfect lightning rod, and I
expect to see a bolt of lightning rip out of the tortured atmosphere and
crash into its summit.
Apparently Mina Hubbard and George Elson were here in better weather
since their journal indicates they climbed this peak for a view of the
surrounding land.
A short distance below, the river drops rapidly round many little islands of
pink and white rock by a succession of picturesque falls and rapids and
chutes extending for more than a mile and here a number of short
portages were made. We reached the last of the islands shortly before
eleven o'clock and then landed to climb a hill to the east. It rose six
hundred and thirty feet above the river, but the view from the top afforded
us little satisfaction so far as the route was concerned. The river could be
seen for only a few miles ahead, flowing away to the northwest towards
higher hills, where we could see patches of snow lying.
Instead of going for a hike, a unanimous decision is made to set up camp
before the storm reaches us. It looks like things could get nasty. The
pressure drop is palpable, the air grows thick and quite while an odd
breezes start to swirl. The storm seems unavoidable. Tents are set up on
an open knoll, not a great spot in a lightning storm, but the only sites to be
had. The boats are dragged up, tied off, and filled with rocks to keep
them down if the wind became bad. Lightning can be seen flashing, and
bolts spray out from the big black swirling clouds. Sheets of rain are
falling nearby as the storm approaches. I sit staring at the cloud and
bands of rain and see that this thing may miss us to the east. Rain starts
to fall and I head to the tent, but in a few minutes it stops and the cloud is
clearly heading away from us. The storm skirted camp by less than a mile,
but its rumbling and ominous presence linger for nearly an hour.
Once clear from the storm the bug tent goes up. Bannock bread is made
for dinner along with trout and cheesecake is prepared for dessert. It is
11:07pm now. This may have been the best day of the trip yet. Should
reach Indian House Lake tomorrow.
8/1
Up at five thirty to the sound of rain pouring on the tent. Go back to sleep
until 6:30 at which point I poke my head out of the tent to check the
weather. There are some patches of clear sky, but some sections of gray
rain are scattered around as well and wind is blowing from the Northwest.
Looks like I have enough time to make a bathroom run before the next
downpour arrives. By the time I get back the others can be heard awake
in the tents. I am able to break camp between showers and although the
tent has to be packed wet it is not put away in a driving rain. A nice
breakfast is had while our camp is hit by wind driven showers. Just
another day in the bush.
Canoes are loaded and the first rapid of the day, which lies fifty yards
below our put in, is run left of center. After this a narrow chute on the left
shore is run to avoid big holes in the center of the river. The George
narrows and enters an extensive area of rock islands with numerous
channels and ledge drops. The massive main flow of the river goes left so
we stay to the right. The lower volume allows some of the drops to be run
while all others can be lined. Only one short semi portage is required.
The river is looping its way around the solitary bald peak that dominated
the view from last evening’s camp. At one point a heavy class III rapid is
reached that Troy decides he does not want to run. We shift gear in the
canoe and I make a solo run of the rapid driving left to right into an eddy
to avoid some waves. From the eddy I stay right and run some large
waves into another river right eddy below an island where Troy returns.
We repack the canoe while Caroline and Jim line their craft around the
whitewater. The fifteen foot Explorer handles very well when paddled solo.
More shallow sneaks and lining leads us to another side channel around a
larger falls. This nearly dry channel is lined, but the ledges are very
slippery and a great deal of time is consumed. Fishing the pool below
here produced two small trout that are released. The main river is
rejoined, and we stop on river left to eat lunch in wind driven rain above a
narrow constriction rapid. The George compresses to less than fifty yards
wide and is reminiscent of the rapid above Coliseum on the Ottawa River.
A long ramp of green water leads through diagonals that end in a series of
big standing waves. Troy and I run a conservative left line to an eddy,
drag the canoe ten feet over a ledge, and enter the river in another eddy.
What this route lacked in bravado and excitement, it made up for by
ensuring that we did not swamp and swim. Jim and Caroline take their
much larger boat down the left center, and while the line was clean, they
had a bit of bailing to do at the bottom.
since their journal indicates they climbed this peak for a view of the
surrounding land.
A short distance below, the river drops rapidly round many little islands of
pink and white rock by a succession of picturesque falls and rapids and
chutes extending for more than a mile and here a number of short
portages were made. We reached the last of the islands shortly before
eleven o'clock and then landed to climb a hill to the east. It rose six
hundred and thirty feet above the river, but the view from the top afforded
us little satisfaction so far as the route was concerned. The river could be
seen for only a few miles ahead, flowing away to the northwest towards
higher hills, where we could see patches of snow lying.
Instead of going for a hike, a unanimous decision is made to set up camp
before the storm reaches us. It looks like things could get nasty. The
pressure drop is palpable, the air grows thick and quite while an odd
breezes start to swirl. The storm seems unavoidable. Tents are set up on
an open knoll, not a great spot in a lightning storm, but the only sites to be
had. The boats are dragged up, tied off, and filled with rocks to keep
them down if the wind became bad. Lightning can be seen flashing, and
bolts spray out from the big black swirling clouds. Sheets of rain are
falling nearby as the storm approaches. I sit staring at the cloud and
bands of rain and see that this thing may miss us to the east. Rain starts
to fall and I head to the tent, but in a few minutes it stops and the cloud is
clearly heading away from us. The storm skirted camp by less than a mile,
but its rumbling and ominous presence linger for nearly an hour.
Once clear from the storm the bug tent goes up. Bannock bread is made
for dinner along with trout and cheesecake is prepared for dessert. It is
11:07pm now. This may have been the best day of the trip yet. Should
reach Indian House Lake tomorrow.
8/1
Up at five thirty to the sound of rain pouring on the tent. Go back to sleep
until 6:30 at which point I poke my head out of the tent to check the
weather. There are some patches of clear sky, but some sections of gray
rain are scattered around as well and wind is blowing from the Northwest.
Looks like I have enough time to make a bathroom run before the next
downpour arrives. By the time I get back the others can be heard awake
in the tents. I am able to break camp between showers and although the
tent has to be packed wet it is not put away in a driving rain. A nice
breakfast is had while our camp is hit by wind driven showers. Just
another day in the bush.
Canoes are loaded and the first rapid of the day, which lies fifty yards
below our put in, is run left of center. After this a narrow chute on the left
shore is run to avoid big holes in the center of the river. The George
narrows and enters an extensive area of rock islands with numerous
channels and ledge drops. The massive main flow of the river goes left so
we stay to the right. The lower volume allows some of the drops to be run
while all others can be lined. Only one short semi portage is required.
The river is looping its way around the solitary bald peak that dominated
the view from last evening’s camp. At one point a heavy class III rapid is
reached that Troy decides he does not want to run. We shift gear in the
canoe and I make a solo run of the rapid driving left to right into an eddy
to avoid some waves. From the eddy I stay right and run some large
waves into another river right eddy below an island where Troy returns.
We repack the canoe while Caroline and Jim line their craft around the
whitewater. The fifteen foot Explorer handles very well when paddled solo.
More shallow sneaks and lining leads us to another side channel around a
larger falls. This nearly dry channel is lined, but the ledges are very
slippery and a great deal of time is consumed. Fishing the pool below
here produced two small trout that are released. The main river is
rejoined, and we stop on river left to eat lunch in wind driven rain above a
narrow constriction rapid. The George compresses to less than fifty yards
wide and is reminiscent of the rapid above Coliseum on the Ottawa River.
A long ramp of green water leads through diagonals that end in a series of
big standing waves. Troy and I run a conservative left line to an eddy,
drag the canoe ten feet over a ledge, and enter the river in another eddy.
What this route lacked in bravado and excitement, it made up for by
ensuring that we did not swamp and swim. Jim and Caroline take their
much larger boat down the left center, and while the line was clean, they
had a bit of bailing to do at the bottom.
As the day progresses the clouds continue to break up, but scattered
showers remain. The Dumas River enters on the right where the George
bends ninety degrees to the left. A torrential downpour opens up, but it
is short lived and the weather breaks immediately after this. Sun patches
dance here and there while lots of blue sky can be seen through the now
crystal clear atmosphere. This is very crisp fall like air giving the place a
northern feel. Greens and browns and the reddish rock colors are vivid
without the haze we have had for the past few days.
The current is exceedingly fast again and we make excellent time after
slow work through the ledges this morning. One bigger rapid is paddled
before a long stretch of clear fastwater. The only trees to be found are
along the river banks now. The hills all around us have the look of the
landscape above treeline in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
Incredible views open up around each corner and massive rock walls are
piled up in the woods by the river icing out or flooding in bad years.
Eventually a left turn is reaches and a rapid begins that seems to build
and grow larger as it continues out of sight around an S turn.
A scout from river right shows five hundred yards of big water class IV.
The team is fortunate to be able to line down the rive right side with only
one tricky spot necessitating some heads up river work. After the rapid
the headwind is so strong that our progress is slowed despite the ripping
current. The current assisted us in making our way down to a huge
esker and flatter water. A canvas tent frame on top of the esker was
explored before fighting on for another two miles into the headwind,
which was probably gusting up to twenty miles an hour. This headwind
blowing against the current produced unusually large rolling waves and
despite an all out effort, progress was slowed to a crawl.
Troy and I out paddle the others by a long shot, so we went to a river left
beach and waited for them to catch up. Very fresh looking wolf tracks
are spotted on the narrow sandy beach. They were made after the rain,
because no water drop marks were seen in the prints, and the claw
marks were still visible. Once the others arrive we are back in the canoe
and heading downstream. Two hundred meters below the beach and
just above the next rapid, I look to the left shore and there is the wolf.
The large silver gray animal is healthier and bigger than I had imagined a
wolf would be. The canine gave a few curious glances before heading
back into the bush. The wolf was only forty yards away. This was so
awesome especially since it was my first wolf sighting ever. What a
spectacular and wild looking animal.
Although we were psyched about the wolf sighting, the large rapid just
downstream had to be dealt with. The late afternoon sun was low in the
sky and made scouting difficult since the George was flowing due west at
this point. The bright glare forced us to land on river right to foot scout
the rapid. The first two hundred yards of whitewater could obviously be
run on river right tight to shore. This was a good fun line, but a big hole
extending out from the right bank forced us to stop and scout again. The
scout showed we needed to head to the center to avoid the hole, but
there were some big waves out there. It was late in the day and we
wanted to make camp without dealing with a portage or lining. I think this
thing is runnable.
I convince Troy to run the rapid. We head out into the river and are
drawn down by its current while Jim and Caroline watch from shore. The
speed and power is greater than anticipated, and we narrowly miss the
hydraulics on the right shore. I back paddle and yell at Troy to do the
same in order to slow the canoe so it rides up the waves and stays dry as
opposed to plowing through and swamping the boat. From the canoe it
is obvious that the rapid is considerably larger than it appeared from the
rive bank. The first wave is over four feet tall and our canoe stalls out on
it and almost gets back surfed. The next few waves are large as well and
we fight to get back near the shore. Somehow the canoe stays bone dry
and the last three hundred yards are run to the bottom through
continuously heavy rapids. This is the best rapid run yet even though it
proved to be more exciting than anyone thought. Taking chances isn’t
showers remain. The Dumas River enters on the right where the George
bends ninety degrees to the left. A torrential downpour opens up, but it
is short lived and the weather breaks immediately after this. Sun patches
dance here and there while lots of blue sky can be seen through the now
crystal clear atmosphere. This is very crisp fall like air giving the place a
northern feel. Greens and browns and the reddish rock colors are vivid
without the haze we have had for the past few days.
The current is exceedingly fast again and we make excellent time after
slow work through the ledges this morning. One bigger rapid is paddled
before a long stretch of clear fastwater. The only trees to be found are
along the river banks now. The hills all around us have the look of the
landscape above treeline in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
Incredible views open up around each corner and massive rock walls are
piled up in the woods by the river icing out or flooding in bad years.
Eventually a left turn is reaches and a rapid begins that seems to build
and grow larger as it continues out of sight around an S turn.
A scout from river right shows five hundred yards of big water class IV.
The team is fortunate to be able to line down the rive right side with only
one tricky spot necessitating some heads up river work. After the rapid
the headwind is so strong that our progress is slowed despite the ripping
current. The current assisted us in making our way down to a huge
esker and flatter water. A canvas tent frame on top of the esker was
explored before fighting on for another two miles into the headwind,
which was probably gusting up to twenty miles an hour. This headwind
blowing against the current produced unusually large rolling waves and
despite an all out effort, progress was slowed to a crawl.
Troy and I out paddle the others by a long shot, so we went to a river left
beach and waited for them to catch up. Very fresh looking wolf tracks
are spotted on the narrow sandy beach. They were made after the rain,
because no water drop marks were seen in the prints, and the claw
marks were still visible. Once the others arrive we are back in the canoe
and heading downstream. Two hundred meters below the beach and
just above the next rapid, I look to the left shore and there is the wolf.
The large silver gray animal is healthier and bigger than I had imagined a
wolf would be. The canine gave a few curious glances before heading
back into the bush. The wolf was only forty yards away. This was so
awesome especially since it was my first wolf sighting ever. What a
spectacular and wild looking animal.
Although we were psyched about the wolf sighting, the large rapid just
downstream had to be dealt with. The late afternoon sun was low in the
sky and made scouting difficult since the George was flowing due west at
this point. The bright glare forced us to land on river right to foot scout
the rapid. The first two hundred yards of whitewater could obviously be
run on river right tight to shore. This was a good fun line, but a big hole
extending out from the right bank forced us to stop and scout again. The
scout showed we needed to head to the center to avoid the hole, but
there were some big waves out there. It was late in the day and we
wanted to make camp without dealing with a portage or lining. I think this
thing is runnable.
I convince Troy to run the rapid. We head out into the river and are
drawn down by its current while Jim and Caroline watch from shore. The
speed and power is greater than anticipated, and we narrowly miss the
hydraulics on the right shore. I back paddle and yell at Troy to do the
same in order to slow the canoe so it rides up the waves and stays dry as
opposed to plowing through and swamping the boat. From the canoe it
is obvious that the rapid is considerably larger than it appeared from the
rive bank. The first wave is over four feet tall and our canoe stalls out on
it and almost gets back surfed. The next few waves are large as well and
we fight to get back near the shore. Somehow the canoe stays bone dry
and the last three hundred yards are run to the bottom through
continuously heavy rapids. This is the best rapid run yet even though it
proved to be more exciting than anyone thought. Taking chances isn’t
smart in wilderness situations when all of your gear is in the boat you are paddling. Everyone
knows this and an unspoken pact is made to scout things more carefully from now on.
Below here we start to look for a campsite in a flatter area above a sweeping bend to the
southwest. The first site checked is at the top of a large unstable hill of cobbles and boulders
at the top of which the alders and bushes are too thick to allow camping anyways. The second
spot is an open gravel and rock beach with very little sand. This is a good spot for the tents
with easy access to the water. Camp is set and the breeze is strong enough so no bug tent is
needed. Pasta with peanut sauce is made for dinner with a little soy sauce that was borrowed
from the hunting camp the day before. Brief yet intense northern lights are seen around
eleven o’clock after sunset, which was at 9:30 Labrador time or 8:30 Quebec time. It is now 11:
15pm. The wind has died down and the flies and mosquitoes are bad tonight. Colder weather
outside and a clear sky settle in for the evening. Things look like they should stay clear for
tomorrow because high pressure systems tend to last for a while.
knows this and an unspoken pact is made to scout things more carefully from now on.
Below here we start to look for a campsite in a flatter area above a sweeping bend to the
southwest. The first site checked is at the top of a large unstable hill of cobbles and boulders
at the top of which the alders and bushes are too thick to allow camping anyways. The second
spot is an open gravel and rock beach with very little sand. This is a good spot for the tents
with easy access to the water. Camp is set and the breeze is strong enough so no bug tent is
needed. Pasta with peanut sauce is made for dinner with a little soy sauce that was borrowed
from the hunting camp the day before. Brief yet intense northern lights are seen around
eleven o’clock after sunset, which was at 9:30 Labrador time or 8:30 Quebec time. It is now 11:
15pm. The wind has died down and the flies and mosquitoes are bad tonight. Colder weather
outside and a clear sky settle in for the evening. Things look like they should stay clear for
tomorrow because high pressure systems tend to last for a while.
Jim and Carolyn take some of the first downstream strokes towards Ungava Bay on the upper reaches of the
George River.
George River.
The upper portions of the George River consist of large lake like expansions connected by narrow pathways
of river. Surprisingly, the Pike fishing through this area was fairly productive.
of river. Surprisingly, the Pike fishing through this area was fairly productive.
Signs of the George River Caribou herd became more and more plentiful as we traveled north of
Michikamau. Here I am on Cabot Lake with a full set of antlers.
Michikamau. Here I am on Cabot Lake with a full set of antlers.
Troy poses with the our canoe shortly after swamping and almost dumping in the rapid barely visible in the
background. We grossly underestimated the size of this drop when entering from above.
background. We grossly underestimated the size of this drop when entering from above.
The fishing in this fun set of class II-III rapids was nothing short of phenomenal and although we only spent a
few minutes casting in one eddy many brook trout were landed.
few minutes casting in one eddy many brook trout were landed.
Just downstream of Cabot Lake we set up camp on one of the few dry pieces of
land that we could find.
land that we could find.
Here I am with a nice stringer of brook trout that Troy and I landed on the upper
reaches of the George River.
reaches of the George River.
Getting to run some whitewater was a treat after days and weeks of slogging upstream and cruising across
lakes. Jim and Caroline take the center route through this somewhat heavy class II+ pitch.
lakes. Jim and Caroline take the center route through this somewhat heavy class II+ pitch.
The atypical antler that we found at this campsite was one of the largest I have
ever come across in my travels in the north.
ever come across in my travels in the north.
After waking up to find ourselves still windbound Troy and I went for a hike to get a view of the surroundings.
The route we had followed stretched out behind us.
The route we had followed stretched out behind us.
Shortly after leaving our windbound camp we encountered a small herd of caribou that crossed the river
where it narrowed at the head of a small rapid.
where it narrowed at the head of a small rapid.
Near the back of the group the females and young animals had no choice but to follow the rest of the group
as if pulled by a magnetism. They seemed somewhat oblivious to our presence.
as if pulled by a magnetism. They seemed somewhat oblivious to our presence.
Troy holds up the duck that he shot on the wing with a single bullet from the .22 hornet.
This large esker with a clearing that appeared to be man made was undoubtedly an old Naskapi camp. The
open site allowed for a nice breeze and unrestricted view of our surroundings.
open site allowed for a nice breeze and unrestricted view of our surroundings.
Caroline and Jim run the easy left side of the rapid that dumped Wallace and his partner in 1905. The swim
led to the loss of some vital equipment, but the team was lucky to escape with their lives.
led to the loss of some vital equipment, but the team was lucky to escape with their lives.
Class II rapids lead up to the start of the three gorges on the Upper George River. Here Troy stands with the
main drop of the middle channel behind him.
main drop of the middle channel behind him.
Here I am with the run out of the middle gorge behind me. The waterfall spilling into the channel is an offshoot
the third channel reconnecting with this canyon.
the third channel reconnecting with this canyon.
To make some miles, we pushed on below the gorges on a ramp of fast water. The river had finally incised a
defined channel and progress was fast.
defined channel and progress was fast.
The Upper George is a large river even upstream of Indian House lake. At this stretch of whitewater we found
ourselves forced to line a heavier pitch after being caught on the wrong side of the river.
ourselves forced to line a heavier pitch after being caught on the wrong side of the river.
Some fun class II-III rapids were found on the upper stretches of the George River. It felt great to be paddling
a large river with rapids. The diversity was much appreciated.
a large river with rapids. The diversity was much appreciated.
In the middle of some nice whitewater we found thsislarge sand beach and decided to stop for lunch and to
relax in the hot midday sunshine.
relax in the hot midday sunshine.
Shortly after lunch and just after waiting out a thunderstorm we portaged a large class IV rapid by carrying
across an open knoll on river right.
across an open knoll on river right.
Impressed by the arctic feel of the river I posed for this picture at the end of our portage with the paddle that I
made from solid ash.
made from solid ash.
While thunderstorms are rare in the subarctic, today's hot and humid weather sparked a round of unstable air
and a couple of big storms.
and a couple of big storms.
With a large storm bearing down on us we rushed to secure the canoes and set up camp. When weather
comes in up north it tends to happen fast and we wanted to be ready.
comes in up north it tends to happen fast and we wanted to be ready.
The more barren lands that the George River was flowing in to provided very little cover and everyone was
glad to watch the storm blow past us to the south.
glad to watch the storm blow past us to the south.
On a rainy morning we worked our way downstream through an interesting series of ledges and powerful
rapids, many of which we lined on river right and in a shallow side channel.
rapids, many of which we lined on river right and in a shallow side channel.
Jim and Caroline decided to run the meat of the rapid and although they took on quite a bit of water their line
looked great and they made it safely to the bottom.
looked great and they made it safely to the bottom.
Troy and I decided to portage our small and woefully overloaded canoe around the
heaviest part of the class III rapid, putting in at the eddy seen behind us.
heaviest part of the class III rapid, putting in at the eddy seen behind us.
The big tandem canoe bracing its way through the bottom of the big, deep, class III rapid where we ate lunch.
After a rainy morning the skies cleared and colder, windy weather blew in. The contrast between this weather
and yesterday's heat and humidity was very pronounced.
and yesterday's heat and humidity was very pronounced.
Our team lined the boats around a big class IV rapid about ten miles before
the George River flows into Indian House Lake.
the George River flows into Indian House Lake.