Natla and Keele Rivers

Natla and Keele RiversStory by George Cates

Photos by George Cates and Peter Wilson

DAY 1 – SUNDAY, JULY 4The Natla and Keele Rivers start high in the MackenzieMountains in the Northwest Territories. They flow in a north-easterly direction, with the Natla joining the Keele and thenthe Keele joining the Mackenzie River south of Tulita. Ourpaddling trip was organized by Black Feather (BF). It wasrun in two sections: the first on the Natla with asmaller group of eight paddlers (George Cates, SureeNarindrasorasak, Peter Jaspert, Cathy Skinner, Peter Wilson,Walter Silecky, and BF guides Steve Ruskay and JasonCarrey) and the second group (Geri James, Gary James,Terry Johnson, Cliff Johnson, Chris Johnson and BF guideMolly Prendergast) on the Keele. The second part of our pad-dling team joined at the confluence of the Natla and Keele

Rivers, arriving by float plane.Our trip started in Norman Wells. From there we flew to

Norman Wells to O’Grady Lake (headwaters of the Natla) byfloat-plane. The entire canoe trip from O’Grady Lake to theMackenzie River was about 240 km and took three weekswith plenty of time for relaxation and hiking along the way.Once we arrived at the Mackenzie River we were to bepicked up by a motor boat to travel back to Norman Wells tocomplete the trip.We arrived at the Norman Wells airport just before lunch,

travelling by Canadian North airlines. There were a lot of fa-miliar faces. We met Cathy, Peter J, and Walter, whom weknew from our Noire River trip in Quebec last year. New tous was Peter W, although the rest had paddled with him in

Spring 2015 Vol. 42 No. 1 Quarterly Journal of the Wilderness Canoe Association

A beautiful view downriver from our campsite in Stelfox Canyon.

2 NASTAWGAN SPRING 2015

overcast. We felt the chilly air and knewwe were high in the mountains. Sincethe temperature was only about 10°Ceveryone put on warm clothes andtoques to keep warm. The Otter took off,but it wasn’t long before Walter andPeter W arrived in the single enginePilatus Porter.The mountain scenery was amazing.

The elevation was about 1,300 metresand there were no trees, just low scrubbushes and lots of caribou moss. Themoss was so thick in places that walk-ing on it was tricky since we sank intoit several inches with each step. We setup our tents and quickly figured outthe unfamiliar pole fittings. It did nottake long for the camp to be set upwith Jason and Steve looking after thecommunal tarp. Hot tea was soonready. We were still coming to gripswith how fantastic the next few weekswere going to be. Dinner was grilledsalmon and Portobello mushrooms. Itwas a joy to eat in the outdoors lookingover the lake with the mountains in thedistance.

Early morning near a mountain tributary campsite on the Natla.

the past. This was the group that wouldstart the adventure beginning with theNatla River section. Suree and I wereobviously the “newbies” to northernpaddling. The others quickly were talk-ing about their previous trips. Thiswould be a topic for many camp discus-sions in the coming days.We met Jason and Steve, our two

Black Feather guides, at the NormanWells airport. Everyone was very ex-cited and was talking to each other aboutthe forthcoming trip. When we got to thebase, we hauled the gear under the tarpnear the lake and started to put thethings we needed into the canoe packsand barrels. The sun came out and it waseasy to get things together. Steve andJason had already spent the morning as-sembling and checking all the main gearwhich made this all ready to go.We soon had the gear assembled and

after a quick lunch, we started to loadthe two planes – one was a Twin Otterand the second, a smaller, single engine,Pilatus Porter. Three canoes werestacked in the Otter, leaving a set of six

seats on the left side for us. By the timewe had everything loaded it was a tightfit for everyone. Walter and Peter Wchose to go in the smaller plane, so wehad me, Suree, Cathy, Peter J, Steve, andJason in the Twin Otter.The Otter was the first to leave for

our trip into the mountains. The float-plane base was located on a small lakejust east of Norman Wells. Once in theair we had a grand view of theMackenzie River. It was not long beforewe were cruising over mountain tops.The Mackenzie Mountains were quitevaried in ruggedness. Some weresmooth and rounded, whereas othershad the jagged appearance of theRockies further south. We were thrilledto see many spectacular rivers carvingtheir way through the mountain valleys.The flight to O’Grady Lake took

about 90 minutes. The descent was quickand we had a smooth landing on the highalpine lake. The Otter was skillfullybacked onto the sandy shore where wewere able to unload the canoes and gear.The wind was brisk and the day was

NASTAWGAN SPRING 2015 3

We soon realized how tired we were and be-cause of that we headed to bed early with the sunstill overhead. Over the many days to come wewould have the pleasure of sunlight till after mid-night. In fact, there was no real night – only adusky time from about 1-5 a.m.Campsite Position: 62.986002, -129.029954

DAY 2 – MONDAY, JULY 5The sun was shining and spirits were high. Aftera leisurely breakfast, we headed out ontoO’Grady Lake to warm up and practice our pad-dling strokes. I think Jason and Steve wanted tocheck us out before we hit the river. We headedback to our campsite for lunch and then put thespray skirts on the canoes.Steve decided to split up Suree and me. Suree

went with Jason and I went with Steve. This wasa good idea since the upper sections of the Natlaproved to be quite technical and we were the leastexperienced of the paddlers.We paddled about 8 km down the “water

slide,” as Steve referred to this section of theNatla. The river had continuous class I/II/IIIrapids that required lots of back-ferry maneuversto find the best line. It was a great experiencepaddling with Steve. I was with him in the leadboat, and because of that I had the best view ofthe upcoming river. It was a non-stop whitewaterexhilaration! We found a nice campsite on a riverbend that met with Steve’s high standards andthen settled in for our first night on the NatlaRiver.

Lunch breaks are always important, but sometimes a little wet.

campsite with a raised gravel bar next toa large stream with many good flat spotsfor the tents. The river had continued todrop quickly in elevation and we werenow at 1,100 metres.Campsite Position: 63.172089, -

128.577848

DAY 5 – THURSDAY, JULY 8The river was now easier to paddle, butthe current was still strong at about 10-12 km/hr. We were able to relax pad-dling which allowed us more time totake in the scenery. We pushed on look-ing for a good campsite, but the treeswere now much more abundant alongthe shore. We stopped on a gravel bar totake in the view of a mountain in theeast that had remarkable coloured stria-tions in the form of chevrons. Cathycalled it “Chevron Mountain,” but Iliked “Rainbow Mountain” better.We continued longer than we ex-

pected that day, but were rewarded withthe most spectacular campsite we wouldhave for the whole trip. It was clear aswe rounded the bend in the river that“this was it.” Everyone exclaimed whenthey saw the site. It sat adjacent to avery large tributary that was pushingemerald green water into the main river.Where the waters met, the water was ab-solutely clear and sparkled in the sun-


Campsite Position: 62.998655, -128.860862

DAY 3 – TUESDAY, JULY 6The scenery continued to amaze us. Theabsence of trees made it easy to capturethe full vista of the mountains. We feltso small as we headed downriver!We stopped at a tricky section to

scout it. There was a large rock nearriver-left where most of the water wasflowing. Steve gave the “thumbs up” forus to run this section, one canoe at atime. Steve and I headed out first andSteve decided to take a line to the left ofthe rock. We quickly realized the cur-rent was stronger than we expected andwe got bounced hard off the rock, butcontinued the line to the eddy lowerdown.Cathy started the run with Jason in

the stern, but they were not as lucky aswe were and quickly flipped, after hit-ting the rock. Jason swam to shore, butCathy parked herself on a rock mid-stream. Jason and Peter W tossed athrow bag to Cathy and she was able toget back to shore on river right.We regrouped, and decided that the

better line was to the right of the trou-blesome rock. Steve took this line withWalter in the bow and they made itthrough. Finally, Steve went again, but

this time with Jason – success again.The two Peters and Suree decided towalk this one.The day continued with some fabu-

lous runs. Steve and I did a “big rockhug,” but managed to squeeze through.Walter and Peter W barely made it, butCathy and Peter J took a swim. We man-aged to get everyone out of the waterwithout too much difficulty. We campedon a spot with a view towards a dra-matic 2,000 metre high mountain to theeast. We were just east of “BrokenSkull” valley.Campsite Position: 63.040179, -

128.684418

DAY 4 –WEDNESDAY, JULY 7This day was less difficult than the pre-vious day, but there were still manygood sections of fast water with trickyback-ferries to stay on line. At leasteveryone stayed dry! Our confidencewas building as we regained our pad-dling skills from being rusty over thewinter.By now it started to rain and we

broke off for lunch and ate under thetarp. There was a crystal clear streamhere, which was reason enough to fillup the water bottles with fantasticmountain water.We ended the day at a beautiful

Beautiful striations can be seen in some of the Mackenzie Mountains.


shine. The valley opened up here and wehad a view of rugged mountains to theeast. “Rainbow Mountain” overlookedthe site, and the sun highlighted itscolourful bands of rock. We had lots ofroom, which allowed us to spread outand to take in the glorious view. Wecouldn’t stop talking about how luckywe were to experience such a beautifulcountry.It was quite hot and some of us de-

cided to cool off in the river. The waterwas so clear and very inviting, but it wasalso very, very cold. It was not possibleto stay more than a few seconds in thefrigid water, but it was still very refresh-ing, especially with the warm sun to dryus off.That night was “Lasagna Night.” Steve

and Jason made absolutely deliciouslasagna in the Dutch oven, and everyonefilled up and relaxed in the beauty of themountains and the river. There were nobugs to worry about, which was a greatrelief. After being serenaded by Steve’sguitar, we drifted off to our tents with thesun still blazing overhead.


DAY 6 – FRIDAY, JULY 9We awoke to heavy fog over the camp-

site, but as soon as the sun came over thehorizon the fog broke up. The patches offog created a surreal atmosphere withthe mountains suddenly appearing whenthe fog lifted. We decided the day would

A clear view of the Natla River valley to the north.

Hiking in the Mackenzie Mountains is rewarding.

DAY 7 – SATURDAY, JULY 10The current continued to be very fast –about 10-12 km/hr. The water was quiteclear so we could see the rocks on theriver bottom flash past. There were nomajor rapids, but lots of swifts and theskies were clear, so everyone relaxedand enjoyed the scenery.The temperature started to rise and it

quickly got hot. The heat brought onearly afternoon thunder clouds whichapproached from the west. We decidedto camp early to avoid the rain, but inthe end the rain moved more to thenorth and it missed our campsite.Our camp was on a pebble beach on

the west side of the river, just south ofStelfox Creek. We had a great view ofStelfox Mountain which towered over usat 2,300 metres. There was lots of redcolouring in the rock in this area; thusthe name of the area to the east –Redstone Plateau.We had lots of time to chat and share

stories about our other trips. We got tohear about “The Mountain,” “TheNahanni” and “The Coppermine.” I wasbeginning to think these rivers have somepretty big rapids, based on the stories!


be a “layover” day since we were mak-ing good progress and we wanted to dosome hiking at this terrific spot.The canyon coming in from the north

led to Divide Lake. We decided to hikesouth-east up the canyon and then headnorth to the top of a small mountain.The plan was to get there by lunchtimeso we could get the best view of“Rainbow Mountain” and the valleywhere we were camped. It took us abouttwo hours to hike to the top. The routeturned out to be more difficult than an-ticipated since we had to drop down intoa few deep gullies and then climb backout on the other side. In the end wemade it to the summit and basked in theview. We could see for many miles andit was easy to see the Natla River valleyoff to the west.We had a great lunch with some very

tasty salami and then headed back alongthe north-west side of the mountain.This turned out to be a good choice, butwhen we got back we were all tired andhot. The cold water of the river re-freshed us once again.Campsite Position: 63.310353, -

128.183626


DAY 8 – SUNDAY, JULY 11We got an early start and soon went pastStelfox Creek and hit some big waves.The run was not hard, but the big waterwas exhilarating. Sitting in the bow, Itook some water in my face and quicklygot reminded about how cold the waterwas. It was great fun, but we were allglad that we had decided to put on ourdrysuits.As we headed into Stelfox Canyon,

we enjoyed many big wave sets. Therewere no upsets here since we were start-ing to get more confident. We scouted amajor set of rapids with a large classIII/IV wave ending the set. We spent alot of time going over the line since amistake here could mean a very roughswim. Steve described the line – tight onriver-right to sneak past some difficultspots, then a very hard back-ferry toriver-left to set up for the line throughthe final big waves. It sounded okay, buteveryone was nervous about this run.Steve and Jason made the first run to

check the line and set up a safety boat

A crystal clear stream feeds the river and offers a spectacular view.


boosted by the safe recovery of the lostcanoe.The canoe got bailed out, but we

were in an awkward spot. Eventually wegot clear and set off with vigour throughsome more class II/III rapids. I was im-pressed that Suree was still confidentand not put off by her earlier spill.We entered a narrow canyon area

where the water was being pushed hardinto a rock wall on river left followed bya sharp bend to the left. Cathy and PeterJ missed the line and flipped in thewaves here. Fortunately, there was apool where a recovery was possible.The day had been very tiring, but at

the same time very exciting. We madecamp here rather than push on to ourplanned rendezvous point with theKeele group. Steve and Jason discov-ered a nice campsite just opposite thelarge waves where Cathy and Peter Jflipped. It was clear that other canoeistshad camped there before, but it waseasy to miss while coming downstream.The site was on river right and we hadto ferry over through the strong currentand took time to relax a few minutes totake in the view before setting up ourtents.The sky was a beautiful blue and we

at the bottom. They ran the line per-fectly and had a great ride through therapids at the bottom. It was decided thatSteve would do the run with the otherthree boats. It meant lots of runningback up the shore for Steve, but heseemed to relish it like a mountainsheep. Suree, Peter J and Cathy decidednot to run this set.Peter W, then Walter did their runs

with Steve – all with great lines. Waltertook some major water in the face, butheld on well and cleared the entire setwith skill. The final run was with Steveand me. What a ride! I got some greatvideo on my helmet cam. The rush wasexhilarating.We continued through some easier

sets of rapids and then hit one with alarge standing wave on river right. Threeboats skimmed the wave, but made itthrough. Jason and Suree were not solucky and were tossed by the wave andflipped. There were lots of tense mo-ments as Jason swam downstream,valiantly holding onto Suree, who is nota strong swimmer. Steve and I tried tocatch the canoe. Steve grabbed theboat’s painter, but was eventually forcedto release it in order to help Jason andSuree make it to shore safely.

Suree was winded and tired, butmade it to shore after a long swim. Onceeveryone was safe, Jason and Stevesprinted down the shoreline like a cou-ple of mountain sheep hoping theycould catch the canoe. I could see themway downstream and then I lost sight ofthem when they turned the corner.We all waited anxiously for Steve

and Jason to come back. Eventuallythey returned, but they reported thatthey had lost sight of the canoe. Stevetook time to get everyone regrouped andcalmed down. There was not much wecould do so we decided to eat lunch andplan our next steps. We decided thatwith one canoe gone, Suree and I wouldhike along the portage trail on river-leftwhile the rest of the group continueddownriver in the remaining canoes. Wewere hoping that the errant canoe hadwashed up on a gravel bar further down-stream.The trail was just a game trail that

followed the river. Suree and I contin-ued to talk loudly to make sure anybears heard us coming. Steve came backto tell us that the group had spotted thecanoe downstream. We met up brieflywith the three boats, and then continuedour hike down the shore; our spirits

Clear views and magnificent scenery abound on the Natla.


had a great view of the rapids andmountains to the east. The rocks on thebeach had a wonderful range of colours– blues, pinks and magentas.After a spaghetti dinner, Steve and

Jason then headed out on the portagetrail to check out the rapids in the re-mainder of the canyon. One of the greatthings about the long days is you caneasily be hiking a trail or doing camp

chores at 10 p.m. with plenty of light.Campsite Position: 63.527918, -

128.043497

DAY 9 – MONDAY, JULY 12We finished the Natla River and weresomewhat sad to put it behind us as wedrifted into the Keele River. The Keelewas still a fast moving river, but therewere no really difficult rapids expected.

Most of the rapids were class I/II. Theytended to be standing wave trains on theriver bends and were easy to avoid be-cause of the widening nature of theriver.We stopped early at the rendezvous

point on the Keele. Here the river wasquite wide and straight, which made itpossible for a plane to land on the river.There was a cluster of cabins on river-

The Mackenzie Mountains are sprinkled with alpine lakes and rivers.

O’Grady Lake was the starting point of the trip.


right, but no one was around. The TwinOtter arrived around 4 p.m. and circledthe area for the pilot to check out theriver and make sure there were no ob-structions in the water.The newcomers were Geri and Gary

James, who paddled with us last year onthe Noire River. There were three menas well from Colorado (three genera-tions: grandfather, son, and grandson),Terry, Cliff, and Chris Johnson – inorder of age. Terry was 75 and had donemany rivers in the north in the past.Cliff and Chris had never paddled be-fore so it was to be a fantastic trip forthem. Finally, one new guide fromBlack Feather, Molly Prendergast, alsojoined the group, making us a team offourteen (seven canoes) for the next twoweeks.Campsite Position: 63.593824, -

128.073532

DAY 10 – TUESDAY, JULY 13Now that the new group had formed,Suree and I joined up to paddle together.Gary and Geri were also together. Terry,Cliff, and Chris joined up with Jason,Molly and Steve respectively. The pad-

dling was easy, and with the fast currentwe covered about 20 km and were offthe water by 2 p.m. The easy and wideriver meant that we could jockey backand forth and chat with each other alongthe way. There were many possibleroutes between the numerous gravelbars. Steve looked for where the waterflow was the best and we followed hislead. Jason and Terry fell back to act assweep. This was okay because Terryliked to take a lot of video shots as hewent along.We stopped on a large alluvial fan

where there was a huge expanse ofDryas flowers, which is the officialflower of the Northwest Territories.When it is dry it looks like a huge fieldof cotton balls. This area had some saltlicks, but we didn’t spot any wildlife.The day was hot and the only shade

was under the tarps. We kept chasingthe shade to keep out of the sun. Wespent the afternoon chatting and explor-ing the surrounding area. It was quitehot and even though the water wasslightly warmer than on the Natla, theshrieking and squealing of the swim-mers was a good indication that the

water was still quite chilly.The Johnson gang tried their luck at

fly fishing. Chris caught a smallgrayling and decided to keep it just totaste it. He cleaned it and wrapped it infoil to be cooked with the rest of thedinner. We headed off to the tents earlyto escape the heat, but it was still hotuntil the sun dropped behind the moun-tains.Campsite Position: 63.717435, -

127.892429

DAY 11 –WEDNESDAY, JULY 14The day started out cold but soonwarmed up by the time we were on theriver. The paddling was calm and re-laxed with a lot of meandering betweenthe gravel bars. Just after dinner, therain started and all headed to their tents.The rain continued off and on for mostof the night, but stopped in the earlymorning.Campsite Position: 64.088843, -

128.140428

DAY 12 – THURSDAY, JULY 15The day started out overcast whichmade it necessary to put on our rain

Steve and Jason scout a tricky section of the Natla.

Steve expected the river to slow downbut the GPS indicated our speed wasover 10 km/hr. It was easy to makeprogress without too much work.We stopped at about 1 p.m. for lunch

and decided to camp at the same site. Ithad been a nice afternoon, but large rainclouds kept threatening. The cloudsseemed to split here and most of the rainwent away from us. The rain finallycame just before dinner, and we all hud-dled under the tarp until it stopped. Wewere rewarded with a magnificent dou-ble rainbow that lit up the south moun-tain slope.Campsite Position: 64.155476, -

126.936574

DAY 15 – SUNDAY, JULY 18The day started cool and overcast. Someput on drysuits to feel warm and com-fortable. The river was quite wide inspots with some large volume waves.These were not difficult, but it was nec-essary to pay attention in order to avoidgetting turned sideways. Progress wasstill very good.The campsite was very open with

Steve and Walter negotiate Stelfox canyon.


gear for the paddle. The rapids wereeasy to manage and the river had startedto widen, but still had a very good cur-rent. The Twityn River joined the Keelefrom the west. The Twityn had a lot ofsilt so the river started to becomebrownish with the silt in this area. Thesilty water tended to come and go on theKeele, but in this area the silt soon dis-appeared and the beautiful blue returnedto the river.Campsite Position: 64.226917, -

127.643643

DAY 13 – FRIDAY, JULY 16The river widened a lot in spots. Therewere no rocks, but because of the cur-rent there were many spots where thewater got choppy and boils appeared. Itwas easy to get pulled across the eddyline in places and lose the current. Wetried to cruise around the bends andpointed the bow to the inside to allowthe current to do the work.Our lunch stop was on a large allu-

vial fan. We looked to see if there waspossible camping, but the smallest rockswere the size of bowling balls. It would

have been rough tenting, so we movedon. The lead canoes spotted a grizzlybear on the far bank. They claimed itstood on its hind legs to get a goodsmell of the intruders and then disap-peared into the bush. It was reportedlyquite large (around 300 lbs.), but theneveryone who saw it seemed to be out-doing each other to exaggerate the en-counter!The weather was quite peculiar; there

was a strong wind from the east, but theprevailing winds from the west contin-ued to drive the clouds westward higherup. The local mountains probably cre-ated swirling winds. Again, rain came inafter dinner and continued lightly allnight.Campsite Position: 64.222770, -

127.202069

DAY 14 – SATURDAY, JULY 17There was fog in the morning after therain all night, but this blew off duringbreakfast. It continued to rain lightly onand off. Fortunately it was not cold andwe did not find it to be a problem. Theriver got silty again and turned brown.


The end of Stelfox Canyon.

and had no problems. It was importantnot to go down one of the side channelssince the water got shallow and one’scanoe would quickly become grounded.Our campsite was just off the main

channel with lots of sandy spots for thetents. There was a nice set of poolswhere the water had warmed from thesun. The pools got fed from water thatpercolated upward from the main riverso the water was clear. It was a greatspot for taking a dip and getting somewarm water for washing.Campsite Position: 64.240623, -

125.968318

DAY 17 – TUESDAY, JULY 20We made very good progress on thisday. We only paddled for about fourhours and made approximately 50 km.The current remained strong; it was justa matter of picking the best channels.Steve had no problems in this regard,which gave the rest of us time to relaxand “follow the leader.”We camped again on sand.

Unfortunately, when the wind picked upthe sand went everywhere. The sand

plenty of flat gravel sites for everyone.Terry, Cliff, and Chris tried more flyfishing, but without any luck. I got alesson from Cliff on the basics of flyfishing.Steve played guitar and we relaxed

after dinner. A rock piling contest en-sued. Chris took on the challenge andwon easily with a pile higher than him.This was the last day in the moun-

tains since the next day the river wouldmove onto a plain before joining theMackenzie River.Campsite Position: 64.190576, -

126.571862

DAY 16 – MONDAY, JULY 19We officially cleared the MackenzieMountains, although far to the east, onthe other side of the Mackenzie River,we could see a high mountain (MountClark; 1,400 metres) in the FranklinRange. We kept expecting the current inthe river to slow down due to the re-duced gradient, but to our surprise wekept a steady 10-12 km/h. This meantour paddling was lazy. We continuedlooking for the deepest water channels

made for gritty eating if one was notwatchful. Dark storm clouds ap-proached, and we quickly ate dinner andheaded for shelter. We had heavy rainuntil about midnight when it eased off.Campsite Position: 64.256371, -

125.174413

DAY 18 –WEDNESDAY, JULY 21The morning was overcast, but at leastthe rain had stopped. It was clear thatthe river had risen a few inches becauseof the rain. The water was much mud-dier as well, due to the silt from therunoff.We paddled through rain showers.

The current was a little slower, but westill made easy progress. We passed avery high cliff on river-left made of clayand shale. As we passed by, a small rockslide tumbled rocks into the water, re-minding us not to get too close. Lookingback we could see Jason and Terrydwarfed by the immensity of the cliffwhich made them appear insignificant.We selected a campsite early since

we anticipated it would be harder tofind a good site closer to the Mackenzie


River. The site we chose was elevated,but had a lot of small rocks that neededto be cleared for each tent site.We all knew this was our last camp-

site on the Keele. Tomorrow we wouldcross the Mackenzie River. Everyoneseemed more subdued as they thoughtabout the great trip that was about toend.Campsite Position: 64.365708, -

124.915085

DAY 19 – THURSDAY, JULY 22Since this was our last day on the Keele,we took our time breaking camp. Weknew that the paddle this day would beshort, so we wanted to savour the last bitof time we had on the Keele. The deltaarea was large and flat with lots of mud.We stopped to gaze at the MackenzieRiver and to take a group photo. We werelucky that the weather was clear andthere was no wind. The Mackenzie Riverwas calm so it was relatively easy to pad-dle eastward across the river to the otherside. We had been anxious the day beforethinking we might have a tough paddle ifthere were large waves on theMackenzie. In the end we were fortunate.We spotted our pickup point a little

further downstream. There was a workcrew nearby using helicopters to ferry

mining gear inland. We learned laterthat the mining site was about 50 kmaway and they were preparing for thewinter season. They continued to shut-tle heavy equipment, with a helicopterarriving every thirty minutes.We set up camp a little north of the

helicopter shuttle site, adjacent to a nicestream. The stream was very clear andrelatively warm. It was handy to haveclear water nearby for drinking andswimming.This was our last night on the river

so everyone gathered under the tarp torelax. Steve, Jason, and Molly surprisedus with a song they had written. Terryrecorded the song on video as we lis-tened and sang along. The words were awonderful reminder of our trip.We reluctantly headed to bed, although

I spotted Chris sitting up to enjoy thebeautiful sunset which lasted for hours.At about 11:30 p.m. we were awakenedby a motor boat coming upstream andstopping just south of our campsite. Thiswas our transport boat to take us back toNormanWells in the morning.Campsite Position: 64.430625, -

124.773693

DAY 20 – FRIDAY, JULY 23We started to break camp after breakfast

and got to meet Rick, the captain fromNorman Wells. His powerboat was wellequipped to transport the canoes and allthe gear and people back to civilization.The canoes were strapped to the top ofthe cabin and also to two custom outrig-ger platforms.Once all the gear was loaded, we

headed downstream to Norman Wells.Rick slowed down to point out the natu-ral coal deposits along the river that hadcontinued to burn for hundreds of years.We also slowed as we passed the townof Tulita and saw the old Hudson’s Baypost. The adjacent mountain (BearRock) here had three rock “patches,”which according to local folklore, rep-resented beaver pelts laid on the moun-tain to dry. The weather was clear andsunny so we all enjoyed the smooth rideback to Norman Wells.We docked at Norman Wells and un-

loaded the gear and canoes. We gotshuttled to the “hotel.” The rooms werepretty basic, but we were all happy tohave a hot shower and clean clothes.We celebrated later by having dinner

at the Mackenzie Inn. It seemed strangeto eat Chinese food in Norman Wells,but the company of our friends wasmore important. It had been a great ad-venture that none of us would forget!

Cathy decided to send the canoe down ahead of her.


It is no problem finding great campsites on the Natla.

Suree Narindrasorasak, Peter Jaspert, Walter Silecky, Cathy Skinner, Peter Wilson, Geri James, Chris Johnson, Cliff Johnson, George Cates,Molly Prendergast, Terry Johnson, Steve Ruskay, Jason Carrey, Gary James.


Published by theWilderness CanoeAssociationNastawgan is an Anishinabi word meaning “the way or route”

CPM #40015547ISSN 1828-1327

The WILDERNESS CANOE ASSOCIATION is a non-profit organization made up of individuals interested inwilderness travel, mainly by canoe and kayak, but also in-cluding backpacking and winter trips on both skis andsnowshoes. The club publishes a quarterly journal,

Nastawgan, to facilitate the exchange of information andideas of interest to wilderness travellers, organizes an ex-tensive program of trips for members, runs a few basicworkshops, and is involved in environmental issues rele-vant to wilderness canoeing.

George, you were the voice of the symposium.You are gone, but somewhere your spirit is paddling, paddling,paddling ... across northern lakes and along northern rivers.May your portages be short.May the bugs be few.May your firewood be dry.And may winter never come.You are sorely missed.Douglas McIntosh, Fairbanks

When running a long set of rapids, George was inclined to sitvery high up on the stern of the canoe to improve his view of thewater. Worried about stability, a fellow tripper asked George: “Don’t you ever kneel in the canoe?”, to which George replied,“Only when I am afraid…”When George was asked to paddle a fine northern river for thesecond time, he declined: “So many rivers, too little time” he said.Once, when George was paddling a long solo trip up north, afriend asked Linda if she worried about George’s safety. “I don’tworry", she said, “because I know that George will never hesitateto put his feet in the water…(and step out of the boat).”Ric Symmes, Toronto

I first met George when he called me in the autumn of 1989. Hewanted to know if I would come to Toronto to give a presentationat a symposium on wilderness canoeing. I was surprised. Howdid he get my name? Somehow George seemed to know every-thing about everybody.After attending and giving a lecture, I sawa labor of love unfold. As I told him many times, he was "per-forming a service for humanity." We are all better for his timeon earth.Jonathan Berger, Philadelphia

My memories of George are few in number, yet full of respectand joy for the initiatives he was so passionate about. I feel

deeply satisfied to have been a part of the symposium this yearand to have witnessed the urgency George felt about passing onthe torch with the younger generations. What courage it takes tostand up for one’s beliefs, and how brave it was for him to standtall despite his illness. These feelings have stayed strong withinme since then, and I feel as though George re-lit that flame ofinspiration for sharing our stories and getting more and morepeople involved. I am honoured to have been present at thebrunch to get to interact with George more personally, despitethe difficulty he was having with remembering. I rememberlooking directly into his eyes and staying present and honouringhim and his desires as we shared moments of conversation. I amgrateful for this.Emma Brandy, Toronto

I will have spent the best northern trips in my life with George andhis family. My condolences to all of them and I thank them all forputting up with me. George may be no more, but he is not deadfor his memories will live on in all of us. One who leaves you withgood memories never dies. Thank you, George. Good night.Bill Pollock, Ste-Agathe-des-Monts

I am saddened to learn of George's passing. George invited me tospeak at the WCS many years ago. As part of the invitation, Iwas welcomed into his home for the waffle brunch on Sunday. Ireturned to theWCS as well as to George's home for brunch sev-eral times. I was amazed by his vast library and his ability to sug-gest just the right book no matter how obscure the topic, as longas it was remotely connected to the north. The passion in his eyesand his energy were especially apparent when he showed me hiswall map of northern waterways. His wife and family were alsoso welcoming and engaging. Surely he will be missed, but he hasinspired so many of us with his joie de vivre that I cannot helpbut smile when I think of him.Annie Aggens, Wilmette

Passing the TorchThe paddling community lost several notable members since the last edition of Nastawgan went to print. John Lentz, Ria Harting,Elizabeth Sinclair, William Sleeth, Bill Lawson and George Luste all departed within the past few months.We are thankful for their con-tributions to WCA and will always remember them with fondness.The recent passing of George Luste ignited a heartfelt outpouring of profound gratitude, respect and reminiscence from many thatknew him.Although George would probably not approve of all this “fuss”, I’d like to share several passages from your letters. If you havea memory of George you’d like to share, please send it to [email protected] Gusev, Editor


George Juris Luste1940-2015

Canoe Touring 101By O. Ross McIntyre

George Luste, a pillar of the WildernessCanoe Association and a founder of theWilderness&Canoe Symposium died at hishome inToronto on Saturday, March 21st.George was born August 6, 1940 in

the village of Valmiera, Latvia. His fam-ily escaped the conditions of World WarII and arrived in Wawa, Ontario inDecember 1948, where his educationbegan in a two-room schoolhouse.Within a few years they moved toMontreal, where he graduated fromWestHill high school in 1957.He went to Mount Allison and gradu-

ated in 1961 with a BA, honours in math-ematics and physics. He went to JohnsHopkins in the fall of 1961, and duringthe summers took jobs at AECL at ChalkRiver. His PhD research and thesis atHopkins was in experimental high-en-ergy physics. After completion in 1968,he was offered a post-doctoral position atthe Stanford Linear Accelerator Centre,and in 1971 was offered a tenure streamfaculty position at the University ofToronto in the physics department. Whilethere, he was also Associate Dean in theSchool of Graduate Studies. For ten yearsprior to retirement he was the Presidentof the University Faculty Association,where he advocated strongly for pensionmanagement reform.

George was always very involved inhis community in Toronto. For a numberof years he served on the Board and asPresident of the Royal CanadianInstitute. He was a key organizer of the“Stop the Spadina Expressway”, and ad-vocated for protection of the Cedarvale -Nordheimer Ravine. While a member ofthe Board of the Toronto and RegionConservation Authority in the early1970s, he started the Don River Day pad-dle. Further afield, he advocated for con-servation and protection of the NahanniRiver, the Missinaibi River, and othernatural areas across Canada.He canoed much of Canada’s barren

lands and northern coasts, and started anannual canoeing symposium to share tripstories and learn about the North andwilderness. He also collected over 8,000books on the north. In his later years hishobby was investing and reading aboutinvesting.George is predeceased by his mother

Mirdza, his father Leonids, and hisfavourite uncle Nikolajs. He will bemissed by Linda, his wife of 49 years, hischildren Tija, Tait, and Debbie, his sixgrandchildren Zoe, Eli, Ramona, Izak,Benjamin, and Kali, as well as his sisterMarg, and cousin Inta, and their families.George actively participated in the

30th Annual Symposium, only four shortweeks prior to his passing. During those30 years, George touched many of us inspecial ways. His considerable legacywill continue to live on these pages, aswell as in the future Symposiums and inour hearts. We encourage you to make adonation to the Luste Lecture Fund. Thisfund was created by the WCA and theCanadian Canoe Museum in recognitionof George's immense contribution towilderness canoeing. Donations can bemade online in support of this lecture se-ries through The Canadian CanoeMuseum athttps://www.canadahelps.org/dn/13607or by calling the Museum at 1-866- 342-2663.May he rest in peace and live on in

our memories.

Above all, George was a teacher. I wish Ihad taken a physics course with him, butinstead experienced Canoe Touring 101at his hands. It was a wonderful course.Like most experienced teachers, he

began by showing us photos of an earlytrip, aluminum canoes, crude low-budgetequipment, unrealistic goals for the day,infectious enthusiasm for what he wasdoing. And then, trip by trip, our under-standing of what he was about grew, asdid our view of his landscape as it ex-panded from that first narrow valley toone that eventually encompassed thetotal horizon of the northern world.We were with him as he sorted the

food packs out on the ice when histravel companion dropped out with a

bleeding ulcer. We were with him as hearrived at the sea. We worried with himabout the bears on snowy hillsides inmist and snow and rejoiced with him inthe full measure of a sun-filled day inthe Arctic. Our comfort in our canoe-touring course derived from George’simperturbability – his level-headed ap-proach to the unexpected, his optimismthat things would be O.K. And whenthe course was finished, it was not be-cause of some inopportune or rash deci-sion on his part. He made no fatal mis-take in setting his course amongst thehigh water and rock, but rather it was apowerful and random particle launchedout of the universe that resulted in thatunlucky hit on his DNA. It could have

happened to any of us.It is reasonable for us to wish that we

had been smart enough to go with himon one of his trips. That cannot happennow, but let’s imagine it. We are sittingtogether quietly in the long arcticevening on an esker that offers a view tothe east over the lake. There is a decentbreeze and the bugs are quiet. Behind uslies the patterned ground, the hexagonsthat we have crossed on our way toclimb up here. George is speaking ofsome travelers who have been to thisplace before. He knows the book oftheir journey as well as he knows theland forms around us. He has beentelling us about it. Our educationcontinues.


On Saturday, March 7, 2015 WCA members met at theToronto Public Library, Riverdale Branch, on the banks of theDon River for our Annual General Meeting. The business partof the meeting included a message from our chair DaveYoungas well as reports from the treasurer (Barb Young) and frommembers of the outings and membership committees (BillNess and Emmy Hendrickx).For the election of the Board of Directors, all incumbent di-

rectors whose terms were expiring were willing to stand forreelection, and since there were no new nominations the mem-bers voted to reappoint directors for another term. As a result,the board for 2015 is comprised of Dave Young (chair), GaryAtaman, Dave Cunningham, Bernadette Farley, Geri Jamesand Diane Lucas. Items the membership asked the board to re-view in 2015 include website functionality, new member strat-

Elizabeth Jane Sinclair1949-2015

By Fred OliffElizabeth passed away on February 21st after a long battle with cancer, kidney failure andthen shingles. She had a tough last few years, even surviving a kidney transplant in 2011,but always maintained a cheerful outlook on life, especially when sharing memories ofthe many canoe trips we took together. Starting before 1991, when we got an antiqueOld Town, we did many flatwater trips, and started paddling whitewater on local southernOntario rivers, with a few forays into Quebec to paddle the three rivers of the OttawaValley, the Dumoine, Coulonge and Noire. We also did two trips on theAshuapmushuanand one on the Batiscan with friends from the WCA and the Crash Test Dummies fromLindsay. She loved to scout rapids and, with encouragement, run the big wave train ofCody Rapids on the Magnetawan River one Easter weekend with the WCA. Canoecamping was something we both loved to share, and she will be greatly missed by me, es-pecially, and her son, Matthew, who frequently joined us in his kayak.Elizabeth was editor of Nastawgan for a few years and was also quite active in the

Waterloo-Wellington Canoe Club. Recently, she had a grandson, and unfortunately didnot live to see him start paddling.

WCA AGM 2015Story by Geri JamesPhoto by Larry Hicks

egy, advertising, social media, and enhancing the value ofmembership. Other business included a review of upcomingclub activities in 2015, which include Paddle the Don onSunday May 3, the Fall Meeting on the weekend of September18-20 and the Wine & Cheese on Saturday, November 14.Please see the WCA website for more details about theseevents.After we concluded the business part of the meeting, we

enjoyed a fascinating photo presentation on the Agawa Canyonregion by Jeff McColl. We then dressed warmly and headedoutside for a hike on the Don Trail, including a visit toRiverdale Farm. The hike ended at a local restaurant where wesocialized over lunch. Thank you to all who attended this suc-cessful AGM and to the board members and all the dedicatedvolunteers who keep the club running.


2015 Wilderness & Canoe SymposiumThis year marked the 30th anniversary of the Symposium.Sadly, it was also George Luste’s last. He actively participatedin the program planning and spoke briefly several times duringthe weekend, and urged the audience to continue to supportthis unique event. George particularly emphasized the oppor-tunity, and the need, for younger members to play a moreprominent role.Overall, the 2015 program met and, according to some, ex-

ceeded the expectations. Excellent facilitators kept the pace andmade for interesting introductions. Joel Britz wrote this sum-mary: “I have only attended about five or six times and, for me, itwas certainly the best. There have been some amazing presenta-tions in the past but I think, like good wine, this year’s programwas all about balance ... gender balance, age balance, presenta-tion balance, etc. I love to see great photos – and there were lotsof those; but Paul Watson’s presentation had no photos and it wasriveting. I can’t wait to read his book! I was impressed by thetwo young gals (Anna and Devon) who were so enthusiasticabout what they had learned from their experiences at camp.Jason White was hilarious as he cleverly drew us all into his on-line efforts to find paddling partners. Some presentations werepractical (Rick Stronks), others were informative (JeremyWard)and some were esoteric (Emma Brandy).”

Louise Abbott – QC “Nunaaluk: A Forgotten Story”Saqamaw Mi’sel Joe – NL “An Aboriginal Chief’s Journey”James Raffan – ON “Circling the Midnight Sun”

Nancy Scott – ON “Lake Nipigon: Where the Great LakesBegin”Brian Johnston – MB “Messages From the Subarctic: PublishingNotes From Tyrrell’s Cairn”Lester Kovac & Lynette Chubb – ON “Ungava Crossing 2014”Jeremy Ward – ON “Freighter Canoes: an IllustratedExploration of the Iconic NorthernWorkboat”Jack Goering – ON “Retracing Franklin’s Route FromYellowknife to Coppermine”Paul Watson – BC “Finding Erebus: The True Story Behind theDiscovery of Sir John Franklin’s Flagship”Rick Stronks – ON “Camping in Black Bear Country”Devon Ide &Anna McClean – MA “Our Summer in theWoods:Growing UpWith Canoe Tripping”Jason White: “Finding Canoe Partners in Hard Times”Kevin Redmond – NL “Newfoundland and Labrador:Abandonment & Place-based Journeys”Emma Brandy – ON “Filling the Gap: A Journey ThroughAutoetnography”Conor Mihell &Virginia Marshall – ON “L’EauVive: Canoeingthe Great Whale River in Northern Quebec”Chris Lepard – ON “South Nahanni River, NWT – River ofDreams”Barbara Burton – ON “Orchids, Pits and Pictographs –Exploring Northwestern Ontario’s Lake Superior and QueticoPaddling Routes”Kate Weekes - ON “Banks of the Snake: Northern Songs”

"On Leaped the Canoe like a Runway Horse", 1924. Frank E. Schoonover


I squinted to the northeast trying to dis-cern the fire tower on Che-bay-jing(Maple Mountain) but with no binocu-lars I couldn’t make it out. I knew thetower was there, standing sentinelamong the spirits of the Anishinabaidead: I had hiked up the mountain withmy wife a few years earlier. Now, stand-ing with Deb at the base of Ellis Toweron Ishpatina Ridge, we recognized ourisland campsite on Scarecrow Lake. Toits north were Mihell and McCullochlakes and further still, to the northeast,were rolling waves of ridges as far asthe eye could see.

Then my eyes settled on a featuremuch closer. Immediately to our northlay a giant chasm. A wall of rock rosefrom the base of the far side and, fromthat, another peak seemingly as high asthe one on which we stood. We werelooking across a canyon from Ontario’shigh point to its third highest,Ishpatina’s North Peak. I didn’t knowthen what I was gazing at but the imageburned itself into my memory.The next day Deb and I set up

housekeeping on a long, sandy beachspanning a shallow bight on the eastside of Smoothwater Lake. Our carefree

neighbours, we soon learned, wereBuzz and Beth. Buzz pulled on a pair ofshorts and strode over to greet us withan outstretched hand and a grin that re-vealed a row of uppers too perfect for aman of his vintage. He was lean, long-haired and well into his sixth decade.And he had yarns to spin. After sunset,while tossing back shots of JoseCuervo, Buzz regaled me with historyand homily punctuated by outrageousclaims of derring-do. Among otherthings, I learned how to placate a bear.Then I was taught how to kill a bear.Later, I found out that a plaque spiked

The Canoeing Legends (L to R): Graham Bryan, Dan Rokitnicki-Wojcik, Gary Storr, Drew Goodman, Brent Goodwill, Dan Bell.

Smoothwater TrifectaStory by Gary Storr

Photos by Gary Storr and Dan Rokitnicki-Wojcik


to a red pine at the southernmost camp-site was not just a memorial to an oldfriend of Buzz – it was a grave.“His ashes are buried there, right at

the foot of that tree,” said Buzz. “I wasshocked – I didn’t even know he wasdead.” Buzz shook his head regretfully.“He made one hell of a spaghettisauce.”I was impressed. It was as succinct

and honest a eulogy as I’d ever heard.Beth lay under a blanket on the sandpicking disinterestedly at a bowl offruit.Then Buzz told me another story,

one that piqued my interest: “I was sit-ting on the beach looking through mybinoculars one afternoon when I spot-ted a cave on the other side of the lake.I jumped in my canoe and paddledacross and climbed up to the cave. Itwas about the size of a half-ton – was-n’t nothing in it but some bats. It wasgetting late so I slept there and paddledback the next day.”I thanked Buzz for his hospitality

ther into the wound and killed the li-oness. Immediately a great torrent ofwater issued forth from the cave andbegan to flood the earth.Nenebuc built a raft and took on an-

imals as the water began to rise. After atime he sent the beaver down to see ifthere was land below them. The beaverreturned without reaching bottom.More time passed and he sent themuskrat down. The muskrat reachedbottom but drowned on the way backup.Nenebuc noticed that there was earth

in the muskrat’s claws so he flung thedirt away from the raft and formed theridges of Temagami.A few years later, while perusing

websites to do with Temagami wilder-ness, I happened upon a photograph ofIshpatina Canyon; the chasm I remem-bered suddenly gained a name. Thephoto was taken by Andy Stevens froma helicopter flying over IshpatinaRidge. His higher point-of-view re-vealed something more than my mem-

and tramped back across the sand towhere Deb had kindled a warming fire– I had stories to share. I wondered ifBuzz knew the cave in which he’d sleptwas, in all likelihood, the cave fromwhich sprang the aboriginal story ofCreation :Nenebuc had just crossed the Snake

Portage into Smoothwater Lake whenhe noticed some lions (mishipeshu)playing on the beach. He made a screenfrom birchbark and hid inside. He madea hole in the bark through which hecould shoot arrows if the lions came tooclose.When the lions noticed the strange

object on the beach they came closer toinvestigate. Nenebuc shot an arrow andwounded a lioness – their queen. Shelimped back to her cave on the otherside of the lake.Nenebuc dressed in toadskins and

introduced himself at the cave as amedicine woman, promising to makethe lioness well. When the lions ush-ered him in, he pushed the arrow fur-

Spirits were high travelling between portages on our way to McCulloch Lake on our first trip in 2013.


ory held – it exposed a small lake at thebase of the rock wall. Intrigued, I beganto gather information about the canyonbut there was precious little to be had.At 200 metres, it was one of Ontario’sdeepest canyons, twice the depth ofOuimet Canyon northeast of ThunderBay. A handful of individuals had bush-whacked through Ishpatina Canyon tothe tower ridge or the North Peak but

no one claimed to have stayed there. Ithadn’t yet become a destination. Okay,I mused. Our paddling group, theCanoeing Legends, could change that.So in September 2013, Dan Bell,Graham Bryan, Dan Rokitnicki-Wojcik(Dan RW) and I climbed into our ca-noes and began paddling up theMontreal River on our quest to findIshpatina Canyon...and a cave.

It should be mentioned that Dan Belland I are comfortable without electron-ics on backcountry trips, Dan, becausehe is a self-professed Luddite, and I,because nothing pulls me out of myreverie faster than a partner scramblingup a pile of rocks waving his phone fora signal. Why the desire for instructionto pick up milk on the way home fromthe forest? That said, one of us usually

A cold wet mist enshrouded us as we embarked on our first attempt at making it to the canyon.

The fall colours were spectacular on our second trip.


has a cellphone at the bottom of hispack for emergency use...but it is neverseen. And using GPS feels like cheat-ing.We weren’t concerned with failure

because we had a ringer in the group.One of Graham’s young colleagues atEnvironment Canada had agreed to joinus. Dan RW possessed a unique skill:he was a first-rate orienteer. With himleading the charge, we were unstop-pable.Earlier that day, after chewing up

endless kilometres of highway, we hadturned south onto a dusty logging roadbetween Gowganda and Elk Lake.Bouncing along the right fork, wereached the put-in on the MontrealRiver. It was late afternoon. We lily-dipped contentedly upriver and thensoutheast through Lady Dufferin Lake.Beaching their canoe for a rest stop,Graham and Dan RW had a fortuitousencounter: catching up to us afterward,Dan displayed a photograph of a lynx

on his camera. As we glided towardSmoothwater Lake, the sun sank belowthe horizon cloaking us under a balmy,starlit sky. Spellbound, we slippedsilently through the darkness until weapproached an islet that marked our ar-rival at the beach. Digging in, we drovefor the south campsite and a late suppernext to a grave and a tiny, effervescentlagoon fed by a creek tumbling fromMarina Lake.In the morning we took up our pad-

dles and, putting our backs into it,slammed our canoes across whitecapsinto a pounding south wind. Eventuallywe landed at the Apex Lake portage,the lake so named because its watersflow from a height of land into both theMontreal and Sturgeon River water-sheds. According to legend, whenNenebuc journeyed to SmoothwaterLake he encountered a great snake. Heshot it with an arrow, and the snake be-came a rocky ridge traversed by a long,rolling footpath – the Snake Portage.

Apex Lake is enchanting. Nenebuc’sridge forms the north shore and flat-lands of mixed forest lie to the south.The portage out of Apex Lake passesover level ground and, save for the dis-tance, is an easy carry. There aremuddy sections near the north end anda jumble of steep, jagged boulders atthe south. Halfway along the trail sits asizable quartzite block. It is white,chalky and soft to the touch.Efflorescence occurs when mineral-richwater rises to the surface of the rockand evaporates. The bloom has the tex-ture and appearance of an overcookeddumpling.Three short carries later we launched

our canoes into McCulloch Lake. Wepitched our tents on a spacious site atthe south end of the lake within strikingdistance of the canyon. In the morningthe crew broke camp and made theshort paddle to an esker that forms thewest shore of the lake. We cached ourcanoes on the embankment and hoisted

The addition of two young guns, Brent and Drew would surely make the difference the second time around.


our packs. For this trip the Legends hadbrought internal frame backpacks ratherthan canoe packs – they were smaller,lighter and enabled us to elbow throughthe prickly conifers in an upright pos-ture. We crashed southward along thespine between the lake and a pond on

our right until we reached the pond’sdischarge. There we stopped to revisitour plan.Beforehand we had agreed on one

point: we would walk in a westerly di-rection until we picked up a creek thatcoursed from the lake at the base of the

canyon. From there we would followthe cascade to our objective. The planwas foolproof, elegant in its simplicity.Shortly after setting out, someone

suggested to Dan RW that instead ofhiking over the hills, we skirt them. Therest of us shrugged in agreement. Thisstrategy, we discovered, was flawed. Aswe trudged further afield to avoid hills,we found it increasingly diff icult tomaintain our bearings. And because wewere hiking up to the canyon, we’d havebeen better off to climb the hills wefaced. To our relief, we found the creek.It didn’t flow with the zest we expectedbut it spilled from the northwest.Energized, our loads lightened and westrode uphill with renewed confidence.As the creek meandered, so did we.

After a while we noticed it had alteredits course and was now trickling fromthe north. Perplexed, we pushed on,hoping that the aberration was nothingmore than a blip on the radar, and thatwe would be heading northwest againsoon. As we ascended the ravine thecreek petered out and gave way to anexpansive, walled, sphagnum bogspiked with spruce and tamarack. Theluminous green sphagnum was spongyunderfoot but held under the weight ofour packs. We tentatively crossed themat. The walls on either side weren’tnearly 200 metres high and the onlylake lay beneath the moss. We weretaken with the vibrant otherworldlinessof the bog but clearly this wasn’t the

Lunch break on Smoothwater Lake.

A long day of paddling means making dinner in the dark.


canyon we were looking for. We turnedand retraced our steps.We followed the creek down to

where we had met it, then stumbledthrough the forest in search of the pinkflags Graham and Dan RW had affixedto tree branches along the way.Returning to a location from where wethought we could access the canyon, webegan again. Sputtering through a blackspruce thicket we found ourselves cir-cumnavigating a swamp. Lulled intobelieving we were following the shorein a straight path, we were slow to rec-ognize the deception. Now we werebearing south. And still no creek.Backtracking, we collected our blazesand then, checking our watches, madea decision. Pinky swearing that ‘no onemust know,’ we returned to the canoes.Dan RW had become enamoured of

Ishpatina’s grandeur and wanted toclimb the ridge. He proposed a biathlonof sorts in which he would rise early,paddle and portage to Scarecrow Lake,sprint up the trail and back down, andreturn to camp in time to paddle backto Smoothwater Lake. We didn’t doubthis ability to medal in this event butconvinced him that time was not on hisside. In the back of my mind, however,a seed was planted. Perhaps I could usethe ridge as enticement for a return trip.On the next to last day we travelled

to Smoothwater Lake and from thewater, scoured the cliffs for the cave.Reluctant to leave our canoes wepacked it in and returned to the beach.We were untroubled, though, becausewe understood that familiarity breedstriumph. We also knew it was time togo home; we had some reconnoiteringto do.In September 2014, the crew once

again gathered on the bank of theMontreal River. This time we includedan extra day for a hike up IshpatinaRidge. We were joined by fellowLegends Drew Goodman and his buddy,Brent Goodwill. My nephew Drew,born with a smile, and Brent, good-na-tured and industrious, were a solid fit.The combination of youth and experi-ence strengthened the dynamic – thepups would keep the old dogs moving.We pushed out onto the river in three

canoes destined for McCulloch Lake.

The morning sun warmed our spiritsbut it was necessary to keep moving.Along the way we took lunch on thebeach at Smoothwater Lake. Here,Drew and Brent admired the plush digswe would enjoy on the way out. Laterthat afternoon, paddling from theportage at the north end of McCullochLake, we noticed a motorized canoetrolling to the south. A tent was pitchedon the campsite beyond it. The occu-pants of the canoe slowed when theysaw us, trailing their lines. They invitedus to set up camp in the woods behindthem. I was quietly pleased; the roughbivouac would ready us for our stay inthe canyon.The next day we loaded the canoes

and paddled to a break in the esker. Theaim was to lift over into a pond beyondthe gap and paddle and portage south toa second, larger pond. The fishermenwatched from their canoe as we disap-peared through the esker. I smiled,imagining their confusion. Near theoutflow of the second pond we cachedthe canoes, reorganized our packs andfortified ourselves with a snack. Thenwe shouldered our gear and startedwalking.Employing the one-kilometre-per-

hour rule of thumb when bushwhack-ing, we headed west for the first hour.It was a rugged, uphill slog. We traipsedover deadfall and hummocks, around

sinkholes and bogs. The route took ushigher and higher but we knew the ter-rain would level when we reached thecreek. Enjoyment of downhill progresswas tempered by the awareness that anyaltitude forfeited would have to be re-gained. Drew commented how odd itseemed to enter a canyon from below.Brent, Drew and Dan RW broke trail

followed by Dan Bell and I. Grahamlagged behind having assumed theonerous task of flagging the route. Wesnapped twigs and scuffed moss-cov-ered rocks, occasionally hallooingahead for the younger ones to hold up.Taking a breather at the edge of a steepvalley Dan RW held up his hand. Ahush fell over the group. Then we heardit. A tiny trickle, waking our senses.Muffled voices chattered over smoothstones in an unseen stream of glisteningquicksilver; a resounding showerechoed from below, rising throughsparkling sunlight, captivating us. Atthat moment we knew we would soonenter the canyon. Success smelled sub-lime in the fresh, moist air.We trekked along the valleyside

knowing the creek would source at ourelevation. When it did, Graham kindlycleared the ‘path’ to allow me the firstglimpse of the canyon. We assembled atthe base of a beaver pond and througha small opening above the dam, saw thelake. To the right was the quartzite wall.

Head west young man. We start the hike towards the canyon.


Backtracking, we crossed the creekand leaped over tributaries until wefound a location that showed promise.Flat ground didn’t exist. Potential tentsites were rife with growth and dead-fall. We dropped our gear and contin-ued exploring the south side of thecanyon. Steep and strewn with dolerite,it was hazardous work. After a while weturned back, aware that we’d left ourpacks at the only viable option. Akitchen area was cleared near a shore-line fen. Cedar boughs were laid overwet ground to create a floor. Tent siteswere carved from the wilderness andlogs were arranged around an im-promptu fire ring. Nearby a hammockwas strung up. When we were done weadmired our handiwork.Suddenly the sky began to darken. A

gray mass raced over the North Peakand across the canyon. Graham sat upin the hammock. “Get the tarp!” heyelled. Then seeing we were transfixedby the imminent inclemency he barked,“Now!”At the same instant the tarp went up,

the rain came down...and it rained fortwo nights and the day between.That night our only casualty was

Dan Bell who pitched his tent after afruitless search for firewood. Left witha sharp incline on which to sleep, heneglected to close the fly over the doorof his tent. During the night he slid intoa pool of water. Not being one to com-plain, the rest of us didn’t hear about

his mishap until later.After breakfast we donned our rain

suits, filled our daypacks, and studiedthe map. The consensus was to walkup the ridge employing the same strat-egy we had used to reach the canyon.Shying away from high concentrationsof contour lines on the map, we pro-posed to travel in one direction for aset period of time, then alter ourcourse and repeat. I handed the mapand compass to Drew – he would be atthe front of the pack. In deference tothe young crew and in light of the pre-vious year’s outcome, electronics hadnot been banned. On the way up theridge Dan RW sneaked a peek at hisGPS. Showing me the device we nod-ded – Drew was tracking a flawlesscourse.Soon we stood on the ridge. A raw

wind pummelled us from the north.Soaked by a day of steady rain wewere chilled by the blast of cold air.There was no visibility beyond afringe of treetops at our feet – we wereinside a cloud. We didn’t care; we haddevised a plan, stuck to it and hiked upthe east side of the ridge by way of thecanyon.After fleeing the tower peak for the

shelter of lower ground the crewfanned out, competing for clues. Wesurveyed the forest for blazes, bentbranches and bald rocks from whichwe had earlier kicked moss. The steadydrizzle rendered Graham hypothermic

– it was urgent that we pick up thepace. Back at camp everyone but Brentcrawled into their sleeping bags for alate afternoon nap. Our respite wasshort-lived: we were awakened by thegroan of a tree splintering and break-ing. Moments later a birch crashed be-tween the tents. Brent’s startled obser-vation from the kitchen capped thealarm.The next day we departed the

canyon, a place we would remember asbeing inhospitable...but nonethelesshome. The woodland was diverse; theridge hosted a variety of species: whitepine, yellow birch, and white spruce.Here, the natural order progressedundisturbed: trees died of old age andtoppled due to wind or ice load.It became apparent during the de-

scent that the crew was of one mind: toluxuriate in the embrace ofSmoothwater. There, the sand wouldcaress their feet and beer would soothetheir souls. I, however, wasn’t f in-ished. During lunch I approached DanRW. “Interested in finding a cave?” Iinquired.“Going for the trifecta?” he

grinned. I had found my compatriot.Departing the Snake Portage, Dan

RW and I paddled north along the westside of the lake. The others slowlyshrank from view as they headed to-ward the beach. Drifting along thebase of a cliff, Dan and I found asmudge pot – a rusty tomato juice can

Canyon panorama facing northwest. Clear skies and mild temperatures were not indicative of what was to come.

oted slightly and glided off into thelily pads. They smiled askance in ourdirection as Dan and I smugly paddledby. This time the glass brimmed.

Sidebar:In 2013, during the Legends’ first at-tempt to bushwhack into IshpatinaCanyon, our dinner menu consistedsolely of couscous – it was lightweightand compact – easy backpacking fare.So back at the campsite on McCullochLake we dined on couscous. AsGraham ladled the gelatinous goo intomy bowl, he whipped a candle fromhis pocket, planted it in my supper andlit it. Then they sang. I had completelyforgotten. Best birthday ever.

Summary of the Teme-AugamaAnishinabai story of Creation as toldby second chief Aleck Paul to anthro-pologist Frank Speck in 1915.http://temagami.nativeweb.org/tale-nenebuc-f.html


hanging from a tree at eye level. Itheld a thin layer of dried cedar fronds.Agreeing that the smudge might marka trailhead, Dan leapt from the bowonto the rocks. Lean and f it, Dancounted rock climbing among hismany talents. So as I bobbed in thecanoe along the base of the cliff, Danclambered up the boulders and disap-peared. After a while he called downthat he was returning to the smudge.Settling into the canoe he marvelled atthe views to the north and south – buthe had found no cave.With fading hopes we tried again.

Paddling toward shore Dan selected areference point, a lone pine that tow-ered above the rest. Pulling ashore, weplunged into the forest and soon wefound it – a narrow trench at the baseof a rock. And just as Buzz had said, itwas about the size of a half-ton. Wehad completed the trifecta: a canyon, aridge and a cave.We climbed the ridge. On the other

side of the lake a colourful array of

tents and clotheslines stretched acrossthe sand; tiny specks moved amongthem. Dan and I called it a day – acold beer beckoned.In terms of pay off, was the glass

half full or half empty? For theCanoeing Legends this conundrumwas about a process: was the glassbeing filled or was it being emptied?If we were to intentionally drain theglass it would be half empty...but thatwas rarely the case. Our group alwaysstrived to maximize the experience, totop up the glass. So even if a projectended in abject failure we never re-turned home with an empty vessel – itwas merely not yet full.The crew paddled the Montreal

River in high spirits, heading forhome. With each pull of the blade,cool water lapped at our hull. My bowpartner Dan Bell and I closely trailedDrew and Brent. Suddenly inspired, Itook aim, and with three hard paddlestrokes nudged the stem of their canoe.It was a perfect shot. Their boat piv-

Making camp on Smoothwater Lake on our trip out.


I don’t really consider myself to be apaddler, even if I have done a half dozenor more canoe trips in my time. There isone interesting and offbeat little trip thatI like remembering though. Dave and Iput a canoe in the Assiniboine River rightacross the street from his house inWinnipeg and paddled to where it emp-tied into the Red River. There we turnedleft and followed the Red northbound toLakeWinnipeg andWinnipeg Beach. Wewere on our way there to take part in cel-ebrations and feasting for CanadianThanksgiving.I grew up in Winnipeg where the

street layout is largely dictated by thecity’s two meandering rivers. But I hadbeen so warned off from going near thesesupposed death traps that I had ignoredthem both, and they never really enteredinto my consciousness. So it was a spe-cial treat to be paddling right through thebowels of downtown Winnipeg, passingunder bridges and observing the cityfrom such an unaccustomed vantagepoint. We left late in the afternoon afterFriday classes at the University and theOctober darkness came early. We werebarely past the city limits when we de-cided it was time to set up camp. Wewere fully equipped with a tent andsleeping bags and had a gas cook stove.One problem we hadn’t considered wasthat the riverbank was occupied by pri-vate homes, even outside of the city. Wehad no choice but to stealth-camp in aclump of trees just beyond someone’smanicured lawn and handsome dwelling.We ate supper and set up our tent.

Sleep came easily. I awoke while it wasstill totally dark and lay there wonderingwhat time it might be. Neither of us hadbrought a watch, but I was wide awake,as if I had had a good night’s sleep. I laythere for a few minutes and decided towake Dave up and suggest that we getgoing right away, just in case it was al-ready early morning and to preventsleeping in too late.Dave was in agreement, so we quietly

broke camp, packed up the canoe,slipped it into the river and began pad-dling. It was pitch dark. I studied the skyfor signs of false dawn but didn’t see anyand we paddled for a long, long time andit was still pitch dark.It was a calm and clear night and I felt

like Huckleberry Finn as we glidednorthwards. We were closing in on thetown of Selkirk when we began to dis-cern houses and church steeples silhou-etted against the sky. A rooster crowed.We paddled onwards. We realized that itmust have been about 2 a.m. when wehad left the campsite.Once past Selkirk, the river became

wilder and we passed the communities ofPeguis and Breezy Point. Our topo-graphic map indicated that we were closeto Netley Lake, which is part of the vast24,000 hectare Red River delta wetlandknown as Netley Marsh. At this point,the now sluggish river was separatedfrom Netley Lake and the surroundingmarshes by a thin strip of land. We founda flat area with plenty of room to put upthe tent and found enough dry wood for afire. There we were, on the west bank of

the Red River, surrounded by miles andmiles of marshland and nothing else. Itwas a truly amazing and wild place to be.It was a clear, early October evening andwe had plenty of time to enjoy the sunsetover the marsh before turning in. I lovedit.There was snow on the ground the

next morning and it was chilly. Afterbreakfast we got back into our canoe andcontinued paddling, bucking a strongnorth wind, which made me wonder whatthe swells on Lake Winnipeg would belike. We finally made it to the mouth ofthe Red River, which was a place fromthe mythology of my youth. I spent myearliest summers at my grandmother’scottage on the shores of Lake Winnipegand the “mouth of the Red” was a placethat for some reason was only spoken ofin hushed tones.When we passed through the verge

and entered Lake Winnipeg, we foundthat the swells were not too bad, abouttwo feet high and well separated. Theycame at us from the northeast and wewere headed northwest. So our little redcanoe rolled harmlessly in the surf. Weaimed our craft at Winnipeg Beach’s firetower and paddled hard and earnestly foran hour or two. We arrived at our finaldestination, a landmark known asStephenson’s Point, to the wild applauseof Dave’s cousin Derek who, with severalof our friends and relatives, had beenwatching the lake for our appearance. Wehad made it and I felt great. Next on ouragenda was Thanksgiving dinner.

Photo by Dan Rokitnicki-Wojcik “Sunset on Smoothwater Lake”

Red River Canoe TripStory by Neil Luckhurst


Geri and Gary James enjoyed a guided trip on the HortonRiver this past summer with Canoe North Adventures oper-ated by WCA members Al Pace and Lin Ward. Gary and Geriare very active WCA members, Geri being a board memberand Gary coordinating the WCA’s Paddle the Don volunteers.The Canoe North Adventures tradition is for guests to bringalong appetizers and desserts. Gary has forwarded a numberof recipes. The first is from Geri who adapted the recipe belowfromhttp://www.foodnetwork.ca/recipe/black-magic-figs/9268/

Geri’s Drunken Figs16 dried figs2 cups port wine8 sheets of thinly sliced Italian Prosciutto

Cut the stems off the bottom of the figs.Marinate the figs in port for several hours until completely

rehydrated.After soaking, reserve the port for drinking later.Rip the Prosciutto in half lengthwise and wrap one piece

tightly around each fig, stretching it as you wrap. This willallow the Prosciutto to stick to the fig and eliminate the needfor toothpicks.

Lightly oil a pan and fry the wrapped figs on medium heatfor a few minutes on each side to warm and crisp theProsciutto.Serve with the cups of fig-infused port.

If you would like to share your favourite tripping recipes,please contact Barb Young, 12 Erindale Crescent, Brampton,Ont. L6W 1B5; [email protected].

The KnowledgeBy Greg Went

Three stages of knowledge aboutwilderness canoe travel

The first stage is knowing how to travel and survive in the wilderness. How toread a map, how to paddle, how to camp, how to stay dry. These are basic skills thathave to be learned to travel in the wilderness with any degree of safety. It seems thatmost writing about wilderness canoe travel begins and ends here. The writers want togive you the skills, the knowledge of wilderness travel.

The second stage is understanding that in the wilderness, true wilderness, yoursafety is up to you alone. The river exists in all its wild fury and beauty. It does notcare whether you live or die. You’re there and that’s great. Not many have worked sohard to see it so close. But any difficulties are yours alone. You are in an area wheremen have not marked up the land, and rules are different here. Others may not be ableto save you. Only you can save you.

The third stage of knowledge is understanding your place in the timeline of hu-manity. In the beginning the land was clean and men were a scattered few. Rarelycrossing paths with some other few. It was all like this in the beginning.You now areexperiencing it. That is why it is so long ago familiar and why once you have experi-enced it you must go back.You have to go back. It is a direct link to the beginnings ofmankind. It is the link to the very heart of the being that is man. You were here be-fore. Many times.

It felt good then too.

Food for Paddlers


1 Natla and Keele Rivers14 Editorial15 George Luste16 WCA AGM17 Wilderness and CanoeSymposoium

17 Smoothwater Trifecta26 Red River Canoe Trip27 Food for Paddlers27 Went – The Knowledge

Editorial Team:Aleks Gusev: Editor-in-ChiefPegi Dover: Text EditorJames Fitton: Text EditorJan Bignell: Text EditorBarb Young: Food EditorBob Henderson: Resource EditorDave Brown: Text EditorAleks Gusev: Photo EditorPeter Jaspert: Layout

…in this issue

Where it is…

Ontario

26

WCA gratefully acknowledgesthe financial support of theOntario Trillium Foundation inpublishing this Journal

WCA Contacts http://www.wildernesscanoe.caWCA Postal AddressP.O. Box 910682901 Bayview Ave.Toronto, ON M2K 2Y6

BOARD OF DIRECTORSDave Young(Chair)[email protected]

Gary [email protected] ext.1286

Geri [email protected]

Diane [email protected]

Dave [email protected]

Bernadette [email protected]

SecretaryBill King45 Hi Mount DriveToronto, ON M2K [email protected]

WCA OutingsBill Ness194 Placentia Blvd.Toronto, ON M1S [email protected]

EditorAleksandar Gusev8 Valiant RoadEtobicoke, ON M8X [email protected]

TreasurerBarb [email protected]

WebmasterJeff HaymerToronto, [email protected]

Membership andComputer RecordsEmmy [email protected]

ConservationJeff [email protected]

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Documents

Natla and Keele Rivers