Oh, Canada

Almost 25 years ago now I went on a 3 week canoe trip through the wilds of Canada. It started about 200 miles north of Winnipeg, and we covered about 300 miles along the Manitoba/Ontario border. Nothing is up there... nothing... save the occasional hunting lodge about ever 40 miles or so. No roads. The hunters get there by pontoon boat, and that's how we got to the starting point, too.

We'd do about 20 miles a day on average. This is the only thing I didn't like about the trip; it was too fast-paced, like we were in the army or something, or we were trying to set some speed record. I'd much have preferred to take a leisurely pace, to enjoy the scenery. However, we did have to get to point B by a certain date to meet up with the other three groups (our main group of about 24 was broken into 4 groups of two canoes each and three people per canoe), and we had to get to site C by a certain date to get care packages that were flown in on that date, etc. But still. It was a relentless pace that required us to get up around 4:30 or 5am in order to be on the water by 6:30 or 7 (and getting up before the sun had risen guaranteed that our socks from the previous day were still soaking wet. Nothing is worse than having to put wet socks on in the morning, but we even got used to this), when we'd paddle five hours until lunch. An hour for lunch, then four or five more hours of paddling until we get to where we'd camp for the night.

"Paddling" is a misnomer, because of course not all that time we were "paddling". About half the time we were portaging... carrying canoe and supplies from one river/lake/waterway to another. Now, I had heard of portaging, but had made a couple of incorrect assumptions:

1. That the portages were short, like 50 feet, basically carrying the stuff around a rapids or waterfall or something, and

2. That two people carried the canoe.

I was wrong.

These little jaunts through mosquito-infested woods would average about half a mile, but were often two or three miles long. This may not seem like anything to those who walk a couple of blocks in the city to get your espresso and morning paper, but over rough terrain with rocky craigs, carrying either a 100 pound pack on your back with your paddle in one hand, a tent in another, OR carrying the damned canoe all by yourself balanced upon your shoulders, in 80 or 90 degree heat, being bit by mosquitoes relentlessly, often through literally two feet deep mud "paths"... it was hard.

Then, when you finally reached the next river you didn't get to rest. Oh no. We had a pace to keep up after all. No, it was back in the canoe and more paddling. The lucky one was the guy who got to sit in garbage (the middle place in the canoe between the stern and front paddlers) after a long hot portage. The garbage was responsible for navigation, of course, but that beat pounding the water.

It was beautiful scenery. Here's an example of what we saw after finishing a particularly long portage. See? Very nice. However, we couldn't really stop and look and take it all in. Instead we had to take a picture and then be on our way. What you don't see, however, is the sweat caked with dirt and dry grass that covered us here. You can't feel the mosquitoes still biting, and you can't feel the aching muscles in your legs and back. You can't feel the overpowering thirst that you can't quench until you've placed everything in the river and started paddling for a bit (at which point the garbage would simply dip a cup in the river and drink... the water was cold and the best tasting stuff I'd ever drank. Those paddling couldn't stop to use a cup, but we were taught how, after completing a paddle stroke, to quickly move the blade of the paddle to our mouths, allowing the water still on the blade to run off into our mouths... quickly, without breaking the stroke rhythm that much... before plunging the blade back into the water to continue propelling the canoe forward.

Our meals were actually very good. We'd spent the weeks before the trip preparing the food... bagging, etc. For example, Fred (my cousin, and the guy who has been doing these trips with his students for almost 30 years now) would buy brownie mix... regular Pillsbury mix, not some special camping thing... and open the box dumping the powder in a plastic bag, along with the cut-out directions. This would be tied with string, then placed in another bag, which was also tied with string. Before tying each bag we'd suck the air out of them. We did this with pudding mixes, brownies, cakes, etc. I wondered why so many desserts, but on the trail we really craved these. He knew what he was doing.

We also had some powdered eggs, powdered tomato sauce, about 6 cans of bacon, and a bunch of dehydrated stuff that he dried himself: peach pieces, ham, beef, etc, along with raisins. Then we also had plain flour and baking soda and baking powder and sugar, pasta, dried cheese... so on the trail we could actually make pizzas, or peach cobbler... whatever... using this thing that basically converted a fire to an oven. We'd pick as much fresh fruit, mainly blueberries, as we could along the way, and use this in pancakes or added to biscuits or muffins.

Lunch was always the same: "monk bread" spread with peanut butter and jelly, along with Kool-aide made with water from the lake (the kool-aid had all been pre-done prior: sugar and powder added to plastic bag; see above) and a piece of chocolate. Monk bread was sort of like this home-made granola bar that was made with oats, etc, and formed in empty paper quart milk containers. I didn't like the sounds of it, but it tasted good midday. Again, Fred knew what our bodies would crave.

All this food along with the fish we'd catch (Walleye, Northern Pike, etc) meant we ate very well. In fact I think I gained about 15 - 20 pounds on the trip, from the eating and from building muscle.

I took a lot of pictures (we all had cameras), but they're all in slide format. Yesterday I got a couple of them made into prints when I was working on an unrelated photo/video project, but I need to do all of them eventually. Until then I'll share a couple of my favorites. One is the above pic of one of the ends of a long portage. The other is a photo of my hiking boots. These are my boots after the trip. They were brand new before the trip (though I spent about a week walking all over with them to break them in). However, after probably 100 miles of hiking not to mention the constant walking through knee-deep water that we did really took its toll on them. I've black and whited the photo because I think it looks better. Someday I'll blow it up and hang it over the fireplace in my oak-walled study and gaze upon it whilst smoking a meerschaum pipe...