Whitefish & Lynx Lakes, NWT: 2022

[PaddlingPitt]

Guys, I was certainly being lazy and careless. Too much hubris and confidence. My main problem was indeed, not having my watch. I then abandoned all sense of logical navigation. I must say, though, that I always reached our destination.

Monday, July 11. Up at 8:30 a.m. I was reluctant to leave the tent because of those hordes of mosquitos when we arrived last night. But there were none. Perhaps last night’s cold weather knocked them back a bit. It’s nice to think so.

I scrounged enough wood to heat tea, cook bannock, and burn some accumulated garbage. Then we sat on the beach, enjoying the beauty of our surroundings. This is why we came.

Surprisingly, we’re both feeling somewhat strong, or at least not weak. We canoed over eight hours yesterday, and are not overly tired. We were able to paddle as much as an hour on the same side without calling out “shift” to rest weary arms. Perhaps we are not really too old. Even so, this is our last northern Canada trip. Best to go out on a high note if we can. Just like the Hall of Famer Ted Williams, who hit a home run on his last major league at bat.

Kathleen took pictures in the morning of our camp to compare to 21 years ago. “Perhaps, Michael, the only difference is that we now have an old person’s tent.” In 2001, our tent was a Moss Stardome II, which we purchased specifically for its advertised ability to withstand strong winds. That was perfect and essential for our 1993 trip down the Thelon River, which flowed primarily through the Barren Grounds. And the tent lived up to our expectations. It seemed to hunker down, all on its own, closer to the ground, during windbound days and nights. The stronger the wind, the more it hunkered.

As you might expect, this two-person tent offered limited internal space. Couldn’t stand up, or even crouch comfortably to dress in the morning. Couldn’t easily sit up to read books or study maps. When that tent finally wore out we purchased a four-person MEC Wanderer 4. Enough room to accommodate our Helinox Ground Chairs for sitting up to read books, or to drink brandy. Much more comfortable for dressing in the morning. This is why Kathleen called it an old person’s tent.

It’s a much higher tent than the Moss Stardome II, however, so might be more vulnerable to strong winds. MEC’s description of the tent lauds its dome shape as being wind resistant. It hasn’t been seriously tested on any of our previous canoe trips, so we don’t really know. I hope we don’t find out during this last canoeing adventure in northern Canada.

After a brief nap we walked up onto the esker. Beautiful, park-like setting. So picturesque. Returning to camp for lunch we enjoyed cheese and crackers, and a few slices of salami. A moose appeared along the far shore, wading in the water. Sensing our presence it climbed onto the bank to stare at us for several minutes, and then ambled over the ridge.

After lunch Kathleen dozed in her chair, in the shade. She deserves this leisure. We have come here, to enjoy a layover day, at this specific spot, for that specific purpose.

While Kathleen slept I changed all of my clothes. After all, we’ve been on the trip for seven days now. Probably time to freshen up a bit. I rinsed my clothes in the lake, and hung them out to dry on our bow painter strung between two small white spruce trees.

In the afternoon we hiked back up onto the esker and sat down on a low ridge of bear berry. At our feet, two ants were trying to drag a dead spider out of a small, sandy depression. As soon as they reached the top, the sand gave way beneath their feet, sending them sliding back down into the bottom of the depression. After about ten minutes, one ant accepted defeat and wandered away. The second ant doggedly persisted, however, with absolutely no success.

After about 30 minutes Kathleen broke a small stick and pushed the dead spider from behind while the ant dragged it uphill. The ant apparently viewed the stick as an interloper, as it immediately dropped the spider to attack the stick. The ant then returned to its task of dragging the spider uphill. Kathleen continued to help by pushing from behind. For some reason, the ant now seemed to appreciate the helping stick, and focussed solely on dragging the spider. Only a few seconds later, Kathleen and the ant had finally gotten the dead spider out of the sandy depression.

Now what would happen? Where would the ant take the coveted spider carcass? The ant dragged the carcass here and there, but ultimately headed directly to the low ridge of bear berry. Up the ant went, spider in tow. The ant scurried between the bear berry leaves before finally dropping the carcass into a small hole beneath the lush carpet. It would be nice to know if the hole belonged personally to this ant, or if it were a more communal deposit. Either way, we much enjoyed the hour’s entertainment. We had been rewarded by following Page Burt’s advice to “Take time to look closely and you will discover another world in a jewel-like puddle on a tundra slope—a world of minute plants, of mosquito larvae, and wolf spiders bearing the precious burdens of their egg sacks.” Or in this case an unnamed ant dragging its precious spider carcass.

For supper Kathleen grilled a refried bean quesadilla, with cheese, spiced with salsa, on the campfire. A Herring Gull immediately swooped in to mooch, without success. “I’m not giving you even one tiny morsel of my quesadilla. I know your kind. I give you a bite, and many of your friends will quickly land on the beach, all wanting to share my quesadilla. Not gonna happen.” The gull stared longingly at me and my quesadilla only for a moment, and then flew away.

This was by far the best day of our final promenade on the Barren Grounds.


This Is Why We Came.


View Across Lynx Creek


Lynx Creek Esker Camp, 2022. Note MEC Wanderer 4 Tent Above Beach.


Lynx Creek Esker Camp, 2001. Note Moss Stardome II Tent On Beach.


Kathleen on Lynx Creek Esker


Returning To Camp

 

[Boreal Birch]

I, like the others that have commented, am really liking your return to the North.
Enjoy seeing all the cloudberry flowers. I have a few secret cloudberry patch’s that I keep my eyes on throughout the summer until they are ripe. I then pick them and make them into jam. One of the really good things in life is heated cloudberry jam poured over vanilla ice cream. If you live in a place that doesn’t have cloudberries, most Scandinavian importing stores sell this jam.

 

[Glenn MacGrady]

During our supper of smokies, a Long-tailed Jaeger flew close by, seemingly to inspect the two human intruders.

Pardon me, I'm a few days behind. Among the several biological references I had to look up, I couldn't let the Jaeger go by without commenting on the delicious discovery that this bird practices kleptoparasitism. What a word!!! That means it feeds itself by stealing food from other species.

The winged thief may have been after your smokies . . . or brandy.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

One of the really good things in life is heated cloudberry jam poured over vanilla ice cream. If you live in a place that doesn’t have cloudberries, most Scandinavian importing stores sell this jam.

I had never heard of that, Boreal. We’ll have to search for a Scandinavian-importing store!

Pardon me, I'm a few days behind. Among the several biological references I had to look up, I couldn't let the Jaeger go by without commenting on the delicious discovery that this bird practices kleptoparasitism. What a word!!! That means it feeds itself by stealing food from other species.

The winged thief may have been after your smokies . . . or brandy.

i did know that, Glenn, but had forgotten. Thanks for posting. Very interesting.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Wide awake, so early in the morning. Thought I would post in time for Mem's morning coffee.

Tuesday, July 12. In the morning I gathered some dead crowberry, an excellent tinder and fire starter—the best I have ever encountered. I placed some crowberry among small branches, clicked the lighter, and the fired started instantly.

After our usual breakfast of bannock, we sat on the beach basking in the calm and beauty of the Lynx Creek esker. Kathleen and I were both reluctant to break camp. But we had no choice. It’s calm, and time to paddle. We had to be at the Lynx Tundra Lodge in only two more paddling days. We have a reservation. We loaded the canoe, and shoved off the beach at 11:40 a.m.

A breeze sprang up almost instantly, and blew all day. Crossing the open mouths of bays often became decidedly uncomfortable.

We stopped at 2:30 p.m. for a break. I sat down on a rock and removed the 1:250,000 topographic map from the map case. I unfolded it for a better perspective of our location. Just then a gust of wind ripped the map out of my hands and blew it down the beach. “dang. I gotta have that map!”

I leaped up to chase, but the map quickly increased its lead, and tumbled into the water. At least that stopped it from blowing any farther down the beach. And, being in the water for a short time probably won’t damage the map, which I had waterproofed back in 2001. I scooped the map out of the water, but the wind tore the map apart where it had been folded. Now I held just part of the map, while the rest of it hurtled down the beach. Again I chased the map, and retrieved it from the water for a second time. I picked it up, but the wind again tore it apart along the fold lines. The wind and I repeated this dance four or five more times before I finally had control of all the map pieces. I guess being folded for 21 years created structural weaknesses along the map folds.

I returned to sit down next to Kathleen who said she tried not to laugh watching me run down the beach. Not because my running looks inherently funny, but because I was wearing nylon pants that didn’t easily stay up around my waist because the elastic had worn out. “It was pretty darn amusing, Michael, watching you chase the map, holding fragments in your hands, all the while trying to keep your pants up. Just like a Monty Python sketch.”

“Did you actually laugh?”

“No. That wouldn’t be right.”

I believed her. But, on the other hand, she did say it was like a Monty Python sketch. Both of us often laugh at Monty Python sketches.

A little after 6:00 p.m. we began to look for a place to camp, but the entire surrounding landscape looked bleak and uninviting. We beached the canoe anyway, and strolled across the tundra to have a look—wet and rocky. We climbed back into the canoe, rounded a point and began paddling across the mouth of a bay. “I think I can see a sandy beach at the bottom of this bay.”

“It doesn’t look big, but let’s paddle in and have a look.”

Again we were disappointed. A wet, narrow beach with not enough room for the tent. Back in the canoe we paddled on. “You know, Kathleen, we gotta stop soon. We’re almost to where we have to make three open crossings to get to the lodge. I don’t want to make the crossings this late in the evening when we’re tired, particularly with this constant wind.”

We finally stopped around 8:30 p.m., very near to where we would begin to make the open crossings. Our campsite was not that much better than what we had just recently rejected. In fact, I considered the site to be our worst camp of the trip.

“I like this site, Michael. Flat, dry tundra for the tent. The rocky beach means that we won’t be getting any sand in our food while we’re cooking.”

There was no joy in paddling for me today. Just struggle. Without calm weather tomorrow, we will not be able to make the open crossings to the Lynx Tundra lodge. We gotta get there tomorrow, though. We had booked for July 13 and 14, at $400.00 CAN

($300.00 US) per night. I don’t know if we could get our money back if we don’t arrive on time. We shall see what tomorrow brings.

We had camped as close as we could to the beginning of the open crossings, at 62º 26’ N, 106º 23’ W. We were poised and ready. We just need calm weather. We did have red sky. That could be a good sign.

There was no wood on the beach for a campfire, so Kathleen prepared spaghetti on our small backpacking stove. Our day ended with Christmas cake for dessert.






Another Beautiful Breakfast Bannock Cooked Over An Open Fire.


Basking At The Lynx Creek Esker


Preparing To Break Camp


Shoving Off At 11:40 a.m.


Where The Map Came Apart


Camp After A Long And Windy Day

 

[memaquay]

Thanks again for your early morning efforts! That rate for the the Lynx Tundra place doesn't sound too bad, there are places in Thunder Bay that are almost as much, without the scenery.

 

[Odyssey]

Your wife is full of grace Michael as well as having heaps of self-restraint. Your map escapade sounds like a lost episode from the Pythons.
The tundra flora (and fauna) looks spectacular, thanks for sharing that with us.

 

[Alan Gage]

Kathleen might not have laughed aloud at the site of you running down the beach chasing a map that tore each time you picked it up but I sure did. Maybe that's why I'm single and she's not.

If your most recent camp was the worst of your trip I'd say you did pretty good.

Alan

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Kathleen might not have laughed aloud at the site of you running down the beach chasing a map that tore each time you picked it up but I sure did. Maybe that's why I'm single and she's not.

If your most recent camp was the worst of your trip I'd say you did pretty good.

Alan

It gets worse eventually, Alan.

Wednesday, July 13. To paraphrase the opening line from Charles Dickens’ novel, A Tale of Two Cities, Today was the worst of times. Today was the best of times.

We woke at 3:40 a.m. Mostly calm.

“What do you want to do, Kathleen?”

Neither one of us wanted to get up. Another hour or so of sleep would have been welcome. It was mostly calm. We cogitated a bit. “We better get going. It’s mostly calm. And we do have those three nearly one-km (0.5 miles) open crossings between us and the lodge.”

Now a one-km open crossing might not sound like much to you. But let me tell you, strong winds, in seemingly calm conditions, can spring up suddenly on the Barren Grounds. I know of what I speak. It has often happened to Kathleen and me.

We quickly gulped down a granola bar for breakfast, packed up, and were on the water a few minutes before 5:00 a.m. I was worried about the route, not just because of the open crossings, but also because we would be island hopping. There were lots of islands around, and they’re all low. It would be way too easy to head off in the wrong direction. But now I’m using my map and compass. We should be OK.

We came opposite the first island at the head of a large bay. My compass confirmed that it was the correct island. We paddled over. Only two crossings to go. The wind was picking up a little bit. Red sky last night was due to smoke, not favourable atmospheric conditions. There was red sky all night. There was even red sky this morning, a sailor’s/canoeist’s worst warning.

The next crossing to the north side of a pair of islands went well. One crossing to go. The sky was darkening behind us. The third crossing also went well, but rain began soon after. We stopped to put on our paddling jackets and rain pants. Based on the map squares, I estimated that we were still four km (2.5 miles) from Lynx Tundra Lodge, located on the esker ahead of us. I had entered the lodge coordinates into my GPS, which confirmed that we were indeed just a smidge over four km away. We must be on the right track.

Onward we continued, but were suddenly assaulted by thunder and lightning. We quickly headed for shore to wait out the storm. Some sort of sandpiper and a Whimbrel both strongly objected to our presence. The lightning passed by in about 30 minutes, but the rain intensified. Better rain, then wind, though. The GPS said only 2.7 km (1.7 miles) to go. We could clearly see the esker where the lodge is supposed to be located.

We expected wind and high waves to follow the thunderstorm, as had happened soon after we were dropped off in the northwest corner of Whitefish Lake on July 5, but the conditions remained somewhat calm. We paddled onward, eagerly looking forward to a dry room at the lodge. Maybe there will also be coffee available in the main gathering area.

Ten minutes later a ferocious gale swept up behind us, creating large, breaking, rolling waves and whitecaps. Definitely dangerous. We were hurled onto an exposed one-metre (three-feet) high boulder-strewn ledge, and struggled to get out of the rocking, bouncing canoe. (See, didn’t I tell you only six paragraphs ago.) We sat on shore for about 20 minutes, holding the bow painter tightly, as we struggled to prevent the wildly tossing canoe from being swept away in the wind and waves. On numerous occasions I thought the canoe might actually roll over. We were not having fun.

Finally, the wind and waves calmed, and we headed south across the channel toward the esker where the lodge was supposed to be. “From the pictures I’ve seen on the internet, Michael, I think the lodge is on the other side of the esker.”

We rounded the western tip of the esker, and headed east along its southern shore. No lodge in sight. Was this lodge a scam? Tell people you have a lodge, and charge them a lot of money to stay at a non-existent lodge? Our charge was $400.00 per night, plus tax. Not likely a scam, though. I was just amusing myself. The lodge has got to be somewhere near here. Suddenly Kathleen said, “I see something white up ahead that doesn’t look natural.”

Fifteen minutes later, around 10:00 a.m., we stood on the beach in front of Lynx Tundra Lodge. No one seemed to be around. We trudged over to the largest building, which was flying a Canadian flag. Must be the main gathering place. I knocked on the door. “Hello?”

“Come on in. I’m just getting my pants on. Been out in the rain. Got soaked. You probably haven’t heard that the Prime Minister of Japan (Shinzo Abe) was assassinated a few days ago.”

The voice belonged to Ken, a sociable and helpful manager of the lodge. Then Chris from Calgary, here on a 10-day fishing trip, introduced himself. After hearing about our morning adventures, he asked, “Have you eaten breakfast?”

“We had a granola bar,” to which Cris replied, “I’ll make you some breakfast.” Moments later Kathleen and I were dining on bacon, eggs, toast, coffee and juice. It was so fantastic to be enjoying this hot sumptuous meal after being so cold only an hour ago. “Thanks, very much, Chris. I didn’t realize that I was so hungry,” Kathleen said. “I think this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had!”

Then we met John and Doug, from Ontario, also here on a nine-day fishing trip. No one went fishing that day, as it rained hard all afternoon. All six of us spent the day together, sharing life stories and experiences. Chris and I talked baseball. He was a Yankees fan. I had become a Braves fan in 1957 when they played the Yankees in the World Series. As a ten-year-old, I was flipping between our three channels, and just happened to come across a world series game between the Yankees and the Braves. The announcers suggested that the Braves had no chance to beat the mighty Yankees. I have always rooted for underdogs, so was pleased when the Braves won the series. I have followed the Braves ever since.

A lone muskox strolled by, seemingly just to pose for pictures. I asked Ken if the sound I had heard, like a calf bawling, could have been a muskox. “It was certainly a muskox, Michael. That’s the kind of sound a young muskox makes.”

Note: When I returned to Preeceville, I did an internet search for muskox sounds. Please click to hear for yourself.

Kathleen and I returned to our room around 3:00 p.m. for white wine, with snacks of salami, cheese and crackers. I intended to drink a lot of wine. I had become frustrated packing that three-litre box of wine in my canoe pack. It was heavy (3.2 kg; seven pounds), and took up a lot of room. Gotta get rid of that white wine. I hope to drink it all during our two nights here. We went to bed at around 7:30. Kathleen slept in sheets and blankets on a lower bunk, while I crawled into my sleeping bag on an upper bunk. We needed to rest. It felt good to be dry and warm. We were so fortunate to be at the Lynx Tundra Lodge. A day that began so poorly evolved into the best of times.


This is a 1:50,000 topographic map. Each of the squares is one km (0.6 miles) on a side. The black line, from west to east (left to right) illustrates our route to the Lynx Tundra Lodge. You should zoom in to more clearly see the esker.


In Our Cabin At The Lynx Tundra Lodge


We Have Everything We Need


To Bed At 7:30 p.m.

 

[memaquay]

I broke my normal routine and skipped ahead, instead of saving this instalment for the morning. I think I can safely say that the hotel rooms in Thunder Bay that charge the same as the Lynx Hilton are quite a bit nicer, although not so rustic and water stained, which certainly has a charm when one is cold and in the middle of nowhere. Of course, there are hotel rooms in T Bay that make the Lynx Hilton look pretty smancy, but they come with a side order of bed bugs.
I hope you got all three litres of wine into you, that's the type of canoe challenge I that I can best relate to.

 

[Odyssey]

Wow. I had no idea a box of wine was that heavy. Whenever I've mildly suggested the food barrel seemed a bit heavyish she suggested I could always take a smaller bottle of Scotch. "There's only one size of box wine Brad, and it's only cardboard." Hmm. I've never tested her truisms, but now I have a number I can throw back at her. 6 pounds.
Lynx Lodge would make a nice respite from wind and rain. The nightly rates are nearly as dear as what Ontario Parks charge for camping.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

I broke my normal routine and skipped ahead, instead of saving this instalment for the morning. I think I can safely say that the hotel rooms in Thunder Bay that charge the same as the Lynx Hilton are quite a bit nicer, although not so rustic and water stained, which certainly has a charm when one is cold and in the middle of nowhere. Of course, there are hotel rooms in T Bay that make the Lynx Hilton look pretty smancy, but they come with a side order of bed bugs.
I hope you got all three litres of wine into you, that's the type of canoe challenge I that I can best relate to.

The lodge charged $200 per day per person. But that included access to fishing boats and gear, which we didn’t use. Guests also had to bring their own food and drink, and do their own cooking. It was very rustic, with no hint of luxury that people commonly associate with fishing lodges. Kathleen and I provide B & B accommodation to the few people that actually come to or pass through Preeceville. One of our recent guests said that he was considering a fishing trip at the Lynx Tundra Lodge. We showed him our pictures. He quickly decided not to go. We thought it was overpriced, but an interesting experience for us.

 

[Alan Gage]

When I passed through Kasmere Lake in 2016 the lodge was out of business. The main building looked like a nice place but the "cabins" were similar to what you show. Very small one room shacks with a bed and small table. Maybe 10x12' in size. I'm not knocking it as I'm sure it's very expensive and difficult to build something in such a remote area and the smaller and more rustic it is the faster it can be overtaken again by nature when it gets abandoned.

Actually, now that I look at your pictures again, I see your cabins were much nicer than the ones at Kasmere. There were no kitchens or any such amenities in those cabins. I assume the main "lodge" was where all the eating and socializing was done and the cabins were just a place to sleep.

Alan

 

[PaddlingPitt]

When I passed through Kasmere Lake in 2016 the lodge was out of business. The main building looked like a nice place but the "cabins" were similar to what you show. Very small one room shacks with a bed and small table. Maybe 10x12' in size. I'm not knocking it as I'm sure it's very expensive and difficult to build something in such a remote area and the smaller and more rustic it is the faster it can be overtaken again by nature when it gets abandoned.

Actually, now that I look at your pictures again, I see your cabins were much nicer than the ones at Kasmere. There were no kitchens or any such amenities in those cabins. I assume the main "lodge" was where all the eating and socializing was done and the cabins were just a place to sleep.

Alan

We didn’t use our cabin kitchen faclities, but cooked in the main lodge to socialize with other people.The main lodge was also rustic, but had some nice furniture, and a large picture window. We should have taken a few pictures, but we’re not photojournalists. We also didn’t want to be too pushy.

Michael

 

[VernAK]

Fishing?

Did you get a chance to see what the fishermen were catching? Lake trout and Char I should imagine.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Fishing?

Did you get a chance to see what the fishermen were catching? Lake trout and Char I should imagine.

VernAK, Did you happen to open the link to the video that I provided in the July 13 posting? Some nice pictures of large fish: Pike, Grayling, Lake Trout.

The three guys at the lodge when we were there said they would catch 50 fish a day. All catch and release.

We didn’t use our cabin kitchen faclities, but cooked in the main lodge to socialize with other people.The main lodge was also rustic, but had some nice furniture, and a large picture window. We should have taken a few pictures, but we’re not photojournalists. We also didn’t want to be too pushy.

Michael

Alan Gage. The link to the video that I provided has some nice images of inside the main lodge.

Thursday, July 14. Kathleen and I returned to the main lodge at 8:00 a.m., hoping that coffee was available. As we walked in, Ken said, “Coffee’s ready. Help yourself.” Ken also invited us to prepare our morning bannock on the stove in the main area, where we could share breakfast with and say goodbye to our new friends. Chris, John and Doug were heading back to Fort Smith by float plane at nine. Chris asked me again, “If this is your last trip, what will you do for your outdoor fix?” It was an excellent question. I didn’t know the answer yesterday, and I still didn’t know the answer this morning. Maybe there isn’t a good answer.

The Loon Air float plane landed in front of the lodge at 8:30 a.m, and out stepped, Karen, the daughter of Hank, who had helped build the Lynx Tundra Lodge. Hank had spent many summers at the lodge, and Karen had always wanted to join her father. But this was Karen’s first trip to the lodge, as Hank always told her, “This is no place for a girl. It’s a guy’s place.”

Hank had passed away quite a few years ago, and Karen had been serving as the sole care-giver for her mother who suffered severely with Alzheimers. Karen’s mother had recently passed away. So here Karen was, taking a much-deserved break to see the lodge loved so much by her father, and to view where his ashes had been spread.

After the pilot unloaded Karen’s gear, Chris, John and Doug prepared to depart. John was 83 or 84, and had a lot of difficulty walking down the pontoon, and climbing into the plane. John and his friend Doug had been to virtually all fishing lodges in the NWT. They went somewhere every summer. As John precariously stumbled down the pontoon, he blurted out, to no one in particular, “I think this is my last trip.” Sort of like I think this is my last trip. Maybe John and I are both wrong.

When people hear the words fishing lodge, they often think of being pampered and surrounded by luxury. Not so for the The Lynx Tundra Lodge, which is quite rustic. The few cabins did not enjoy indoor plumbing. Rather one could choose between two available outhouses. One had a door, presumably for privacy. The other had no door, presumably for better views of the scenery (not the occupant). Also, all clients brought and prepared their own meals. No alcohol was for sale. All clients had to bring their own libations. Lucky I brought all that white wine.

In mid-morning, Kathleen showered in the main lodge. I shaved at two-thirty. We’re starting to be pretty darn presentable.

Called Stephen on our satellite phone at 10:30 a.m. You remember Stephen. He’s the owner of Ahmic Air, the float plane company that will be flying us back to Yellowknife. I wanted to try out the satellite phone, just to be sure that I knew how to use it. If I had any trouble, I could ask Ken for help or advice. But the call went right through. No problems at all. “Hello, Stephen, I’m wondering if you could pick us up on July 18.”

“No. I’ve got you booked for the 19th. You should give me a call at 9:00 p.m. on the 18th to confirm your coordinates.”

At noon, the wind still blew strongly, with threatening skies. At 1:30 we sat down at the main table in the lodge for a snack of cheese, salami and crackers. At three o’clock the wind still blew strongly. We probably wouldn’t be able to paddle in this. Kathleen and I returned to our cabin for a nap, hoping for calmer weather.

We hurried back to the lodge at 4:40 p.m. against a now very strong wind. This is not good. We’re supposed to leave tomorrow morning.

We mentioned to Ken that in 1993 we had paddled the Thelon River, which flows out of Lynx Lake, near the Lynx Tundra Lodge. “Kathleen and I wrote a book about that trip, Three Seasons in the Wind: 950 km by Canoe Down Northern Canada’s Thelon River.”

“Interesting Michael. I’d like to read that story. I think our clients would also like to learn more about this area. Here’s my address in Edmonton. Do you mind sending three copies? One for me. One for the lodge. And one for the Loon Air float plane dock in Fort Smith.”

“I’d be glad to do that Ken, as soon as we get home.”

Karen told us a story of when she and her partner were in an automobile accident. I will put the story in quotes, even though it is certainly not verbatim.

“My partner and I were on the Calgary freeways in commute traffic when a car in the next lane swerved over and ran us off the road. We were upside down. I asked him, are you all right. There was no answer. I reached over to feel for a pulse. There was none. He was dead.

“There was also another vehicle in the same accident. My family, and the family of the other crashed vehicle showed up for the trial of the young woman who had caused the accident. She had recently arrived from the Philippines, and was just learning to drive. She didn’t mean to crash into us, but had simply panicked with all the traffic around her. She was in court all by herself. No family. No friends. She looked so unhappy and afraid.

“I walked up to her, put my arms around her, and said, I forgive you. We both cried.”

“That’s beautiful, Karen. I’m nearly crying myself.”

“It was necessary to forgive her. Not just for her. But also for me. It would be unhealthy for me to spend the rest of my life with anger in my heart. Forgiving her allowed me to move beyond.”

(No pictures today. Sorry.)

 

[memaquay]

Sheesh, I've always enjoyed your writing style for its humour and adventure and informative nature. Guess I gotta add "tear jerker" to that now too.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

Before making my next posting, hopefully in time for memaquay's morning coffee, I'd like to explain why we had been lugging around that heavy, cumbersome box of white wine, yet hadn't even opened the box in the eight days before reaching the Lynx Tundra Lodge.

We had mistakenly envisioned the lodge to be more luxurious. We brought salami, fancy cheeses and assorted crackers to prepare a charcuterie board. We anticipated a sumptuous, sophisticated dining experience in the elegance of the lodge, accompanied by lingering sips of a fine box wine. Instead, we simply ate our food and drank our wine at the small kitchen table in our decidedly inelegant, tiredly-rustic cabin. Somewhat disappointing, particularly for $400.00 per night.

 

[lowangle al]

In theory, booking a night at a wilderness lodge on a trip sounds like a great idea, too bad it didn't meet expectations.

I tried to squeeze in a visit to what I thought was a lodge on a 10 day solo trip. A local flight service company was always advertising fly in trips to a lake just outside of the route I was taking so I thought I would stop by and check it out. I had my heart set on a cheeseburger and fries and a gin and tonic. It turned out that the outfitter only had wall tents and motor boats and it was more of a DIY camping experience. There was a guy and a girl staying in one of the tents. Being the first people I had seen in a few days I was happier to see them than they were to see me.

 

[PaddlingPitt]

In theory, booking a night at a wilderness lodge on a trip sounds like a great idea, too bad it didn't meet expectations.

I tried to squeeze in a visit to what I thought was a lodge on a 10 day solo trip. A local flight service company was always advertising fly in trips to a lake just outside of the route I was taking so I thought I would stop by and check it out. I had my heart set on a cheeseburger and fries and a gin and tonic. It turned out that the outfitter only had wall tents and motor boats and it was more of a DIY camping experience. There was a guy and a girl staying in one of the tents. Being the first people I had seen in a few days I was happier to see them than they were to see me.

Al,
Just wondering if you had a chance to open the link (July 13 posting) to hear the young muskox making the sound that I had wondered about earlier in the trip. Not a fox!