Down the White Water
Canoe North Adventures eased us into paddling, spending the first few days reminding us how to lean into the current, pull ourselves through the water and balance while kneeling. It’s about getting a feel for the river, calming the nerves and trusting your companions. And while paddling prowess proves handy, novices have nothing to fear. Indeed, I’d arrived feeling slightly uneasy about the impending white water yet quickly realized that such apprehension was unfounded. With a guide singing behind me and Pace and Ward forging a path, I discovered just how in control of the current we were and (with a smile impossible to fight) faced waves head on, welcoming the inevitable splash as an antidote to the heat of the day.
When canoeing every day is different. Not only does the scenery change – the textured mountains of the Keele slowly evolving into the flatlands of the mighty Mackenzie River – but there are thrills to be sought. These may be obstacles like the brilliantly named Big Wave Corner or Boat Sucking Boil, a spot of fishing or an afternoon passed attempting to out-paddle a storm. There was the excitement of seeing the Keele turn red after a mudslide or waking one dewy morning to find moose and caribou footprints meandering between the tents. Even the humble river swim seemed daring. Inviting as the clear water may appear, you must summon up the courage to fully submerge, your chest constricting as you dive beneath the icy surface. We passed hallowed gorp breaks (sugar-loading sessions where we devoured everything from trail mix to jerky) in our own ways too. Some would consult the map while others laid out life vests and napped along the rocky shore or foraged for pebbles, pockets and packs becoming weighed down as new speckled favourites were selected.
As the journey progresses distances increase and this in itself is not without its challenges. Some days hurt, your body aching as you clamber out of the canoe, driven to continue by nothing more than the promise of gorp. But you wouldn’t stop, would never consider abandoning the adventure – even when the mountain you’re paddling towards, which looks a little like a dinosaur, seems impossibly far away. For two weeks you are on the river and this is where you want to remain. There’s just too much to see, too many waves to tackle, too may Happy Hours still to be had. Other days are a dream; afternoons spent barging up, four or eight canoes linked together as you ride the current backwards down the river with Ranger walking between the vessels. At such times you do occasionally tune out, lost in the landscape, your movements almost mechanical. Catching yourself, you realise this must be what it’s like to let go, to relax and be completely in the moment. It’s little surprise that sleep here is earned and often deep.
Arriving into camp for the night you feel like you’ve come home, that this is your space, your tiny pocket of wilderness. As we busy ourselves each evening constructing our orange tents, the guides work away on the communal areas that we came to view as little luxuries. The kitchen is a place for gathering, the fireside your wine bar and a particularly picturesque latrine a topic of conversation – ones overlooking the water and accessorised with antlers proving most popular.
Pace and Ward paddle together so rarely that, on this occasion, we had to visit Ward’s favourite campground. Found by a creek, the pebbles of the riverbed give way to a grassy terrace and a rock face acts as the kitchen wall. While you can’t help but play favourites, it’s a difficult game as each site comes with its own charm. There are places where the water’s reflection dances against boulders, wildflowers reign supreme and the fishermen among us swear they’ve found Nirvana. And then there’s the spot where you open your tent at 1 a.m. and see the midnight sun bathe the land in a soft, golden light. Here, where daylight is determined to linger, a watch is highly advisable.
