Words: Martin Trahan
Instagram: martin_trahan_canoeist

Photos: Yan Kaczynski
Ryan Heck
Jessyca Viens Gaboriau

Coursing through America

I’m an adventurer and long-distance canoeist who took part in the historical Royal Canadian Geographical Society Canada expedition of the year 2015 ‘Les chemins de l’or bleu’ (The blue gold paths). This expedition started on April 25th, 2015 in the icy waters of Lake of Two Mountains, Montreal and ended 7,000 kilometres – 4,400 miles away on October 16th, 2015 (175 days) along the coast of the Mackenzie River in Inuvik in the Arctic Circle.

From May 19th to July 27th 2016 (70 days), I was part of the ‘Pull of the North’ expedition, that paddled the Yukon River – 3,200 kilometres (2,000 miles) from Lake Bennett (British-Columbia, Canada) to its mouth in the Bering Sea (Alaska). The team was filming a documentary telling the story of the many native cultures and tribal communities that still live along the river and how the modern world and shifting environment was changing their traditional ways of living on the Yukon River.

Then from April 28th to November 4th, 2018, I paddled in a Nova Craft canoe across America; from the Pacific Ocean in Astoria (Oregon) to the Atlantic Ocean at the tip of Florida in Key Largo. An amazing way to discover a country and its people by its waterways. I canoed with different teammates during the adventure and by myself for part of the Gulf of Mexico.

As you can imagine, this trip took a gruelling 191 days to complete the 7,500 kms/4,700 miles from coast to coast. Inspired by Verlen Kruger, Bill Mason and Frank Wolf, this adventure took me across America’s natural waters to pursue my dream of discovery, understanding and consciousness of the world around me. This incredible seven-month journey empowered me to engage in a close relationship with nature while retracing the legendary explorations of many historical voyageurs such as Lewis and Clark, Louis Jolliet, Jacques Marquette as well as following the traces of America’s First Nations.

Two days before the beginning of the expedition, I felt particularly soothed to have passed American customs. During the long 90-minute interview with the customs officer, I began to fear I would be denied access, that all those hours and money invested in this project would be lost forever. For 90 minutes, a stranger held my dream in his hands and had the power to make or break it. I asked to be in the US for seven months, they allowed me to stay six. A few minutes later, my decision was already made, I’d find a way to finish the expedition in six months.

It was with a light heart and with great excitement that I went on this adventure. As far as I’m concerned, day one was the nicest day of each of my past expeditions. It was the culmination of a lot of work, sacrifices and a dream coming true.

This memorable expedition began on the shores of the Pacific Ocean in Oregon. We were then forced to fight the current by paddling upstream on the Columbia River for nearly 315 miles. We had to portage our first four large hydroelectric dams before reaching the city of Burbank in the state of Washington.

The first seven days on the Columbia River were a challenge and brought me back to earth. Canoeing upstream during spring flood, fighting the tide that was too often in the middle of the day, facing a strong daily wind, and dealing with a lack of campsites because the water level was higher than normal – these were all factors that led me to realize that I had really underestimated the power of this river. I do not remember paddling so hard for so long. We managed to make 35-40 km per day. We were lucky that it was not raining. I was feeling pain; my hands were full of blisters. The Columbia River Gorge is known for its beauty. The lush forest and the sublime mountains made me want to stay there forever.

On day 12, around 18:00, we started looking for a place to camp on the Columbia River. The water level was eight feet higher than usual, there was no more beach, only the tall grass to welcome us. We removed the equipment from the boat and climbed up to a higher place on the banks. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling, overwhelmed by anxiety.

venomous rattlesnake

I asked my teammate to stop making noise, she couldn’t hear me. I reformulated my request with more vigour, a little more loudly. I was standing on some small tree trunks where I was able to clearly hear a venomous rattlesnake. I took a split second to try to locate it, another fraction to realize that I was walking on it! I stepped aside, a little panicked. I carefully examined my ankles and calves, no trace of bites. That day, my time had not come. I saw death closely; it was really an ugly feeling.

On day 14, the now arid climate changed the scenery and showed us mountainous and desert landscapes that were spectacular and of great beauty. The green vegetation had given way to land composed of cacti. I thought I was in a western movie.

We then canoed upstream and explored the magnificent Snake River for about 140 miles. This river, filled with history, is situated in a semi-arid climate. Snake River offered spectacular panoramas for us. These views were a small reprieve from the rough and rugged nomad life we lived while on the river. After portaging four more hydroelectric dams, we continued to navigate our canoe to the town of Lewiston in the state of Idaho.

Rocky Mountains

Between Lewiston, Idaho and Helena, Montana, we were challenged with a 375-mile portage through the Rockies. We had to overcome muscular pains and continued our sustained effort to cross this harrowing portage. We had the opportunity to be amazed by the enchanting setting surrounded by mountains and the Lochsa River. During this leg of the trip, the use of a canoe cart allowed us to admire these landscapes while saving our energy. When we lost the shoulder on highway 12, we decided it was safer to get a ride until the shoulder came back further. We were not feeling comfortable with the idea that the people welcoming us in their country were putting their lives in danger to avoid us.

Before embarking on this long walk, I visited the Nimiipuu (Nez Perce) First Nations community to ask permission to walk on their lands. Then, one of the great wise men of the place came to meet us for the traditional prayer to protect us during our long pilgrimage through the mountains.

My initial plan was to portage using bikes with a trailer cart for the canoe and equipment. However, I had no experience in such mountainous areas and I realized that it would not be safe with such a heavy load. Plus, I thought there was something romantic about walking the Continental Divide. The long hours on the road allowed me to meditate.

A two-day stop in Lewiston, Idaho allowed us to rest, but also to see the story of our adventure presented on television and in their local newspaper. We instantly became celebrities for the people of the area. We then began our 600 km (375-mile) portage over the Continental Divide. Every three cars, one passed by with a hint of encouragement waving, others stopped to have their picture taken with us or to contribute in their own way by giving us money. It gave us lots of energy and despite the intense pain in our calves and feet, we were able to keep walking.

This endless 20-day walk through the Rockies made me realize I was not sharp. When I put my 75-pound bag on my back on the first day and started pushing the canoe full of equipment, I doubted. I doubted because I am not an athlete and apart from hiking one or two mountains a year, I don’t consider myself a hiker!

We were welcomed by landscapes of great beauty in Idaho and Montana. Limpid and agitated rivers were fed by the effervescence of spring. Mountains as far as the eye can see, many with snow-capped peaks. We met lots of cowboys – it was epic!

atrocious weather

This long ascent in the mountains has been the biggest physical challenge since birth. Something interesting happened. I was in control, I felt strong and I walked, walked and walked. The day before reaching the summit, it hailed and snowed, the weather conditions were atrocious, my frozen hands were struggling to push the boat.

Spring not only brings warm weather, but it also attracts grizzlies out of their homes to hunt and fish. Once in Montana, we were on a constant watch for black bears and grizzlies. The delicate fabric of the Exped tent offered a modest feeling of security from the outside dangers. We didn’t see any bears but probably some of them saw us.

We then navigated the mythical Missouri River for nearly 2,250 miles. Finally having the benefit of the current, we were pushed downstream. This allowed us to cover more mileage each day as we got closer to our end goal. During our longest day, we covered 163 km (101 miles). During this stretch of the river, many First Nation communities were situated near the Missouri River and we were willing to learn more about their way of life in hopes of expanding our understanding of different cultures and environments. For over 12,000 years, First Nations have depended on the Missouri River and its tributaries as a source of sustenance and transportation.

Portaging the 14 hydroelectric dams that accompany this river put our endurance to the test. Some amazing and generous people offered their help and they became part of our trip. The valley of the lower Missouri brought violent storms and one tornado. It was the time of the year when tornadoes were most active in the U.S., especially in Montana, North Dakota and South Dakota. Many huge thunderstorms just missed us which was not the case for some paddlers in front of us. High winds, heavy rain, hail, lightning, broken tents…

Once we reached the city of St. Louis, we enjoyed a well-deserved, yet short, three-day break. After returning from our reprieve, the initial plan was to continue to journey along the Ohio, Tennessee and Tombigbee rivers for nearly 750 miles to Mobile Bay in the Gulf of Mexico.

After a long discussion with experienced paddlers from America, I decided to change my mind and paddled a different route, which would be the Mississippi River until the city of New Orleans in Louisiana. I had a wonderful time on this beautiful river where it was possible to sleep on a huge beach each night. Surprisingly, it was really easy to navigate and share the river with tow boats and barges.

After months of daring and determined paddling, we finally made it to the Gulf of Mexico while paddling the Atchafalaya River. It is where my friends Jim Emmanuel (retired firefighter from Montana) and Park Neff (Baptist Pastor from Mississippi State) ended their trip. Here, I didn’t stop, but continued on my own for the last and final leg of my magnificent adventure. The immensity and beauty of the Gulf of Mexico was contemplated amid every stroke and every mile I paddled. I allowed myself to be carried by the poetry of the sunsets which was followed by star-studded skies. I then had to be vigilant and cautious of shark, snake, spider, alligator, crocodile, boar and tick bites. The hurricane season was at its peak and I had to respect the power of Mother Nature.

On October 10th, I was in Panama City (Florida) when class 5 Hurricane Michael, one of the biggest hurricanes of all time in America, attained peak winds of 250km/h as it made landfall. For 15 minutes, I thought I would die, it was so scary. It was a total disaster with many people dying and many losing everything. The day after, it was a really sad feeling to wake up and realize it was not a dream. I’d like to thank the Erdman family that drove 90 minutes to pick me up in Apalachicola and brought me back to their house two days before the hurricane hit.

Their generosity and hospitality probably saved my life. Since the beginning of this expedition on April 28th, Americans had been amazing, welcoming, nice and so generous. I had an opportunity to give back to them and decided to stay for 10 days to help. It was not easy to get back in my canoe. It took me some time before realizing I was dealing with a PTSD. Pretty much at the same time, I also realized I had a shark phobia and I saw many of them coming close to my canoe. I was not feeling brave at all.

On November 4th 2018 at 9:13 am, this epic journey ended on the shores of the Florida Keys in Key Largo after paddling the Everglades with my teammate Scott Hite. There could not be a more heavenly and peaceful place to celebrate the end of the adventure of a lifetime, 4,700 miles away from where it all began seven months ago. After a few days of rest and luxuriance, I returned to where I came from in Montreal, Canada with my head filled with stories, images and memories engraved on my heart.

conclusion

With the conclusion of the Coursing Through America adventure, an important page of my life had turned. A page on which I lingered for months to draw the lines of the project that I dreamt about. The return home, meanwhile, had given way to a long period of recovery. A considerable exercise in reintegrating routine life was waiting for me, while I was psychologically exhausted and my thoughts were still tinged with this epic adventure.

I get closer to happiness one adventure at a time. For me, canoeing is relaxing, dreaming, taking my time, admiring what the most beautiful fauna and flora have to show me. To cross a country, which is not mine led me to have to adapt to new realities. Mother Nature can be very gentle, but it is also able to get angry, you have to know how to respect it. The United States of America has offered me breathtaking and diverse landscapes: oceans, gulf, rivers, lakes, beaches, mountains, deserts, plains and bayous.

The many encounters with its people were rich and valuable. They were extraordinarily kind and extremely generous. They welcomed me to their country with great hospitality, treating me as if I were part of their family. The memories related to these river angels will forever be engraved in my memory. All this gives me faith in humanity.

I planned this expedition and dreamt about it for over 18 months. Without my sponsors, the river angels, the Americans, the people who paddled with me and my family, this dream adventure would not have been possible.

NRS, MEC, Exped, Nova Craft, North Water, Granite Gear, Fjallraven, Good To Go, Bending Branches, Lowa, Jetboil, Osprey, Powerfilm, Rheos, Ropes&Wood were sought because of their commitment to making high quality performance equipment capable of enduring the rigours of our expedition. I would like to say a big thank you for their support and generosity. Coursing through America is deeply grateful for their help in the project.

“Too few people allow themselves to go on an adventure. But those who do… know how beneficial the experience is. Extended time on the water unconnected from day to day stress, sleeping on the beach where you pulled in after a day of paddling, that sense of river time has a way of changing us for the better.” Dave Shively.

Post-expedition depression

I was not there at all last winter. I was sad, and I missed life on the water. After my adventure, I had the impression of returning to a world that did not look like me. It’s as if my life on the edge, by canoe, has become my real environment. Besides, I often say that I get closer to happiness one adventure at a time.

There are people who will call it post-expedition blues. I rather think that the real term, to assume, is post-expedition depression. When we talk about it, we see the appearance of some people change. It’s rare to brag and say, “Hey, do you know what, I’m in a depression, things are not okay.” With social media, we try to show ourselves in the best light. I do not want to project the image of a superman or a hero.

So this year, I accepted the inevitability of post-expedition depression. I hid it for a long time from myself. Many adventurers experience this, but it’s taboo. Stigma. They do not talk about it, they keep it to themselves; maybe they fear how it will look to others.

Adventurers are perceived as people who are brave, courageous, unshakable, strong, and who take on insurmountable challenges. After my first expeditions, I returned fitting in a little bit more into that mould and I tried to project that image. Finally, I realized that I was not like that.

euphoria and exhaustion

When I finish an expedition, I am always divided between the euphoria of having achieved my goal and the exhaustion. The question I am often asked is: “What’s next? What’s your next epic trip?” But, in fact, the adventure that I just lived is not over yet. The return home is part of it and it is, for me, the most difficult part. It is much more complicated to manage than planning, storms, or conflicts with teammates. It’s a kind of empty feeling.

The winter has been long, grey, and cold in Montreal. I felt good alone. I did not expect others to understand what I was going through. Friends are fine and they want to help, but I have the impression that they do not understand all the darkness that can inhabit us. It’s even more than that, it’s a form of sadness that is inexplicable. I’ve asked myself several times this winter, “Martin, what’s wrong? You came home, you found the people you love, you have the comfort of your bed and good food.”

But when you spend so much time in a canoe, in a tent, and the forest is your home, it becomes your identity.

Martin the canoeist

Before, I was Martin the friend, the social worker, but now, I’ve become Martin the canoeist and the adventurer. It is a lifestyle so different that it is necessary to have a period of adaptation during the return.

I know that this recovery period will always accompany my future expeditions and this will be the hardest part. By knowing it, it allows me to accept it.

I did not only have post-expedition depression as a result of my crossing the United States from the Pacific to the Atlantic. I also faced Hurricane Michael in Panama City, Florida, which resulted in post-traumatic stress disorder.

Without exaggerating, this is the first time I accepted, for 15 minutes, that my life was going to end. I was totally helpless in the face of Mother Nature’s omnipotence. I should have ended my expedition right after the hurricane, but maybe as a question of ego, I went back on the water. I was a zombie. I went into survival mode.

When I returned home after the expedition, I thought I was equipped and well-supported to deal with the situation, but that was a mistake. I remember a day when there was a strong wind. I got out of my car to go shopping, but my reflex was to get back in immediately. I said to myself, “Relax, Martin, you’re in Quebec, there’s no danger, you’re experiencing hurricane post-trauma.”

I also woke up in night sweats during the first nights in Quebec. I felt like there was a hurricane and sharks in my bed. As a result of the hurricane, when I went back to paddling in the Gulf of Mexico there were actually sharks everywhere. I quickly realised that I had a phobia.

The way I managed my depression and my post-traumatic stress was to launch myself thoroughly into my job. I think I did up to 400 hours overtime. It was a way of hiding and not coping with what I was going through.

I thought I would let the dust settle during the winter knowing that I should then look for help with that. I want to make sure I’m on the right track now.

Direction Russia

Through the emptiness I felt last winter, I understood two things: I became dependent on the way of life of an expeditioner, and secondly, I feel good when I am consumed by a project. Twelve months ago, I said I was too old for big expeditions and I was going to hang up my paddle. However, spring 2019 arrived, the snow had melted, the rivers were free of ice and my energy had returned.

Chase the natural and it comes back at a gallop. I went back to dreaming and, after some research, I decided to embark on a new adventure.

I will cross Russia in 2022 and travel 4,000 km in 130 days. We will start at the border of Mongolia, on the Selenge River, which will bring us to Lake Baikal. After that, we take the Angara River, which, a little further north, joins the Yenisei River. We will end up in the Kara Sea, in the Arctic Ocean.

Russia has always intrigued me with its grandeur, and allows me to plan a long expedition. Not only is it the crossing of Russia, but I will get to experience the Siberia that we hear about in our history books and in films. It is one of the most remote places in Russia and indeed, the planet.

There is no better way to discover a country than to follow the waterways. Adventures make it possible to have magical encounters. They also allow me to feel as alive as ever.