Craig (Sticks) Macdonald's Memories of the Lake Superior Centennial Canoe Voyages 1967 & 1969

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

Jim (Stocky) Stockbridge

Packed and ready to launch at Mission River

Packed and ready to paddle at Mission River

"Sticks" Macdonald checking map crossing Thunder Bay

Thunder Point campsite

Fishing camp on Magnet Isle

Day 2. Lunch spot

Day 2. Lunch

Day 3. Under tarp sail

Camp below Terrace Bay

Near Marathon

Crossing the bay at Marathon

Marathon Pulp Mill seaplane dock

Nor'wester crew at Marathon

First lunch break past Marathon

Oiseau Bay at sunrise

Four per canoe after Marathon

Falls by Otter Head

Otter Head Bay

La Canadienne Pointe

Wind shelter on a long sandy beach for map check

Point Isacor

Sundown at Point Isacor

Micipicoten Harbour at end of trip