By Ray Goodwin

Photos:
Ray Goodwin

The Bloodvein is a classic river of the Canadian Shield flowing westward from Ontario into Lake Winnipeg. The rocks it flows through are amongst the oldest on earth but have been ground low by numerous ice ages, giving a relatively low relief. No grand mountains or deep canyons here. Some 10,000 years ago the gigantic Lake Agassiz formed over the entire area, its water dammed by the retreating ice sheets to the north.

On February 13th, Ray was awarded the MBE for his services to canoeing, at Buckingham Palace. Here’s Ray pictured in his finest with family, Maya and Lina.

Ray Goodwin’s Episodes from three trips on the… bloodvein

It is only in the last 8,000 years that this area of low lying bog, forests and lakes took on its current shape. I have now paddled the Bloodvein three times. It has been an ideal trip to do with clients but more importantly, I have learned as I have explored its moods, storms and differing water levels.

Trip one

The flight in

For months Lina had spoken of little else but starting by plane. No mention of the river or lake; It was all about her first floatplane trip. At the floatplane base on Red Lake bad news awaited us: the cloud base was far too low to fly as the 55-mile flight to Artery Lake had to cross a ridge. We got sorted and weighed both the gear and ourselves in readiness for any clearance. Late in the day we were in with a chance and so our spirits lifted, but we could not cross the ridge.

Our pilot was much younger than the Norseman he was flying (not unusual with these northern flying workhorses). Our only chance of getting out that day was to follow the circuit of lakes that swung around the ridge. It was a bit hit-or-miss and if the cloud dropped we would have to turn back. The take-off was the usual floatplane smooth transition from water to sky. Soon the novelty wore off for Lina and the incessant rhythmic droning of the aircraft had her asleep with her head on my shoulder in minutes. So much for the excitement! We flew just below the clouds through the occasional curtain of rain. Both the pilot and myself were following the route on our maps.

Lina woke up before we landed and watched in wonder and amazement. We arrived over Artery Lake and a quick fly-through located a possible campsite and so we checked out the landing area for obstructions. Within minutes we were ashore and unloading; the pilot wanted out of there quickly before the weather closed down.

The Norseman taxied away down the lake. The sound of high revs accompanied the plane as it came back in view while lifting into the air. Shortly after, it returned for one last fly-by and then it was gone. The transition from town to wilderness was abrupt. I looked around at the others. They stood in silence suddenly aware that we were totally alone and committed.

An early start allowed us to make the excursion to the pictograph site at the eastern end of Artery. Typically they were positioned on a steep rock wall overlooking the water. For the natives it seemed to mark an important junction between various worlds. Amongst other things they show a shaman with a radiating power line coming from the head and holding an otter pelt medicine bag. Below the shaman is a well-manned canoe.

We were already short on time and we had lost a whole day waiting for the weather to clear. On later trips we allocated a total of 14 days to paddle, portage and line our way down the 80 or so rapids and falls on this trip. On this one we had nine, this was to have consequences later in the trip.

Trip two

A storm on Lower Artery Lake

Yet again we had been delayed on the flight in and a day was lost but the lesson had been learnt and there was plenty of slack in the system. On the first day of paddling cumulonimbus clouds began forming and we could see great sheets of rain falling in the distance. Crossing Lower Artery Lake one of these great squalls headed straight towards us.

As the wind rushed across the lake we went from placid so a howling Force 6. Waves rose out of nowhere and I yelled to my bow paddler to keep the nose into the waves and we battled it out. I looked left and right and the others were doing the same. It lasted for five minutes or so but felt much longer. The waves died away and we resumed the crossing. Not a photo had been taken or a GoPro turned on, it had been all hands to paddles.

Trip three

Contrasting nights

This trip had started in a heat wave and become increasingly hot and humid, it was brewing up a storm. On the day it became obvious as we set up camp with tents and tarps. As usual we cooked on a wood fire and as we ate, it became darker and the first distant cracks and rumbles started. The wind picked up and an elemental storm crashed around us.

We could see strikes in the trees just up river. Water lashed down off the tarps in streams. Flash and crack became simultaneous. Several times I jumped in alarm but there was no shame because the others were reacting just the same. Eventually it was to pass over and die away for that night but it was not finished yet. The next night it returned with equal vigour and I lay in my tent as an angry orange glow filled the sky above. The trees stood out in silhouette beating an angry time to the thunder.

The air was cleared and the weather became kinder. Some days later we were camped high above the river when we noticed a faint glow on the northern horizon. As it grew darker, the green light shimmied and danced into being – the Aurora Borealis was putting on a spectacular display. Great curtains of light danced around us until all of us were too tired to stay up for more. The contrast between the nights of storm and the colourful display above and yet the awe was just the same.

Trip one

A gentle start to the day

I lay snug in my sleeping bag; it was barely light. Other than Lina’s gentle breathing, only the long rising call of the loon broke the stillness of morning. Quietly I stuck an arm out from my warm cocoon and unzipped the tent. The ground was covered with a fine dew and the countless sparkling spiders’ webs gave everything a fairy charm. The river was glassy still, with a perfect reflection of trees and sun; even the previous night’s beaver was not to be seen. The sun was just visible through the mist – it was going to burn through.

I shook Lina awake. This was an opportunity par excellence; we would dance in the sun’s reflection. A loon wailed sending a shiver down my spine – or was that the chill of morning? I woke Steve and Mike; this was not to be missed. The beauty and stillness brought out the best paddling in us. Even water dripping from the blade seemed noisy. I kept my blade deep and silent as I swung the canoe from c-stroke to Indian to hanging draw. I lost myself into the dance.

The crack of tinder being broken sounded across the water was followed by the first waft of wood smoke. Coffee and pancakes would be soon on the way. It was going to be a good day.

Trip one

A colossal mistake

Rain had been falling for days and the river had risen quickly. Rapids that were Grade 2 had become 4 and monsters at that! Portages became bigger and we were even lining the boats down a portage trail at one point. I was the guide and I was under pressure. We had an agreed finish date and air tickets booked. This is a bad pressure in the wilderness and begins to affect the decision making.

We looked at yet one more monster with huge whirl pools and boils. It wasn’t possible to line and the portage looked horrendous and time consuming. But there was a line running a hard diagonal to hit the eddy on river right. It was guarded by a large wave but it was possible and Lina and I were paddling well. We would run our boat through and then return to paddle the second. Mike and Steve were definitely not paddling it.

I went to get in our boat but had a moment of doubt and walked down for a second look. The diagonal run was key but there were no waves or ripples on the surface to mark the start of it.

The water above the rapid was fast and flat and offered no view of the route, I had to guess our path. As we came over the lip I knew our line was wrong. A smaller wave threw the bow left and I could not correct the angle and the diagonal wave threw us left towards the main rapid. As we took on water I yelled for Lina not to crossdeck, we needed to stay up as long as possible.

A massive area of folds and boils sucked us down. I lost contact with the boat and it became a deep long ‘swim’; It went dark around me before the light turned to green. The surface did not get any closer for all my effort. I remember thinking I needed to buy a bigger buoyancy aid!

Eventually I came up for a gulp of air before another, but briefer, down time. This next time I was up for good, but I was out of air and energy and frankly quite freaked. It took a minute or so of air and calming before I could look around me and assess the situation. Steve was running down the right shore and the canoe was against the rocks. Lina was out and safe on the left shore. I swam right and, as soon as I could get my breath, set off up the bank to assist Steve.

By the time I got there the canoe was gone – it had re-circulated up the eddy and back into the main rapid. The canoe had swung into the massive eddy river left below the rapid, and was gently turning in the centre of this. The situation was stable. Steve and Mike were going to paddle back upstream from above the rapid and then cross to river left before portaging. This was going to take a long time so I made the decision to swim the river to the left bank. It was flat and relatively slow. I could do that safely and then judge if I could swim out for the canoe in this relatively gentle eddy.

The swim was slow but no problem. Having made it to the other side, I then came back up the bank to the eddy. Another swim reconnected me with the canoe. I found it impossible to flip the canoe upright until I attached a tape and went to the other side to pull it over. I remounted and paddled ashore, chastised and rueing my miss on the line. No gear was damaged or lost; only my pride had taken a hammering. Once we were sorted Lina, bless her, offered to give the rapid another go. My ‘no’ was emphatic!

Trip three

A fitting finish

Water was higher than the previous year and so many rapids that we had lined became really fun paddles. At all times the criterion for running stuff was a low risk to boat and person. A boat wrapped around a rock would leave us with just two craft and six people, necessitating a satellite call to the outfitter to see if another canoe could be flown in. We often did not bother to lash kit down into the canoe. Most rapids ran straight out into still or slow-moving water, so boat and gear could be easily retrieved in the event of an upset.

Just before reaching Bloodvein village and Lake Winnipeg an all-season road now crosses the river. Most groups finish here but it lacks a sense of completion and we travelled on to the lake. Standing on a glacier smoothed rock with Lake Winnipeg beyond is a more fitting end. A quiet paddle back to the take-out begins that journey back to another world. 

Information

• Ray runs a whole series of canoe trips including in Canada with the award winning Frontier Bushcraft: frontierbushcraft.com
• In addition Ray offers coaching and guiding through his own business www.RayGoodwin.com
• He is the author of highly regarded techniques book,‘Canoeing’