THANKS TO:

NRS and Freebird Paddles.
Ray Goodwin’s website:
www.RayGoodwin.com
YouTube Channel:
www.youtube.com/c/
RayGoodwinCanoe

Frontier Bushcraft
https://frontierbushcraft.com

Although this is my last working trip in Canada, Paul Kirtley and Frontier Bushcraft are still running canoe trips out there. I will still work on Frontier’s Expedition Skills courses on Windermere and their fantastic Spey descents. I am not finished yet. 

Ray Goodwin’s Porcupine River (part one)

Everything was going well. Paul and I had a fully booked trip to the Missinaibi and the Porcupine the year after, but then Covid intervened. Many of us had a hard time, and both trips had to be rescheduled. But in the meantime, my knees had deteriorated with osteoarthritis after 50 years in the business, hardly surprising, and a heart problem had been diagnosed.

Post-COVID, we ran the Missinaibi, and to be honest, I found the portages hard, and I had done the trip many times before. Age and ailments were catching up. I shared my thoughts with Paul, and he encouraged me to do one more, the remote Porcupine River in Saskatchewan. ‘Go out with a big one’ was his thought. I would be seventy, so I better make it a good one.

It was Paul Kirtley’s idea to paddle the Porcupine, which had been recommended to him at the first Global Bushcraft Symposium. Several folk had said it was their favourite river in Saskatchewan for its remoteness, the quality of its white water, the scenery and that so few paddled it. It was to be a float plane at the start and the finish. Paul was keen for me to do the trip, but we would take an extra member of staff, Henry, to help cover for me physically.

We flew from Saskatoon to Points North in a scheduled twin prop plane. Points North is a supply base for the mining industry, with basic accommodation for those working there. The storage sheds, accommodation, office, and canteen were at the end of the runway. The outfitter joined us to drop off the canoes and food. We would be on the river for 12 days, so the food barrels mounted up.

“This ‘Land of Little Sticks’ will always surprise you around the next corner, whether with a perfect crescent beach, a massive rockslide, or the quintessential Taiga. Time seems to have stood still here: it is a world apart from all that we are used to.” Laurel Archer, Northern Saskatchewan Canoe Trips (guidebook).

The floatplane
The next day, the floatplane arrived. A turbocharged single-engine Otter, a heavy lifter amongst bush planes. One of the team queried about the amount we were loading, and the pilot just smiled and said it was an Otter. We were going in two journeys but had five canoes to transport with only two canoe shapes allowed externally due to drag. The solution was easy: strip one canoe’s hull and fit another canoe inside of it. Three canoes and part of the crew went in on the first trip. The rest and I went back inside for lunch.
The cloud was low, and the wind was gusting around force 5, so it was a turbulent flight.

On his return, the pilot informed us that three folk had vomited on the first flight. Keith got to sit up front and even steer the plane across the lake, thankfully not being allowed near the controls once in flight (sorry, Keith, but…). I was used to the sedate nature of float planes, so it can be a bit of a shock to be bounced around as we flew into Selwyn Lake. None on our flight were sick, but with the smell of aviation fuel, it was a surprise.

Lunch was ready, and the gutted canoe reassembled by the time we joined the others and soon sorted on our way across a windy lake. The floatplane did not hang around and was soon on its way. The engine noise faded away, and we were on our own. We were not to see another human until we were picked up at the end of the trip.

Camp spot
A short paddle into a strong headwind, and we were at a camp spot. Paul and Henry explored the woods to find a bare rock plateau and deep lichen to pitch tents on. It looked barely used, although on the map, as a camp. This was an indicator of how few people paddled this route. The trees and forest floor were typical of the Taiga, the transitional forest between the boreal forest to the south and the tundra to the north.

The next day, we set off down a series of grade one and two rapids. It was bouncy, and although there were some big waves and rocks, it was generally easy to manoeuvre. Dave and I were generally the lead boat and would scout from on the water. There was not much choice on that because, in most places, the forest came right down to the edge of the river. This was to cause a few problems on the trip.

Limited experience
The second problem was that my paddling partner, David, had limited experience on white water and certainly not at this speed or volume. I had to spot things ahead of us and shout instructions. Not ideal. But David was superb on the land, working hard to look after me and my ageing body, carrying far more than me on the portages. The river was a pool drop, so almost all the rapids ran out into easy water.

Tim and Anouk were highly experienced sea kayakers and were quickly adapting to the river environment. Bert and Keith were well-matched and just needed to mesh. Henry paddled with his mate John. John was a very inexperienced canoeist but a fantastic outdoorsman and a real asset to the group. Henry would work hard to bring him up to speed on the water. Finally, Paul, my colleague, was paddling with Julie, another good paddler.

Rapid after rapid passed. On one, it was not possible to see around the right-hand curve. We could see the large waves on the river’s left. Paul and others scouted downriver left, across a field of boulders, not an easy place for my knees, so I stayed back. The scout was quick, and Paul informed us there was an east line down the right, avoiding all the big stuff. Onward we went. The remainder of the day was straightforward forward, with lots of easy paddling and only the occasional bigger rapid.

Bears and moose
The camp was on a lovely strand of sand at the start of Offset Lake. The only downside was it was an obvious through route for bears and moose. The prints were fresh, but you have to camp somewhere. As always, we kept a clean camp with the food barrels being carried well outside of camp each night (wash kits went in the food barrels to avoid the scents in camp).

A paddle across the lake gave us the first rapid of the day. A class 2+ where the water became even more constrained/squeezed towards the bottom. It was far beyond the speed and volume that David had ever experienced before, and he became quite twitchy in the big stuff with his paddle waving in the air. Very disconcerting for me, and I need some bellowed instructions. As his experience grew, he would become steady and more independent through the trip. We all need time. We took on water, but keeping a paddle on either side of the canoe, we easily made the eddy at the bottom. A quick signal to bring the others on, and I got on with bailing.

Rapid problems
A few rapids were on, and we hit a problem. The river bent around to the right and out of site. No eddies were in sight, and I wasn’t prepared to run it on the fly. I had already seen how big things could get, so I didn’t know if there were any problems towards the bottom of the rapid. The map and guide showed a portage to the right. Paul and Henry went off to scout but could find no trace of a trail and, on fighting their way through to the river, confirmed large waves and problems at the end of the rapid. Portage it was but across low rock ridges and bog. It was a fight, but the group got on with it, carrying loads and dragging the canoes across the bog. Because the terrain was so bad, it took numerous trips to get everything across.

Camp that night was a rocky one on the lip of Majestic Falls. The takeout for portage and camp was right on the lip. Paul acted as ‘air traffic controller’ and catcher. It was easy enough, but not a place for a mistake.

We started the next day with a portage. First, I gained height along a shallow rock ridge just right for my knees and then a cross country to a steep descent back to the river. Folk were exceptionally kind to me, and I only crossed the portage once. Everyone else was doing three carries. It is hard accepting the frailties, but it was wonderful being there.

Most of the day’s paddling was straightforward, but one bigger rapid gave no clear sight around it and to the bottom. Instead, we lined the left bank and waded a shallow rapid on a left branch before paddling to the bottom. The deep wilderness is not the place to wrap or break a canoe, so caution is key.

Compulsory portage
At the end of Detour Lake was a compulsory portage (around a class 3+, which finished with a 4. The get out was easy to spot (for a change), and the trail wound through the bush until into a very old burn where the terrain and underfoot was easy – a short paddle and into a nice island campsite.

The Dene, the indigenous tribe, avoided paddling sections of this river but still wanted to hunt and fish here. They used portages and a parallel lake system to avoid the difficulties.

Days settled into a routine with progress across the lake and down rapids. Scouting is done carefully. On the harder stuff, Paul or I would lead the way, but we got group members out in front where possible. Where the map or guide said portage, they really did mean it! The trails were challenging and not always easily spotted, but we bypassed stuff we could not paddle.

The going was easy for the rest of the day, so David and I swapped places, with me going up front. That was good practice for him.

We made a short visit to what had been a Dene site. Other than flat spaces where cabins had stood, no trace was left not far after we camped.

The gorges below were the most challenging part of the river. The Dene called it Dead Man’s River. This was our route, and I was beginning to feel the pressure.

Part two in the spring issue