The Canyons of the Little Whale River
According to our maps the final fifteen kilometers of the Little Whale River
dropped steeply through wild gorges before flattening our just above Hudson
Bay. We were not disappointed with this last part of the river. A glance at the
maps showed that we had reached two closely spaced waterfalls. After a stiff
class IV the Little Whale dropped completely out of site. The only trace of the
river was a plume of mist rising up above the horizon line. The shore was a
mix of open ledge and sparsely wooded ground tucked against the base of a
big hill, and foot travel was not to difficult. In a minute I was able to see the
first falls from a large expanse of bare bedrock. The drop was a sloping fifty
footer that shook the earth. The raw power here was remarkable.
The sun bathed open ledges on the brink of the falls made the perfect lunch
spot. Phil and I ate quickly and decided to walk downstream to scout the
second drop, which was just around a sharp corner. We made our way along
the mist soaked river right shore and were lucky to find an open bench that
brought us to an area near the top of the next waterfall. The walking was
straightforward although in a few places a slip would have meant falling into
the river and being swept into the maelstrom below. Although it was hard to
believe, this second drop was even more spectacular than the first, plunging
eighty feet into an aqua blue pool surrounded by steep hills covered with
boulders and spruce. A rainbow arched above the whole scene from the
constant spray of water from the raging river.
There was no way to avoid portaging both falls in a single carry, so we walked
around the corner of the hill to look for a way to get back down to the river. An
open slope created by an old landslide provided a steep but reasonable route
down to a huge eddy. The boats had to be body belayed down the slope with
ropes, but the route was a go. Luckily, the hillside was not cliffed out or
overgrown with brush. While a lot of work, the portage could have been much
more difficult.
dropped steeply through wild gorges before flattening our just above Hudson
Bay. We were not disappointed with this last part of the river. A glance at the
maps showed that we had reached two closely spaced waterfalls. After a stiff
class IV the Little Whale dropped completely out of site. The only trace of the
river was a plume of mist rising up above the horizon line. The shore was a
mix of open ledge and sparsely wooded ground tucked against the base of a
big hill, and foot travel was not to difficult. In a minute I was able to see the
first falls from a large expanse of bare bedrock. The drop was a sloping fifty
footer that shook the earth. The raw power here was remarkable.
The sun bathed open ledges on the brink of the falls made the perfect lunch
spot. Phil and I ate quickly and decided to walk downstream to scout the
second drop, which was just around a sharp corner. We made our way along
the mist soaked river right shore and were lucky to find an open bench that
brought us to an area near the top of the next waterfall. The walking was
straightforward although in a few places a slip would have meant falling into
the river and being swept into the maelstrom below. Although it was hard to
believe, this second drop was even more spectacular than the first, plunging
eighty feet into an aqua blue pool surrounded by steep hills covered with
boulders and spruce. A rainbow arched above the whole scene from the
constant spray of water from the raging river.
There was no way to avoid portaging both falls in a single carry, so we walked
around the corner of the hill to look for a way to get back down to the river. An
open slope created by an old landslide provided a steep but reasonable route
down to a huge eddy. The boats had to be body belayed down the slope with
ropes, but the route was a go. Luckily, the hillside was not cliffed out or
overgrown with brush. While a lot of work, the portage could have been much
more difficult.
Friends of mine who had previously run the Little Whale warned
that the final canyon on the river contained a hundred foot falls
confined between vertical cliff walls. The hills rose roughly five
hundred feet on either side and the canyon was drawing near.
Our team encountered a big class II-III rapid whose big volume
features, combined with fear of the unknown made the easy line
somewhat exciting. Things picked up again around the next bend
and we found ourselves battling through thick shoreline vegetation
to scout another long and heavy rapid. We all ran through safely
before entering a section of quickwater just above the heart of the
canyon. We had previously denoted this as the last spot to easily
take out above the canyon, so we started to look for a campsite. It
made sense to set up camp and then scout the whole canyon
before proceeding downstream or initiating an unnecessarily long
portage.
Our position was exciting, sitting at the top of a remote river
canyon only explored by a few people and possibly never before
penetrated. Seven hundred foot tall dome like mountains of
granite rose steeply all around us. Where there were not cliffs the
slopes were forested for the first five hundred feet before opening
up on top. Our concern was that if we entered the canyon it would
be impossible to find egress from the river to portage the big falls.
A few streams flowed down from the hills at our current location,
and eroded out easier routes up and out of the gorge. Looking at
the maps was a little disconcerting. If a full portage around the
canyon was necessary it would be over 5 kilometers long and
involve almost a thousand feet of climbing. My friends had made
this two day portage ten years earlier on their trip and it was our
hope to find a more reasonable route closer to water level.
Our first problem was finding a place to camp for the night. The
steep hillsides were thickly wooded and full of dense alders and
willows. Phil checked out a potential spot on river right, but quickly
came back, reporting fresh bear feces and a half eaten caribou
leg. This convinced us to look for a clearing across the river
where we eventually found a marginal spot.
Everyone had a few snacks before getting ready to head out on
the scouting mission. The hike followed a narrow ridge to the top
of the seven hundred foot tall mountain. The walking was steep
and tough, and we used game trails when possible. Bringing the
entire outfit up this would be a nightmare. Finally the barren
ledges of the mountain top were reached. A glance downstream
showed quickwater leading to a pinch in the canyon, at which point
the river dropped out of sight over the edge of a big falls.
that the final canyon on the river contained a hundred foot falls
confined between vertical cliff walls. The hills rose roughly five
hundred feet on either side and the canyon was drawing near.
Our team encountered a big class II-III rapid whose big volume
features, combined with fear of the unknown made the easy line
somewhat exciting. Things picked up again around the next bend
and we found ourselves battling through thick shoreline vegetation
to scout another long and heavy rapid. We all ran through safely
before entering a section of quickwater just above the heart of the
canyon. We had previously denoted this as the last spot to easily
take out above the canyon, so we started to look for a campsite. It
made sense to set up camp and then scout the whole canyon
before proceeding downstream or initiating an unnecessarily long
portage.
Our position was exciting, sitting at the top of a remote river
canyon only explored by a few people and possibly never before
penetrated. Seven hundred foot tall dome like mountains of
granite rose steeply all around us. Where there were not cliffs the
slopes were forested for the first five hundred feet before opening
up on top. Our concern was that if we entered the canyon it would
be impossible to find egress from the river to portage the big falls.
A few streams flowed down from the hills at our current location,
and eroded out easier routes up and out of the gorge. Looking at
the maps was a little disconcerting. If a full portage around the
canyon was necessary it would be over 5 kilometers long and
involve almost a thousand feet of climbing. My friends had made
this two day portage ten years earlier on their trip and it was our
hope to find a more reasonable route closer to water level.
Our first problem was finding a place to camp for the night. The
steep hillsides were thickly wooded and full of dense alders and
willows. Phil checked out a potential spot on river right, but quickly
came back, reporting fresh bear feces and a half eaten caribou
leg. This convinced us to look for a clearing across the river
where we eventually found a marginal spot.
Everyone had a few snacks before getting ready to head out on
the scouting mission. The hike followed a narrow ridge to the top
of the seven hundred foot tall mountain. The walking was steep
and tough, and we used game trails when possible. Bringing the
entire outfit up this would be a nightmare. Finally the barren
ledges of the mountain top were reached. A glance downstream
showed quickwater leading to a pinch in the canyon, at which point
the river dropped out of sight over the edge of a big falls.
Although the drop looked huge and mist could be seen rising from the deep cliffed out canyon below, it was certainly possible to paddle to the lip of
the falls without having to deal with big rapids. This was encouraging. Before making any hasty decisions everyone agreed to walk to the next hill
top to get a look at what lay below the falls. If it was impossible to get back down to the river after getting out above the falls, nothing would be
gained by paddling to the brink.
From the next mountain the view was even more spectacular. Most rewarding was the glimpse of Hudson Bay with its shimmering fog bank just
visible between two distant hill tops. More importantly, the Little Whale could be seen flowing downstream through what appeared to be big class II
and III rapids. This was encouraging. No matter what the big drop looked like, we would be able to put back in a reasonable distance below it.
To get a better view into the heart of the canyon we all walked to the very edge of the gorge. Only from here could we see the extent of what had to
be dealt with. The big drop was hidden by a bench of land on river left and few tight bends, but we could see cliffed out big water call IV rapids
emerging from the base of the falls. On closer inspection a river left portage was discovered. A lower hill about four hundred feet tall rose up on
river left next to the falls. It was wooded, but it looked possible to get the outfit up this hill from the lip of the big drop and put back in below the
heaviest of the run out rapids. Although this route would involve four hundred feet of steep climbing it would be much shorter than the five
kilometer ridgeline portage. It was a much relieved group that made the hike back to the tents that evening.
the falls without having to deal with big rapids. This was encouraging. Before making any hasty decisions everyone agreed to walk to the next hill
top to get a look at what lay below the falls. If it was impossible to get back down to the river after getting out above the falls, nothing would be
gained by paddling to the brink.
From the next mountain the view was even more spectacular. Most rewarding was the glimpse of Hudson Bay with its shimmering fog bank just
visible between two distant hill tops. More importantly, the Little Whale could be seen flowing downstream through what appeared to be big class II
and III rapids. This was encouraging. No matter what the big drop looked like, we would be able to put back in a reasonable distance below it.
To get a better view into the heart of the canyon we all walked to the very edge of the gorge. Only from here could we see the extent of what had to
be dealt with. The big drop was hidden by a bench of land on river left and few tight bends, but we could see cliffed out big water call IV rapids
emerging from the base of the falls. On closer inspection a river left portage was discovered. A lower hill about four hundred feet tall rose up on
river left next to the falls. It was wooded, but it looked possible to get the outfit up this hill from the lip of the big drop and put back in below the
heaviest of the run out rapids. Although this route would involve four hundred feet of steep climbing it would be much shorter than the five
kilometer ridgeline portage. It was a much relieved group that made the hike back to the tents that evening.
After loading the canoes the next morning we tentatively paddled into
the gorge. Almost a kilometer and a half of easy rapids leads down to
the top of the falls. We had spotted some eddies while on yesterday’s
scout and headed into the first of them. As luck would have it, a
recent avalanche path had cleared out many of the tress on the hill
directly above the eddy we had stopped in.
The boats were brought up first and the tandem teams worked
together to drag the canoes up the forty degrees slope that rose some
three to four hundred feet. Instead of waiting for help I started hauling
my boat. Working alone was disastrously tiring because resting was
not possible. Letting go of the canoe would result in it sliding all of the
way into the river and over the falls at which point it would be
destroyed. A few times I almost lost my grip, but in the end I won out
and was able to wrestle the boat into a small clump of trees for a rest.
Everyone was disastrously tired at the top. Temporarily shattered
from the exertion, I lay on the ground and rested. Other than being
tired and a little dizzy we were fine. While some of the other guys
headed down for a load of gear, Phil and I carried all of the boats
across the level bench to the point where we would lower them back
down to the river.
the gorge. Almost a kilometer and a half of easy rapids leads down to
the top of the falls. We had spotted some eddies while on yesterday’s
scout and headed into the first of them. As luck would have it, a
recent avalanche path had cleared out many of the tress on the hill
directly above the eddy we had stopped in.
The boats were brought up first and the tandem teams worked
together to drag the canoes up the forty degrees slope that rose some
three to four hundred feet. Instead of waiting for help I started hauling
my boat. Working alone was disastrously tiring because resting was
not possible. Letting go of the canoe would result in it sliding all of the
way into the river and over the falls at which point it would be
destroyed. A few times I almost lost my grip, but in the end I won out
and was able to wrestle the boat into a small clump of trees for a rest.
Everyone was disastrously tired at the top. Temporarily shattered
from the exertion, I lay on the ground and rested. Other than being
tired and a little dizzy we were fine. While some of the other guys
headed down for a load of gear, Phil and I carried all of the boats
across the level bench to the point where we would lower them back
down to the river.
The view from here was impressive. Our target, a big swirling eddy below the
canyon could be seen, framed by rugged mountains, slate gray ledges, and
an overcast sky. Whitewater stretched away downstream and out of sight
around a bend. We both hoped that the rest of the gorge could be paddled
without a portage. Way downstream the river appeared to become cliffed out
again, and we could only hope for the best. After taking in the view for a few
minutes we headed back and made the descent to the gear back at the start
of the portage. I shouldered my forty pounds of personal gear and grabbed
a big heavy food bag as well. To get up the mountain this time I would drag
the fifty pound food bag up and toss it above me without letting go and then
use this bag to pull myself up. Again and again this was repeated with
burning thighs until the top of the carry was reached.
In only a few hours the task was already half over. Now all of the gear had to
get back down to the river. We decided to do this in one trip by loading the
canoes and belaying them down the slope for four hundred feet to the eddy.
Since the loaded boats weighed at least 250 pounds it would not be possible
to use a body belay. The stern and bow lines were joined to make ropes
about sixty feet long per canoe. The rope was then wrapped around a tree
several times and the friction from this wrap allowed a single person to hold
back the load with one hand. To lower the outfit they simple had to remove
wraps until gravity pulled the boats downhill. If the boats got moving too
quickly the rope was wrapped more. To ensure that nothing went wrong
someone guided the front of each canoe as it was lowered down pitch after
pitch.
During the portage blackflies and mosquitoes had come out in full force for
the first time on the trip. Some of the team members not accustomed to
travel in the north were driven insane by the frequent bites and constant
buzzing. After lowering the boats for over 200 feet we were forced to shift
our line of descent to the left to avoid a cliff that plunged over a hundred feet
directly into the river. We has misjudged and started lowering the boats to
far upstream. This shift took some extras effort, but once back on line the
water was quickly reached.
At the bottom the shore was a jumble of car sized boulders and it was only
after great exertion that I was able to get my canoe launched. Once on the
river I paddled through the swirly eddy and took out above the next steep
rapid on a large smooth ledge. From here I watched as the tandem crews
completed their portages. Phil and Barrett joined me shortly, but John and
James were well behind us. The pair was struggling to get their boat
launched and at least fifteen minutes passed before they joined us, upset to
report that one of their prized caribou antlers had fallen into the water and
sank forever.
Once John and James came down to us we unloaded a lunch barrel and ate
plenty of food. Everyone was tired but content. Looking back up into the
inner canyon, we couldn’t help but think that we were probably the only
people to have ever sat in this particular spot. The day was mostly cloudy,
but plenty warm. This break from the intense sun was actually kind of
refreshing and no one was complaining.
Below here the river was big class III with easy class II water close to the left
shore. We could see about a half kilometer downstream to a point where the
Little Whale made a sharp left turn at the base of a tall cliff. We knew that
the river dropped about a hundred and fifty feet in the canyon and if that
entire drop was accounted for in the section we had just portaged then it was
possible that the rest of the canyon would be navigable. If there was
another big drop down here it might require a hefty portage or be entirely
cliffed out. Still, this was a chance we were willing to take. I paddled out of
the eddy first and found the big and strong class II rapids quite exciting.
Although I couldn’t see too far below, the nature of the river seemed to be
consistent class II and quickwater. I didn’t get the impression that there was
going to be another falls, but we all proceeded cautiously, not wanting to get
lured into a false sense of security only to be stuck in the middle of the river
above a big drop. It turned out that the rest of the gorge contained only
straightforward class II rapids.
canyon could be seen, framed by rugged mountains, slate gray ledges, and
an overcast sky. Whitewater stretched away downstream and out of sight
around a bend. We both hoped that the rest of the gorge could be paddled
without a portage. Way downstream the river appeared to become cliffed out
again, and we could only hope for the best. After taking in the view for a few
minutes we headed back and made the descent to the gear back at the start
of the portage. I shouldered my forty pounds of personal gear and grabbed
a big heavy food bag as well. To get up the mountain this time I would drag
the fifty pound food bag up and toss it above me without letting go and then
use this bag to pull myself up. Again and again this was repeated with
burning thighs until the top of the carry was reached.
In only a few hours the task was already half over. Now all of the gear had to
get back down to the river. We decided to do this in one trip by loading the
canoes and belaying them down the slope for four hundred feet to the eddy.
Since the loaded boats weighed at least 250 pounds it would not be possible
to use a body belay. The stern and bow lines were joined to make ropes
about sixty feet long per canoe. The rope was then wrapped around a tree
several times and the friction from this wrap allowed a single person to hold
back the load with one hand. To lower the outfit they simple had to remove
wraps until gravity pulled the boats downhill. If the boats got moving too
quickly the rope was wrapped more. To ensure that nothing went wrong
someone guided the front of each canoe as it was lowered down pitch after
pitch.
During the portage blackflies and mosquitoes had come out in full force for
the first time on the trip. Some of the team members not accustomed to
travel in the north were driven insane by the frequent bites and constant
buzzing. After lowering the boats for over 200 feet we were forced to shift
our line of descent to the left to avoid a cliff that plunged over a hundred feet
directly into the river. We has misjudged and started lowering the boats to
far upstream. This shift took some extras effort, but once back on line the
water was quickly reached.
At the bottom the shore was a jumble of car sized boulders and it was only
after great exertion that I was able to get my canoe launched. Once on the
river I paddled through the swirly eddy and took out above the next steep
rapid on a large smooth ledge. From here I watched as the tandem crews
completed their portages. Phil and Barrett joined me shortly, but John and
James were well behind us. The pair was struggling to get their boat
launched and at least fifteen minutes passed before they joined us, upset to
report that one of their prized caribou antlers had fallen into the water and
sank forever.
Once John and James came down to us we unloaded a lunch barrel and ate
plenty of food. Everyone was tired but content. Looking back up into the
inner canyon, we couldn’t help but think that we were probably the only
people to have ever sat in this particular spot. The day was mostly cloudy,
but plenty warm. This break from the intense sun was actually kind of
refreshing and no one was complaining.
Below here the river was big class III with easy class II water close to the left
shore. We could see about a half kilometer downstream to a point where the
Little Whale made a sharp left turn at the base of a tall cliff. We knew that
the river dropped about a hundred and fifty feet in the canyon and if that
entire drop was accounted for in the section we had just portaged then it was
possible that the rest of the canyon would be navigable. If there was
another big drop down here it might require a hefty portage or be entirely
cliffed out. Still, this was a chance we were willing to take. I paddled out of
the eddy first and found the big and strong class II rapids quite exciting.
Although I couldn’t see too far below, the nature of the river seemed to be
consistent class II and quickwater. I didn’t get the impression that there was
going to be another falls, but we all proceeded cautiously, not wanting to get
lured into a false sense of security only to be stuck in the middle of the river
above a big drop. It turned out that the rest of the gorge contained only
straightforward class II rapids.
The ramp of whitewater in the second half of the canyon was a
good reward for the morning of hard work. As we neared the
bottom of the gorge, views of the mountains lining Hudson Bay
became more numerous. Many of the mountain sides were huge
eroded cliff bands facing inland, giving the hills the appearance
of buttes like those in the Rocky Mountains. The sun even made
an appearance and everyone’s spirits sailed when it became
apparent that there were no more falls to deal with in this
canyon. The river turned almost ninety degrees to the right and
spread out over a wide alluvial fan type deposit of rocks that had
been eroded out of the canyon and we bounced our way down to
a big piece of flatwater set in a wide valley surrounded by
spectacular scenery.
Ten kilometers of flatwater followed, and while the paddling was
not exciting, it was nice to make miles surrounded by such
amazing terrain. Our maps indicated that a few more major falls
lay between us and the bay, so we were ready for anything,
hoping to camp near one of these last major drops. Eventually
the river narrowed until it seemed to plummet over the edge of
the world. The whole area around the drop was lined with smooth
water worn ledge spreading out for several hundred meters. The
Little Whale dropped in two distinct channels over a series of falls
that easily totaled a hundred and fifty feet. Again, I found myself
convinced that this was the most gorgeous place on earth. From
a practical standpoint, portaging the drop was quite simple. River
right was a ramp of ledges over which the loaded canoes were
slid down to an eddy. From the eddy it was possible to paddle to
the top of another fifteen foot slide and line the boats to another
large pool. A point of land stuck out at the foot of this pool, and
seemed like it would provide a great view of the entire falls, in
addition to being a good protected campsite. A pleasant night
was spent here.
The next morning we were up at seven o’clock as usual and
quickly made breakfast while thunderclouds were building over
head. Lots of open ledge lined the river and the rapids had a
very big and pushy feel to them. Bizarre currents, swirly eddy
lines and weird boils made traveling along shore tricky and
potentially dangerous. I boat scouted the narrow, big volume
class III rapid just below our campsite and gave the other canoes
the all clear signal from shore. We made it through here safely
and eddied out to bail and assess the river below.
The map had the next kilometer marked with rapid lines, so we
moved slowly from one eddy to the next. Rapids became more
numerous, and most were able to be snuck along shore. The
problem was that big hydraulics and fast water lay out in the main
channel of the river. To flip and swim anywhere would be
dangerous, especially not knowing exactly what was downstream.
The power of the water was intimidating for some of the paddlers
not accustomed to heavy rapids.
Eventually the drops stacked up into one monstrous class V+
rapid made by a series of broken ledges. While the middle of the
river was constantly violent, the sides of the smooth ledges
tended to be quick and shallow. We were actually able to line
down much of the distance, walking along open rock and running
with the sliding canoes while guiding them from one eddy to the
next with ropes. Finally the river narrowed to a hundred yards
and the ledges formed numerous bays that prevented us from
lining any farther.
A portage was started and lasted until the canoes could be lined
again. Although the rock was angled and broken, the portage
was not difficult and in no time everyone reassembled above a
long sloping side channel. A film of water between one inch and
one foot deep glided over a banked smooth ledge and crashed
through a boiling rapid into an eddy. The canoes were lined
through, bailed, and paddled down to the top of the last drop on
the Little Whale River.
This last drop was a long slide falling about thirty feet in fifty
meters. I was in front of the others and decided to line my canoe
down the edge of the falls alone. The current was incredibly fast,
but the shore was polished granite and nothing was in the way. I
gave the little canoe a shove and kept it as close to shore as
possible. As the boat picked up speed I started running along
side, holding onto the ropes. At the bottom, the small canoe was
stopped by a corner of the huge hydraulic and precariously side
surfed for a few seconds before I let go of one of the ropes and
wildly yanked the half swamped boat to the safety of the huge
river right eddy. The tandem crews made it down without incident
and we all stood in amazement of the slide. We were now at the
upper limit of tidal influence and high sand banks blocked a view
of the mouth of the river, which hid a few miles around a bend.
The spot was absolutely amazing.
good reward for the morning of hard work. As we neared the
bottom of the gorge, views of the mountains lining Hudson Bay
became more numerous. Many of the mountain sides were huge
eroded cliff bands facing inland, giving the hills the appearance
of buttes like those in the Rocky Mountains. The sun even made
an appearance and everyone’s spirits sailed when it became
apparent that there were no more falls to deal with in this
canyon. The river turned almost ninety degrees to the right and
spread out over a wide alluvial fan type deposit of rocks that had
been eroded out of the canyon and we bounced our way down to
a big piece of flatwater set in a wide valley surrounded by
spectacular scenery.
Ten kilometers of flatwater followed, and while the paddling was
not exciting, it was nice to make miles surrounded by such
amazing terrain. Our maps indicated that a few more major falls
lay between us and the bay, so we were ready for anything,
hoping to camp near one of these last major drops. Eventually
the river narrowed until it seemed to plummet over the edge of
the world. The whole area around the drop was lined with smooth
water worn ledge spreading out for several hundred meters. The
Little Whale dropped in two distinct channels over a series of falls
that easily totaled a hundred and fifty feet. Again, I found myself
convinced that this was the most gorgeous place on earth. From
a practical standpoint, portaging the drop was quite simple. River
right was a ramp of ledges over which the loaded canoes were
slid down to an eddy. From the eddy it was possible to paddle to
the top of another fifteen foot slide and line the boats to another
large pool. A point of land stuck out at the foot of this pool, and
seemed like it would provide a great view of the entire falls, in
addition to being a good protected campsite. A pleasant night
was spent here.
The next morning we were up at seven o’clock as usual and
quickly made breakfast while thunderclouds were building over
head. Lots of open ledge lined the river and the rapids had a
very big and pushy feel to them. Bizarre currents, swirly eddy
lines and weird boils made traveling along shore tricky and
potentially dangerous. I boat scouted the narrow, big volume
class III rapid just below our campsite and gave the other canoes
the all clear signal from shore. We made it through here safely
and eddied out to bail and assess the river below.
The map had the next kilometer marked with rapid lines, so we
moved slowly from one eddy to the next. Rapids became more
numerous, and most were able to be snuck along shore. The
problem was that big hydraulics and fast water lay out in the main
channel of the river. To flip and swim anywhere would be
dangerous, especially not knowing exactly what was downstream.
The power of the water was intimidating for some of the paddlers
not accustomed to heavy rapids.
Eventually the drops stacked up into one monstrous class V+
rapid made by a series of broken ledges. While the middle of the
river was constantly violent, the sides of the smooth ledges
tended to be quick and shallow. We were actually able to line
down much of the distance, walking along open rock and running
with the sliding canoes while guiding them from one eddy to the
next with ropes. Finally the river narrowed to a hundred yards
and the ledges formed numerous bays that prevented us from
lining any farther.
A portage was started and lasted until the canoes could be lined
again. Although the rock was angled and broken, the portage
was not difficult and in no time everyone reassembled above a
long sloping side channel. A film of water between one inch and
one foot deep glided over a banked smooth ledge and crashed
through a boiling rapid into an eddy. The canoes were lined
through, bailed, and paddled down to the top of the last drop on
the Little Whale River.
This last drop was a long slide falling about thirty feet in fifty
meters. I was in front of the others and decided to line my canoe
down the edge of the falls alone. The current was incredibly fast,
but the shore was polished granite and nothing was in the way. I
gave the little canoe a shove and kept it as close to shore as
possible. As the boat picked up speed I started running along
side, holding onto the ropes. At the bottom, the small canoe was
stopped by a corner of the huge hydraulic and precariously side
surfed for a few seconds before I let go of one of the ropes and
wildly yanked the half swamped boat to the safety of the huge
river right eddy. The tandem crews made it down without incident
and we all stood in amazement of the slide. We were now at the
upper limit of tidal influence and high sand banks blocked a view
of the mouth of the river, which hid a few miles around a bend.
The spot was absolutely amazing.
Two canoes being Portaged around the first of the double falls
encountered above the final canyon on the Little Whale River.
encountered above the final canyon on the Little Whale River.
A boat being taken around the second of the double falls on the Little
Whale River. This portage was fairly easy considering what it avoided.
Whale River. This portage was fairly easy considering what it avoided.
Getting back to the river after the second falls involved
belaying the canoes and climbing down a steep slope.
belaying the canoes and climbing down a steep slope.
Our team scouts the canyon that contained a cliffed out hundred foot falls. Confirming a
portage route before starting the carry allowed us to avoid an unnecessarily long
portage.
portage route before starting the carry allowed us to avoid an unnecessarily long
portage.
The scout involved a two hour hike to a ridge about seven hundred feet above the water.
In this picture the run out of the inner most canyon can be seen. Our portage lead across
the top of the hill seen in the middle right side of the picture below our group.
In this picture the run out of the inner most canyon can be seen. Our portage lead across
the top of the hill seen in the middle right side of the picture below our group.
Barret seen pushing the tandem canoe up the forty degree slope while Phil pulls from
above. This was an intense portage, but it was the best option we had.
above. This was an intense portage, but it was the best option we had.
Phil Royce and Brad Bassi rest at the top of the canyon portage and look
at the river below the hidden falls that caused the exhausting carry.
Seeing that the rest of the canyon looked passable was encouraging.
at the river below the hidden falls that caused the exhausting carry.
Seeing that the rest of the canyon looked passable was encouraging.
James holding a fully loaded tandem canoe on belay while lowering the
outfit four hundred feet down an incredibly steep hill to the river below.
outfit four hundred feet down an incredibly steep hill to the river below.
Our team was perhaps the only people to have ever witnessed this view from the inner
canyon on the Little Whale. We felt humbled to be here and wondered what the big drop
just upstream looked like.
canyon on the Little Whale. We felt humbled to be here and wondered what the big drop
just upstream looked like.
Brad Bassi sits at the spectacular campsite we selected at the base of a massive falls near
the end of the Little Whale River. The drop continued below this for another twenty of thirty
feet.
the end of the Little Whale River. The drop continued below this for another twenty of thirty
feet.
Phil and Barret line part of the heavy class V drop near the end of the Little Whale River.
James, Barret, and John standing at the base of the final slide. This drop spills into tidewater
and marks the end of the Little Whale's incredible whitewater.
and marks the end of the Little Whale's incredible whitewater.