Tuesday, May 22, 2007

This was going to be a serious travel day. We knew we had to be on the water early as we had to cross the 2 1/2 mile expanse of Lac La Croix's frigid waters and wanted to do this without the complications created by wind. Fortunately the weather was fair and pretty calm.

Using the every tool at my disposal I navigated us around Coleman Island and up the Western shore of this massive island.

We reached the Southern shore of Lac La Croix and stopped on a spit of land, digging out the binoculars to try and get out physical bearings before we started over to find the First Nation Village and Ranger Station. We could see a tall radio tower, but my hands weren't steady enough to see what the distant buildings were on the far shore. We headed out paddling steadily NNW making a bee line for the radio tower where we assumed the First Nation village lie.

A light southerly wind worked with us, but created swells - by the time we got to the Northern shore I was working a bit in the stern to keep us pointed the right direction and stable. We pulled into the lee of Indian Island and took a quick water break. We left in the calmer waters and spent a while locating the Ranger Station - which we knew lie to the West of the village on a point. A bit of trial and error, but we found it. Actually we found on open grassy area on a peninsula which had faded basic plywood structures and rickety viewing stands. The playing field was basically round with a structure in the center. Fortunately - and inexplicably - there was a small car with a woman and her child - I walked over, somehow didn’t frighten the child, and asked if the Ranger Station was nearby. The woman kindly pointed me in the right direction just a few hundred feet down the road. I still haven’t a clue as to why they were standing around an empty sports field. They were gone when we returned.

The woman who manned the desk looked clearly startled when we walked in. There was no one on her list as coming into Quetico today. We explained that we were heading down the Namakan River onto Crown Land, but not Quetico. She was pretty vague about the condition of the Namakan and it's portages - turns out we beat the portage crews this time - we were probably some of the first travellers this year. I was especially interested in knowing the best river route, since the waters on Lac La Croix were way down - if their docks are any indication the lake and river were down 2-3 feet from seasonal normal levels. She made a few phone calls and suggested that the Ivy Channel would be the best bet - but no one knew for sure.

It took her a few minutes to locate the right licenses and forms but we paid our fees and headed back to our waiting canoe.

We paddled East to the village. We pulled up on the shore - the village, by the way, is a collection of weather beaten and faded structures, some newer than others with the First Nation Headquarters in the center. I stayed by the canoe, Steve went up into the village seeking a couple of cold cokes. He returned after a few minutes, he couldn’t locate anything that resembled a store and felt a bit out of place.

We crossed under a bridge and almost immediately faced a rapids with a boulder garden and the thundering Snake Falls almost immediately afterwards. We got out and scouted the rapids and decided to line this one, rather than try and run it.

A hundred feet later we pulled out and portaged around the thundering Snake waterfalls. None of these reservation portages were in poor repair, there were a few outfitter canoes stashed up on the rocky shore.

As we took a short hydration break, three young village inhabitants walked by - we had a nice conversation. Tip - if you're heading up into these parts, it pays to know your hockey - seems to be the core of every meaningful conversation. One of them was a guide and he provided better advice on river channel selection on the next leg. We also discussed the low water - they showed us how low it really was, by demonstrating how far the flowage normally went in the spring. The guess of 3 feet low seems right - however still there was a lively flow.

We parted company and headed down river.

Due to the low water, there were many rapids not marked on the map. Most we ran selecting the biggest Vee as far back as we could.

By the time we reached the Ivy Falls portage we were starting to get into the rhythm of the river. Winds had been favourable and the current aided our speed. The Namakan is a beautiful river - broad and scenic. We rested for a few minutes and then heard a voice. Calling from a nearby island there were two fishermen. They gave some coaching on how to deal with the rapids below the falls, having observed some Indians doing it the day before in a 16' Lund. With a ten hp Yahama.

We weren’t in a 16' Lund with a motor, so we opted to chat with these guys and line the canoe thru the calmer rapids on the other side of their island campsite.

Turns out these were two fishermen from Boston, who have returned to this tiny, but well situated island campsite at Ivy Falls every year for years. Campbells flys them in, fully outfits them with an aluminium canoe, gear and food and leaves them for several days of uninterrupted spring fishing. Richard and Bernie were older than us, and seemed intrigued by our trip. They provided us a beer and offered a selection of still boxed Rapalas, as they were flying out the next day. A wonderful wilderness encounter!

Still we paddled, now late into the day. The river turned and the trailing wind increased. We came to another rapids, but couldn't for the life of us find the portage showing on the map, so we availed ourselves to the low water and exposed rock surfaces and bushwacked this one. I had seen two eagles soaring over this island and kept hearing a loud squeaking or crying sound. I finally looked up and saw the aerie high in a pine tree - there were at least a couple of chicks crying out for dinner. Unfortunately the parents got wise about the time I got my camera out, so rather than a dramatic picture of an eagle with a fish in its beak landing on its gigantic nest - I have a picture of the gigantic nest. With the eaglets hiding down inside.

We got past these rapids and continued on, the sun sinking behind us, finally calling it an eleven hour powerbar fuelled day setting up camp on a small island. Dinner was salami on bagels - we were too beat to try anything more ambitious.

Winds blew hard that evening - but the temps remained moderate.