Fifty years ago, a group of intrepid Kandalore staff alumni volunteered to paddle the formidable Lake Superior leg of the Canadian Camping Association's Centennial "Cross-Canada-by-Canoe" Project. The following notes, anecdotes and photographs were presented as part of the 50th Anniversary Celebrations of their adventure which took place in Peterborough, Ontario, on the weekend of September 9-10, 2017.
By
Craig Macdonald
Introduction
Memories
are strange things that get altered and dimmed by the passage of time. However,
many of my memories of our two incredible canoe voyages on Lake Superior fifty
years ago have remained clear and vivid.
These trips were made to fulfill a dream of the Canadian Camping
Association and its provincial affiliates.
The dream was to undertake a series of geographically but not
necessarily temporally connected, self-sustained canoe voyages across Canada to
celebrate the nation’s centennial birthday.
The trips were to be made by youth camps using older campers supervised
by canoe tripping staff. Each camp was
assigned a section to complete sometime during the summer of 1967.
Understandably,
no youth camp came forward to volunteer to paddle the huge and dangerous Lake
Superior section. So Kirk Wipper, owner
of Camp Kandalore volunteered to sponsor the completion of this section using
Camp Kandalore staff alumni. He offered
the loan of two Chestnut twenty-five foot wood-canvas canoes, truck and
trailer, camping gear and food to Nor’westers willing to undertake this
task. Nor’westers were Camp Kandalore
staff alumni who had a special interest and expertise in canoe tripping and
woodsmanship. Any shortfall of
Nor’wester volunteers were to be made up by interested and suitably skilled
Camp Kandalore staff who could be made surplus to the camp operation close to the
end of August. These staff had to be
willing stay beyond their camp contract to complete the trip. After the trip, Kirk was to estimate the food
costs per person. Participants were
asked to pay this amount as well as cover their own food purchases while in
transit on the roads.
It
is unlikely that Kirk Wipper looked at a map to accurately estimate the true
magnitude of the undertaking before making his commitment to the Canadian
Camping Association. By early August most of the participants had been
selected. At this time, I re-confirmed my commitment to the trip and Kirk asked
me to look after its navigational aspects.
I was provided with the appropriate hydrographic maps in duplicate. However, there was a small but not
insurmountable glitch. No detailed map
coverage had been purchased south of Batchewana Bay. With these maps, I plotted a reasonable route
and where possible, a more protected route in the event of stormy weather. After calculating the total distances for
both, I concluded that the completion of the trip was almost impossible within
the allocated time even with the best possible weather. Our starting date had been left much too late
since most of the participants would have to return for the start of school. This limited the number of days that could be
spent paddling on Lake Superior to complete the trip. When informed of this fact, Kirk’s response
was “We have an obligation, men, do the best you can!”
I
proceeded to make a waterproof map canister that would store a very large roll
of maps. This was made from a heavy cardboard
tube closed on the ends with wood plugs.
One plug was permanently held in place with copper nails. I prepared a
paper listing of the distances for dozens of waypoints for both an inner and
outer passage through the islands and across bays. This paper was glued to the outside of the
tube to facilitate rapid distance calculations.
The storage canister was then given several coats of varnish to make it
waterproof. While the maps were in use
in both canoes, they were carried separate from the canister and protected by
placement in a clear plastic bag.
During
the previous summer, a small group of Nor’westers had volunteered to study what
equipment and supplies would be needed to make the trip. In September of 1966 my younger and late
brother, Rod Macdonald, wrote the Federal Department of Fisheries to obtain
more information about canoe travel on Lake Superior and the schedule and
identification of in-flowing rivers to be treated with lampricide. In November, the Department wrote back that
the lampricide applications were entirely weather dependent so that application
dates and locations could not be accurately determined in advance. However, they did name Eric Morse of Larumac,
Quebec and John Mitchell of Toronto as sources for Lake Superior canoeing
information. They also suggested that we could tie into three local events if
we were to reach Sault Ste. Marie between late June and mid-July.
During
the winter, Sandy Kieth wrote some detailed notes on a suggested list of
camping items. Interestingly he
suggested that we take walkie-talkies with a range of at least 50 miles, flares
and a directional finding device like those that were starting to be carried on
some light aircraft. Unfortunately in
1967, these electronic devices would have been difficult to acquire, so no
further investigation was made. Sandy
provided a series of drawings illustrating several configurations of paddlers
and equipment in the canoes assuming that we would be traveling with six
persons in each canoe. Sandy also included
drawings of several canoe sailing methods for both a single canoe and pair of
canoes lashed together on pole spreaders to form a catamaran.
We
also received some copied memos and reports about the proposed federally and
provincially sponsored voyageur canoe race and pageant from the Centennial
Commission. The proposed race was to
start at Rocky Mountain House, Alberta and end at the Expo 67 site in Montreal,
Quebec. Eight provinces and two
territories each provided a racing team.
According to Norm Crerar, who captained the Manitoba team, the event was
originally conceived by Gene Rheaume of Flin Flon in 1963 as a race from
Edmonton to Montreal using two-man canoe teams and 100 paddlers. In 1964 a proposal for this race was drafted
by Norm Tyson of Flin Flon and sent to the Centennial Commission. Under the guidance of Arnie Charbonneaux of
the Centennial Commission, this event soon morphed into a community based
voyageur canoe pageant as well as a race in larger canoes.
The
Commission was concerned about canoe safety on Lake Winnipeg and Lake
Superior. The problem with Lake Winnipeg
was solved by re-routing the race through Lake Manitoba. The canoes would be portaged from Delta 30
kilometers to Portage La Prairie for a descent of the Assiniboine River. This
new route completely avoided the most dangerous portions of Lake Winnipeg. (The Quebec and Alberta teams actually
portaged this distance in four hours with the canoes on their shoulders while
the others used carts and wagons.)
However,
Lake Superior could not be circumvented because it was an essential component
of the voyageur route. Traditionally the
voyageurs had used much larger 36 foot canots de maitre for paddling on Lake
Superior. The problem was that almost no
information could be found on paddling Lake Superior since no long distance
canoe trips had been undertaken on the lake since the fur trade era. Eric Morse and his wife Pamela had paddled a
portion of the Lake Superior route during 1960 and were seemingly the only ones
that had traveled any great distance by canoe on this lake in the modern
era. For this reason, trial exploratory
surveys were undertaken for much of the route including Lake Superior during
the summer of 1965.
The
Centennial Commission had Commodore Carl Monk and crew undertake a trial survey
run in 1965 from Lake of the Woods to North Bay however they had to terminate
the trip at Blind River due to stormy weather.
On Lake Superior they were accompanied by R.C.M.P. patrol boats for most
of the route and were occasionally over flown by Ontario government aircraft to
ensure their safety. Carl Monk was a
conservation officer who worked for the Ontario Department of Lands and
Forests. Carl had grown up in the west
Lake Nippising area of Ontario in a fishing, hunting and trapping family. Carl’s canoeing mentor was Len Cote of
Sturgeon Falls and the old time game warden of the Nipissing Crown Game
Preserve, Marten River, Ontario and famous dog sled musher as well. Years later Carl Monk along with Jerome Knap
wrote the book “The Complete Guide to Canoeing”. Carl was placed on paid leave to work for the
Centennial Commission. His transfer was facilitated by Deputy Minister of the
Department of Lands and Forests G.H.U. “Terk” Bailey who was an avid wilderness
canoeist and a member of Eric Morse’s canoe group. Some of Eric’s other members included Eliot
Roger, Sigurd Olsen, Omand Solandt, Blair Fraser and Pierre Trudeau. Lands and Forests staff were directed by
“Terk” to provide blanket support to the Centennial Commission and its paddlers
for any undertakings in the province of Ontario. One of the key pieces of information that we
learned from Carl’s report was that the water off several points and headlands
on Lake Superior could become dangerously choppy from reflected waves and
therefore they had to be given an unusually wide berth.
Carl
was provided with a “Nestable” canoe for his route survey run in 1965. This was a group paddling canoe manufactured
by the Chestnut Canoe Company of Fredericton New Brunswick. The canoe had a length of 19 feet, beam of 51
inches and a depth of 19 inches. All
commodores agreed that this canoe design had to be improved and lengthened for
training runs with provincial racing team participants in 1966. So the Chestnut Canoe Company embarked on a
project to build 10 larger canoes with high ends imitating the style of the old
voyageur canoes for the Centennial Commission.
These canoes were built over an old modified 25-foot, double-end freight
canoe mould that the Chestnut Canoe Company had kept in storage. The depth of
the freight canoe was reduced and the ends were altered to produce a bow and
stern typical of voyageur canoes. The
canoe canvas was painted to look like birchbark although the light pink-brown
colour failed to provide an accurate imitation.
As in the days of the voyageurs, the canoe ends were painted white to
serve as backgrounds for crests and logos.
These “Centennial” canoes were 25 feet long, 51 inches wide, 19 inches
deep and weighed 235 lbs. dry. Between August 6 and15, 1966, the provincial
racing crews paddled these new wood-canvas canoes down the Fraser River from
Fort Ste. James and across Georgia Straight to Victoria. Between August 23 and 30, a second trip was
taken by the same group of paddlers and canoes from Lachine through Lake
Champlain and down the Hudson River to the Statue of Liberty.
After
trial runs in the summer of 1966, the Centennial Commission opted for
fiberglass versions of the Chestnut Centennial Canoes to be manufactured by
Moisie Cadorette at Grand Mere, north of Three Rivers, Quebec so they could
withstand tougher use. The five seats in
the Chestnut Centennial canoes were weak, too low, and not designed for six
paddlers shifting paddling sides. The
Cadorette canoes came with two seats and four benches, so that all six paddlers
had their own seat. This facilitated the rapid shifting of paddling sides for
racing. However these sturdy fiberglass
canoes were much heavier (around 400 lbs.) for portaging. Their benches limited the space for carrying
a sizeable cargo needed for food and camping gear. This problem was solved by limiting each
paddler to a small personal pack and by carrying the rest of the gear either in
support vehicles or in boats.
After
committing to fiberglass canoes, the Centennial Commission declared its
wood-canvas Chestnut Centennial canoes surplus.
Kirk Wipper, ever the opportunist when it came to canoes, acquired a
pair of these surplus Centennial Canoes. During the summer of 1967, they were
used by senior Camp Kandalore boys to cover a portion of the Centennial canoe
route between Fort Francis and the Winnipeg Y.M.C.A. Camp Stephens on Lake of
the Woods. After this event, these canoes were used on our Lake Superior
adventure.
The
seat arrangement in the wood-canvas Chestnut Centennial canoes proved
unsatisfactory for canoe trips because there was no place to store large canoe
packs loaded with food and camping gear.
For this reason, the fifth seat at mid-ships was removed to provide the
necessary space. The low recessed seats
with the struts were an annoyance when baggage had to be stored under them.
It
was recognized that six paddlers and full equipment would be a serious overload
for these canoes in rough conditions on Lake Superior. While some of the crew members wanted the
crew size reduced to four to lighten the canoes and make it easier to change
paddling sides, Kirk Wipper was insistent on crews of five with two of the crew
paddling side by side ahead of the sternsman.
It was already known that Rod McLeod, would likely have to leave part
way through the trip. Therefore part of
Kirk’s rationale might have been that with a crew of five, there would be less
impact on the forward progress of the trip if a couple of paddlers had to
leave. There would be no need to wait
for replacement paddlers. However, Kirk
assured us that there would be replacements waiting if they were ever needed.
Paul
Reynolds did the menu and most of the food packing. During this process became apparent that some
of the food should be cached part way along the route to lessen the load in the
canoes. Wooden storage crates were constructed for this purpose. After a quick lesson from Charlie Haultain on
how to use the back of a heated frying pan to steam out ripped canoe canvas to
make a good ambroid repair, we were ready to start our trip. A brief ceremony was held with the crew and
Camp Kandalore campers the night prior to leaving.
With
a careful read of the following text, you will come to realize that 50 years
ago we lived in a simpler and more self-reliant era. Back then, the Trans-Canada Highway along the
north shore of Lake Superior had just been opened so there was smooth pavement
but very little tourist infrastructure including gas stations. There were no cell or satellite phones, no
G.P.S., no P.F.D.s, no reliable weather forecasts, no vehicle seat belts, no
closed cell foam pads or therma-rests, no broad-spectrum credit cards or debit
cards and no canoe splash covers etc. A
canoe trip on Superior today could be made be much easier and safer.
The Road Trip to Fort William
There
was a need to proceed as quickly as possible, if we were going to have enough
time on Lake Superior to complete this trip.
The plan was to place the two Centennial canoes one over top of the
other on a specially made trailer. This
trailer was to be towed behind one of the camp’s trucks carrying all the crew,
food and equipment. The tow vehicle was
a worn out G.M. suburban school bus (a low sided panel truck) that still
retained its original yellow paint with a four forward and reverse floor gear
shift. Both the truck and trailer had
been used on the earlier Fort Francis-Kenora expedition. The canoes and most of the supplies were
loaded the day prior. Arrangements were
made to sacrifice sleep and arise at 3:15 A.M., load the remainder of the gear,
have breakfast and go.
Unfortunately,
the truck would not start so we had to push it to a position where Gord Day
could put a battery charger on it. This
delayed our departure until shortly after after 6:00 AM. The plan was to rendezvous with Dave Purdon
and Rod McLeod who were coming up Hwy 69 behind us by car and would hopefully
overtake us somewhere on Hwy. 17, before we arrived at Sault Ste Marie. Our canoes were so distinctive that they
would be almost impossible to miss even at stops as long as the trailer was
kept within sight of the highway.
The
day was cool and dull. A heavy rainstorm
was encountered on Hwy 11 at Powassan ridge but the sun came out at North
Bay. At the junction of Hwy 11 and 17
north of town at the stoplights, we encountered a huge crowd of stranded
teenaged hitch-hikers returning from Expo 67. Many were sleeping in the
ditches. However most were standing out on the highways carrying signs for many
points west including far away locations such as Victoria B.C. and Whitehorse
Y.T. Dozens were also still heading
east.
The
city limits of Sudbury were reached by 11:00 A.M. when just opposite the
Sorrento Hotel, part of the truck’s clutch assembly fell out onto the
highway. We walked to the nearest garage
and the mechanic drove out to look at it.
After a quick check, he told us that he would not touch it. Our driver Dave Merrifield had the truck with
trailer still attached towed to Monahan’s Garage in Copper Cliff west of Sudbury. We were told that this garage had the best
capability of making a timely repair of any garage in the Sudbury area. This was fortunate because the garage was
located directly on Hwy 17 and west of the Hwy. 69 and 17 junction, allowing
Dave Purdon and Rod McLeod to spot our distinctive canoes on the trailer that
we left parked close to the edge of the highway.
The
crew was concerned about whether we had enough cash to pay for the type of
secondary expenses that we incurring due to mechanical breakdown. In those days there were only gas cards, so
to save cash, the crew walked the six miles across Sudbury to the garage in
Copper Cliff. Fortunately shortly after
our arrival, Dave and Rod spotted our canoes and made a successful
connection.
Long
distance collect phone calls were made to Camp Kandalore to get authorization
for the vehicle repair and to work out some mutually agreeable scheme with the
garage for payment as this was Saturday and all the banks in Sudbury were
closed.
The
garage made long distance phone calls to Sault Ste, Marie, North Bay and
Toronto with the hope of receiving clutch parts by train or bus. However there was not a single part available
without the expensive option of buying the entire clutch assembly.
With
this discouraging news, a drive was made to the railway stations in Sudbury to
see if it was feasible to travel to Fort William by railway. That night, the crew tried to get some sleep
in the back of a fruit truck, while a second shift of mechanics continued to
work on the truck through the night.
After two days in heat without refrigeration, the steaks that we carried
were starting to turn green on the surface. Since the crew was running into
considerable unplanned personal expense, we asked the owner to borrow his Coleman
stove to cook our steaks and voluntarily swept his pavement and on-ramps for
his trouble. The crew also made visits
to the “Big Nickel”, to a go-cart track and to some railway construction on the
opposite side of the highway to pass the time of day.
In
a last ditch effort to repair the clutch, a machinist made a replacement for
the broken part Sunday evening and then our mechanic re-assembled the
clutch. Mr. Monahan, the garage owner
was quite concerned about our trip and provided extraordinary service to help
us get under way again. The trial run
was a success but the truck had to be taken back to the garage to straighten
the steering rods that had been bent by the careless tow truck operator. Then the truck was loaded and the trailer was
re-connected, but the engine would not start, due to a battery so weak that it
would only hold a charge for a short period.
With all of the crew pushing both the truck and trailer we managed to
jump-start the motor to get underway again at Sunday mid-night.
This
truck failure had cost us two days of time, placing completion of our Lake
Superior trip in jeopardy. We were very
tired and facing an all-night drive.
Apart from the truck repair and towing expenses our aggregate cash be
been reduced by over one hundred dollars that in those days was a lot of
money. We left Copper Cliff in a somber
mood and frustrated about the poor condition of the truck including its
questionable tires. Dave and Rod
traveled behind the truck with two additional persons in the car, then at
around 3;00A.M., they went ahead at Thessalon to drop off the car in Sault Ste.
Marie. A short time later, in a graveled construction zone near Desbarats, the
main beam of the trailer snapped in half.
Since the break was behind the safety chains, the trailer came loose on
the highway in a great shower of sparks and nearly tipped over. Fortunately, nobody was coming in the
opposite direction. The trailer then
veered in another direction and finally came to rest at the very edge of a
steep embankment. If the trailer had
rolled over the edge, the canoes and trailer would have been destroyed. While some of the crew directed the traffic
around the site with flashlights, the rest lashed up the trailer beam back
together again with rope and pieces of wood. The electrical wire for the
tail-lights that was ripped out was also repaired and we were underway again at
4:00 A.M.
On
arrival at Sault Ste. Marie we picked up the remainder of the crew from the car
and made arrangements to store the truck and trailer in O.P.P. parking lot at
the north end of the city. After a short
wait at the welders until they opened in the morning, arrangements were made to
have the main beam re-welded and strengthened while we had our breakfast.
Dave
Merrifield was now so tired that he could not drive further. Rod McLeod took
over. There were now eleven people and
additional equipment crammed in the truck plus all our food and gear. The two truck seats had only capacity for
seven persons. The remaining four
persons sat at the back, crammed on home-made wooden side-benches with the food
and equipment piled in the back up to two feet from the truck roof! The truck was now so over-loaded, that all
the long, steep grades had to be climbed in the second of four forward gears.
Rod had to pull off the highway many times to let a long parade of cars
pass. On the way west we made a short
side trip to examine Marathon Harbour and to drop off several boxes of crated
food at the local O.P.P. office to reduce the load carried in the canoes. The additional space created in the truck
made the ride easier beyond Marathon for those in the rear. Marathon was selected as a re-supply point
because when paddling eastward from Marathon, there was no further road access
for many days of canoe travel.
Leaving
Marathon, an acrid smell of burning rubber and white smoke came up through the
truck floor around the gearshift. The
truck was quickly stopped and several cups of coffee were poured through the
hole surrounding the gearshift. This may
have helped to cool the overheated transmission, but little else. Shortly thereafter, it was discovered that a
very tired Rod had accidentally left the truck emergency brake on and the smoke
soon dissipated. At this point Dave
Merrifield took over again, being somewhat rested by a short sleep.
The
welding on the upper crossbars of the trailer broke loose and tipped the upper
canoe on its side just west of Schreiber.
These crossbars proved difficult to lash back into position with rope.
However, after a considerable delay, a successful trailer repair was made and
we were on the road again.
By
chance, we met a friendly Mr. Earl when we both stopped at a snack bar just
short of Nipigon. Mr. Earl would play
and important role later in the trip.
After
along, hard drive we finally made it to Port Arthur by 9:00 P.M. and had a
glimpse of the Sleeping Giant and Thunder Bay in the ensuing darkness. We were
told that all the accommodation was booked around Port Arthur and Fort William
due to Expo 67 so we headed out to Kakabeka Falls Provincial Park to camp. On arrival we found that the park staff had
gone home for the night and a quick check of the campground proved that it was
full. We quickly unloaded the trailer
and equipment in the picnic area adjacent the falls and drove back to the town
of Kakabeka Falls for some dinner. We
arrived at the restaurant just before it closed at mid-night. This was the best meal that we had in several
days. By the time that we returned to the park, we were too tired to set up
tents, so some of us slept in the truck while the rest slept on picnic tables
under clear skies. It was cold that
night and by first light there was some frost on the grass. We arose at 7;30 A.M. and had a quick look at
the falls and the Kaministikwia River that would be paddling later that
day.
After
breakfast, several phone calls were made from the town of Kakabeka Falls. These
included a phone call to the Department of Transport to notify the lighthouse
keepers that our trip on Lake Superior would be underway shortly. Other calls
were to local newspapers and to the C.B.C. to arrange a television interview at
our embarkation point adjacent the New Vickers Road Bridge. Returning to Fort William, we drove out on
the delta to gage the height of the waves and strength of the wind for our
crossing of Thunder Bay. We then worked
out our seating arrangements and pack placements so that we would appear
organized in front of the T.V. camera.
After a lunch of sandwiches, Rod gave a good T.V. interview on the
purpose and details of our trip. Our
departure down the Mission River channel of the Kaministikwia River delta was
included in the filming. Dave Merrifield
left with the truck and trailer to obtain a new battery, to re-weld the trailer
crossbars and to re-position the truck and trailer at the O.P.P. parking lot in
Sault Ste. Marie. From there, he took
buses to Huntsville and obtained a staff pick-up ride back to Camp Kandalore.
Our First Trip on Lake Superior
We
departed at 1:30 P.M., crossed the main channel of the Kaministikwia River and
paddled one and a half miles down the Mission River to its mouth. As would be expected, this was largely an
industrial area with low, flat, flood-prone banks but high enough to hide any
view of Lake Superior.
One
canoe was sterned by Rod McLeod (paddling left} with Bob James (paddling left)
and Bruce Grantier (paddling right) at the quarter, Andy Bain (paddling left)
at three quarters and Peter Mills (paddling right) in the bow.
The
other canoe was sterned by Dave Purdon (paddling left), with John Sparks
(paddling left) and Jim Stockbridge (paddling right) at the quarter, Craig
Macdonald (paddling left) at three quarters and Paul Reynolds (paddling right)
in the bow.
A
headwind was encountered as we past the break wall of the booming grounds at
the mouth of the Mission River. The tip
of Thunder Cape on the other side of Thunder Bay was our destination. Fortunately the afternoon was sunny with no
fog. We used the foot of the Sleeping
Giant for navigation because our true destination was below the horizon for
quite some distance while crossing the bay.
It
was likely that once we got further out in the bay the wind direction was going
to shift as we became more exposed to the main body of Lake Superior. It would
have been a mistake to head directly for the Welcome Islands because it would
have placed us more broadside to the waves when crossing the most exposed
portion of the bay. In the fair weather
that we were having, we could expect the waves to build to their maximum
between two and four P.M. Therefore, we
wisely made our crossing in a sweeping arc of approximately eighteen miles to
the north of Pie Island, so that we could paddle downwind with the largest
waves. The crossing took over four
hours. Believe me, there were many
rearward glances as the huge white caps that continued to build behind us. We all hoped that the good weather would hold
for the crossing. At this early stage in
the trip, given the weight of our load, we really did not know yet how much
rough water these canoes could handle.
During
this first big crossing, we experienced the disadvantage of have five paddlers
in the canoe. Without leaning out over
the gunwales, the quarter paddlers had to stagger themselves on the seat, one
forward and one further back to avoid interfering with each other’s
paddling. Safely switching paddling
sides in heavy seas was almost impossible with the configuration of packs and
five people in the canoes. Therefore in rough water we had to resign ourselves
to paddling long distances on one side without relief.
Crossing
Thunder Bay, Rod McLeod’s crew timed themselves at 28 strokes per minute while
Dave Purdon’s canoe sustained 34 strokes per minute. Eventually Rod’s stepped up their pace to
around 33 strokes per minute.
Thunder
Bay was the only place on Lake Superior where we had to cross a major shipping
lane. My fear was that we would
encounter the captain of a big freighter that did not have the common sense to
slow down and reduce his ship’s wake.
Fortunately no ships crossed our path and we saw very few boats of any
size during the entire trip.
The
massive 800 foot high cliffs of the Sleeping Giant are the highest in Ontario
and were certainly impressive when we viewed them from the water. An eagle was spotted, soaring above the
cliffs the following morning by Dave Purdon.
Since the surf was too heavy to land amongst the large stones on the
windward side of the point, we paddled around to the backside for a safer
landing to our campsite on the very tip of Thunder Cape. The view across Thunder Bay that evening was
impressive with the twinkling lights of Port Arthur and Fort William and the
silhouette of Mount MacKay and the Nor’westers in the background.
That
night we enjoyed a comfortable and much needed sleep with the sound of surf
pounding in on the beach. A brisk
southeast wind sprang up at 2:30 A.M. but by dawn the wind had died down.
However, canoe loading that morning was difficult due to the swells created by
this wind. While leaving, Dave’s canoe
was thrown back on a rock which fortunately was taken squarely on the keel with
no damage and then lifted off with the next incoming wave. From here we paddled straight out to the
lighthouse on Trowbridge Island to ensure that the three additional lighthouse
keepers along our route would look for our passage. The lighthouse keeper’s wife served our crew
crumpets and tea while I scaled a small cliff to obtain spruce poles for our
sail. These poles also proved useful for
steadying the canoes and keeping them in position while loading and un-loading.
Our
route next took us past the famous “Silver Islet” mine, discovered in 1868 by
Thomas MacFarlane. The island was barely
100 feet in any direction and its highest point was only about eight feet above
the water. Extensive crib work was built
to prevent the waves from completely washing over the island and flooding the
mine’s shaft. Due to the efforts of
mining engineer W.B. Frue, Silver Islet became one of the world’s richest
silver mines, producing over a half a million dollars in one year. All that was left when we passed was a pile
of broken rock rubble and an old stone chimney.
We
had lunch on Clarke Island out in the middle of Black Bay. The rocks that form the island have been
pushed up vertically and are fractured into large, square blocks due to
weathering. The stone itself was quite attractive, consisting of broken,
angular bits of stone trapped within larger stone (breccia). The higher rock masses were “blanched” with
the droppings of herring gulls.
Desiccated bodies of dead gulls lay strewn about, detracting from the
aesthetic quality of lunch and the surrounding beautiful scenery.
During
the crossing of Black Bay, Rod McLeod’s group veered strongly to the left on
their own course adjacent Hardscrabble Island.
According to their interpretation of the map, they were certain that our
canoe was headed wrongly. After finding themselves traveling up a blind bay on
Edward Island, they finally altered their course and re-joined our canoe that
had been waiting for them. The horizon became increasingly hazy making
navigation even more difficult past Edward Island. It took some time to
convince some of Rod’s crew that we were heading to the adjacent mainland and
not to a group of isolated islands. A
mistake here would have sent the canoes down Black Bay and potentially on a
futile side trip of nearly 60 miles.
Rod’s canoe stayed close at hand for the rest of the trip, although they
questioned my course for the next two days. Map orientations and route
explanations had to be given at almost every rest stop as we threaded our way
through a myriad of islands.
In the middle of Magnet Channel, Dave Purdon’s
arm was starting to hurt badly dealing with big waves coming in at an oblique
angle. Part of the problem was that
neither steersman was given a suitable “long shafted” stern paddle for
controlling the 25- foot canoes. The
other problem was that we could not easily switch paddling sides to relieve arm
strain. With 5 in a canoe, the load placement had to be changed with each shift
to maintain adequate canoe balance. To
solve the problem, John Sparks took the stern and Dave switched with Jim
Stockbridge to paddle on the right hand side of the canoe.
All
this switching did not turn out well because John Sparks had great difficulty
sterning the canoe with his short paddle.
It took the combined efforts of John “jaying” and Dave “drawing and
sweeping” on the other side to keep the canoe headed down on the big waves and
across on the smaller ones. Rod McLeod’s
canoe was not quite as heavily loaded and fared much better. For the first time they took the lead and for
a long while, were able to rest one of their crew continuously without being
overtaken.
The
weather deteriorated. It was now dull and threatening rain. For the night, we stayed on Magnet Island at
an outpost camp belonging to a commercial fishing operation based in Dorion at
the head of Black Bay. The manager told
us stories of a group who were trying to re-trace Alexander Mackenzies’ route
and hadn’t eaten in several days and their dog in a week. When he gave them some cooked fish they
savagely downed it and asked for more.
He also talked about the Centennial Voyageur Canoe Pageant and the
canoes that had passed through a month earlier.
We
obtained a good sleep in his cabins although we could not sleep in the beds
because they were much too short. These
people were tiny and even their chairs, tables and cabin doors were small. The camp’s fishing boat was typical of the
one’s seen at Port Dover or Killarney.
It was completely covered in to prevent large waves from crashing in and
sinking the boat. During the night it
rained heavily and remained dull and cold until we left the Lamb Island
lighthouse late the following day.
In
this area there is a marked transition in flora. Back in Thunder Bay, there was an abundance
of deciduous trees indicative of a milder climate. Here the great boreal forest sweeps down
right to the shores of Lake Superior.
Many species of ferns and orchids can be found here including the rare
Bog Adder’s Mouth. Many types of
liverworts are located in the “tundra-like” biomes that checker this area.
The
Arctic alpines Bistort and False Asphodel are found growing on the windswept
sides of islands where the climate is too tough for many other plants. Primula, juniper and wild chives are also
present.
The
windward sides of these islands can only support stunted Balsam fir and black
spruce. Their trunks were coated in
lichens and their scraggly branches were hung with clumps of long stranded
beard moss.
Due
to worsening visibility, we were barely able to make out our route. From Tunnel Island, our course was sighted
between Swede and Gourdeau Islands, by recognizing very slight shifts in hue on
the horizon as various landforms. As we passed into more wave protection from
islands, we were able to sail from Rex Island to almost to Black’s Wharf. This was an unoccupied commercial fishing
camp and where we stopped for lunch.
That
morning we passed through the agonic line where there is no magnetic
declination. A short distance later, we
paddled over some areas of extreme magnetic disturbance. A few of our crew had fun with their compasses. However, it should be noted that the compass
was never used for the purpose of navigation during the entire trip.
Heading
out across Roche Debout Channel, we again encountered very large swells, this
time broadside and to our bow. Some
photos were taken showing only heads of the paddlers in the other canoe, while
the rest was hidden behind the crests of these large swells. Many paddlers in
both canoes started to feel slightly seasick especially if they laid on their
backs during rest stops. This was due the lateral pitching combined with the
rising and falling of the canoe with the passage of each swell. Also many complained of sore lower backs due
to the rocking action of the canoes. This was partially relieved by placing
keyhole life jackets on the canoe seats to elevate one’s position and reduce
the twist in one’s back while reaching over the gunwale to paddle.
It
was necessary to swing away out in the lake around Roche Debout and Agate
Points to avoid the steep waves that were piling into the shallow water and
breaking over the shoals. Along the
shoreline of this area, many wave cut caves were seen,
We reached Lamb Island by late
afternoon, fighting a headwind all the way. About one half an hour earlier, a
pulp tugboat belonging to the Ste. Lawrence Corporation, Nipigon swung in close
to the canoes to take a movie of us. The
action of turning the boat in toward us heightened their wake and along with
the wind driven waves nearly swamped us.
This was the only large boat that we saw on the lake during the entire
trip.
The
Lamb Island lighthouse keeper Angus MacDonald from Nova Scotia had watched us
arrive in his high power telescope. The unusual head flop that Andy Bain made
with each paddle stroke caused Angus some concern. At the appropriate moment,
Angus quietly asked a group of us in a serious tone, whether Andy was O.K.
because in the telescope it looked as if Andy was close to his last paddle
stroke and might expire!
Angus
invited us in for tea and told us that he had seen our departure on C.B.C.
television. We talked to Angus about the counter-current that we had been
paddling against. He said that it was even worse opposite the south side of
Saint Ignace Island and that scientists had been out studying another current
that reverses every five minutes between Owl and Paradise Island. Angus advised us to select our rough water
route on the north side of Saint Ignace Island.
This would avoid most of the current and the possibility of being held
up for as much as three days by a storm if we took the more exposed south side
of the island. Angus also advised us to
go between Moss Island and the western shore of Nipigon Strait as the lake was
getting quite rough. Angus gave his home province’s Centennial Nova Scotian
crew a three-hour lead with the same advice.
The current adjacent Moss Island was strong enough to bend the
weeds. Angus also radioed the Battle
Island Lighthouse informing them that we would be taking the inside passage and
therefore not to look for us.
Before
we departed, Angus showed us the wharf that he had built by himself with just
an axe. The logs were squared and dove
tailed to fit perfectly. The timber was
cut from the island and moved by water.
Lifting the timbers into place must be taken massive strength. However, I have neglected to tell you that
Angus was one of the largest men that I have met during my life. His massive arms were larger than two of my
legs put together.
That
night, we camped that night below a navigational beacon on the west side of
Nipigon Strait. Peter Mills had been in
deteriorating health. Long fits of
coughing during the night made it impossible for him to get a restful
sleep. The congestion seemed to be deep
within his lungs. I suggested that he
get out of the tent and try sleeping outside. Here, he was better able to catch
his breath, but he was still getting far less than an adequate rest.
We
arose at 5:30 A.M. to a screaming tailwind.
After breakfast, preparations were made to sail since the strait was
relatively narrow and protected from the main body of Lake Superior and its
huge waves. There was difficulty in
loading the canoes during this high wind. Long poles had to be used bowmen to
prevent the canoes from seeping around with the wind. The landing area was a long, sloping rock. To
prevent people from sliding into the water large clumps of moss were placed on
the wave-dampened portion of this slippery rock to improve traction. Poles were used to create a catamaran with
the two canoes. A 12’x12’ Egyptian
cotton tarpaulin served as a sail. This
tarp was tied between two vertical masts, that were placed, in separate canoes.
Under the sail, the canoes moved at a tremendous clip until the wind suddenly
stopped just five minutes after finally getting underway. As the haze and fog cleared, it became
apparent that a powerful thunderstorm was approaching. The masts were quickly dropped and the canoes
were pulled together so that the sail could form a tent over the canoes. A drenching downpour followed with flashes of
lightning on all sides. It was
uncomfortable being so far out on water and exposed to lightning but there was
nothing that could be done to improve our situation.
After
the worst of the storm, the rain slowed down to a drizzle. I spotted a large bull moose, standing in
water and feeding on weeds along the western shore. It did a few dives before spotting us and
making a retreat to shore. Although
within a week or so of the first rut, this bull was unresponsive to my female
moose call imitations. Andy Bain made an
unprintable joke about my efforts that gave everybody a good laugh.
When
Point a la Gourganne was reached, the wind picked up again so that we could
sail for a few minutes. However when
Nipigon Bay was entered, the wind died and then turned against us. The fog lifted enough that we could make out
the dim profile of Vert Island to the north.
By Caribou Point, a very strong east wind was blowing. Having paddled hard against this wind and
making almost no progress, the canoes were crabbed sideways into shore for
shelter just short of Cape Nano.
After
a lunch of sandwiches we waited for the wind to drop. A few agates were collected on the beach.
Beaches in this area of Lake Superior have a type of agate, found nowhere else
except in Australia. The lighthouse
keeper Angus MacDonald on Lamb Island had a profitable side-business of
polishing these agates and selling them to dealers.
Finally
the headwind died down and we set out on a very long paddle, paralleling the
north sides of Saint Ignace and Simpson Islands. Although foggy, the weather remained calm for
the most part. Toward the end of the day the fog lifted enough to reveal a
fantastic “chandelier” sky. We were
occasionally buffeted by pleasant heat waves pouring off Saint Ignace
Island. While paddling over the cold
water of Lake Superior, the air temperatures had been in the high 40’s and low
50’s F. These warm drafts were at least
70 degrees F.
The
shoreline was almost featureless and locating our position was made difficult
by local shore fogs that were caused by the interaction of the cold air above
the water and the warm air over the land.
We never saw the communities of Red Rock, Nipigon and most of the north
shore of the channel. A stop close to sunset was made on Simpson Island for
dinner.
The western sky gave the appearance of an
incoming storm that would have left us stranded for least a day on an island
without a good place to camp. Therefore
we decided to keep paddling until we found a better location to stop for the
night. This venture was potentially the
most dangerous of the trip. Flashlights
were distributed amongst the canoes because we would be soon paddling in the
dark. The combination of a thick fog and heavy overcast made the night as black
as coal. A strong surge from Simpson
Channel was drifting us sideways while two sets of light swells were coming
from Simpson and Steamboat Channels. We
headed more towards Salter Island than originally planned to minimize our
lateral drift thereby keeping us clear of Barwiss Rock. The Barwiss Rock beacon was lost in the fog
and never seen. We were navigating
through the black of night solely by the direction of the swells. The crews remained silent so both sternsmen
could hear any necessary course corrections.
We also reduced our paddling speed to about three quarters of what it
had been before dark. This silence
allowed us to hear if any waves were crashing over unseen shoals in the event
that we strayed a way off course.
Mid-channel
our crew got a brief scare, when unexpectedly our canoe struck an unseen pulp
log that thudded several times along our keel line. Shortly after warning Rod Mcleod’s canoe to
watch for possible pulp logs, they spotted one directly in front of their canoe
in the dark. Fortunately, they had just
enough time to steer around it. Back
then twelve-foot pulp logs were still being towed in large booms to pulp
mills. Some would escape and become
serious navigation hazards. Now, all
pulp logs are transported to the mills by truck.
After
about two hours, a breeze arose creating small whitecaps. It became apparent with the increased wind
and wave height, that landing amidst rocky shoals to search for a potential
campsite in the dark would be foolish. Rod’s canoe stayed quite close behind
ours for the rest of our night paddle.
When
the flash of the Rossport Point Beacon eventually became visible in the fog, we
headed directly for it instead of relying on the swells for guidance. However after about an hour of paddling, the
light from the Rossport Point Beacon suddenly kept jumping to the right. This was truly alarming. At first we thought the canoes were turning
to the left, pushed by obliquely approaching waves between the long interval of
flashes. But it was soon realized that
the fog had lifted to reveal a second flashing beacon on a small, unnamed
island further on that was perfectly out of phase and flashing with the same
interval as the Rossport Point Beacon.
With this understanding, we ignored the Rossport Point Beacon and
steered towards the more southernly beacon to keep clear of the shoals along
the north side of the channel.
The
Rossport wharf was reached just before12 P.M. It had been raining for some
time, so we decided to stay at the Rossport Hotel up on the hill to the west
rather than pitch tents on the beach.
While unloading and rolling our canoes over on the beach to keep out the
rainwater, we were met by a local fishing boat captain who was surprised by our
arrival. He had brought his own boat in
from Superior Shoal several hours earlier because it was too rough! He was relieved when we told him that we had followed
Angus MacDonald’s advice and paddled on the north side of Ste Ignace Island.
After
cooking our own breakfast in the hotel, we departed the following day in
unsettled weather. While threading our
way through some sandbars between Nicol Island and the mainland, a noticeable
current flowing west was encountered. It was here that Dave Purdon snapped his
paddle. This channel no longer exists
because a road causeway has been built out to the island. Heading eastward, we encountered a cold
headwind and driving rain. When our party paddled out beyond the shoals of Cat
Island, a screaming gust of north wind suddenly developed. Immediately, the signal was given to head
upwind. Dave managed to get his canoe
turned quickly but Rod was not quite as fortunate. Even when paddling as hard as possible,
Dave’s canoe could only hold even while Rod’s canoe was blown slightly
backwards. The wind soon abated enough
so both canoes could make slow forward progress. However, it took over an hour of exhausting
paddling before we reached the shelter of a small island just west of
Collingwood Bay for a well deserved rest.
I am quite certain that if we had delayed our turn upwind by even a few
minutes, at least one of the canoes would have swamped. After the wind calmed down, a yellow
Department of Lands and Forest pontoon piston otter aircraft circled us at low
altitude and then flew off. Possibly
somebody from Rossport, concerned for our safety, had phoned the nearby
provincial air base at Pays Plat or the pilot had just spotted us and out of
curiosity flew around to take a closer look.
We will never know the reason for this over-flight.
By
the time lunch was finished, it was safe to cross the bay to Schreiber
Point. It was in this area that Louis
Agassiz (1807-1873) a world famous geologist found compelling evidence for his
theory of continental glaciation. The
weather had cleared by the Petits Ecrits Islands, where again the lake’s
counter-current was quite noticeable, this time as eddies and ripples amongst
the rocks rather than bent over weeds.
We were concerned about counter-current because we had not planned for
it. This and the frequent headwinds were
significantly slowing our forward progress.
That
night, we camped on the sand spit of the Aguasabon River ( translation-where
the fishing net is brought to shore).
This river formed an important canoe route connection with Kenogami Lake
and James Bay via the Albany River. The
headwaters of the Kenogami River have now been diverted to flow down south
through the Aguasabon River to supply additional water for the Chicago Drainage
Canal. The beach was deserted except for
a small shack that had been set up by scientists from the International
Geophysical Year Project to measure the earth’s gravity here and at Superior
Shoals out in the middle of Lake Superior.
One of the scientists told me that they had already determined through
this research that the earth was slightly pear shaped rather than round. For some reason there was very little
suitable driftwood on the beach for building fires. We had to break off armfuls of dead branches
from scraggly spruce that were unusually rough on the hands to have enough wood
for the breakfast fire.
After
our departure the following morning under clear skies, the wind finally shifted
to a steady but gentile tail wind, perfect for sailing. It was a beautiful day
and we had a floating lunch five miles offshore from Ashburton Bay while under
sail towards Pic Island. Food was passed
between the “catamaraned” canoes on paddles. The uneven roll of the swells was
too much for a rigid attachment of the canoes without using a lot more lashed
cross poles to withstand the torque. Our
simple solution was to use only two heavier cross-logs and rest them on the
gunwales and laps of the people occupying the quarter and three quarter
positions. Each time the wind stiffened,
our 144 square foot sail propelled us forward at a rate that created a
cross-wake between the separated canoes higher than the gunwales.
Pic
Island is a distinctive landform, rising steeply on all sides to 715 feet above
the waters of Lake Superior. It was made
well known to the public by the paintings of Lorne Harris. We first saw Pic Island while off Schrieber
Point and it would remain in view for four and a half days almost to Otter
Head. It was frustrating to see this
landform hardly change size or appear any closer after hours of paddling. From Pic Island our coarse took us between the
Slyboots Shoals, where the wind died and forced us to paddle the remaining distance
to Marathon. We landed at an aircraft
dock in Marathon after making an attempt at getting through a log boom amidst
choking sulfide fumes and a two foot high blobs of foam and sludge from the
pulp and paper plant. We were then taken
by company truck to the recreation centre courtesy of Mr. Earl and the company
town of Marathon. The town was run by
the Pulp and Paper Division of the Continental Can Company of America. In the recreation centre we had a place to
shower, swim in a heated pool, prepare our meals and roll out sleeping bags for
the night. At supper, we were
interviewed by Mr. Earl, who was also the local newspaper reporter for the Port
Arthur News Chronicle. As it turned out, Mr. Earl knew Peter Mills’ father
through the Y.M.C.A. Our food supply that was cached at the O.P.P. office out
on Highway #17 was retrieved and re-packed.
We sat out the morning, while Peter Mills was checked out by a medical
doctor. The diagnosis was not good. The
doctor said that he probably had bronchitis (later found to be a recurrence of
pneumonia). So both Peter and Rod left
the trip at this point to take a bus to Sault Ste Marie. It is interesting to note that the late Dr.
Bob Govan who was a Camp Kandalore canoe trip mentor for both Rod McLeod and
myself in 1959, ran a medical practice in Marathon a few years later. During the morning Mr. Earl accepted Dave
Purdon’s broken paddle blade on behalf of the town of Marathon. The blade bore a small scene on the lake with
the canoes, signatures of all the crew and a message of gratitude for our
excellent reception.
The
second leg of our journey was through the wildest and most inaccessible coast
of Lake Superior. The crews were now
shuffled. Paul Reynolds could set a
consistent stoke in the roughest water, so he was switched to Rod McLeod’s
canoe to paddle in the bow while the rest of Dave Purdon’s crew remained in
tact. I moved to the bow position, this
time paddling on my stronger right side, while John Sparks moved up to the
three quarter position paddling left.
Jim Stockbridge stayed at the quarter paddling right and Dave Purdon
remained in the stern paddling left.
Each person now had their own seat so we could now easily switch sides
when it was necessary to provide relief to the arms.
Rod
McLeod’s canoe ( here after called Bob James’ canoe) had two arrangements with
Paul Reynolds paddling bow in both. The
most used had Bob James paddling left in the stern, Bruce Grantier paddling
right at the quarter, Andy Bain paddling left at three quarters and Paul
Reynolds paddling right in the bow.
Another arrangement was Andy Bain paddling left in the stern, Bob James
paddling right at the quarter, Bruce Grantier paddling left at three quarters
and Paul Reynolds paddling right in the bow.
The purpose of this switch was to provide Bob James some relief from
paddling left in the stern. Depending on
the direction of wind and wave, sterning these Centennial canoes could be very
straining especially without a long shafted paddle.
After
a brief delay for Mr. Earl to photograph us in the canoes on the water, we
departed from Marathon around noon. The canoes were now lighter and noticeably
faster. Even with a headwind, Ogilvy
Point was reached in record time for lunch.
The tip of the point was made up of several low rock islands largely
devoid of trees due to the power of storms on Lake Superior. Many of the plants, were nestled in small
cracks in the rock and were in full bloom despite the lateness of the season. Of particular note, there were many delicate
hair bells with their blue colored, bell shaped flowers.
Further
on we passed the large sand spit at the mouth of the Pic River. Just upriver lay the ruins of H.B.C. Pic
River House. This post serviced much of the north shore of Lake Superior
including the Pic and White Rivers whose canoeable tributaries extend north to
the continental divide.
Two
miles off Plater Harbour, our first serious cross-chop was encountered. Large swells were coming in broadside from
the west, while “fresh” breaking waves were being driven over top of the swells
by a brisk south wind. Although it was
sunny, most of the crew were wearing raincoats to block the cold wind and to
prevent from being soaked by the splash and spray. Both canoes bounced around out there and
Purdon’s canoe being more heavily loaded took four large waves clean over the
bow gunwales.
Camp
for the night was made near Willow River on a beach of “basketball sized” boulders. Great care must be taken when landing on a
boulder beach like this because large “canoe-damaging” rocks sometimes lay just
below the surface of breaking waves. It
was our practice, in surf, to come in to shore on a wave and then let the wave
overtake the canoe. After the wave
broke, the bowman and the paddler occupying the three quarter position jumped
out of the canoe on opposite sides and grabbed the gunwales to pull the canoe
ashore before the next breaker swamped the canoe.
This
large boulder terrace did not make for a comfortable sleep even with some
evergreen brush placed under our sleeping bags. If taking a canoe trip along
the north shore of Lake Superior, one should be forewarned that good campsites
with safe landing spots are uncommon. Much of the shoreline is jagged, uneven
rock. In a few locations on the
Michipicoten Peninsula and along Lake Superior Park, the shore is sheer cliff
to the water. Where the shore is not bedrock, it is usually consists of raised
cobble terraces which are also poor for camping. The chance of finding small sized gravel
suitable for tent sites is increased by the presence of nearby streams. However, the best camping is on sand
beaches. These sand beaches are usually
found near the mouths of the larger rivers, so they are comparatively rare.
The
following morning we departed in fairly calm conditions and took the inside
passage around a couple of islands. By Sewell Point a brisk tailwind had arisen
so most of the crew wanted to sail to avoid the labour of paddling. The problem was that in front of us, the wind
would be coming from an increasingly offshore angle as the shoreline curved to
the east. The white capping waves behind
us looked steadily more menacing. I was
strongly opposed to sailing because conditions looked too risky. Dave Purdon and Paul Reynolds shared my
concerns. Together we were also the oldest members of the group. Incredibly, this issue was put to a vote and
we were defeated 5 to 3. The belief of the majority was that if it got too
windy or rough or we started to get blown too far offshore we could simply take
the sail down. However, in our four
previous sailing experiences we had always taken this big sail down when we
became becalmed and not in a strengthening wind.
The
canoes were landed in a narrow rock channel on the windward side of an island
just past Sewell Point to cut stringer poles for the catamaran. After experiencing some difficulty in getting
out of the channel, preparations were made to sail. We then paddled out
offshore to begin our sail while the wind steadily increased. What happened during the next fifteen minutes
was the closest call to disaster that we had on the first trip.
When
the sail was raised, it snapped open with such force that it nearly took down
the masts. The canoes surged forward at
an alarming rate. The sail was quickly taken down and reefed to three quarters
and daringly (foolishly) hoisted again.
As soon as the reefed sail opened it had to be immediately taken down,
this time during a very strong wind gust.
In a panic, one of the mast stays was released before the other could be
untied. As a result, one mast with sail
attached, fell forward into the water between the canoes and its upper end
lodged under Dave Purdon’s canoe.
At
this point things happened so fast that I can’t remember the exact details.
However, I do remember the stringers failed, the canoes came together and
veered off to the left. While the canoes still had forward momentum, the force
of the water on the partially submerged sail and mast drove the right gunwale
of Bob James’ canoe downward to water level and partially locked it against the
side of our canoe. Only the quick action of both Bob James and Andy Bain
leaning over the high side of their canoe saved the canoe from rolling over. A
river of water was now flowing along the top of the lowered gunwale threatening
to sink their canoe if it tipped any further.
There was also the possibility of the partially submerged sail plowing
water into the canoe because both canoes were still being pushed forward by the
strong gust of wind. In the meantime,
Bruce Grantier, standing upright on the bilge of the canoe managed to yank the
sail and mast free from under our canoe, allowing their canoe to roll back up
level again.
The
poles and sail were now stowed in the canoes and we headed for the closest
land. Struggling against a steadily
increasing wind, both canoes finally made it to the shelter of a rocky island
close to the southern entrance to Oiseau Bay.
Landing on the southern tip of this cliff shoreline was difficult.
Although in the lee, the big swells coming in from the west were heaving the
canoes up and down. Key-hole life
preservers were tied to the gunwales to prevent the canoes from smashing to
pieces. Paul Reynolds and Bruce Grantier
scaled the cliff with tether ropes and managed to secure them on a
boulder. The crew formed a human chain
snaking up the side of the cliff. The
packs were taken one by one and passed up to the top. With the use of the poles and tether ropes
the canoes were then inched along the edge of the cliff and taken out in a gap
between the rocks that I had found. The
terrain on top was so hostile that we could not pitch tents. Instead we rolled
the canoes over parallel to each other.
Using the two sailing masts as weights, the 12’x12’ sail was stretched
between canoes and propped with paddles to serve as a roof. The sleeping area was uneven but with the use
of life preservers, packs and clothing we managed to smooth it somewhat. We looked at the sand beach of Oiseau Bay,
just a mile away to the east, as a much better place to camp for the night.
However, the water was still rough enough to make re-location an unattractive
option.
We
had paddled only nine and one half miles from Willow River making it the
shortest day of the trip. The following
morning we arose at 5:30 A.M. to relatively calm conditions. The Michipicoten
Peninsula is much more exposed with significantly fewer islands for protection
than the north shore. Onshore waves have
300 miles of open water to build by wind, so we referred to them as “Duluth
Specials”. The rugged scenery was
beautiful. Up behind English Fishery,
lies Tip Top Mountain 2,120 feet above sea level. At the time of our trip, it
was thought to be the highest point in Ontario.
The clear weather that we were having since the Aguasabon River at
Terrace Bay would continue for the remainder of the trip. However, the nights and early mornings were
quite cold. Paddling in any sort of wind
during the morning required heavy clothing to stay comfortable.
From
here on, Lake Superior’s fair weather wind maximum forced us to change our
cycle of travel. The season of fall
gales was soon approaching. It was necessary to arise while the stars were
shining so we could depart at dawn when it was calm. Each day, it got too rough for travel around
noon, so we would land, have a big meal, rest until 4;30 or 5:00 P.M. then
paddle until sunset. The entire crews
were now changing sides with each rest and braving seas that would have
certainly swamped the earlier five-crew arrangement. It was now not uncommon to have several
successive waves sweep up to the top of the gunwales and trickle over inside
the canoe.
Past
Sewell Point, all winds were from some rearward quadrant. The great waves that rolled under the canoes
were too fast to surf. The bows were
lightened so the canoes could break away clean from the waves that were
overtaking them. The bowman in these
situations did nearly as much steering as the sternsman. He would draw on
either side, pulling the bow straight for big waves and then quickly across if
the coarse required it. Staying in one’s
seat and keeping in stroke was difficult for the bowmen. The cargo was centred in the canoe as much as
possible to reduce the bow and stern plunge.
We
left the island at Oiseau Bay at dawn and stayed closer to shore, utilizing as
many islands and shoals for wave protection as possible. By Triangle Harbour, it was rough and Bob
James was having increased difficulty in keeping his canoe under control. The waves were steep and white capping on all
sides, forcing us off the lake at the beach adjacent the Cascade River. The waterfall on this river drops directly
into Lake Superior and was photographed, painted and popularized by canoeist
Bill Mason a number of years after our trip.
This beach has been a stopping-point no doubt, for thousands of years.
There are signs of countless blackened cooking stones and campfire rings that
lie buried in the sand.
Back
in the woods behind the beach, I discovered a tiny trapper’s cabin built in a
style unique to this area of Superior.
The cabin walls had been built entirely from 12 foot pulp logs salvaged
from the beach. These logs had been
debarked naturally by grinding on the rocks. Each corner consisted of two 2”x8”
planks nailed together at right angles and then the stood on end. A spike was driven through the plank and into
the end of each pulp log forming the walls.
The rafters were also made of pulp logs that were notched to the top of
the walls and nailed to a plank at the peak of the roof. These dry spruce logs were light and could be
handled by one man. Since this land has
become a National Park, I’m not sure if any of these cabins still exist. The shorelines in this area were littered
with swashlines of jumbled pulp logs that had escaped from log booms and washed
up on shore. Apparently one man in
Marathon with a work-boat had a profitable business of re-floating these logs
and selling them back to the company.
After lunch, Dave Purdon and I
followed the old portage trail behind the cabin. This trail led up over the first ridge. We left the portage and walked through the
woods to the Cascade River and climbed a high hill on the other side to obtain
an excellent view of Michipicoten Island. We then followed the river downstream
to view the lip of the falls into Lake Superior before returning to the
beach. That evening, Otter Head was
rounded and our day ended in a small bay short of Canadienne Point. The point had a bad reputation and the crew
did not want to risk anything so late in the evening. The camping spot was relatively low with the
tents pitched on the smooth, grassy, abandoned roadbed that ran from Puckasaw
Depot to Otter Cove. That night under
clear skies, it got too cold for a comfortable sleep in my sleeping bag. By morning there was an inch of ice in our
cooking pots. Apparently down in Sault
Ste. Marie the temperature dropped to a record low of 27 degrees F.
Our
first hour of travel was through a mist coming off the water that was so dense
it obscured the sun. Navigation was accomplished by orienting with the vague
smudge of brightness in the mist. After
rounding Canadienne Point a decision was made not to take a short side trip to
visit historic Puckasaw Depot and the ancient cobblestone pits on the Pukaskwa
River. This was done with great
regret. However, the group was still
trying to cover as much daily distance as possible in the hopes of reaching
Sault Ste Marie.
According
to local natives, an archeologist collected a small load of artifacts from the
bottoms of these pits. The artifacts may have explained the function and origin
of these mysterious pits, but the archeologist drowned in Lake Superior on the
return trip and the artifacts were never recovered. “Puckasaw Pits” occur at several locations on
Lake Superior.
About
noon we were forced off the lake by rough conditions three miles short of
Ganley Harbour. By late afternoon we were back on the water and paddled all the
way to Pilot Harbour where we camped for the night, in good sheltered terrain.
Earlier that day we passed the second of only two boats that were seen while
paddling on Lake Superior. It was a
small roofed outboard motor boat that was bobbing up and down while slowly
creeping forward into the big waves.
There was a look of disbelief on the faces of the people in the boat when
we paddled by them in the opposite direction at twice their speed. The following day, after encountering
increasingly rough water, we decided to make a landing on the last boulder
beach before Point Issacor. An
examination of the map revealed that there was not a single safe landing spot
for five miles along this shore. As it turned out this was one of the wisest
decisions of the trip.
This
is probably the most dangerous stretch of shoreline, on the Canadian side of
Lake Superior for the above reason. A
large rock highland bends out to the lakeshore east of Ghost River, where sheer
cliffs drop 300 feet straight to the water. Rounding Point Issacor, these
cliffs gradually increase to about 300 feet.
Four miles east of here they culminate in an 800 foot high ridge in
which the first 500 feet are sheer cliff.
Behind the fifth continuous mile of cliff , Bare Summit reaches 1,264
feet above the surface of Lake Superior.
Directly in front at the cliff’s edge the water is 27 fathoms deep.
It
looked as if the group was going to spend an uncomfortable might amidst the
rocks of this steep boulder beach. Suddenly there was an abrupt reversal in the
direction of the wind. I could not
believe what I was seeing. After the
waves settled down, the canoes were re-launched. The lake remained quite choppy so Point
Issacor still had to be given a very wide berth.
Along
this section of shore, there are steep slopes of broken rock that reach the
water. A notable example of this can be
found where the Eagle River tumbles down into Lake Superior. Large blocks of
talus can be found at the terminus of rockslides that extend upwards more than
200 feet. As we paddled past, small rock
fragments broke loose from the cliff and clattered downwards in a series of
free falls, bounces and slides.
That
evening along this spectacular shore, we encountered the largest wave of the
trip. Dave Purdon’s canoe took the brunt
of it. This “monster” was probably
created by three different sets of waves riding over top of each other. Anyway, this freak wave came from
nowhere. It suddenly mounded up under
the bow, nearly throwing John Sparks and myself backwards out of our
seats. After a precipitous up and over,
the canoe plunged into a huge hole many feet deep. The bow of the canoe that had been fully
airborne, hit the water at the bottom of the hole with a resounding crash. Fortunately, I was partly on my knees at the
time, so the bow seat did not break. However
my knees, seat and back were certainly sore from the crash.
That
night we camped in Dog Harbour. Do not think that all these tiny harbours along
this coast are inhabited. They are only
natural places of refuge. Dog Harbour was possibly the best campsite of the
trip. This protected harbour contained a
long sandy beach, ample firewood and a grassy plain on which to pitch the
tents. Adjacent to the harbour, lies the
University or Dog River that, at the time, vied with the Pukaskwa for having
the best rainbow trout fishing in Ontario.
Before
noon the following day, the trip reached the Perkwakwia Point Lighthouse at the
entrance to Michipicoten Harbour. Nobody
was there, possibly because the light had been automated, but anyway, we left a
message saying that we were suspending the trip until further notice. We then paddled across to Michipicoten
Harbour. Here, we were greeted by a
horde of little French speaking children running up and down the beach eager to
look at the men who had come from the lake in canoes.
This
turned out to be the end of our first trip on Lake Superior. We had run out of
time.
MORE MEMORIES TO COME IN AUGUST!
******************************
By Bob James
Notes transcribed September 2, 2017 from 1967 Lake Superior Canoe Trip
Friday,
August 18
In the morning, I had no clue that I would
be going on any trip. I had a vague desire to go, but I figures it was
impossible.Then I heard, talking to Gord Day, that Brian Law wasn't going, as
he had planned. I started to wonder if I could go or not, to fill the required
place. I asked Bob Smagala, and he and Kirk finally OK’d it. A quick call to
Dad confirmed finally that I would be going. That afternoon was hectic.I had to
find someone to take the team, and someone to take my cabin. I had to do camper
files and pack myself for the trip and for going home. I got it all done,
quickly, but adequately. That night, I helped pack for a while in the trip
centre before going back to section. Kirk had us all at flag lowering to
explain the purpose and meaning of the trip. He gave us two centennial flags
and two of his own paddles to take on the trip. I then went back to section to
finish packing (and also because I was duty). I put my guys to bed with a final
farewell to them and then went back to the Slack Shack. We all sat down to
start playing bridge. We brought food out and then the fun started.. Stocky and
Purd had a fight over Purd’s cigarette. We started yelling at each other and
generally having a riot. A bread fight broke out about 1:00 and lasted to about
1:15. At that time there was a knock on the door. It was Kirk. The doctor had
been complaining about the noise, and he wondered why we were still awake. We
started wondering, too. We went to bed shortly after.
Saturday,
August 19
Awoke at 3:45. It was still dark, as
suspected. We lit a lantern and started rolling. We left section at 4:15 and
went to the truck to pack. A quick breakfast ensued, and final preparations
were taken care of. We left camp at 5:30, in the yellow pig, and with the long
(25 foot) canoes on the back. We drove up through Huntsville to North Bay. A
gas and rest-room stop there, and we pushed on North to Sudbury. As we neared
Sudbury, the countryside changed completely. It became just about the most
barren land I have ever seen. A few scrub birches and brush were the only
vegetation, and most of the land was black, eroded and bare. It looked like a
moonscape of some sort, or at least a God-forsaken hunk of land. This only
seemed to get worse as we approached Sudbury. I can’t see how anybody would
want to live in a place like that. Just as we entered Sudbury, there was a loud
clank from the engine, and we stopped, slowly but surely. We discovered that a
part of the clutch had broken, and we were stuck.This was at 11:30. We went to
a gas station and phoned a tow truck from there. He took our truck to a place
on the other side of town (where our credit card was good) and began to work on
it. We had to walk the four miles to the station. We did this, having lunch on
the way. When we got to the station, the truck still wasn’t fixed, so we went
up to see the Big Nickel (which was only a half-mile from the station). (There
was also a penny and a JFK half-dollar there.) We met the other two men on the
trip (Rod MacLeod and Dave Purdon), who had come up in Rod’s car and stopped
when they saw the truck. We discovered about 4:00 that the part had been welded
and had rebroken and that we couldn’t find a spare anywhere in town. We
commenced to re-pack the packs by days, and to set up food caches which could
be left along the way, so the canoes wouldn’t be too low in the water. About
6:00, a machinist came with the original part, bolted together. We put it in,
and it broke again. We then tried bolting the pedal right to the clutch, but we
found this was too hard on the transmission. We phoned Kirk, and he told us to
wait for a part. This meant that the truck had to wait for a day or so, but we
could go ahead. We checked out the trains and things, and even phoned Toronto
to see if we could get a part. We then prepared to sleep the night in the
truck. But the man in the station was really nice. We offered to do some work
for him the next day, and he told us that we could sleep in an old produce
truck of his. Eight of us did this, and the other three slept in our truck. We
went to sleep about 11:00.
Sunday,
August 20
Woke up at 8:30. Rolled sleeping bags and
prepared breakfast. We had planned steaks for the night before, but we decided
to eat out that night, so the meat was still there. During the night, it
started to go bad, so we decided to eat it for breakfast. The manager of the
station lent us a Coleman stove, and we cooked them and some eggs for
breakfast. We swept his asphalt apron for him and then cleaned up. In the
meantime, a machinist had made the missing (or broken) “link” from scratch, and
he put it in and started the clutch adjustment. An auto parts salesman set out
to find us the last part we needed (which was available). To pass the
afternoon, we played cards, slept, etc. The mechanic who was supposed to put
our part in for us went to the stock car races and didn’t get back until 5:00.
He put it together and discovered that he could’t adjust it enough. We figured
that the pressure plate or the clutch wheel was gone and phoned the United man
back again to try and get the part. We also arranged for a mechanic to put it
in. We then went for a good supper. After supper, we went across the highway to
where they were building a railroad marshalling yard. There we found an old
handcar-flatcar arrangement. We spent some time putting it on the tracks, and
then we spent an hour or so poling it back and forth. We all felt like
characters out of Tom Sawyer. This lasted until about 10:30. Then we went back
to the garage. By this time, the clutch had been fixed (it took two tries—the
first plate bought was too big), then they tried it out. They soon discovered
that it was still not right, and inspection showed that the alignment was out
about 30 degrees. Te mechanic heated it and pounded it and bent it until it was
reasonably OK (it was the steering rod that had been bent by the tow truck
man). We then loaded up, attached the trailer, and left Monaghan’s B-A station
at 11:40. Four of us (Rod, Dave Purdon, John Sparks and myself) went in Rod’s
VW, and the rest stretched out in the bus. The VW followed the bus for about
120 miles or so, just in case anything went wrong. We stopped once at an
all-night restaurant for a coffee and snack and then left again, trying to
sleep on the way (without much success).
Monday,
August 21
After driving all night, we reached the Soo
(that is, the Volks reached the Soo) at about 4:45. We left the car at a friend
of Rod’s place, and walked up to meet the truck at a prearranged spot. We got there
and sat down to wait, spending the time looking at the clouds, being cold, and
waving to the natives. Finally, at about 6:30, the truck arrived. Apparently,
just after we left the bus (i.e., about 3:45), the trailer tongue broke in two
and the trailer ground to a halt on the highway. It took them an hour to fix it
temporarily, and they came into the Soo. We stopped a man to find a welding
place, and he took us right to one, but it was only about 6:45 at the time, and
the place was still closed.We left the trailer there and went first to
breakfast ad then to the OPP station to see if we could leave our truck there
while we were on our trip. This was OK’d, so we went back to the welders and
proceeded to get the tongue welded. At about 9:30, we left the Soo and began
our trip to the Lakehead. We soon discovered the size of Superior to be
fantastic. We also found the the North Shore was all that people claimed it
was. Huge, jagged rock formations through which only the road, the railroad,
and a number of rivers cut. The combination of deep blue water and a rugged
coast makes for really beautiful scenery. As we drove along, we noticed that
some of the welds in the trailer were cracking, but we continued driving. We
stopped at Marathon and left a food cache (about half our food) there to pick
up later. We drove on, stopping at White River (the coldest place in Canada—72
below recorded!) for supper. By now, we were all fairly cold. But we drove on.
We had to stop once to lash the trailer where a weld had cracked. We passed the
red rock of Nipigon and then saw the town—basically a lumber town. We caught
sight of the two largest bays we cross—Thunder Bay and Black Bay. Arrived in
Port Arthur about 10:00 (PM) their time. Started looking for a place to stay
and also for the Lands and Forests people. We found neither. We drove on to
Kakabeka Falls, beyond Fort William, and decided to stay the night there. We
left the trailer and packs at the park and went to a hotel for a decent supper.
This was about 12:00. We ate supper and got back to camp about 1:30, cold and
tired (we were so tired we were incoherent in thought and action). Six of us
slept in the truck and the other five under a makeshift tarp shelter. We fell
asleep fast. The temperature that night went to 35 degrees (Fahrenheit). Brrr!
Tuesday,
August 22
We were finally within sight of beginning
our canoe trip. We awoke at 8:30 and started washing, packing, and taking
pictures of the falls. The weather was clear and warming. We went back to the
hotel we were at the night before (partly for breakfast and partly because I
left my hat there). We phoned the RCMP, the OPP, Lands and Forests (for support
along the way—the RCMP to get its patrol boat to check on us once in a while)
and various radio and TV stations (for publicity for the Centennial Voyage, the
Nor’Westers, and camp). We were to leave from the New Vickers Bridge and paddle
the Mission River. The people going are: Rod McLeod Dave Purdon Craig (Styx)
MacDonald Paul Reynolds Bruce Grantier Bob James Peter Mills Andy Bain Jim
Stockbridge John Sparks Dave Merryfield (truck driver) We left the hotel at
12:00. We reached the bridge at 12:40, but the press were not supposed to
arrive until 1:00 (if at all), so we went down to look at the lake. We came
back and put in near an old deserted grain elevator. One press man came with a
camera (from a TV station). We left there about 1:30 and started paddling up
the Mission River. The wind was right against us going down the river. We
passed a dredge, a hydro-electric plant, and a pulp mill before entering the
mouth of the river. We stuck by a boom on the way out, then headed towards the
eastern tip of Pie Island. The wind continued to be against us for a while, and
gradually swung around to hit us more broadside. It seemed as if we were going
nowhere. We finally passed the Welcome Islands and seemed to get closer to Pie
Island and the Sleeping Giant. From the tip of Pie Island, we headed over
towards Thunder Point (at the other side of Thunder Bay). All this time the
weather was sunny and cool, and the waves no more than 1-½ feet and choppy.
About 6:00 we reached Thunder Point (there was an unmanned light on the point)
and went a bit farther. But we decided we were too tired to go much farther, so
we went back to the point and set up camp there. It was a grassy and rocky
point. There were the remains of an old house and lighthouse there, and we used
one foundation to set up a fire on. The three tents were set up in the field.
We had a combination lunch-dinner with a beautiful sunset as background. When
that finished and it got darker, a big red harvest moon appeared. It was really
a fantastic ending to a hard day. We paddled about 18 miles that day. We went
to bed at 9:30.
Wednesday,
August 23
Woke up at 8:30. Got out. Paul and Styx had
already gotten a fire going and breakfast started. We had a rather slow
breakfast and cleanup and left camp at 10:15. We paddled across a choppy sea
with long swells. The weather was sunny and hot and the wind south-east. We
paddled across the bay to Trowbridge Island where there was a manned lighthouse
(Harold Horton and Mr. and Mrs. Thompson). They invited us up for coffee, and
we took them up on it. We had coffee, tea, tea biscuits, and talk. They
explained more of the route to us and told other lighthouses about us. We ended
up staying an hour and a half before setting off again. We stayed in the lee of
the Shag Islands and then set out across Black Bay. We were now getting 4 - 4½
foot waves. We stopped about 2:00 at Clark Island (a squarish, bird-splattered
rock island). Set off again at 3:00 or 3:15 for the far shore. We went in front
of Edward Island and behind Porphyry. The waves were again about 4-½ feet high.
We came to Magnet Island and found a fishing camp there about 7:00. We finagled
a place to stay there and started to cook supper on a stove in a cabin with
beds and things. It was great. A good supper, and back to bed about 10:30.
(P.S. The man at Trowbridge said that while Thunder Bay had been rough the day
before, the rest of the lake was pretty calm. He said it was often this way on
Superior.)
Thursday,
August 24
Woke up at 5:45. Started a fire in the
stove and began breakfast. We had the night before’s soup, since we didn’t want
it then, and left-over fruit cocktail. We were slow getting going, but finally
got all the packs done and the cabins swept and cleaned by about 8:00. We were
on the water by 8:15. Stocky and I started in the sterns. We paddled out into a
fairly open bay. It was very difficult sterning, the waves pushed you about so
much. By this time, Stocky had been replaced by John Sparks. We made it through
various islands as far as Black’s Wharf, where we had lunch and a short pit.
Rod and Dave took over the sterns again, because we were paddling across a
large bay. We paddled across to Agate Point and then out to Lamb’s Island. The
wind was pretty well dead against us and some waves must have been a good 5 -
5-½ feet high. At Lamb’s Island, we were met by Charlie MacDonald, the keeper
of the lighthouse there. He invited us in for coffee and we went. He told us the
canoe race had passed him at 3:00 PM after leaving the Lakehead at 4:00 AM. He
also told us of catching 7 lb. speckled trout and 500 lbs. of moose steaks
around his place. He seemed to be a very nice man. He suggested we go to the
west o Moss Island and behind St. Ignace Island, because of the wind (it took
us 3 hours to go the 7 miles from Black’s Wharf to Lamb’s Island). We left his
place at 5:00 or 5:30 and paddled up the channel until 7:30. We stopped at the
signal lights there. Camp was set up and we went to bed at 9:30. The weather
had been cloudy and fairly windy all day. We did about 34 miles.
Friday,
August 25
Woke up at 5:30. Breakfast as usual. The
wind was really strong (about 30 mph, I think) and this gave us some trouble. But
it was with us, so we pushed off about 8:00 and set up sail. We really travelled for a
while. But then it started to rain, with some thunder and lightning. We took the sail
down and stayed under it until the rain finished. We tried sailing again, after the
rain stopped, but it went so slow we paddled instead. Just near the end of the channel,
the wind picked up and we sailed around the corner of the island. then the wind was
against us. We paddled as far as we could, then put in at a wharf, our speed was so slow.
We decided to have a hot meal then and pit until the wind died down.It died down and
appeared to shift for a while, and then picked up again. But about 3:30, it was
quiet enough to go out again. We set off about 3:45 and paddled the rest of St.
Ignace Island. We reached the light on Simpson about 7:30, and decided to stop
there for a lunch-supper. It was a rocky beach—slippery, but nice. A standard lunch,
but with a fire to warm us. The sunset was red and beautiful. There was fog on the
lake, but the water was fairly calm. At 8:30 or 8:45 we set out to cross
Simpson Channel. It rapidly got dark, and we set course by lighthouses. We
wandered all over, aiming for Salter Island, but decided to go for Rossport
instead, since we could follow lights there. It clouded up and began to rain just
as we reached the dock (about 11:30). We got two hotel rooms to stay at (for
$10) and got to bed about 12:30 or so. We were very tired.
Saturday,
August 26
Got up at 9:15. We very slowly straggled
out of bed and got well washed in their washroom with hot water. We ate a breakfast
in the hotel and watched the rain come down. We left for the dock at 11:00, were
packed and away at 11:30, in the rain. We headed north against a north wind. It was
very cloudy and the wind was fairly strong. The water was not deep for a while, but we
got out into the bay. Almost immediately, Purd broke his paddle. The wind was picking
up and from the north.We struggled across the north side to Cat Island and
stayed in the lee of it for a while. We then had to head across the water to the
north shore again. By now, the rain had stopped, but the wind had picked up
quite a bit. The wind was about 35 mph so fast that it took us one hour to do
one mile. We then kept to the shore and paddled around. The sky started to
lighten, but did not clear until 6:00 or so. We paddled as far as we could, and
finally stopped just past Terrace Bay to look for a place to stay. There were
lots of blueberries, but no good campsites. We went into the next bay and there
was a long sand spit there. There was a park put there by Kiwanis Club and a golf course just behind it. We slept near the golf course under a tarp and
cooked our meal in a fireplace as it got darker and darker. We ate in the dark
and went to bed about 10:00. It got really cold, but it was clear and
beautiful.
Sunday,
August 27
Woke up at 6:45; got out of bed and had a
fairly quick breakfast. We dried out a bit (there was a heavy dew) and then packed
up.The sky was clear and the air was cool. We got outside the bay and discovered the wind
was favourable. So we set up a sail and paddled and sailed across Jackfish Bay to
Bottle Point and Pic Island, eventually. This meant crossing Ashburton Bay, which is a
big one. We had a floating lunch while sailing. It was difficult, since we had all
the food in our canoe and had to pass it across on paddles to the other canoe. But at least
we didn’t lose any time. All we lost was Purd’s sweater. We sailed and
sailed-and-paddled until we passed Thompson Island. Then we figured we had better take the sail
down to make a better impression on Marathon. We then paddled across the bay to
Hawkin’s Island, where there was a manned lighthouse (we thought). But we
couldn’t find a dock, so we paddled in to Marathon Harbour. It was impossible
to get close to the small dock because of the chained boom logs, so we pulled
in at the airplane dock for the Marathon Pulp Mill. A security guard for the
mill came by in a truck and offered to take us into town.. There we met Mr.
Earle who said we use his recreation hall for the night. We took him up on it. We
had a good meal and went over to the hall. We played basketball, had a shower and
swam before bed. We finally went to bed about 1:00. We did forty miles that
day.
Monday,
August 28
Woke up at 7:30. Got up and rolled. Had
breakfast at a cafeteria. We phoned the OPP and picked up our food and took it to
the canoes. We had to wait until 11:00 while Pete went to the doctor to see about his
cold, which was pretty bad. So we took our time and slacked around. At 11:00 most of us
went down to pack the canoes.We got this done and sat around until 1:00 or so.
At this point, Mr. Earle drove up with Rod and Pete in the car. We knew that
Rod had to leave because of his job, but we learned then that Pete had
bronchitis and also had to leave. So we were down to eight people. Paul moved
into our canoe, and I took stern for a while. We paddled until about 3:30, and
then had lunch in a beautiful little cove and rocky island near Ogilvy Point.We
left there about 4:30 or 4:45 and headed southeast along the shore. We finally
camped around 7:30 near the Willow River, on a rocky beach. We had to put in
with waves breaking behind us, and most of us got wet getting the canoes in. We
put the tents up on the beach on the gravel and cooked supper as the sun went down.
We went to bed around 10:00 or so. We had only done about 20-25 miles. The wind
was southeast and moderate.
Tuesday,
August 29
Got up about 7:30 or so. Or, at least, all
of us but Styx got up, and had breakfast. We finally pushed off about 9:30 or so. The
weather was clear and fairly calm. We paddled down the shore and made it to just
past Sewell Point. Then the wind started to pick up. We headed for islands there to cut
a pole to sail with, and then headed out again. By this time the wind had
picked up a bit. We went in the lee of a point and put our sail up. We sailed a
while and then found the wind was too strong. As we went to take the sail down,
the mast got caught in the seat and almost swamped us. We broke off and started
paddling again. We made it to an island in Oiseau Bay before we made it to
land. It was almost straight granite and one big rock, almost straight up. We
climbed the rock and tied the canoes (gingerly), and went up for lunch. We had
a fire, and in the lee of the island, so the wind wasn’t too bad. But on top of
the rocks, the wind was strong enough to lean into (it must have been about 35
mph). While we were having lunch, Styx and Purd found a place to beach the
canoes. It was a flat rock ledge not much above the water. We unloaded the
canoes and moved them into here. Then we went further and found tent sites and
moved the packs over there. We couldn’t find a fireplace, so moved the packs
back to the canoes and set up kitchen there. I cooked that meal. We ate and had
a discussion on sex afterwards. Bruce and Andy slept under the canoes. We went
to bed about 9:00. (In the afternoon, Purd had started a talk on the
organization of the trip. We recognized him as the leader and set up a few
rules, ie, that we keep close to the shore and close together.) We only did
about 10-12 miles. The wind continued blowing all evening.
Wednesday,
August 30
We woke up at 5:10 and quickly got the
tents down and the meal made as quickly as possible in the dark. We finally got
away about 8:00 and paddled out into a fairly calm lake. The sky was about ⅕ clouds. We paddled at a good rate for three hours. Then the wind
picked up and we set up sail. We sailed for an hour and it got too rough again.
We set in at the falls below Triangle Harbour and prepared a hot meal of
pancakes. There was an old trapper’s cabin on the beach and an old, very
dilapidated log home. A lot of guys slept the afternoon. Styx and Dave explored
the falls via an old trail. Stocky and I (and later Paul, Dave and Andy)
explored a point of rocks and a cliff. We all pitted out the rest of the day,
until about 6:45, when Purd said it was OK to go on. We wanted to get on past
La Canadienne Point while it was calm.But we struck out into a rolling sea. We
set out at 7:10 and paddled until 8:30. Then the sun set. We put in at
Richardson Harbour at a rocky beach. There was a logging pond about the campsite.
Dave’s canoe went up and put a tent in a meadow. Our canoe set up a tarp shelter
on the beach, with life preservers as cushions. We had a horrible sleep, but
the others slept okay. We had a fire, and soup for supper and went to bed about
10:30. We had only done about 20 miles that day.
Thursday,
August 31
Woke up at 7:30 and “hurried” out of bed.
Had a usual breakfast and packed up. We were on the water by 9:00, and paddled
fairly hard for three hours. The wind picked up, right on schedule, at 11:00.
We raced and paddled hard, but we only did about 10 miles until 12:00, when we
had to put in at a sandy cove. We had our supper there, and discussed the
future of the trip, since only four of us (Dave, Styx, Stocky and I) were the only
one which thought we could go beyond Michipicoten Harbour. We thus only needed
one canoe. We also figured we ere wasting a lot of time on the campsite. Consequently,
the food was re-organized as to meals. We settled down to rest about 3:00 with
plans of going on about 4:30 or so. At 3:45 we decided it was calm enough to go
on, so we packed the canoes and set off. We paddled in a rough sea and with a
sun peeking out from hazy clouds occasionally. About 6:30 we set in at Pilot’s
Harbour and found a cabin there. We set up tents and cooked some pancakes and
talked. To bed about 10:00, after doing about 18 miles or so that day.
Friday,
September 1
Woke up at 5:00. Purd went across the
peninsula to check the waves and decided they were too bad to warrant getting
up that early. So we slept until 6:30. We got up and had a small breakfast,
without porridge. At 8:00 we set out again. But the wind picked up again, and
we had to set in at 10:00. Again we had our hot meal and pitted out completely
on the rock beach. The weather was sunny and fairly warm, so we tanned ourselves.
Stocky, Andy, Jon and I went in swimming and to wash (actually, it was only an
in and out affair). Than we pitted again Around 4:30 or so we decided that it
had calmed down again and we set out again down the lake. As we pulled out, we
were surprised to see a boat at Point Isacor. It turned out to be some
Americans headed for Michipicoten Island to fish. We paddled on, and they
passed us again just as we were getting to Dog Harbour at night. We both turned
into the harbour and set up camp on the sandy beach about 7:30 or so. We did about
10-15 miles that day. Our progress was definitely getting slower, and it looked
then as if we would be pulling out at Wawa.
Saturday,
September 2
Woke up at 7:00. Purd and I set out to make
a quick breakfast. The others didn’t get up for a while and then came out to
have some food. We finally set off about 9:00 and headed for Michipicoten
Harbour. It took us until 1:00 to reach the lighthouse at the harbour, where we
stopped for a while. The wind had shifted to east, and was picking up now,
which slowed us up a bit. Actually, we were only doing 2-3 mph now, which was
really bad. We reached Michipicoten Harbour about 2:00 and pulled the canoes up
and unloaded there. Purd tried phoning the camp to see about replacements, but
was told the phone was disconnected. He then tried Kirk’s place, and everywhere
else he thought of, all to no avail. We decided to go to the Soo for the truck
and pack it in right there. I was selected, and got a ride in a pickup to the
highway. I went to the OPP at Wawa to let them know I was coming to the Soo and
to see about a ride. No deal. I left there about 3:00 and walked for three
miles and two and a half miles until I was picked up by a Hydro man. He drove
me right to the OPP station at the Soo. I walked in, looking very grubby and
asked about the truck. No one knew anything about it. Finally they said I could
take it, but they couldn’t find the keys. They eventually got the key and I
signed a receipt and was free with the truck. I noticed the trailer was missing
and found that it was being welded at the same place as before. I drove over
there and could not get in at all, so I drove back to the OPP. I was lucky in
reaching the after-hours number and the man went and opened the shop so I could
get the trailer. Meanwhile, I had noticed that the engine was very much overheated.
So I put on the trailer and put on the lights. Then I carefully took the rad
cap off. There was a lot of steam given off. I tried filling the rad with a
Coke bottle, but it wasn’t working. So I locked up the shop and drove to a gas
station. The rad took about 3 quarts of water. But the engine cooled right
down. I got on the road about 10:30. I picked up a hitch hiker and the two of
us set off for Wawa. I drove a fair while, and then stopped for coffee. We drove
on and stopped for a rest. This happened once again. I finally got to
Michipicoten about 3:00. Everyone was glad to see me.
Sunday,
September 3
Got the trailer loaded by 5:00. Went out to the
highway for gas and coffee. Finally set out about 5:30. Styx drove to Sudbury,
while most of us slept. I drove from Sudbury to North Bay, where we stopped for
supper. Dave Merryfield pulled in with the other camp truck and canoes. He had
just been up to Outpost to pick them up and was on his way back to camp. He
told us that on his way back to the Sault (from the Lakehead), the whole top part
of the trailer had come off without him realizing it. He had to go back 60 miles
to get it. Consequently, the welding job. He also told us that no one was in
camp, which screwed up a few people who wanted cheques. After supper, Bruce
drove to camp. We got in at 9:00 and unpacked that night to lantern light (we
couldn’t get the power on). Everyone but Stocky, Styx, John and I left that
night for home.
Photos by Bob James
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| Jim (Stocky) Stockbridge |
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| Packed and ready to launch at Mission River |
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| Packed and ready to paddle at Mission River |
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| "Sticks" Macdonald checking map crossing Thunder Bay |
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| Thunder Point campsite |
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| Fishing camp on Magnet Isle |
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| Day 2. Lunch spot |
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| Day 2. Lunch |
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| Day 3. Under tarp sail |
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| Camp below Terrace Bay |
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| Near Marathon |
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| Crossing the bay at Marathon |
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| Marathon Pulp Mill seaplane dock |
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| Nor'wester crew at Marathon |
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| First lunch break past Marathon |
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| Oiseau Bay at sunrise |
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| Four per canoe after Marathon |
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| Falls by Otter Head |
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| Otter Head Bay |
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| La Canadienne Pointe |
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| Wind shelter on a long sandy beach for map check |
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| Point Isacor |
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| Sundown at Point Isacor |
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| Micipicoten Harbour at end of trip |
