Thanks for the Memories

Thanks to everyone on the trip! You were collectively and individually phenomenal!

Thanks to everyone for hauling and carrying more that your share of the load. I hadn’t realized how restricting my hip and knee problems had become. I will work hard to improve my physical condition in the hope that I can do a future trip and do it as a full participant.

Thanks to Peter for all the planning, for the terrific gourmet coleslaw, the wine supply and for hauling my butt through many a boulder field.

Thanks to Bren for your good humour and your demonstration that old gals like us can still meet the challenges of a cranky river.

Thanks to John for your always astute reads of the river, your buttermilk bannock, your wisdom and your model of how to live with gusto.

Thanks to Ginny for being so energetic, for having an abundance of river savy and for being the diva of gourmet dehydrated food.

Thanks to Mike S for the pickerel, the lake trout, the GPS, the gourmet gorp and oatmeal, the beer and the Scotch and, of course, all the hard physical work.

Thanks to Mike L for being a solid rock in all circumstance, for the great photos, for supplying needed brawn and for taking care of that daughter of mine.

Thanks to Kate and Tim for being the wonderful mature and talented young adults that you have become – physically and mentally tough, adept at rapids, living in the bush and tracking and sharing your knowledge with others. You are both truly fantastic.

To the youngest member of our crew, thank you for letting your mom come. I hope that one day you will see this blog in some form and have a new understanding of your first truly wilderness experience and of what a tough cookie that mother of yours really is.

Flying South, Driving South June 6, 2011

The next morning, the Fretz contingent was up early, packed up and across the portage by 7:00 a.m. as agreed. One last pot of Mike's super oatmeal porridge awaited. It was consumed before we packed up  and carried all the gear to the agreed pick up location.

Peter had contacted TransWest the night before and learned that the twin otter that had been scheduled to pick us up at 9:00 a.m. was down, but they would send a single-engine turbo otter. They said it would probably require three trips instead of two but assured us that we would pay the amount quoted.

It was well past the agreed pick up time when we finally heard the drone of the engine, but the pilot and his helper were extremely friendly, competent and helpful as we ferried our gear out to the plane in our canoes. We had less weight than the pilot anticipated, so as they loaded, the plan changed. On the first trip south to the fishing camp at Carswell Lake, the plane was loaded down with more half our packs and pretty much all the pails and kitchen gear, the small solo canoe and four people inside the plane and one big canoe on each pontoon.

I was happily surprised when we managed to lift off the lake.

At our request, the pilot flew over the tangled web of the Williams River delta before turning south. We were able to trace part of our route from the air. Occasionally the rigid lines of the land portion of the Semchuck Trail, the winter road to Uranium City, cut across the boreal forest. These dead straight constructions provided a sharp contrast to all the natural organic shapes. With that one exception, there were no signs of humankind from the air. As we neared Carswell Lake, the increased wind made for a bumpier ride which combined with the heat and fuel smells from the engine caused a little nausea for some of us.

The fishing camp was occupied this time by Joseph who was very helpful in offering us a wheel barrow to help transport the awkward paddles, by Brian McDonald, the owner of the camp, and by his young daughter who was celebrating her 5th birthday and was delighted to have outsiders with whom to share the celebration.

We washed hair, changed clothes and began to pack up as we waited for the others in our crew to arrive. Arrive they did about an hour later, and a short time later we were packed and back on the road.

The trip south on the Semchuck Trail was just as challenging and stressful as it had been on the way north. An added concern was the smoke which emanated from fires at some unknown location or locations.  At times, it became relatively thick.

It was a longggg... trip home. At dusk and after dark, rivers and "shotguns" kept themselves alert playing "dodge the deer.:  The Alberta contingent made it to Mavis's house around 2:30, and the Saskatoon crowd, having stopped for some sustenance at Timmy's in PA, did not make it home before the sun began to rise at 4:00 am.

One More Portage, One More Sleep June 5, 2011

The next morning dawned clear and still. But soon Peter noticed an ominous looking cloud building to the northwest. Worried that a storm might prevent us from completing the last few kilometres to the portage to Cantara Lake, it was decided to wake the crew at 5:30 and set off along the shoreline. Perhaps it was the collective drowsiness, but we struggled to find the beginning of the portage. We paddled up and then down the shoreline, eventually stopping at a spot previously used as a campsite. The little path up the hill soon petered out. We bushwacked our way across to Cantara Lake. All of us dreaded the prospect of lugging all our gear across the burnt out forest - like so many thousands of giant charcoal-covered pickup sticks scattered in all directions. It would be an all day ordeal.

The forward party in our trek across to Cantara (John, Ginny and the two Mikes) followed the small lake's shoreline to the north until they came upon the cached fishing boats that we had been told were on the west side of the lake and were to be our rendezvous point with the float plane the following day. There, they discovered the elusive portage - "a superhighway" according to Ginny.  They hiked across it at speed, left their life jackets to mark the entry point on the Athabasca side and then travelled down the beach to share the good news.

We headed off and in short order were on the beach and transporting the canoes and heavy kitchen gear and food across to the Cantara side. The trip notes stated that the portage started with an uphill section. It neglected to say that the uphill section was just a couple of degrees off vertical! Canoes and some gear were pulled up using ropes. After that, it was a relatively flat and easy trek.

That left us with most of the sunny afternoon free. Brenda opted to read; Ginny and I to relax and chat. Peter, John and Mike S relaxed and tried fishing (without success) on Cantara Lake. Meanwhile, the three Intrepids in the group (Mike L, Kate and Tim) wanted to explore the dunes again, so they headed south five to six kilometres along the beach to our campsite of the previous night. There, another expanse of dunes extended to the southern shore of Athabasca. In addition to enjoying the beauty of the lake and the dunes, the three discovered a remarkably clear set of bear prints over our prints at that previous campsite.

That night Ginny, John and Mike S camped on the Cantara side to protect the kitchen site from any marauding bears. The Fretz contingent opted to camp on the Athabasca side in hopes of enjoying a second spectacular sunset over the lake. One last sleep in the wilderness.

The Delta and the Lake June 4, 2011

The next morning, the weather and the river both changed. The blue sky returned and the temperature rose. The boulder fields were replaced by shallow braided channels running through the sand-choked beginnings of the Williams River delta. We paddled from side to side in search of channels deep enough to keep afloat. A few kilometres "as the crow flies" turned out to be about three times the distance "as the canoeist paddles."

After a couple of hours of this rather slow progress, we found the easterly channel to Lake Athabasca. It was like turning onto a super highway: it was relatively deep and possessed a good current. After a short time moving at this increased pace, we pulled out, sat up on the bank and basked in the sunshine as we enjoyed a late morning fruit and trail mix break. On a very short hike up the game trail for a pee break, I noticed that a beaver had recently been interrupted in the middle of a tree-felling, perhaps by us. The beaver had already reduced the trunk's diameter by two-thirds. I mentioned this to the group upon my return. About five minutes later, there was a sudden crack and the tree I had mentioned crashed just a couple of feet from two of our canoes. It just goes to show, beaver fever isn't the only potential hazard that our national symbol presents to canoeists!

We packed up again and within half an hour we were emerging into Lake Athabasca, but the river was not yet ready to let us go. We were once again fighting to find a channel through the seemingly unending sand bars and were forced to head well out into the massive lake before we could begin to head east toward our pick-up point.

Once free of the sand bars, we headed to the south shore for lunch. There, we planned our strategy. We wanted to take advantage of three-quarter tailwind we had as we feared a change in wind direction. The trouble was, many of us were tired. We decided to set some doable goals. As we skipped from point to point along the shoreline, we gained strength and set new goals. The wind slowed and the lake became almost glassy.

As we paddled along the Athabasca shoreline, Mike trolled and was rewarded with a great lake trout.

Our progress eastward was heralded by Arctic terns and flocks of shore birds that seemed to swoop down on both sides of each canoe, swirl around and come back for a second and third look.

We finally stopped just six kilometres short of the final portage into Cantara Lake. In terms of distance travelled, the day was a stunning contrast to the previous one when we had managed less than five kilometres.

We camped on the beach and enjoyed Mike's lake trout, the tranquil views and one beautiful, if rather late, sunset.

On the River, In the River June 3, 2011

Collectively, we have very few photos from June 3 - the result of weather and a couple of mishaps.

The morning was as windy and cold as the previous evening, so we took the chance to sleep in, and we decided not to try to move until noon. By then, it had warmed marginally and we were well-fueled by a large breakfast and an early lunch. When we set off the snow flakes were intermittent, it seemed to be in a totally different season than when we had pitched the tents late the previous afternoon.

The river threw more boulder fields and barely submerged rocks at us and the wind occasionally added another degree of difficulty. I made the first truly costly mistake taking a boulder head on. Peter and I both went for an unscheduled swim as did my camera equipment (the end of my picture-taking for a few days). We also donated two paddles, a hat, a water bottle and some fishing equipment to the Great Manitou. Our ginger cookie and toilet paper supplies both took a hit, but nothing larger was lost. Mike S. heroically chased after Peter's small pack downstream in thoughts that it might contain truck keys and a wallet. After plucking it from the chest-deep water, he was a little upset to learn that it contained nothing so valuable.

The river was not terribly deep and neither Peter nor I suffered any significant injuries from the rocks or canoe. The one danger was hypothermia because of the biting wind; however, our experienced crew swung into action setting up a tarp as a windbreak and a fire to warm and dry. We were changed into dry clothing and after a two-hour delay, very little the worse for wear (although mourning the loss of the ginger cookies), we were ready to get back on the river.

The river was ready for us: more boulder fields. Within two kilometres a second mishap. This time Tim and Brenda swamped although it was not quite as dramatic as the earlier overturn. They took on gallons of water and both canoeists were soaked - Tim to the waist and Brenda to her shoulders. Three people bailed furiously to rid the canoe of most of the water and the two hardy types jumped back in and paddled hard to try to stave off hypothermia while we searched for a campsite. Once located, the wet pair were stripped down and put into multiple layers of dry clothing and then assigned to stand by the fire to dry their previous togs and shoes.

It certainly wasn't our best day as we made barely five kilometres on the river. The sky was still overcast, and there was a lot to dry out. The mood was a little subdued. However, Ginny, the guru of freeze-dried gourmet, produced another great supper supplemented with a fabulous fruit-laced coleslaw by Peter and Kate and the spirits rebounded.

Sun, Sand, and Snow June 2, 2011

The next morning John and Peter read about the upcoming river. There were more rapids, more boulder fields and a longish portage according to the trip notes.

Our trip down the river was largely uneventful - a nice run, some lining - until we came to the first ledge. A careful survey of the river led to the conclusion that we had to make a 750-metre portage over the dunes. There were two good-sized ledges and some pretty ugly rocky stretches in between. The sand and heat led to many of us imaging ourselves trekking across the Sahara, the trek made much harder by the soft sand and the rather heavy loads which resulted from our gastronomic tastes. We made multiple trips in stages.

People were inventive. Ginny solved two very different problems - overheating and a huge armful of uncontrollable paddles - by stripping off her shirt and using it to tie the paddles together, yielding them almost manageable.

The portage began and ended with sandy near-verticals. John, Mike and Mike met the latter challenge by partially packing the canoes with gear and sliding them down the sand at the end.

Cross-country trek over, we celebrated its completion with a lunch which included the creation of the Williams River Special- an open-faced sandwich on rye bread, topped with peanut butter, nutella and leftover chocolate pie. I was assured that it was a gastronomic delight. It certainly was a calorie bomb!

More running and lining in the afternoon. At the bottom of one such run we discovered some patches of quicksand! The real thing!

Brenda caught a couple of pictures of Mike S clowning around in it.

We were never in danger of

losing him completely, but he was in very real danger of losing one of his boots. It took a long time and lots of sweat to finally pull it free.

Back on the water, we searched for a good campsite and found one not too far down river. Campsite agreed upon, we laughed and hooted as the warm and somewhat muddy Mike intentionally fell face first into the Williams River. The notoriously water-phobic John followed to everyone's surprise and soon it was a "planking" party as one after another of fully-clothed crew paddled, then laid out full-length in the relatively warm river. Baths, hair washing and laundry followed just before it started to cloud over.

Soon we were putting up tents and a tarp to provide shelter from an increasingly strong and cold wind. Just three hours later, we experienced our first snow flurries.

The campsite was a fascinating one as it was at the interface of the boreal forest and the encroaching dunes. Our "kitchen" was dotted with clumps of pink moccasins just about to bloom. Ginny surrounded each with small vertical branches in an attempt to keep our feet from trampling them.

Doing the Dunes June 1, 2011

The next morning, we scooted our gear down the edge of the bench and set off in the canoes. It was only a few corners until we turned west to see a very tall dune which rose before us straight out of the deep blue river. The juxtaposition of sand and water was made all the more unreal by the thick boreal forest on the other river bank. Paddling slowed or ceased as we all took it all in.

Not long later, we pulled in and set off to explore the dunes. These are an interesting formation which are both the most northerly active sand dunes in the world and the largest active sand dunes in North America. On the dunes we found the characteristic wind sculpted 3-sided rocks, some very tenacious plants and lots of evidence of caribou including skull, horns and tracks.

If you want to learn more about the dunes use the following link: http://esask.uregina.ca/entry/athabasca_sand_dunes.html

Later, we used the height of the dunes to survey the upcoming challenges of the river.

After careful consideration and planning a combination of running rapids, lining and lifting over two ledges, we were back on the river executing the plan.

Running the rapids....

Waiting for others to run the rapids...

Lining...

Lifting...

Further down the river, we stopped for lunch and took another hike on the dunes.

Later in the afternoon there were more rocks, more ledges. Smoke in the sky interacted with the sun and rocks to produce an unworldly copper sheen on the rocky ledges.

By evening the smell of smoke was noticeable as well, and the sun appeared as a small hot pink ball in the blue grey sky.