Solo Expedition 2006 Ile a la Crosse to Sandfly Lake

Map, Ile a la crosse to Sandfly Lake

Good camping sites are limited on Ile a la Crosse Lake; they are few and far between. I had just paddled over 40 kms into a strong head wind and arrived at a small island near Sandy Point. I was extremely exhausted and could hardly stand. On the island was a beautiful, level, manicured lawn which would have made a great place to spend the night. The only problem was a mangy dog, which inhabits the island, looked like he would have bit a chunk out of my leg the minute my back was turned. I opted not to become puppy chow and moved on to sandy point.

The next day, leaving Sandy Point was not a smart thing to do. There were gale force winds coming down the lake from the north. I paddled hard and only made 4 km's before I decided it wasn't worth busting my ass. I was lucky to come across a long sandy beach, which I set up camp at the edge of the trees. I was stuck there for the day and spent my time walking along the beach and snacking on gingersnap cookies.

Wind bound on Ile a la crosse

The waves on Lac Ile a la Crosse were large again, only this time they were in my favor. I was able to ride white-capped waves half way up the lake to an island, which sports the same name, Halfway Lake. This island marks the unofficial boundary between the fishing territories of the Dene and Cree. There happened to be a native summer cabin that I stayed in for the night rather than be battered by the wind in my tent. I stayed comfortable while the wind blew outside. There was a table and a few cots, which had mouse droppings on them. After doing my map work, I lifted the musty smelling mattress and dumped the droppings onto the floor, set out my sleeping bag on the mattress and fell into a deep sleep. Some time in the night, I could hear mice scurrying around the cabin, even on the bed with me.

In the spring the locals move to their cabins to fish, then abandon them for the summer. This cabin was on Half Way Island. Ile a la Crosse Lake

The first sign that you are entering the Boreal Shield is at Deer Rapids. Here you will find the first bit of granite on the upper Churchill River. After so many less than suitable campsites, I decided to stop early on this day and camp on the rocks. It was a warm and sunny day, which was exactly what I needed. All my batteries were running low and the sun would provide all the energy I needed to charge them using my solar panel.

Now I'm not sure, but in my opinion the locals have lost touch with the river. Sure they use the rivers as their roads, but along my travels, I've asked locals for information on the river ahead. The most common response I received was "you better portage, stay away from the rapids, those waves are too big". They may have been trying to get a rise out of me or maybe they were being serious but when I arrived at said rapids, I found them to be very tame. Possibly having given up canoes for modern fishing boats with outboard motors, they have lost the intimate knowledge of the water they once had.

Before leaving in the morning, I was able to catch a wave and do some surfing with my loaded canoe.

The first granite on the the Churchill River, Deer Rapids

Bear signs! There were way too many bear signs along the portage trail bypassing Crooked Rapids. I had thought about camping at one end of the trail but after walking the trail and seeing all the piles of scat, over turned logs and boulders, I decided there was no way I was going to spend the night there alone! And to top it off, the mosquitoes were horrible!

Crooked rapids are really a set of three separate rapids. The first is easily run without scouting. The guidebooks say that the second set is runnable down river center, between a small island on the right and large waves on the left. Yeah right! With this years high water levels, the large waves were monstrous! There was no way I was going any where near them. I opted to run down river left scouting as I went. The route I picked was a good clean run with a few large boulders to dodge. Just missing the monstrous waves by a matter of feet, I eddied out behind a bunch of willows to get a good look at the wave.

The force of the water and vastness of the wilderness was truly humbling and left me feeling like an insignificant speck in the great scheme of things.

Monstrous waves in Crooked Rapids. Missed this one by a matter of feet.

Here the Churchill River takes on a whole different feel and flattens out again into a wide, marshy valley. I stopped at a number of places in search of a place to camp. The hillside was covered with big juicy blue berries making it a good year for the bears. All the berries were early and there were lots of them. I spent a lot of time picking and eating Saskatoon Berries, Goose Berries, Raspberries, Strawberries, Lingon berries and Blueberries. I had blueberries in my hot cereal, in pancakes, with bannock, as blueberry crisp, reduced as a spread, and of course fresh by the hand full.

The days had become hot and the head seemed to radiate from everything, rocks, trees, soil

I hadn't seen or spoken to another person for over a week so when I got to a small boat launch near the outflow of Sandy Lake and met three men and one boy, I had a tough time keeping up with the conversation. The four of them reminded me of a bunch of hillbillies on vacation. They chattered back and forth with each other and fired off question after question at me. Now I'm not sure if it was because I had just spent so much time alone or if that was the way they always talked, but there was no way I could hold up my end of the conversation. Luckily they were camped at a different camp ground, so after they wandered off, I was left to my own devices again. The day was well over 30 degrees C with little shade to take refuge in. The designated camp sites were 100 meters up a hill, I was the only person in the recreation site and had my pick of sites but I couldn't bear to be that far from the water, so I decided to pitch camp in the parking lot only feet from the water's edge.

During long journeys on the water you become dependent on the water. It becomes your constant companion and your worst enemy. You long for it when you are apart and depend on it for your very survival. Later, when I returned home after the trip, I felt as though something was missing within me, I would feel empty. I had accomplished my goal and completed the journey, what was missing was the water and the forest. I missed them terribly.

A fantastic sunset over Sandy Lake

Entering Sandfly Lake, I met a small group of people from Pine House Lake, just out for a day cruise. As I paddled by them, a man called out to me. He asked, "where's your real boat"? He couldn't grasp the idea that I was traveling by canoe.

Sandfly Lake has long been in the back of my mind as a place to explore. The many rocky islands provide great fishing and there's also Alexander Mackenzie's Bear. When Mackenzie was passing through, he paused long enough to take note of a large boulder, perched alone, which is in the form of a black bear's head. In the past, sacrifices were offered here, but when I passed through, there were none. It was a great place to stop for lunch.

In the past, a bears face was painted on the bolder but there was no visible sign that it had been painted. Sandfly Lake

Lac La Loche to Lac Ile-a-la-Crosse

Right now we've had a small relapse back into winter but it can't last long so my thoughts turn to canoeing. To help things along I've decided to post about my 2006 solo expedition. In 2006 I paddled solo across Saskatchewan from La Loche to Cumberland House. The trip was 1000 km's and took me 50 days. I'll post the trip in segments. What follows is actually taken from my previous website which is no longer published. Hope you enjoy.

Happy paddling

Solo Expedition 2006

There was no fanfare, no cheering crowds, only a couple of friends standing on a small gravel beach waving as I paddled into the distance. We had driven to Buffalo Narrows the day before and were able to enjoy the Canada Day fireworks through the screen door of our tent.

After finding a small beach, a couple of friends helped me unload my jeep, creating a large pile of gear on the sand. In my haste in preparing for the journey, I hadn't test packed the canoe with all the gear. I was sure my 16 foot prospector would hold it all but finding the proper placement was a challenge.

It was a surreal feeling as I paddled along the shore of La Loche Lake. It seemed like I was just out for an afternoon paddle or maybe for a weekend like I've done many times in the past.

I had no idea what was in store for me.

Leaving La Loche, Lac La Loche

The confluence of the La Loche River and the Kimowin River is an interesting place. The La Loche comes in on the left and the Kimowin on the right. The area is full of waterfowl. On the point of land at the confluence stands a trappers cabin. I had planned on camping at this point, not realizing that there was a cabin there. No one was home so I set up camp in the front yard. On the front porch, there were two chairs cut from large logs. On one of the chairs was a note from a German couple who had stayed in the same spot two weeks earlier. As it turned out, I would almost catch up with them by the end of the trip, They were paddling the same route as me. In many places I could tell that they had used the same campsites that I was using by the small stone fire pits that they built to cook their meals on. By the time I got to Amisk Lake I was only 2 days behind them. Forest fires were a huge concern for the first week and a half of the trip. The smoke hung in the air so thick that it blocked out the sun and stung my lungs. I even tried calling the RCMP for an update on the fire situation but the satellite phone couldn't get a strong signal.

The confluence of the La Loche River and the Kimowin River. Smoke from forest fires was so thick it stung my throat and caused my lungs to ache.

Big Buffalo Lake (Peter Pond Lake) is a huge lake. From the north end where you enter the lake to the narrows half way down, the lake is an unbroken stretch of water spanning 58 km. As I entered the lake, I attempted to please the spirit of Big Buffalo by tossing a spruce bough into the water and saying the words "Shake hands, Big Buffalo". This old tradition seemed to have worked and I was allowed safe passage.

The shoreline on the north west part of the lake is typically sandy and unobstructed. After a half day of paddling you can still see where you had camped the night before.

Alone, I felt like a castaway stranded on some tropical beach.

Typical campsite on Peter Pond Lake.

While on the water I could see thunderheads beginning to form. As time progressed they just kept getting larger and larger. When I noticed the clouds were starting to turn shades of green I knew it was time to get off the water, quick! I had been told that a green sky means trouble. No sooner had I set up the tarp, the skies opened up. The winds came up and blew everything around. It poured rain and hailed hard! I set my kettle at the end of tarp to collect the rain and hail to cook supper with. After the storm had passed, I came out from under my tarp to survey the damage. Walking down to the beach I noticed that my boat wasn't where I had left it. The wind had gripped it and tried to toss it away! It was turned right side up and flung to the end of the rope. If I hadn't tied it to a bush, I would have lost it! Round two of the storm came a short while later. Sitting in my tent, I could only tremble with fear as the thunder rumbled the ground and lightning lit up the sky. I was terrified of forest fires. Just a week before I started my journey, a storm in this same area started 55 new fires overnight. I later learned that there was a fire burning just 10 km south of my location.

58 Km's of open water, with no islands to slow the wind, Peter Pond Lack can get pretty rough.

Rain fell from the sky like liquid bullets. Thick smoke filled the air and stung my lungs; smoke so thick it blocked out the sun, and the approaching storm. Three foot rolling waves pounded my swamped canoe and all I could do was sit, soaked and shivering, only a foot from the ragging water, with my head down trying will the storm to pass. Bolts of lightning ripped the sky while cracks of thunder shook the ground. Thoroughly dejected, thoughts of quitting the trip filled my head and I was disappointed with myself. I knew quitting was not an option but I still entertained the thought.

As the storm approached from the north, the waves rolled in from the south. I knew the worst of the storm had passed because the waves had changed direction and were now rolling south, with the storm. I was desperate to get off the small stony beach, which measured only 8 by 2 feet, so I bailed out the swamped canoe and headed out onto the water. I can't say it was the best decision I've ever made but there just wasn't a clearing large enough to sit in let alone set up a camp for the night. I had to find suitable shelter so I pushed on.

2006 was one of the worst years for forest fires. Peter Pond Lake

All day long, as I traveled, I could hear a low humming coming from the forest. Mosquitoes of epic numbers! I had never seen mosquitoes that bad in my entire life! Even the locals said it was the worst they had seen in along time. This section of the fur trade route passes through low marshy land, perfect for bloodthirsty insects to breed. Even wearing bug repellent, long pants, a long sleeve shirt and a bug jacket wasn't enough to keep them at bay. My daily routine consisted of paddling all day. When I stopped for the evening, I'd set up camp, eat supper and retire to my tent for the duration of the evening. Even a sweltering tent in 30 degree C temperatures was better than being eaten alive. At night the bugs could be heard pinging off the inside of the fly of my tent.

The shoreline for the first couple of weeks was low, wet and lined with willows. If a person wanted to stop or had to for some reason, there just wasn't any place to pull ashore. I ate many meals in my canoe floating on the water.

A typical shore line along the MacBeth Channel. Lac Ile-a-la-crosse

To be continued

Eagles of Hornby Island

As an effort to avoid studying I thought I would let everyone know that the Eagles of Hornby Island are still live on the web and will hopefully be successful in their efforts of raising a couple of eaglets after last years disappointments. (one egg didn't hatch and the other chick fell from the nest)

Live TV : Ustream

Into the Cold - New Year's Eve in The Woods

If you ask anyone of us about the trip, the first thing they will tell you is that it was cold! Stupid “F-ing” cold! Even I had to admit that the first day and night was a tough one. I’m sure that almost everyone was beginning the wonder what the hell we were doing, heading off over a frozen lake into a head wind that was gusting to over 40 km per hour that dropped the temperature to below -30 C. Though these thoughts were on everyone’s minds, no one wanted to be the person to give in to the cold.

The previous month and a half was spent in anticipation and preparation for this camping trip with the intention of spending New Years Eve in the silence and solitude of the boreal forest in northern Saskatchewan. We were to drive up to our star point on December 29^th and return on January 1^st. Many conversations and emails bounced back and forth between Bryan and I as to the destination. We knew that it had to be in the north, with very little possibility of encountering anyone else; we were looking for peace and quiet. After spending many hours pouring over maps and after changing the destination half of a dozen times it was agreed that we would head to McKay Lake which is 60 km’s north of La Ronge. Actually the deciding factor was some very good local advice from my good friends Mick and Ellen who live at Lamp Lake and a chance internet meeting with the good folks at Paws n Paddles. If you are at all interested in canoeing or dog sledding Miriam and Quincy offer guided canoe tours in the summer and customized dog sled tours in the winter. They proved to be an invaluable source of information about areas to watch for unsafe ice in the McKay Lake area and ultimately inspired us to choose that area.

Like I said it was dam cold pretty well the entire time we were in the woods. The warmest temperature I saw was on the last day when the thermometer read -22 C. The nights were consistently hovering around the -32 C mark. Even with the extreme cold I still feel that we lucked out with the weather. The first day was very windy making it feel much colder than it really was but the wind died down for the duration of our stay and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. If it had remained windy we could have been much worse off. Out of interest, upon returning from the north, Bryan and I tested the accuracy of the thermometer that I had along. It is accurate to within .5 of a degree C.

As it so often does on camping trips, the weather dictates our behaviour and this trip was no different. After traveling the 6 km’s across McKay Lake we came upon Miriam and Quincy with their dogs, they were shuttling supplies to their cabin at the north end of Bartlett Lake. We had no intentions of going further and had started searching for a suitable campsite when Quincy suggested that a clearing only 100 ft along the winter portage would make as suitable place to camp. After a quick scout around we realized that this spot was about the only spot that wasn’t choked with deadfall. Our decision was made easy, by all the readily accessible fire wood; we would be able to keep the fires burning and stay warm. On December 29^th at Latitude 55 degrees 28 minutes, there is only 7 hrs and 46 min of day light and we were running out quickly. Tents were set up in short order and much firewood was brought in and cut to length. The evening was spent around the fire, visiting.

The nights were very comfortable for Zoe and me. Our sleeping bag system worked fantastic, almost too well. We had two -20 degree mummy bags which we zipped together, inside that we each had our own -7 degree bag, and inside that we had a vapour barrier. Being wrapped in 6 inches of down sleeping bags is very warm, so warm in fact that the vapour barriers just made us sweat. Though we were warm, our main concern was the morning; it was going to be very unpleasant emerging from our bags damp to great the extremely cold morning temperatures. We pulled the barriers off and tossed them aside. I’m sure that they would have worked if we hadn’t had the -7 bags.

Day two was spent staying warm, preparing an adequate amount of fire wood that would see us through the day and long evening. It’s amazing how the cold robs you of your desire to do things that you would otherwise think nothing of. Most of us were content with just staying around camp and staying warm. Andrew did a bit of ice fishing but didn’t catch anything; he must have had a bite because his bait was gone. Shortly before supper Bryan and Rob went for a short snowshoe to have a look around while the rest of us stayed back in camp to prepare the evenings meal. For this trip we decided to divide into two groups, each group preparing a group meal. I like this arrangement since it means that I don’t have to cook every night. When our trips are planned as a base camp style trip Bryan and Rob usually bring their hot tent and stove, so after supper when the temperatures began to drop we retreated to the tent to stay warm, share some beverages, and share some good stories.

New Year’s Eve (day three) brought blue skies, calm winds, and a sense of relaxation. I’m not sure about the others but I was starting to become acclimatized to the cold, I wasn’t feeling it as much and I was feeling quite relaxed and content. Everyone else must have been feeling it also because during the day the whole group went out for a snowshoe. Our destination was to have a look at Bartlett Lake. What little energy the sun had in it warmed our faces as we made fresh track in the snow. On days like that there is no better place to be than in the north. Upon arriving back at camp we set about tidying up and preparing for the new year. Miriam had stopped by the day before with a dog sled load of pre-cut wood and a jack pine candle. A jack pine candle is a 5 foot jack pine log which has two cuts, made with a chain saw, running the length forming an “X” in the end. Birch bark is stuffed in the end with the cuts and the whole thing is set in the snow like a candle and the top is lit. We lit it after dark and watched it burn to celebrate the new year. As I wandered in the woods the day before I came across a rabbit trail so before dark Andrew and I set a few snares to see if we could catch anything. The following morning we checked the sets and as luck would have it, we caught two. We quickly field dressed them and cut them up. In addition to the curried dishes that Bryan, Rob, and Valerie provided for supper that night, everyone contributed whatever fixings they could to the pot, and I made rabbit stew. The funniest quote came from Andrew while eating his rabbit, “ah, with every bite I feel more like a man.” Again, the evening was spent sharing beverages and stories in the hot tent. Living out doors takes its Toll and we didn’t make it to midnight to see the new year in. At around 10:30 we figured it was 12 somewhere so we packed it in for the night.

As it often seems to happen, the nicest day is always on the last day and this trip was no different. Clouds had moved in overnight which insolates the earth and made for a fantastic morning sky. The entire eastern sky was painted with amazing reds, yellows, and oranges but soon after the sun had risen the clouds dissipated and it was sunny and calm once again. We would be returning home that day which meant it was a travel day and we needed to get an earlier start. I hate these days, the days when the camp is taken down, I always feel sad to be leaving. The north is where my interests lie and it’s in the north where I am the most comfortable, I feel healthy and strong and my mind is clear. There are no distractions of society and no hoops to jump through, just a pure life and sense of being. I can’t stand to be apart from it.

It’s interesting but when it comes time to pack up camp, nothing seems to fit like it did when you packed at home. It must be all the frost/moisture in the materials that makes most items more bulky, for this reason, Zoe and I purposely loosely pack the gear at the beginning of the trip; that way at the end there will still be enough space to fit it all for the return trip. The return trip was sunny and warm and the group took their time, pausing for breaks and to savour the last few sights along the way. The group was an eclectic mix of people with varying levels of outdoor skill and I enjoyed everyone’s company and the laughter that was shared.

Thanks for making the New Year’s winter camping trip so much fun; Zoe, Bryan, Rob, Valerie, Tara, Andrew, and of course Kaya.

Zoe and Tara staying warm by the jack pine candle

Stirring the rabbit stew

Andrew is cutting potatoes for the stew

The scenery in the narrows of Bartlett Lake was amazing

We made fresh tracks in untouched snow on Bartlett Lake

Bryan is cutting butter for his breakfast

My new ice chisel made quick work of chopping holes through the 20" of ice for fresh drinking water and fishing

I couldn't resist fooling around in the snow with the camera

This was our view from Urton Bay on McKay Lake

We took advantage of the warm sun and dried our sleeping bags

Preparing fire wood was a popular pass time, you warmed up while gathering it, again while cutting the it, and again when it was burned.

Zoe hauling wood back to camp

It got damn cold at night, down to -32 degrees each night

Bryan is preparing tea while supper cooks

Old vs New

The folks at Paws n Paddles stopped by for a visit

Spending time near the fire was a popular pass time

Following a dog sled trail, we made our way across the lake into a 33 km/hr wind

Spirits were high despite the cold

The group is preparing to set out

The sun rise over McKay Lake on January 1st, 2011

The misadventures of rabbit stew

Steps to preparing a hearty rabbit stew while camping in the dead of winter.

· Go for a walk through the woods on a cool winter day to locate a rabbit trail, this can be done while you are.....say looking for a suitable place to use the loo
· Set snares in natural bottle necks along the trail, ie where the trail passes under a log or between two close trees
· Go to sleep and dream of fuzzy little woodland creatures
· Check snares first thing in the morning, the excitement of checking the “trap line” is even better than Christmas
· After skinning and field dressing the rabbit; debone the meat, we skipped this step and had legs and bits sticking out the pot
· Grill meat over an open fire, being careful not to drop any in the fire
· Place the grilled meat in a pot with whatever fixins you can rustle up in camp, we used potatoes, carrots, fresh and dried onions, green chillies, bay leaves, Montreal steak spice, salt & pepper, beef & vegetable broth bouillon cubes, and about a litre of water
· You can use snow but you’re going to need a dogsled full of the white stuff to make a litre
· If your fixins are frozen solid, use whatever’s on hand to cut them. A camp saw works great for this
· When the liquid reduces add some frozen wine slush (Start thawing the wine first thing that morning, it takes longer than you would expect to thaw 1 litre next to a fire)
· Only add half as much wine as you may think is required, the water portion of the wine may be frozen so all you are really using to cook with is concentrated alcohol
· When the liquid has reduced by half stir in some flour or corn starch to thicken
· Serve and enjoy

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  Rabbit stew over an open fire and a stir stick cut from a branch