| STAGE TWO - Umiujaq to Lake Minto |
The first day of traveling brought every possible emotion with it. Paddling for three hours in the morning on a glassy Hudson Bay while dodging chunks of sea
ice was euphoric. The sun turned the undersides of the miniature icebergs a turquoise blue. At times ice floes forced us pretty far away from the shore, but
that actually tended to put us into an outgoing current that accelerated forward progress. A few curious seals checked us out and we made amazing time with
the helping current. Clouds were still off to the north and the air was made frigid by the icy water. Tipping the canoe was clearly not an option. At times we
were probably half a kilometer offshore, much too far away to save ourselves from the near freezing water if we were to fall in. Paddling around sea ice while
wearing a winter hat on the first day of summer was quite the experience. This was without a doubt the most spectacular start to a trip that I have ever had.
ice was euphoric. The sun turned the undersides of the miniature icebergs a turquoise blue. At times ice floes forced us pretty far away from the shore, but
that actually tended to put us into an outgoing current that accelerated forward progress. A few curious seals checked us out and we made amazing time with
the helping current. Clouds were still off to the north and the air was made frigid by the icy water. Tipping the canoe was clearly not an option. At times we
were probably half a kilometer offshore, much too far away to save ourselves from the near freezing water if we were to fall in. Paddling around sea ice while
wearing a winter hat on the first day of summer was quite the experience. This was without a doubt the most spectacular start to a trip that I have ever had.
Eventually a point was rounded and we paddled up towards
Nastapoka Falls. The massive waterfall could be seen dropping into
a deep canyon that led out to tidewater. The sight of the huge
Nastapoka River dropping a hundred feet directly into the ocean
through such a barren and rugged landscape was awe inspiring.
Also awe inspiring was the absolute downpour that was slamming
into us. In addition to being a spectacular sight, the falls was also a
spectacular physical barrier to our progress. Our route was taking
us up the Nastapoka River, and the only was past the falls was a
steep portage.
Once the portaging started the trip suddenly seemed like the worse
idea ever. In the pouring rain we unloaded the canoe and fought
our way through a thicket of ten foot tall alders to the base of the
thirty degree slope up which each eighty to one hundred pound
gear bag was manhandled. Eric did a tremendous job, but I was
gasping for breath and half delirious after two trips. At times I
literally felt as though I would vomit from the strain. Water poured
from the alders as you crashed through them and the rain was
relentless. Still, everything was at the top of the falls by six thirty
and the decision to camp here for the night was made.
There was a lull in the rain so the tent was set up and staked out
quickly, ensuring a dry place to sleep. Since there was no easy way
to get down to the river next to our campsite, we had to walk a few
hundred yards upstream to get water for dinner. By the time we
returned to cook another wind driven downpour could be seen
rolling in from out on the bay. Sure enough, the tempest hit and
forced us to cook and eat hunkered under the upside down canoe.
While stuffed under there eating Macaroni and Cheese, soaking wet
and cold, I was thinking that these are the moments that set trips
like this aside from others.
Nastapoka Falls. The massive waterfall could be seen dropping into
a deep canyon that led out to tidewater. The sight of the huge
Nastapoka River dropping a hundred feet directly into the ocean
through such a barren and rugged landscape was awe inspiring.
Also awe inspiring was the absolute downpour that was slamming
into us. In addition to being a spectacular sight, the falls was also a
spectacular physical barrier to our progress. Our route was taking
us up the Nastapoka River, and the only was past the falls was a
steep portage.
Once the portaging started the trip suddenly seemed like the worse
idea ever. In the pouring rain we unloaded the canoe and fought
our way through a thicket of ten foot tall alders to the base of the
thirty degree slope up which each eighty to one hundred pound
gear bag was manhandled. Eric did a tremendous job, but I was
gasping for breath and half delirious after two trips. At times I
literally felt as though I would vomit from the strain. Water poured
from the alders as you crashed through them and the rain was
relentless. Still, everything was at the top of the falls by six thirty
and the decision to camp here for the night was made.
There was a lull in the rain so the tent was set up and staked out
quickly, ensuring a dry place to sleep. Since there was no easy way
to get down to the river next to our campsite, we had to walk a few
hundred yards upstream to get water for dinner. By the time we
returned to cook another wind driven downpour could be seen
rolling in from out on the bay. Sure enough, the tempest hit and
forced us to cook and eat hunkered under the upside down canoe.
While stuffed under there eating Macaroni and Cheese, soaking wet
and cold, I was thinking that these are the moments that set trips
like this aside from others.
Our second day out was the kind of day that keeps other people away from the Ungava Peninsula. A fierce tailwind helped push us upstream
against a strong current as we paddled into a deep canyon. The going was fine until the current accelerated and a class I rapid greeted us. The
scenery was particularly dramatic now. Snow clung to the barren mountain sides in many places and where cliffs did not plummet directly into the
river the steep hillsides were covered by thick alders. These nearly impenetrable tangles of vegetation would make portaging miserable. By
lunchtime the river grew tougher and we had to line the canoe in places. Making progress upstream became difficult and tedious with lots of energy
expended to move very little distance. The fog shrouded hills rising hundreds of feet above us added to our sense of confinement.
The weather seemed to be even colder and more ferocious than it was in the morning with the precipitation shifting between cold rain and sleet.
These conditions, combined with the soaking wet gear we were forced to put on in the morning, made each of us miserably cold at times. However,
as long as we continued to work it was easy to stay warm. In fact, I was able to adequately dry out my under layers just from the body heat
generated by the hard paddling and lining. The trouble was that stopping was dangerous. Within minutes of resting, a cold wetness crept in and
chilled us to the bone.
against a strong current as we paddled into a deep canyon. The going was fine until the current accelerated and a class I rapid greeted us. The
scenery was particularly dramatic now. Snow clung to the barren mountain sides in many places and where cliffs did not plummet directly into the
river the steep hillsides were covered by thick alders. These nearly impenetrable tangles of vegetation would make portaging miserable. By
lunchtime the river grew tougher and we had to line the canoe in places. Making progress upstream became difficult and tedious with lots of energy
expended to move very little distance. The fog shrouded hills rising hundreds of feet above us added to our sense of confinement.
The weather seemed to be even colder and more ferocious than it was in the morning with the precipitation shifting between cold rain and sleet.
These conditions, combined with the soaking wet gear we were forced to put on in the morning, made each of us miserably cold at times. However,
as long as we continued to work it was easy to stay warm. In fact, I was able to adequately dry out my under layers just from the body heat
generated by the hard paddling and lining. The trouble was that stopping was dangerous. Within minutes of resting, a cold wetness crept in and
chilled us to the bone.
We eventually came to a class II rapid with no way around it. The Nastapoka ran deep and was tremendously powerful. After trying to attain the rapid by paddling
several times we regrouped and assessed our options. The river right shoreline was a steep, nearly vertical slope of wet granite rising fifteen or twenty feet directly
out of the water to a small ledge that lead out of sight around a turn in the rock wall. It looked like it may be possible to climb to the ledge and potentially line the
outfit around the rapid. Still, the move would have been sketchy at best with any fall leading to submersion in the cold water. Even if the route proved viable we
didn’t know what lay farther upstream. The maps indicated that the canyon would only grow deeper and narrower, not a good sign. From our vantage point river
left looked even more cliffed out than our side. Farther upstream progress at river level appeared to be impossible without taking unnecessary risks.
Lots of options were tossed around, but after much debate it was agreed to portage out of the canyon at the nearest viable location and carry our outfit three
kilometers north to the Richard River. My friends Troy Gipps and Jim Niedbalski had ascended this stream back in 1996 while doing their own Ungava crossing and
at least we knew that their route had not been at the bottom of a canyon.
The portage involved carrying our gear up the three hundred foot tall wall of the gorge in four trips. The loads were disastrously heavy, but our NRS Paragon
Packs handled the strain remarkably well. In all, the portage lasted for two days. By the time we reached the Richard River Eric and I were thrilled to see a stream
deep enough to float the canoe. During the carry we experienced nearly continuous sleet and snow with daily high temperatures not rising above the mid thirties.
several times we regrouped and assessed our options. The river right shoreline was a steep, nearly vertical slope of wet granite rising fifteen or twenty feet directly
out of the water to a small ledge that lead out of sight around a turn in the rock wall. It looked like it may be possible to climb to the ledge and potentially line the
outfit around the rapid. Still, the move would have been sketchy at best with any fall leading to submersion in the cold water. Even if the route proved viable we
didn’t know what lay farther upstream. The maps indicated that the canyon would only grow deeper and narrower, not a good sign. From our vantage point river
left looked even more cliffed out than our side. Farther upstream progress at river level appeared to be impossible without taking unnecessary risks.
Lots of options were tossed around, but after much debate it was agreed to portage out of the canyon at the nearest viable location and carry our outfit three
kilometers north to the Richard River. My friends Troy Gipps and Jim Niedbalski had ascended this stream back in 1996 while doing their own Ungava crossing and
at least we knew that their route had not been at the bottom of a canyon.
The portage involved carrying our gear up the three hundred foot tall wall of the gorge in four trips. The loads were disastrously heavy, but our NRS Paragon
Packs handled the strain remarkably well. In all, the portage lasted for two days. By the time we reached the Richard River Eric and I were thrilled to see a stream
deep enough to float the canoe. During the carry we experienced nearly continuous sleet and snow with daily high temperatures not rising above the mid thirties.
Working up the Richard River was an exercise in perseverance combined with physical and mental toughness. Three days of rain and snow kept us cold
and soaked. Each morning we put on frozen gear and spent the day wading in knee to waist deep water while lining and dragging our canoe up the
shallow stream.
The great thing about the weather in Ungava is that it always changes, and by the time we reached the top of the Richard sun broke through and allowed
us to dry our gear and take in the spectacular views. The end of the storm caused our spirits to soar and motivated us to continue on the trip with
renewed vigor.
and soaked. Each morning we put on frozen gear and spent the day wading in knee to waist deep water while lining and dragging our canoe up the
shallow stream.
The great thing about the weather in Ungava is that it always changes, and by the time we reached the top of the Richard sun broke through and allowed
us to dry our gear and take in the spectacular views. The end of the storm caused our spirits to soar and motivated us to continue on the trip with
renewed vigor.
The next four days involved traveling through a series of lakes and
ponds that were linked together with portages varying between a
hundred meters and two kilometers. As we moved inland away
from the icy influence of Hudson Bay small stunted trees appeared
in isolated clumps and the weather continued to warm. Rugged
terrain dominated this area and made for dramatic scenery.
Although each day brought a bit of rain, the overall conditions
were quite excellent. Eric and I were now in a routine and the
tripping became fluid and stress free.
When the wind stopped insects attacked us in indescribable
hordes. Without our bug shirts and headnets dealing with these
pests would have been nearly impossible. It is no wonder that the
Inuit choose to spend their summers near the coast where flies
and mosquitoes are seldom seen. Luckily a strong breeze blew
most of the time and the majority of each day’s travel was relatively
bug free.
Signs of the Leaf River caribou herd’s eight hundred thousand
head of animals were numerous throughout this stretch. The
caribou had migrated through here in April on their way north to
the calving grounds. Their trails were everywhere, and in most
cases we used these rough paths while portaging. Hopefully we
would run into some of these caribou farther on in our trip when
the beasts began to migrate back south. While shedded antlers
and the occasional carcass were interesting, seeing the actual
animals would be much more exciting.
ponds that were linked together with portages varying between a
hundred meters and two kilometers. As we moved inland away
from the icy influence of Hudson Bay small stunted trees appeared
in isolated clumps and the weather continued to warm. Rugged
terrain dominated this area and made for dramatic scenery.
Although each day brought a bit of rain, the overall conditions
were quite excellent. Eric and I were now in a routine and the
tripping became fluid and stress free.
When the wind stopped insects attacked us in indescribable
hordes. Without our bug shirts and headnets dealing with these
pests would have been nearly impossible. It is no wonder that the
Inuit choose to spend their summers near the coast where flies
and mosquitoes are seldom seen. Luckily a strong breeze blew
most of the time and the majority of each day’s travel was relatively
bug free.
Signs of the Leaf River caribou herd’s eight hundred thousand
head of animals were numerous throughout this stretch. The
caribou had migrated through here in April on their way north to
the calving grounds. Their trails were everywhere, and in most
cases we used these rough paths while portaging. Hopefully we
would run into some of these caribou farther on in our trip when
the beasts began to migrate back south. While shedded antlers
and the occasional carcass were interesting, seeing the actual
animals would be much more exciting.
While working our way through this section careful navigation was required to stay on route. The land here is punctuated by so many streams and lakes that
getting off course would be disastrous. The ratio of paddling to portaging was almost perfect through this stretch and the combination of paddling and hiking
was quite enjoyable. Eventually this hard work brought us to the shores of the massive Lake Minto and one of the most incredible rainbow and sunset
combinations ever.
getting off course would be disastrous. The ratio of paddling to portaging was almost perfect through this stretch and the combination of paddling and hiking
was quite enjoyable. Eventually this hard work brought us to the shores of the massive Lake Minto and one of the most incredible rainbow and sunset
combinations ever.
Our expedition was treated to glass like conditions on Hudson Bay. The still water made for fine paddling which let us cover 35 miles on the first day
of the trip.
of the trip.
Nastapoka Falls drops one hundred feet directly into Hudson Bay. Since we were heading up this river the falls made for a difficult first portage.
The first night's camp overlooking Hudson Bay from the top of Nastapoka Falls was quite
impressive.
impressive.
The Nastapoka River canyon shrouded in clouds from a storm that would keep us wet and frozen for the next several days.
When our route up the Nastapoka became blocked by impassable rapids we made this 3.5 km portage to the Richard River. The task was
arduous to say the least.
arduous to say the least.
The Richard River proved to be a great route to ascend. The snow you can see fell the night before. The highest temperature we saw for four cold
and wet days did not rise above 38 degrees.
and wet days did not rise above 38 degrees.
Brad Bassi enjoys clearings skies at the head of the Richard River. Despite the cold our team was happy to see the rain, ice, and snow ease up.
Eric Nemitz hauling a big load in an NRS Paragon Pack during one of the many portages we encountered on the route to Lake Minto.
Half way through a beautiful but hilly portage on the way to Lake Minto.
While lake hopping and working our way upstream to Minto we were always excited to see the next piece of open water.
A tremendous rainbow shined good fortune on us when we reached Lake Minto.
After many delays our gear arrived in Umiujaq a day after us and the hundreds of pounds of equipment were carried down to the water. After organizing
everything we decided to wait until the morning to begin paddling up the coast.
When we woke up at 5:00 am to no wind and a calm Hudson Bay we eagerly packed up and headed down to the beach. Even though only a small swell was
coming in, launching the heavily loaded boat was a tough process. One of the most common questions that people asked before the trip was how we were going
to fit all of our gear into the canoe. Well, we were asking ourselves that exact same question at 6:30 this morning just before piling a massive dry bag of dinner
food on top of everything else and paddling into the waves. That was just the start of what would turn out to be a long, diverse, and memorable day.
everything we decided to wait until the morning to begin paddling up the coast.
When we woke up at 5:00 am to no wind and a calm Hudson Bay we eagerly packed up and headed down to the beach. Even though only a small swell was
coming in, launching the heavily loaded boat was a tough process. One of the most common questions that people asked before the trip was how we were going
to fit all of our gear into the canoe. Well, we were asking ourselves that exact same question at 6:30 this morning just before piling a massive dry bag of dinner
food on top of everything else and paddling into the waves. That was just the start of what would turn out to be a long, diverse, and memorable day.
