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Erica,
I think you are correct! See Mason’s response above.
I think you are correct! See Mason’s response above.
-
Happy National Audubon Day! 🐣🐦🦅🕊️
Cree River Summer 2023
- Thread starter Erica
- Start date
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2017
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- 812
- Reaction score
- 745
Cree River, Summer 2023.
Paddling Pitt, isn't it nice to know you were correct the first time?
The big excitement for this rest day is pancakes! I bring my own mix of whole wheat flour, powered milk, powdered eggs, sugar, and baking powder. Just add water. In all these years, I have never used the Trangia "frying pan" which is a small, tiny lipped thing. With the wind blowling, the flame kept blowing out even with the windscreen. So I turned the windscreen upside down and that worked. I made only two large pancakes which were very, very tasty with butter and maple syrup. I could have eaten many more, but I ran out of batter and out of fuel. I had put in a full inch of alcohol in and pancakes used it all. Clean up was also a mess with all that grease. Was it worth it? Yeah!
In this lake you can still see the current but it doesn't make noise. When the wind lies down, it is so silent. Then you realize just how much there is that you didn't notice. Insects humming. Splash of minnows trying to escape. Bird chirps. How to evoke that feeling of silence that is not really silence?
Mostly no wind, but occasionally it blusters up. My neoprene booties are falling apart at the soles. I taped them up before yesterda's run; they will need more tape before the next. I forgot to turn them inside out to dry. Will do that now...The tyvek on the bow cover is falling apart. I could fix more with duct tape, but I think I'll reserve that for the canoe. I have to wear the booties because with the shoes, I can get my feet out quickly should I capsize. I'd never get out with the shoes hung up on the seat.
I took a walk along the shore which typically was covered with the gorgeous mosses, lichens and ground pine. The moose and friends have worn a simple trail along the edge. The geese still fly overhead. I hear and see eagles. I’m sure a nest is nearby. I find feathers of great size.
I have taken to putting a tarp up over the tent. The wind blows right through the tent walls and if it rains, that comes through too.
.
The river runs clear and shallow beside this little camp of mine. The sun comes out in the afternoon and I decide to bathe in the river. (No soap in the water, folks. Largely just getting wet and rinsing my hair.) I have a stick to help balance on the slippery rocks. I air dry on some slightly bigger rocks. The sun is shiny, the sky is clear, but the air is full of smoke.
I take a walk up the esker and see where past fires have moved in unevenly, leaving green amidst the back. Even in the black the new jack pines are growing up quickly. And I pass by my canoe, which reminds me I need to administer more first aid.
This is a beautiful area with pines, flattish spots, high points, places to get in the water, and of course, pancakes. I feel comfortable on the river. My confidence in running the white water has increased. My confidence in the boat has increased. I'm really on the river now. I resent the Zoleo. With daily texts. I did not come out here to talk to someone every day.
Paddling Pitt has a story of a someone who had a bad start to a trip, with a minor injury or two. She later said if she'd had a Zoleo, she would have left the trip but is so glad she didn't because the rest turned out beautifully. In a book about descending the Horton River before it was "found" pits the author against his partner who brought a sat phone so he could talk to his wife every day. In North to Athabasca, the pair also use a sat phone. I get wanting to be safe. But surely something is lost here, folks.
September 4, 2023 a Monday.
I did not sleep well. All the bumpies were getting to me. I woke suddenly in the middle of the night - cold. Readjusted everything and went back to sleep. I woke early and broke camp by 9:55 am which is 20 minutes better than yesterday. It is cold, cloudy and smoky. I'm hoping it will warm up as the sun comes out. The sun did try, but clouds won this round.
I try to keep track of the river. It runs narrow, bulges to RR, narrows again and then separates around dozens of low islands. Suddenly zillions of islands break up the river like fingers. I'm trying to find enough water to keep the boat going. Get hung up on rocks, but I can't get out because I am now in the middle of a wide stream. No where to go. I rock like crazy, push with the paddle and pray loudly until we get through.
Rinse and repeat. Guessing which thread will bring one through is not easy. A thread that starts big with plenty of current may get divided into three, four or more threadlets just past where I can see.
There were also places where big waves came from two directions at once. There were boulders that popped up out of nowhere that I managed to avoid.
There is 4K of RI on the map, but it is really much more than that. There's a segment with many ledges. Big waves sloshed into Dancer three times. Waves also broke over the bow and ran off the cover. I felt the ones dumping icy water onto my thighs. Water is sloshing in the bottom of the boat. I need to do something about that, but there is no place to stop.
I register my cold only dimly. My main priority, once I reached slower moving water, was to get water out of the boat. I do not want to run the next R2 full of water. But many of the bays are jammed with Labrador Tea and shallow water that extends out to the current. I can’t find a place to land. No rocky edges. No sandy beaches.
I identified a bay that looked deep and didn't require passing to the other side of the river. The water was deep until 1-2 feet from the shore. I didn't like the look of it, but tucked in and started looking for the sponge.
The sponge was not to be found. I’m standing in cold water, soaked through everywhere. I look all over and through the canoe for something to bail with and cannot find even a little cup. There must be something. Discouragement creeps in. To get the water out, I will have to empty the boat, turn it over and repack. This could easily take two hours. And this scrappy location has no place to do that. I realize I am quite cold and extremely tired and in no shape to take on more rapids. A bit grimly I start looking for a campsite in a generally miserable spot.
to be continued....
Paddling Pitt, isn't it nice to know you were correct the first time?
The big excitement for this rest day is pancakes! I bring my own mix of whole wheat flour, powered milk, powdered eggs, sugar, and baking powder. Just add water. In all these years, I have never used the Trangia "frying pan" which is a small, tiny lipped thing. With the wind blowling, the flame kept blowing out even with the windscreen. So I turned the windscreen upside down and that worked. I made only two large pancakes which were very, very tasty with butter and maple syrup. I could have eaten many more, but I ran out of batter and out of fuel. I had put in a full inch of alcohol in and pancakes used it all. Clean up was also a mess with all that grease. Was it worth it? Yeah!
In this lake you can still see the current but it doesn't make noise. When the wind lies down, it is so silent. Then you realize just how much there is that you didn't notice. Insects humming. Splash of minnows trying to escape. Bird chirps. How to evoke that feeling of silence that is not really silence?
Mostly no wind, but occasionally it blusters up. My neoprene booties are falling apart at the soles. I taped them up before yesterda's run; they will need more tape before the next. I forgot to turn them inside out to dry. Will do that now...The tyvek on the bow cover is falling apart. I could fix more with duct tape, but I think I'll reserve that for the canoe. I have to wear the booties because with the shoes, I can get my feet out quickly should I capsize. I'd never get out with the shoes hung up on the seat.
I took a walk along the shore which typically was covered with the gorgeous mosses, lichens and ground pine. The moose and friends have worn a simple trail along the edge. The geese still fly overhead. I hear and see eagles. I’m sure a nest is nearby. I find feathers of great size.
I have taken to putting a tarp up over the tent. The wind blows right through the tent walls and if it rains, that comes through too.
.
The river runs clear and shallow beside this little camp of mine. The sun comes out in the afternoon and I decide to bathe in the river. (No soap in the water, folks. Largely just getting wet and rinsing my hair.) I have a stick to help balance on the slippery rocks. I air dry on some slightly bigger rocks. The sun is shiny, the sky is clear, but the air is full of smoke.
I take a walk up the esker and see where past fires have moved in unevenly, leaving green amidst the back. Even in the black the new jack pines are growing up quickly. And I pass by my canoe, which reminds me I need to administer more first aid.
This is a beautiful area with pines, flattish spots, high points, places to get in the water, and of course, pancakes. I feel comfortable on the river. My confidence in running the white water has increased. My confidence in the boat has increased. I'm really on the river now. I resent the Zoleo. With daily texts. I did not come out here to talk to someone every day.
Paddling Pitt has a story of a someone who had a bad start to a trip, with a minor injury or two. She later said if she'd had a Zoleo, she would have left the trip but is so glad she didn't because the rest turned out beautifully. In a book about descending the Horton River before it was "found" pits the author against his partner who brought a sat phone so he could talk to his wife every day. In North to Athabasca, the pair also use a sat phone. I get wanting to be safe. But surely something is lost here, folks.
September 4, 2023 a Monday.
I did not sleep well. All the bumpies were getting to me. I woke suddenly in the middle of the night - cold. Readjusted everything and went back to sleep. I woke early and broke camp by 9:55 am which is 20 minutes better than yesterday. It is cold, cloudy and smoky. I'm hoping it will warm up as the sun comes out. The sun did try, but clouds won this round.
I try to keep track of the river. It runs narrow, bulges to RR, narrows again and then separates around dozens of low islands. Suddenly zillions of islands break up the river like fingers. I'm trying to find enough water to keep the boat going. Get hung up on rocks, but I can't get out because I am now in the middle of a wide stream. No where to go. I rock like crazy, push with the paddle and pray loudly until we get through.
Rinse and repeat. Guessing which thread will bring one through is not easy. A thread that starts big with plenty of current may get divided into three, four or more threadlets just past where I can see.
There were also places where big waves came from two directions at once. There were boulders that popped up out of nowhere that I managed to avoid.
There is 4K of RI on the map, but it is really much more than that. There's a segment with many ledges. Big waves sloshed into Dancer three times. Waves also broke over the bow and ran off the cover. I felt the ones dumping icy water onto my thighs. Water is sloshing in the bottom of the boat. I need to do something about that, but there is no place to stop.
I register my cold only dimly. My main priority, once I reached slower moving water, was to get water out of the boat. I do not want to run the next R2 full of water. But many of the bays are jammed with Labrador Tea and shallow water that extends out to the current. I can’t find a place to land. No rocky edges. No sandy beaches.
I identified a bay that looked deep and didn't require passing to the other side of the river. The water was deep until 1-2 feet from the shore. I didn't like the look of it, but tucked in and started looking for the sponge.
The sponge was not to be found. I’m standing in cold water, soaked through everywhere. I look all over and through the canoe for something to bail with and cannot find even a little cup. There must be something. Discouragement creeps in. To get the water out, I will have to empty the boat, turn it over and repack. This could easily take two hours. And this scrappy location has no place to do that. I realize I am quite cold and extremely tired and in no shape to take on more rapids. A bit grimly I start looking for a campsite in a generally miserable spot.
to be continued....
