• Happy Thanksgiving, USA! 🦃🍗🥧

Wollaston Lake to Goose Lake (Nunavut Border) and back

This was slow going and I needed to be mindful of the angle I was taking the waves to keep them from splashing over the bow and sides. Once I reached the channel I tucked in close to Cleveland Island to avoid the wind.



Paddling on large lakes can get tedious so the fun comes from strategizing a route. You look at where you are, where you want to be, the islands in-between, and the wind direction. Then try to find the route that will get you there most efficiently and safely. Most efficient doesn't always mean the shortest distance. Many times it means finding ways to avoid the wind. You need to be careful that your proposed route doesn't leave you hanging out to dry if the wind or weather conditions should suddenly change so it’s good to have bail out options along the way should you suddenly need to change course.

Unless I am out in sphincter puckering wind and wave I kind of enjoy strategizing that series of chess moves. If I can hold this wind angle into the lee of that island I can sneak along the downwind side, which should line me up for a jump behind that peninsula, then a tough slog across that embayed shoreline with nowhere to hide and into the next bit of protection where I can rest up.

I have a bad habit of playing my wind angles too close, picking the easiest wave course that will just barely hit my protection, and then unintentionally creeping off on a easier angle only to find that, crap, now it’s going to be harder to get back on line and double-crap, it’s going to be a close thing if I can hit that sheltered point or not.

I do like having an easily readable deck compass on the thwart to help keep me true and aware, both when battling into the wind and when sailing with it.


I said the break-in didn't really dampened my mood, and at the time it hadn't, but it wasn't until a couple days later I realized the harm it had done.
I was looking forward to spending the evening in peace and quiet, cooking and eating a relaxing meal, and thinking back over everything we’d been through on the trip.
But instead I was instantly jarred back into reality when I saw the broken glass, tried to recall what had been left in the vehicle and what had been stolen.
Those few hours of peace and reflection at the very end of the trip was the real thing of value that was stolen and something I can never replace.

20160912_513 by Alan, on Flickr

Despite a half dozen vehicle break-ins none have occurred on a trip, and I had never considered that theft of repose and reflection. Those first couple of hours, putting gear away and easing back on the road, enjoying the successful completion of a trip, especially if it had been challenging, is an especially fulfilling time.

I go to some lengths to ease my transition back into civilization, driving at off-hours, on blue highways, avoiding cities and even crowded gas stations. Being abruptly thrust back into reality would put the kibosh on that sweet spot.

I wonder about the choice of window to break. Every shattered glass break in I have experienced has been the driver’s or passenger’s window, where it was easy to reach in and unlock a door. Those were particularly ugly because the seats were covered with glass pebbles.

It isn’t easy to break a modern car door window without a designed glass device (I have heard that a sharp rap with a spark plug works well). Even police battons are often ineffective. Looking at the dent in the rear window pillar I wonder if a baseball bat wielder didn’t first try a door window or two before moving on to a stationary window.

Just gotta believe that Mr. Bat-man will find that karma is, eventually, a b*tch.

I am still looking forward to more to come, getting across the border sans passport, a gear review and a word from Sadie. The Of Mice and Men riff was great.
 
The Of Mice and Men riff was great.

Agreed, but I'm glad it didn't end the same way!

------------------------

Really enjoyed the narrative and pictures of the journey. I'll probably never take a trip like this, or anything even close, but I'm glad I got to experience a little of it through your report.
 
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Excellent trip report. I am left with a mixture of admiration as to your tripping skills and envy as I long wished to paddle through that area. I'm also impressed in the trust Sadie shows in you. I wonder if she will be prepared to get in the car with you next time you head out on a trip?
 
A sincere and heartfelt thank you and congratulations to everyone who managed to follow this to the end. When I started I had no intention of it being so long. I thought maybe 4 or 5 installments and I'd have it wrapped up. By the time I realized just how long it was going to be it was too late to stop.

I'm really touched by all the kind comments. I've been surprised how many of my friends and family have been reading this too and it means a lot. I'm not much on sharing things face to face and it's nice to finally get to do so in some fashion.

After finding my passport was gone I had to call home from a payphone as I had no cell service. I asked my mom to do some research into the issue and what I'd have to do to cross the border. She went above and beyond by taking the next day off work to look into it and went so far as to call our senator's office to get advice. Whether or not I'd be able to cross with only a driver's license was very ambiguous with some people saying yes but all official information pointing to no. The prospects didn't sound good. I'd need to go to a US consulate and apply for some special sort of passport. I'd need forms of ID I wasn't carrying and not only that but the consulate in Winnipeg didn't handle such things so I'd have to apply in Calgary. I found this out when I called from a payphone just outside Winnipeg around 8:30 in the evening. I also found out that my dad had posted here on canoetripping what was going on and that multiple members from the Winnipeg area had offered me places to stay and even trips to join in on while I was waiting for everything to go through. What a great group of people we have here.

I'd wanted to connect with a couple of the Winnipeg members but was in a hurry on my way up so I'd buzzed on through. Now, on the way back, I was dealing with this. I tried to contact the actual border station at Pembina but it was too late at night for anyone to answer the phone. Since I was relatively close to the border I decided to drive to the border that evening where I could hopefully get cell service and in the morning talk to an actual person at the border crossing to see if I'd be ok with a driver's license. I was hesitant to try crossing without some assurances as if I was turned back I'd then have to pass through Canadian customs again to get back into Canada; and what happens if they turn me away too?

On my way to the border I formulated my plan. If the border patrol said no I'd contact the members who so graciously offered me a place to stay and head back up to Winnipeg. I'd arrange to leave my vehicle with them and then have them drop us off on the Canadian side of the Rainy River where I could paddle a few miles upstream and cross over to the US side where the Big Fork River emptied. I'd paddled that river before and knew an access was just a short ways upstream. Someone from home would come to pick me up over the weekend and I'd worry about getting my car back from Winnipeg later. I was really liking this idea and was almost hoping they wouldn't let me cross so I could put it into action.

When I arrived at the border around 9:30 that night I still didn't have any cell reception. There was a Canadian police station right there and thinking they might have dealt with these issues before I stopped to ask their advice. I talked to a nice officer who told me that while she wasn't positive how it worked with the US she was pretty sure I'd be ok with a driver's license. That they might keep me there a bit while they checked me out but if I could prove I was a US citizen they couldn't refuse me entry into my own country, or so she thought. Canadians sure are a helpful bunch of people.

I felt a lot better after talking to her and decided that instead of waiting until morning to talk to someone at the station I'd try and cross the border right then. There was only one window open and I was the only car going through. I handed him my driver's license and the business card from the La Ronge RCMP that had my case number written on it from when I reported my passport stolen. I got the normal questions everyone gets when they cross the border, a few questions about my passport being stolen, and then he told me "welcome back" and waved me through. It never felt so good to be back on US soil and it was a huge relief. Probably the easiest border crossing into the states I'd ever had.

I've been back for a little over two weeks now and I'm still not sure what I think of this trip. I could have made it easier on myself by going in better prepared but the part of me that likes to avoid expectations and let things be a surprise kept me from doing too much research about where to find available campsites, rapid classifications on the Cochrane and Putahow, and what was available for portages. I probably would have also found out there's a reason no one seems to be taking trips up there that last until mid-September.

The end of the trip really was miserable and I didn't enjoy myself much at all in the last week or more. Well, except for the last day; that was pretty great. It rained on 17 of the last 19 days and out of the entire 42 day trip I believe there was rain on 29 or 30 of them. Granted most of those days weren't solid rain and some of them were very pleasant with nothing more than a quick morning or afternoon shower but overall it was a very wet and cold trip and not something I care to go through again. There is a satisfaction that comes from getting through a tough situation and keeping your wits around you more or less. I felt I made good decisions and maintained a positive attitude. There was a 2 week period in the middle of the trip where the weather was outstanding and that was a very happy time. It was some of the most beautiful country I've ever seen and a special feeling to know how few people ever get to see it.

I hope to get back up to that area again but am undecided if I'll do this same trip over. Part of me wants nothing to do with Wollaston Lake and the Thlewiaza again and another part of me wants to go back and complete what I originally set out to do, which was to make it well up into Nueltin Lake to the Windy River before turning around and paddling back. One thing for sure is that if I do go that far north again it will be without Sadie and I don't think she'll mind. She had a lot of good times but overall it was a hard trip for her. Not from a physical standpoint but because there weren't enough portages to keep her exercised. After being stuck in a tent for two days all I wanted to do was paddle and all she wanted to do was run. I'm sure we were both frustrated with the other on those days. But she was still a great companion and gave me good company and good conversation as well as plenty of comic relief. Because of her I got out and did more exploring on land than I would have normally done and saw some special things because of it.

Looks like no big trips next year so if I do make another attempt it will have to be in 2018. This winter I'll be designing and building the boat for the task.

Thanks again for following along.

Alan
 
Hopefully as time passes you will be able to laugh off the ending.

Jason

I started laughing about it two days later while driving home. We were at a small town city park taking a break and I started picking up some of the garbage on the passenger floor when I came across this note:

20160914_524 by Alan, on Flickr

At first I was really touched that someone left me a note and was about ready to forgive the entire settlement of Wollaston Lake when the thought occurred to me: How did this get inside my vehicle?

Then I got to thinking that paper looks awful familiar. Just like the paper in the notebook I carry in my car. I picked up my pad and sure enough I could see the imprint from this note on the next page. So someone entered my car and used my notebook and my pen to leave me this note. Was it the same person that broke in or someone who came along afterwards? Either way it struck me as pretty funny.

Alan
 
Well, I must say I was glad to get another update, my mornings will be diminished without another installment. Thanks for the honesty of your reporting Alan!
 
Alan - Thanks so much for bringing us armchair paddlers along with you on your adventure. It is always a treat to read about your travels; Sadie's too! I'm also glad to hear your passage back into the states went so smoothly. I've dealt with my limited share of border guards and they're not always reasonable; or polite. Happy to see that wasn't what happened in your situation.

Until next time...be well.

snapper
 
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Alan,

Great write up. Each morning before work I'd read an installment. The best canoeing adventure I've read online - right there with "Canoeing with the Cree". Thanks for sharing it.

Bob
 
This winter I'll be designing and building the boat for the task.

I’m looking forward to following along with that build and whatever design changes you make (and why).

How did the glass and dynel skid plates do on the Bloodvein II ?
 
I was instantly jarred back into reality when I saw the broken glass, tried to recall what had been left in the vehicle and what had been stolen.

20160912_513 by Alan, on Flickr

Alan

Darn! Just tonight I remembered I'd left a pair of Zav paddles in the car!
Glad I didn't realize it at the time. That would have been upsetting.

Alan
 
So sorry that the perp stole your zav paddles. Like others, I'm in awe of your trip and what you accomplished. Just the road trip to get up there and back sounds pretty epic. Doubt there are many carbon fiber paddles that far north so they should stand out. Hopefully justice will be served and they'll make their way back to you somehow.
 
So sorry that the perp stole your zav paddles. Like others, I'm in awe of your trip and what you accomplished. Just the road trip to get up there and back sounds pretty epic. Doubt there are many carbon fiber paddles that far north so they should stand out. Hopefully justice will be served and they'll make their way back to you somehow.

​ I'm guessing they were stolen to be resold for drugs. And if law enforcement was alert, they may be able to locate them ! It's real a "Stain on the Community", up North !
​ A Bummer ! but really glad Alan and Sadie made it back !!!
Jim
 
I've just finished reading your installments. Congratulations on making an epic trip such as most of us only dream about. I've never been that far off the beaten path, but the times I have been out there by myself, the thought of getting hurt, so easy to do when wading a rapid, scares me. Glad that didn't happen. The car can be fixed, and it won't need a couple months of rehab to go with it.

Coincidentally, I just finished reading "Cold Summer Wind," in which Clayton Klein recounts a half dozen trips through many of the same waterways you traveled, but not the identical route. I was able to use the maps in the Klein book to follow along with your trip descriptions, which I think, as far as trip reporting, are better than Klien's. And he never went solo. Klein augmented his trip reporting with historical information about life in that region before the introduction of firearms led to over harvesting of the caribou herds. That, and near elimination of wolves destroyed the natural order that had sustained life of the nomadic people who inhabited the area for centuries. Or so Klein writes. Klein was paddling the area in the 60's and 70's, so that history was a little closer. He provides a bit of depth on the Fort Hill Trading Post. If you have never read the book, you might find it an interesting read. I'd be glad to pass on my copy if you want to email an address.

Klein spent a lot of days wind bound and suffered a lot of wet, cold miserable weather. Based on his accounts, the weather you experienced was average to good, but global warming has had a few more years to mature since his trips. Also, when it was warm, they seemed to run into insufferable mosquito and black fly populations. You didn't dwell on that. Not so bad? Several of his trips ended in hard times--behind schedule and out of food. If he was alive, I'd like to hear why he kept going back and seemingly getting into similar situations.

Thanks for the great read. And the pictures, largely missing from Klein's work.
 
Coincidentally, I just finished reading "Cold Summer Wind," in which Clayton Klein recounts a half dozen trips through many of the same waterways you traveled, but not the identical route.......If you have never read the book, you might find it an interesting read. I'd be glad to pass on my copy

Thanks for the offer Chip but I just ordered it off Amazon (along with the sequel). Looking forward to reading them this winter.

Also, when it was warm, they seemed to run into insufferable mosquito and black fly populations. You didn't dwell on that. Not so bad?

They got tough for a while in the middle of the trip when the weather was nice but nothing like they would have been earlier in the season (June/July). Was only forced to put on my head net once. The cool weather helped since I was always in long sleeves and usually wore a stocking cap around camp. The black flies did more swarming and crawling than biting, at least for me. They bit Sadie up pretty good. The mosquitoes were my main enemies.

Klein augmented his trip reporting with historical information about life in that region before the introduction of firearms led to over harvesting of the caribou herds. That, and near elimination of wolves destroyed the natural order that had sustained life of the nomadic people who inhabited the area for centuries. Or so Klein writes.

I haven't done any real research into the history other than what I've come across in my readings. It was interesting to note that when Downes was traveling through in the 30's and early 40's the government was convinced caribou numbers were way down but all the locals thought they were fine, or even up from historical levels. The case was made that despite the introduction of firearms there were so many fewer people actually out living off the land that less caribou were being harvested. Not only that but that once the whites started paying for wolf hides the natives began trapping and killing them, something they never did historically. So between the lack of people and lack of wolves the caribou herds should be thriving. Downes also notes that when Tyrell was exploring the area in the late 1800's that he reported many more caribou bones and carcasses than Downes himself found 40 years later, lending credence to the lower harvest.

But what the real truth is I don't know.

Alan
 
​ I'm guessing they were stolen to be resold for drugs. And if law enforcement was alert, they may be able to locate them ! It's real a "Stain on the Community", up North !
​ A Bummer ! but really glad Alan and Sadie made it back !!!
Jim

Man there is nothing worse than a low life thief. I have a small firewood business and I had wood stolen, logging chains etc. I put up game cams and one of them were stole but not before I got some pictures of the trespassers. Turns out there were several thieves. One crew was older guys with lots of money. The other is just an idiot that steels everything not nailed down. He keeps getting caught and gets house arrest. Not sure what I am going to do yet. Anyway that is my rant and I am sorry for your loss and hopefully your paddles will find their way back to you.
 
Alan,
I have been savoring your trip report and not wanting the story to end. Your writing talent has allowed all of us to feel the pain but also the warmth of the sun and the joy of paddling in such a place.
 
Good stuff, Alan. I'm intrigued by the selfies of the first and last installments: two different people, from the looks of them. And why would that be?

Your style has an easy readability, a kind of simple straightforward momentum with simple sentences that show a care and attention to detail that I appreciate. Sentences like, "Terns were wheeling and calling over the lake as they dove for fish." Work. Or maybe: "I gathered dead willow and alder branches to build a small fire in the twig stove and cooked lunch out on the rocks." It's not stuffing a bunch of twigs into your stove to cook lunch. It's gathering dead willow and alder branches. Your writing is full of such attention and I find it invites me, the reader, to follow a careful eye moving across the caribou carpet of the eskers and down to the sandy beaches and across the spirit of the lake, even down into its clear depths to the shadowy boulders and sunken trees and fish. Like the paths your sentences describe. Like there is some complicated world here that is nothing but a few clouds and some water and a hill. The style and vocabulary and rhythm all running in unison with the tale that you are telling.

So yes. There's good rhythm and you have an ear for the telling of the story. Sadie's bear chase: "I’d heard bears can run fast but this was the first time I’d witnessed it. I couldn’t believe how quickly it could move and once out of site at the bottom of the hill I could still hear its back feet pounding on the ground with every leap. A lot of power in that body. The bear looked like it had no intention of stopping but just to be safe I called Sadie off. Like a good girl she gave up the chase and came back to my side. But my how she was worked up! Hackles up. Tail up. Stalking stiff legged in circles around me while growling."

This is good stuff. The lead in sentence arrow straight. The bounding breathless and running and connecting phrases heading away and down the hill. The power drawn short in nine syllables. Yo-yo-ing the back and forth to a worked up hackles up tail up stalk. Yessir.

And I suppose I should also mention your sense of humor which likes to peek out sarcastically from between the paragraphs. "This seems like the most obvious place to camp on the whole lake with sand beaches and nice camping but you’d never know anyone had.
Well, except for the old corral that took up half the peninsula." Your passion for the literal make it even funnier to me, as if I can imagine the author oblivious to his own humor, making it drier and volumes more sarcastic in an unassuming, underhanded way.

And then the rain falling all the time. Fantastic setting. And the grey air with patches of blue only enough to frustrate. And sometimes, when the rain really begins to take over at the sort of climactic blech of the trip and your days become more and more driven back down into a tarp shelter you've been wishing you could supplement with a real tent, like the North driving you away from herself, into yourself, getting outside only to find the rain falling again and everything wet and getting cold--I find myself wondering about that tent-bound inner landscape, wondering about that mysterious thing pushing you forward and calling you back. Being tent bound and all likely to take up a chapter in itself. Although I know as well as anyone that it is naught but the murmurings of the wind and the relentless rain and the pounding of the waves against a rocky shore. Still, even the great poet himself Mr. W. Stevens once wrote after watching the woman singing as she walked along the beach, Whose spirit is this?

Because we knew it was the spirit that we sought and knew that we should ask this often as she sang.

I wonder if you will continue working on it. Sort of the way you returned immediately to the feverish building of another boat. Oh that is rich. Fleshing out whatever it is you are trying to do. Trying to say. Because certainly it is there, waiting, hiding, lurking somewhere between the far North and the telling of this tale. Certainly we all need to hear it said.

Thanks for the read.
 
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