Lakes Superior and Huron

Lakes Superior and Huron

The lyrics of Gordon Lightfoot’s classic “The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald” will pulsate in my ears throughout this section of my trip:

“The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

   of the big lake they called “Gitche Gumee”.

  The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

   when the skies of November turn gloomy.

   With a load of iron ore twenty-six tons more

   than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.

   That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed

   when the “Gales of November” came early.”

I take all of this very seriously. That said, the popularity of kayaking on Lake Superior has grown steadily which speaks both to a certain safety base level and the beauty I can expect: Majestic headlands, craggy inlets and bays, and camping on the beaches and enjoying the setting and rising sun. Bill Climie, cousin of Bob Climie, who lives in Silver Islet just a day east of Thunder Bay will join me for two days paddling. I look forward to his input on the “tricks” of kayaking the Lake. He has already made me aware of the propensity for winds on the Lake in August. Fair warning –listen to the marine weather forecasts (Environment Canada) on the VHF and check other features in the sky which can portend wind or fronts. Some have suggested there is a hole in which to paddle in the mornings as the wind comes up in the afternoons –hopefully this is true.

My course of travel will take me along (very close) to the north shore and for the first few days I will have the opportunity to paddle in the lee of Islands, after which it is all open water. I will have to stop in Marathon in order to re-provision. Leaving Marathon I will travel along the shore of Puskaskwa National Park and from all I have read it is divine.  After a safe crossing of Michipicoten Bay and River I will follow the equally wondrous shoreline of Lake Superior Provincial Park which includes Agawa Bay as far as Montreal River. The coast and highway 17 then essentially mirror each other as far as Batchawana Bay, at which point they separate and the crossing through the bay at Goulais River, then to Gros Gap, followed by the entry into Sault Ste Marie can be problematic because of wind and steep cliffs.

Winding through the locks and river at Sault Ste Marie between the USA and Canada will afford time and opportunity to get off the water and replenish both provisions and my personal “battery”. Leaving the channels and islands east of “the Sault”, I will essentially be in the lee of Manitoulin Island which should give some cover from winds and frontal pressures from the body of Lake Huron. However, the gap between the Island and the northern shore of Lake Huron is significant enough to allow quite a fetch to build up and winds to gain velocity. It is not a problem excepting I might have to lay up and wait out any “tempest”.

Once I pass the isthmus and causeway / bridge to Manitoulin Island from the mainland, I will be subject to the winds of Georgian Bay which might require defensive action up to and past Killarney. The objective is to maneuver so that I can enter the estuary of the French River and deal with current as opposed to wind and waves. Actually, the entry into this other iconic waterway will announce the start of the final phase in my trip.

Canada’s geography determined all travel –and mine

I must confess my fascination with hydrological divides: a  height of land on a continent such that the drainage basin on one side of the divide feeds into one ocean or sea, and the basin on the other side either feeds into a different ocean or sea. In Canada we are affected by four divides:drainage divide

1/Great (Continental –basically Rocky Mountains) Divide

2/ Arctic: running from snow Dome on the Columbia Glacier in an east north east direction.

3/ Laurentian: running eastward from Triple Divide Peak in Montana, basically along the 49^th parallel, until just before Lake Superior where it curves sharply north until it runs east again between the Great Lakes and Hudson Bay and on to the Atlantic in Labrador

4/ St Lawrence: Starting at a point wherein the Laurentian curves north short of Lake Superior and essentially following the southern coast of the Great Lakes and up the St Lawrence finishing near Gaspe in NB.

These divides totally prescribed the course and means of all inter territorial travel In Canada until the development of railways; and even then the railways were greatly influenced by the Great Divide and to a slightly lesser extent the Laurentian Divide.

 Fundamentally my trip this summer can be viewed in two lots:

a/ That part contained within the drainage basin of the Great Divide on the west, the Arctic Divide on the north, and the Laurentian on the south: Everything is funneled into Lake Winnipeg and out to Hudson Bay via the Nelson and Hayes Rivers.

b/ That part contained within the drainage basin of the Laurentian to the north and St Lawrence to the south: everything is funneled into the Great Lakes and St Lawrence River.

That said, I have to climb up to and then over the Laurentian Divide in the course of my journey. In order to realize this, my journey up the Winnipeg River, Lake of the Woods, Rainy River, Rainy Lake, Lac la Croix, Quetico Park, and Lacs des Milles Lacs will take me to that width of land over which I need to pass  to get into the Great Lakes – St Lawrence Basin.

I get excited at this point because the next 30 km will require all my resourcefulness, as it did to those travelers in the period roughly 1803 – 1850 as the key link in the trans Canada system. It was first used by Jacques de Noyon in 1688, but fell out of use because the Grand Portage, now in Wisconsin, proved more effective.

To set the scene, there are streams and rivers that have not seen traffic of any consequence in forever which will be my guide but whether I will get literally bogged down is open to conjecture. Put it this way, there is no chamber of commerce or tourist office that can tell me whether (from west to east) the Savanne River, the Savanne Portage (lost for all intents and purposes but I do need to cross the Trans Canada Highway (17) and the CPR and CNR mainlines) to Lac de Milieu (Height of Land Lake), then Prairie Portage to Cold Lake which has a creek running east into the Dog River, is open to anything except slogging through creek and bog towing my kayak? But don’t get me wrong; this is exciting because it isn’t being made easy –it should be a reasonable facsimile to Jacques de Noyon’s trip in 1688 or Roderick Mackenzie’s rediscovery in 1802.

If interested, google the town of Raith on Highway 17 north of Thunder Bay and you will see the transportation corridor afforded by the level height of land. Just north of Raith, you will also see where the Little Savanne River is crossed by Highway 17. I pointed out this bridge and river and my imminent plans (ok four years in the fruition) to my teammates as we cycled across Canada in the Make a Difference Marathon in 2008.

My descent of the Kaministiquia River and its tributary the Dog River, should be exciting as well. Some context is needed: the climb from Lake Winnipeg to the height of Land is 770 ft in altitude over 800 km. The descent to Lake Superior is 850 ft in altitude over 120 km. Surely, some 130 ft is consumed in the cataract called Kakabeka Falls, but the balance suggests serious portaging and I don’t mean on well developed portages adjacent to the Rivers. Some highway travel will be required with me towing my kayak on wheels.

As my reward, I look forward to seeing my friends Bob and Leslie Climie in Silver Islet on the shores of Lake Superior a day’s journey east of Thunder Bay

Winnipeg River

“The hardest thing I have done in my life!”

The speaker was my father, Herbert Hartley, who made this statement so many times in my presence that it became almost a mantra of the terms exigent on a river trip.

The source of his comments was the Winnipeg River. In 1934, as nineteen year olds, my father and my Godfather to be Rowan Coleman paddled up the Winnipeg River in a canoe. My father talked about fording / lining the canoe up the River when rapids were encountered and at times they were submerged up to their shoulders. I have a black and white framed photograph on my bedroom dresser, of them up to their armpits, which acts as a constant reminder of this stretch of water.

The River he talked about was once wild and spectacular as it dropped 270 feet in a series of rapids and falls in the 435 km journey westward from Kenora, Ontario on Lake of the Woods to Lake Winnipeg. The voyageurs loved snaking down its gorges and passable rapids as they made good time, despite portaging the falls. The return journey, what with paddling, poling, lining and portaging, took a lot longer and substantially more exertion. This stretch and that of the French River, between Georgian Bay and Lake Nippissing, more than any forged the voyageurs image into the lore of Canadian History as “romantic” icons daringly shooting the boiling rapids in an aperture of water between granite cliffs.

Since that bygone era, seven hydroelectric projects have been built to feed the energy needs of Winnipeg and southern Manitoba. I won’t use this as a pulpit for the pros or cons of such modernization but some have referred to it now as “The River of Sorrows”.

I will say that on my trip the dams, except for the effort taken to portage around them which is a direct tradeoff over the falls and rapids of old, will make life easier in that the stretches of water above the dams will have lost their current and paddling upstream should be less taxing (note that this is being written in April or income tax time by an accountant), at least for a while. The exception can occur in periods of high rains when the dams are forced to discharge so much water to prevent flooding and make the current impassable.

I look forward to paddling through the always gorgeous Precambrian (aka Canadian) Shield. Although I have not been on the Winnipeg River specifically, I spent time in the period 1962 -1964 at other locations in Manitoba’s Whiteshell Provincial Park such as Falcon Lake. Although across the provincial border, I also spent some idyllic days in the same period at adjacent Clear Water Bay on Lake of the Woods, Ontario. In 1973 I also had the pleasure of sailing from Clear Water Bay to just before Kenora and back with Jock McDonald and his father; beautiful, stunning, pristine are words which can’t adequately describe this utopia.

I look forward to camping on the shore of the River or one of the lakes included in the water system after a hard day’s paddling. As it will be early July, I should enjoy long days and hopefully good weather. I have this vision of relaxing and enjoying the gloaming as the earth gives way to night. As I used to sing at Boy Scout and YMCA Camp:

“Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know
God is nigh.”

Perhaps a little hokey in today’s cynical world, but it works for me.

I expect to be in Kenora by Sunday July 8 to meet with Bob Salmond of Victoria. We will rent a canoe and paddle the length of Lake of the Woods and up the Rainy River to its source at Rainy Lake. I will leave my kayak behind for Bobs Rieder and Rebagliati to pick up the next Sunday as they motor from Winnipeg to join us in Fort Frances.

Lake Winnipeg

This sucker scares the heck out of me!

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Once the North Saskatchewan and South Saskatchewan merge beyond Prince Albert, the distance to The Pas, Manitoba is 360 km. In that leg I will have to pass around two hydro dams and the reservoirs behind them. The latter are noteworthy because they are known to be subject to some nasty local winds. Prior to arriving at The Pas, I will pass historic Cumberland House.  The Pas will be my resupply center for the three weeks dealing with Cedar Lake and Lake Winnipeg for there are very few inhabitants before I get to Lac du Bonnet on the Winnipeg River. Cedar Lake is essentially now a 170 km long hydro reservoir behind the dam at Grand Rapids, Manitoba situated at the outlet into Lake Winnipeg.

The north basin of Lake Winnipeg is the historic route of the fur traders heading to Montreal and, as I am trying to be as authentic as possible, is the route I will take. Later in history many fur traders opted for the longer route from Cedar Lake south into Lake Winnipegosis by way of Mossy Portage, over a portage into Lake Manitoba and down its length, over a 30 km portage to Portage la Prairie on the Assiniboine River, east on the Assiniboine to Winnipeg on the Red River, down the latter to Lake Winnipeg and up the east shore to the entrance to the Winnipeg River. I have read reports of three trips from the 2011season, and they all eschewed taking the north basin of Lake Winnipeg at the least and in two cases they opted for the broader Lake Manitoba route.

While my heart says go Lake Winnipeg, it will depend on weather. There are two types of weather to concern myself about. Firstly, there are large scale systems which make travel perilous if not impossible. Last year there were weeks of torrential rains in south western Manitoba which made travel on Lake Manitoba and Assiniboine River very hazardous. In 2010, there were massive storm systems, which included tornados, in east / central Saskatchewan. My brother in law, Jim Munro, did the same trip as me in 1970 and was marooned by weather for more than a week on an island in Lake Winnipeg and when food ran out they scavenged for gull eggs to feed themselves. Thankfully Environment Canada provides constant marine weather updates on its VHF service and I am experienced in the use of this magical resource. I trust I won’t have to use my SPOT devise or satellite radio to rescue me.

The second type of weather concerns are local conditions wherein topography breeds squalls which can turn the water into frothing waves in minutes. The problem is that Lake Winnipeg is very shallow and wind can generate large crests of water which can imperil even a kayak. Although I will not be far from shore, there are reputedly areas where I won’t be able to get off the water for rocks and cliffs. I will need to be on constant guard. The lack of inhabitants and desolation makes weather issues loom larger than say in Lake Superior, for on the latter at least the highway is adjacent to the coast for the most part.

I had hoped to have John George as a partner for this section, but late last week he advised he won’t be participating. As John is the best paddler I know, I came to think of him as my safety blanket. Perhaps it was the clarity of this understanding which helped him reach his conclusion. Fair enough, but it made me feel so alone. I will need a strong dose of courage to push on at this point.

Even if I were to bail at this point, where would I go? One group last summer got a ride from Grand Rapids to Hecla on the islands of the Hecla / Grindstone Provincial Park jutting out into the western shore of the south basin of Lake Winnipeg. While the south basin does not appear as daunting, I would still have to cross from the west to east shore and travel down the east shore to the Winnipeg River estuary.  Regardless of how I make it there, I will at this point summon the spirit of my grandfather Thomas Leonard Hartley, who built a summer cottage in 1926 for my father Herbert and his sister Muriel at Camp Morton north of Gimli on the west shore, to give me resolve. Similarly, it will warm my heart to know that my brother Ian’s wife Marie Louise spent her summers at Winnipeg Beach on the west shore –and survived all the shenanigans let alone the storms.

I will focus on my vision of entering the Winnipeg River and coming up to the first of five dams: “Problem, no problem!”