Kathleen and I moved from British Columbia to Preeceville, here in east central Saskatchewan, to live more rurally, and to enjoy long, cold winters. We also adopted five, older sled dogs from our friends Alan and Marilyn, who were moving to Prince Albert, and would not be able to keep their dogs
This completely changed our lives, as we devoted ourselves to the dogs, three of which were nine, and two were eleven. By 2014, Slick was the only dog left, and we very much wanted to go on a canoe trip. It had been such a long hiatus. Marilyn agreed to come look after Slick, and we planned a trip on the Paull River (yes, it has two “Ls”) in central Saskatchewan, part of the Churchill River system. It was the closest wilderness tripping river we could find in Archer’s book, “Northern Saskatchewan Canoe Trips.”
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We put together this itinerary, and headed north, brimming with excitement. The itinerary shows quite a few portages. But that’s ok. As long as we’re floating down rivers, we don’t mind portages.
We stood on the float plane dock in Missinipe on July 25, preparing to Fly tp Paull Lake, as recommended by Archer.
The boreal forest looked beautiful, and we looked forward to our first trip in way too many years.
But the Paull River didn’t really look like a river. We like rivers!
Morning on July 27. Cooking our standard bannock breakfast.
July 27 at Tuck Falls. All the campsites were taken. In fact we had seen a lot of other people, not only canoeists, bu also holidayers at their cabins. Not the wilderness experience we had been seeking. I have a new spray cover from Northwater. It unzips in the centre so you can portage without removing it. It added a lot of weight, and I badly sprained my ankle on only the second portage.
The Paull River was actually a series of lakes, interrupted by unscoutable drops. The portages were covered in blowdown. There was no current in the lakes at all. Reeds we’re being blown back “upstream” in even a gentle breeze. Sometimes had difficulty finding the outlet.
Preparing for another portage. My ankle is getting worse by the hour. I can barely move. We planned to stop early, but the potential camp was covered in garbage. We continued on to the intended camp on the first big island in McIntosh Lake. We also spent the next day there, watching and hearing fishing boats roaring around. My ankle didn’t really recover during our rest day.
After paddling an hour or so the next morning, Kathleen said, “There’s a fishing lodge at the bottom of this lake. Your ankle’s worse, and the longest portages are coming up. Why don’t we stop and ask if we can use their sat phone to call for the floatplane.”
“That’s a lot like giving up, Kathleen.”
”Do you like it here?”
”No.”
”Me neither. Let’s call.”
So we beached our canoe in front of the lodge, and told them our story.
”Would you like a coke while you’re waiting for the plane.”
”No, but I’d love a beer!”
So that’s the story. Was I rescued? Not really. It was more like I bailed. But I don’t feel bad about it. We stopped in La Ronge on the way home to replace the bear banger we lost while crawling around and through downed trees on the portage trails. We told our story to the owner.
”Well, at least you avoided the mud portage from hell.”
(Note: I thought long and hard about not posting this, as most Saskatchewan paddlers I know love this trip. Archer has done it many times. It just didn’t work out for us. We are not drop-and-pool kind of paddlers. We love rivers.)
