Author: thedoctorswild

Up the French!

thedoctorswild

We left our final Lake Huron camp shortly after dawn in a gorgeous flat calm, painfully aware of our limited supply of wine gums. As we dodged the rocks and islands and turned into the bay marking the start of our journey up the French River we both felt quite emotional. We will miss paddling on these great expanses of water, that feeling of insignificance as you look out into the deep blue yonder, and the satisfaction of reflecting on hard fought miles, sat by the camp fire on a lump of smooth, flat granite. But we were soooo ready for some flat water and a change of scene, and as we headed for the old voyageur channel and a porcupine swam across the river in front of us, we knew we were going to enjoy this.

The French River, so named due to its association with the French explorers in the 17th century, flows 110km from Lake Nipissing to Georgian Bay. The mouth is a maze of narrow channels, some more paddleable than others, and our research had shown several routes up it. We opted for the old voyageur channel due to the sense of history, but soon found it was probably easier getting down it than up. An atmospheric narrow rock channel spat water at us quicker than expected and several attempts to get up it all resulted in pinballing off the walls and returning to the same safe eddy. After 20 minutes of this we decided it wouldn’t work, and Cas was despatched up the rock wall on the right with the painter to find a safe place to line from whilst I paddled hard from the back. Meanwhile I put my buoyancy aid on…of course I trust her implicitly, but you can never be too careful… Uneventfully we finally got the boat up and headed upstream, with a lively discussion of how we manage stressful situations…

Checking the route



After a short haul over some rocks to avoid a small shelf, this discussion was (fortunately, and unknowingly) interrupted by the arrival of another canoe heading downstream. Suntanned, sinewy, bearded, and wearing tilley hats I was immediately envious of, these guys clearly knew what they were doing (their first impression of us was of “rank amateurs” – yes guys, we read your CCR post, and we probably agree!). We exchanged pleasantries in passing, and they spun around as we said we’d been out for four months! We are quite enjoying telling people this now, although it seems a bit rediculous every time we say it. Peter and Martin are brothers from the Toronto area who still paddle together regularly, but had never paddled the French before. We loved chatting to this jovial pair, who clearly have so much experience to share. We were extremely grateful to learn of some shorter portages on the Ottawa than the ones provided by the Ontario hydro guys, and shared stories of paddles past. With their canoe weighing 15lb more now than when they bought it, it’s fair to say their stories were gnarlier than ours!

French River sunset



The flows moderated for the rest of the day as we happily headed upstream, rewarding ourselves with a slightly early finish (5.30pm) in the blistering heat. We even enjoyed a tail wind all the way. The next day saw more easy, beautiful upstream miles, other than for a bit of lining up Little Flat Rapids and an exciting entrance to the portage at the Recollet Falls. The day finished watching a beautifully, and reassuringly, healthy looking bear picking its way between the berry bushes under the autumnal trees along the shoreline. It managed to stay pretty cool and calm for the GoPro, but scarpered as soon as it was off camera! Day three was portage day, with 3 boat-on-head walks and a few drags and lines which were all despatched by noon and saw us with just the dam to get around before the home stretch to the lake. Deciding to use the trolley, we ignored the marked portage route and merrily wheeled past a “No Trespassing” sign on our way to the hydro station, where we reckoned we could get back in. The one car that passed us perfectly demonstrated the art of turning a blind eye and we re-loaded and searched for a campsite. Unfortunately our map for this section appears less reliable and the first one was definitely an ex-site. The second one was also imaginary, but a small island nearby provided a great little spot, complete with bench and fire pit. We were both exhausted. We’d noticeably lost weight again in the last few days paddling upstream and hadn’t had a break since The Soo, so the next day was to be short. But forecast building winds necessitated an early start. At first light we were on the water. Two minutes later the monsoon arrived, and stayed with us for most of the 15km we did to get us up on to Lake Nipissing.

Making bannock on our little island

The island didn’t have any fire wood, so someone had to get some

Lake Nipissing. Our last big (ish) lake. We’d been warned that this lake was shallow, meaning short steep waves in the style of the Lakes of Manitoba. I was keen to get across, by any means, and as soon as possible. Cas was more rational (!), and knew we needed some time out, so we found a nice little island and settled down to watch the winds build. We also had good cell service, and found out about the arrival of our latest nephew, Turbo Teddy, who arrived into this world on September 24th over in BC. We also managed to reply to a chap called Paul who had contacted us from North Bay. Paul Chivers had found out about us through the myccr pages and got in touch with offers of help regarding our portage through from Lake Nipissing to Trout Lake. Paul was instrumental in re-instating the La Vase Portages, the original voyageur route through the high ground between the two lakes. Rather ashamedly, we had to say we weren’t intending on following this historic route as we needed to re-supply in North Bay itself, and have a portage trolley which makes our lives so much easier. However, we were still keen to meet, so made plans to see him in North Bay.

Another French River sunset…

After our partial day of rest we headed out into what was meant to be a lightish northwesterly and slightly choppy seas. But Nipissing was in cahoots with her larger brethren and delivered a thoroughly rough morning and shouts of “you guys are mad” from one of the cottages we bounced past. Paddling deep into a large bay (the Garmin track is wrong, we did not cut this one at the mouth!) gave us some shelter, and the wind dropped early afternoon allowing us some respite. We figured this was the evening lull come early, and my frustration at the wind and paddling large lakes in general meant we decided to cut across the bottom corner and make for Sunset Park, around 6km away. With some hard paddling all went well, but the wind got up again with one kilometre to go making the last bit a little more uncomfortable. But our boat remained trusty and we limped in to the shore. Realising how much we both hurt we headed for the Sunset Inn, and a nice soft bed. We managed to meet Paul for a beer later at the nearby Churchill’s pub and thoroughly enjoyed a couple of hours chatting with him. He has an encyclopaedic knowledge of paddling in the local area and helped enormously with our route planning down the Mattawa.

Looking out the next morning onto a cold, wet and windy scene, we decided a day off was warranted, and re-supplied, did some laundry and prepared ourselves for the last leg of the trip.

Thanks to:

  • Paul, for being such great company at the end of a hard day, and for your advice on the Mattawa.
  • The lovely owners of the Sunset Inn for their warm welcome and enthusiasm!
  • Peter aka True_North, for his post on myccr.
The Great (Lakes) Escape

The Great (Lakes) Escape

thedoctorswild

The Great Lakes, Superior and Huron, have dominated our lives for the last five weeks. And they’ve dominated our thoughts for much longer, as we always knew they would be a key factor in the success of the trip. They have been beautiful and brutal in equal measure, have offered much more to the paddler than we had expected, but taken their toll. At 9am this morning, both physically and mentally exhausted but ultimately relieved and delighted, we paddled off Georgian Bay on Lake Huron and into the French River.

Dawn from the tent

The last few days on Lake Huron have been characterised by wind, and a constant feeling we were always trying to paddle to the source of it. It has been pretty much continually in our faces. We left our little island (of the panoramic pictures on the last post) at 2pm, when the wind looked like it was going to drop. After paddling 3.5km it was clear it wasn’t, so we found refuge on a cabin pontoon whilst the owners were out fishing. By 5pm we were bored, and decided to try again, sneaking a few more kilometres along the coast before dark, and being treated to a faint aurora away to the north. Up at 5.30am again, as has become the norm, we headed off before the mandatory afternoon break hiding from the wind. An evening limp east, with two or three further stops, finally found us on the edge of the Bay of Islands, our target for the day. We are still managing 30-40km a day despite the wind, it’s just tougher and far more frustrating, whilst still being utterly stunning. But dawn rewarded us with a beautiful sunrise paddle through the islands as we headed for Georgian Bay. A family of otters were out enjoying the early morning calm too, porpoising and playing in front of us, until they noticed we were there.

Daily hygiene in the Bay of Islands

Our target for the day was Killarney, a fishing village in the north channel, around 40km away. Fine, we thought, if we don’t get stuck. This day the wind came even earlier, and just after noon we were hunkered in a bay cursing the lake and Cas swearing she’d never come here again. We sat, and we read, and we drank tea, and we waited….and waited…until at 4.30pm, with falling wind and little hope of reaching the village, we set off. We paddled hard for the portage, which skips across a long peninsula saving over 15km of paddling, and got there after 6pm having surprised a second family of otters out fishing. A portage, and then 5km paddle to Killarney. Phew. Maybe we can do this… At 7.45pm, having raced the rapidly encroaching dark, the flashes and rumbles of an impending storm (which turned out to be truly epic!), and the closing time of the fish’n’chip shop, we pulled up outside Herbert’s Fisheries and ran inside, just as the heavens opened. And they served beer. We could not have been happier. Having shared tales of travels with the staff, and probably slightly alarmed some fellow diners with our table manners, we found a bed for the night at the Killarney Mountain Lodge. They also had a bar, with whisky, and a bloke from Derbyshire playing covers.

Happy wife!

We don’t know how far these two paddled…

Showered, slightly hungover, and resupplied with ibuprofen from the local store (for our tiring bodies, not our heads), we paddled off into the fog the next morning. We knew it was 30km in a straight line to the French River, but more like 40 via a sheltered channel that would keep us out of the wind and allow is to make more steady progress. We briefly rued taking the longer route, but it was an absolute dream paddling on flat water all day and escaping the wind. It also turned out a howling south westerly had been blowing most of the day, so by staying on the main coast we would have gone nowhere. We met some fellow paddlers from Toronto and paddled with them for a while, discussing paddling and politics, and defending our paddling style! And finally, having battled the wind back towards the main lake for the final 10km and realising our hopes of reaching the French that day were being dashed by the wind and swell, we arrived at an incredible archipelago and possibly our best campsite of the trip.

Sunset on our Great Lakes paddling 

Thanks goes to:

  • Herbert’s Fisheries, for the best meal we could have wished for!
  • Killarney Mountain Lodge for accepting two very smelly paddlers.

Huronimo!!!!

thedoctorswild

Our drive down to ‘The Soo’ was beautiful but sad as we both quietly observed all the majesty of this part of Superior’s shoreline, knowing that we were missing out. Neither of us said ‘I wish we were paddling’, but we thought it. 

The drive down…



We spent the next day racing around completing various bits of admin, including several hours at a local library and a visit to a lawyers office, and shopped for the resupply. Dropping the car off at the airport and walking to the campground was almost like being back at the beginning again: so, just us and the boat then? That’s good.
Pre-departure celebratory meal: Moose sausages from Evelyn and lots of salad!

We started from the Point de Chenes campground so that we could wave a proper farewell to Superior and then paddled towards the city. Paddling through towns is always a strange experience – you get a unique viewpoint, usually taking in the very best and very worst of what a city is. In this case the St Mary’s river took us from the tropical blues of the edge of Superior into the murk of the industrial area (though, being a fan of big machinery, I was quite happy passing so close to the cranes and barges and diggers). 

We also had to share our passage with some other vessels, this being part of the main shipping route from Superior to the sea. This gave us the chance to wonder a) how long it takes an enormous freighter on the horizon to catch up to you (not long) and b) how much wake will it produce when it passes (not much). One of the ships was called ‘Presque isle’ which I thought was a funny pun (it was a monster) but it turns out is the name of a place not far from here. 

Taking the old channel on the Canadian side brought us to the Sault St Marie canal lock. We phoned the number on the sign to ask if we could come through: ‘Yes of course you can, and if you look over your shoulder you’ll see one of the big tour boats, let them in first and then pull along the left side’. And so we did! The drop of about 30′ gave the tourists on the boat plenty of time to ignore their guide and ask us lots of questions instead. We got a friendly honk from the captain as we pulled away and many many good wishes. 

From here we were technically on Lake Huron, although the bays and side lakes have their own names too. It was lovely paddling with a gentle tail wind and some sailboats for company as we left the city. We made for another formal campsite on a sandy beach and checked in. It’s getting late in the season now and the campsites are, for the most part, quietening down and emptying out. Not this one! This was a Friday night and the seasonaires were up for one final fling. With music vibrating through the ground our earplugs were useless: I’m afraid to say at 3am we complained to security. At 5am we packed up and left. This was going to be a tough day! 

Dawn paddling: one (of the few) good reason(s) to get up early



We had planned to be up early anyway to make the most of the dawn lull in the wind and we were rewarded with a lightly misted, silky smooth lake. We paddled out onto Joseph lake and crossed to St Josephs Island, making for Richards Landing. One of our luxuries is a cup of proper coffee every day, made using an Aeropress. Usually this requires disposable filters but we had brought 3 stainless steel reusable ones with us. The trouble is, they eventually get a bit clogged and now we were onto our last one.  Some of our research in the Soo was to source a replacement filter and evidently the Island Roasters were our nearest supplier. It was going to be a bit of a detour but it was worth it for coffee! We arrived at the marina and bolted up onto the Main Street. Arriving at the post code we looked around: no sign of a coffee roasters… we popped into a local cafe: ‘ooh, lemme think, they’re away over on A road – not far, 20 minute drive’. Disaster!! Mike looked so disappointed I had to buy him a burger to cheer him up. And a cinnamon bun. And whilst we were here we might as well grab a couple of beers… 

When you have burger for lunch you get bread and jam for tea (which, funnily enough, is actually a treat!)

We feel like summer has found us again and the water temperature is considerably warmer than Superior, so we’re out of our dry gear and back to paddling in t shirts which is a treat. This also means we’re back to sunscreen every 2 hours and bug spray in the evenings… hey ho!

After Richards Landing was a busy pleasure-boat-filled section of bridges and narrows all made more complicated by the head winds which had built through the day. Frustrated, we stopped for tea on a tiny island before carrying on to find a campsite. 

Waiting for the wind… tough times…

After both our delays in Thunder Bay and Marathon we have set out with renewed vigour and determination and paddled hard in some challenging conditions. Our measure of the weather is either ‘paddle-able’ or ‘not’, and if we’re paddling we have distances we expect to cover whether there’s a following breeze or a gale in our faces: we just paddle harder. We’ve both also been changing and tweaking our paddling technique throughout the trip, mostly with good results. But it seems the more aggressive stroke I had adopted for rough conditions was taking its toll: now MY shoulders we sore! 

We had another early start as we headed towards Thessalon, and made good progress until we rounded the point and got fully exposed to the winds. Again. We stopped for a break on an island to wait for the evening lull which allowed us to carry on a few more km and get closer to our target for the day. Pitching a tent on a lump of solid granite is one of Mike’s favourite challenges and he has an eye for a thermarest-sized level patch and a knack for creative guying. Something else I have learnt on this trip!

The lake has become quieter and increasingly pretty as we head east and wangle our way through islands, quite often protected from the swell by a sort of reef just off shore, and with lovely coves and sandy beaches to dive onto when the wind is too much. We may also have taken a brief trip into Blind River in search of ice cream… Mike and I are at an impasse here: whilst several fairly everyday things constitute a treat on the trip (fresh milk, salad, bread) Mike maintains that Ice Cream is (or at least should be) a staple. 

Actually our main staple on the trip is rice – with Dahl, tuna or in a Risotto. Drinking the broth of rice cooked in bouillon with garlic and ginger – waste not want not!

Yesterday, after a night disturbed by sore shoulders and building wind and swell we were slow to set off. We were determined to paddle anyway, wanting to maintain the momentum we feel we’ve regained. As it turned out we had one of the loveliest days paddling of the whole trip: starting with a Moose grunting at us from the misty shore. The lake as we approach Bay of Islands and Little Current is stunning and is going some way to making up for what we missed out on on Superior. 

Afternoon tea stop

We also saw that our comrades-in-canoes Mike Ranta, Spitzii and David Jackson were windswept again on Lake Superior. At one stage on their trip they had been weather bound for 40/108 days and we can’t believe the weather this year, their bad luck nor their incredible patience and humour dealing with it. Whenever we get signal we check where they are and it’s been great to know they’re  out there too, but we have to admit a sense of relief that we bypassed the second half of the big Lake.  

But right now it is us who are windswept, stuck on a tiny island that barely registers on the map: there are worse places to be…


Thank you to whoever mentioned us on myccr this week – it was an invaluable resource for us in planning this trip and we feel honoured to be on the forum!!

Return of the favourite piece of kit: We managed to find another Luminaid in Sault Ste Marie. Hooray for the Luminaid!! 

Happy Birthday to our nephew Rufus who was TWO this week! TWO!!!

A Bit Too Superior?

thedoctorswild

Well fed, and after a bottle of wine, we had a slightly leisurely start the next morning. Leaving Rossport we managed to avoid paddling back around the islands by taking a short cut through a culvert. The GoPro was removed this time in anticipation, but we had loads of room and both stayed in the boat to paddle through. A short haul over a beach saw us heading east once more in brilliant sunshine and light winds, hoping to reach Terrace Bay, some 40km away. 

But our heads were not in it that day. Apart from the effects of the wine, we’ve increasingly had to turn our thoughts to home, and what comes next after the trip. Whilst we’ve been out here we’ve both managed to secure jobs in Perth, Australia, for 2018, which we’re delighted about. Cas doing a fellowship in paediatric anaesthesia, and myself as an anaesthetic registrar. This means paperwork, lots of it, which is tricky and stressful from a canoe and a tent in a foreign country! We’ve resented re-engaging with the real world, but we couldn’t put it off any longer and spent much of the day discussing the visa process and medical admin. We also thought my job might start in early January, which would probably mean an imminent finish to this trip. We were deflated, and upset that we weren’t even taking in the incredible scenery around us. This stretch of Superior is rocky, with lush, rich trees overhanging basalt and granite cliffs above cobalt blue water, stretching out to emerald green shallows around jagged outcrops and islands. In the coves are beaches of white, black or pink sand awash with driftwood from Superior’s perennial swells. It was a travesty not to be soaking in every moment on this great inland sea.

But Superior doesn’t let you dwell for long, and the afternoon brought the predictable wind, and returned our attention to the paddling. After a couple of short but uncomfortable crossings we reached the beach at Terrace Bay around 4pm and, wine gums all but finished, decided to call it a day. We quickly bumped into a couple of friendly locals who told us the town itself was a 40 minute walk, so another bottle of wine was out of the question. We headed to one end of the bay and set about dinner. Whilst this was cooking one of the locals, Luigina, returned. She strolled up to us carrying Boursin, a bottle of wine and an entire coffee cake. Cas politely started to suggest we couldn’t eat an entire cake, but I soon put a stop to such nonsense and gratefully accepted the gifts. Such acts of generosity continue to define this country for us.

Terrace Bay beach – wine gum dismay rapidly replaced by coffee cake joy…

That night was cold, which has started to become the norm as the summer recedes into the memory banks: we now dive into the tent after sundown to escape the chill rather than the mossies. We were on the water early to beat the winds and crossed a series of 3-4km bays on our way to Neys Beach, a former POW camp set on a 2km stretch of sand. Cas started with gloves on for the first time in months, but this luxury was short lived as one decided to sneak over the side when no-one was looking. Her capacity to lose stuff continues to astound me. As the swells built again in the afternoon we picked our way through narrow channels, avoiding the worst of the wind. The open water is taking its toll, with my shoulder reminding me of its injured status, and Cas’s muscles tight and painful too. We paddled well all day, and were rewarded with a fun surf landing onto the beach at Neys. After finding a nice spot to camp we settled down to share a beer with the park ranger, Robert.

Glorious Neys Beach

 Sunset at Terrace Bay

Fog and a gentle swell greeted us on what was to be our final day paddling on Superior. We headed around Neys Peninsula as the sun rose over the lake, considering ourselves so lucky to be on this great adventure. The scenery east of here becomes more hilly, with steeper cliffs of grey and pink, set against an almost tropical looking forest. 

Canada: where the trains are so long they snake around 2 huge headlands and into the distance.

Past Marathon, our destination for the day, Pukaskwa National Park juts out in to the lake, giving over 200km of uninhabited, wild shoreline, with another 200km beyond to reach Sault Ste. Marie and St Mary’s River. It is with this in mind that we have been considering our options. Our delays, due to weather and injury, combined with a forecast of strong winds typical for September, mean that to continue on Lake Superior would be to accept not reaching Quebec. Indeed, we would possibly not get further than the end of this lake. We were both resigned to driving from Marathon to ‘The Soo’ to enable us to see more of this wonderful country, and the colours of Quebec in the fall. But Superior wasn’t going to let us go easily. Our final 5km crossing into the bay at Marathon was increasingly rough as the forecast souterlies picked up, giving a confused sea and tossing us around like a cork. Testamount to our improved paddling abilities we both enjoyed the challenge, as waves broke across the gunwales and our deck earned her place once again. 

Tired, sore and with mixed emotions we arrived at the boat launch, just as a truck and boat arrived to go fishing. Gary and Evelyn were soon joined by Phil and Lucy, friends of theirs who had been out fishing and watched us paddle past. After some discussion about the conditions on the lake, no more boats were launched. But our Bertha found herself on Phil’s boat trailer as they gave us a lift through town to the campsite. Grateful for not having to haul the boat 3km through town, we arrived at Penn Lake campground to finalise our onward plans. Evelyn arrived later with firewood, and we’ve spent a lovely couple of days getting our thoughts and paperwork together and spending some time in the town. We’ve even enjoyed an afternoon with Betty, a 95 year old Swedish friend of Evelyn’s who paints lovely landscape images on large fungi gathered from the woods. But now, as we write this, we are watching the trees turn to red and gold and making our way 400km southeast, to Sault Ste. Marie, where we will put Bertha back in the water.

The mornings may be cold but they are also incredibly beautiful – we’re into the time of year when the fog is on the water and the sun is lower and the light is stunning

What we’ve learnt: 

Superior is the world’s biggest freshwater lake, holding 10% of the world’s fresh water.

Spread out, it contains enough to cover the entire continent – both north and South America – with a foot of water.

Our paddling has improved immeasurably since those early days back in Alberta!

There are actual people who work in actual gold mines in Canada!

Coffee cake is cake that goes with coffee, not coffee flavoured cake…

Thanks go to:

  • All our friends and family who are keeping our admin in check back home.
  • Luigina, for the gifts and good wishes.
  • Robert for the beers and lift to the store.
  • The Marathon posse, especially Evelyn for the food and keeping our woods supplies topped up.
  • Mike, Spitzii and David for all their words of wisdom and support.

Mother Superior 

thedoctorswild

The area between the Sleeping Giant and Rossport is still well paddled so there are a fair few ‘rustic’ campsites. We lucked out and found one of these tucked onto the north shore of a well sheltered island just short of our next crossing. And then sat there for 2 days. It was so well protected from wind and swell that we struggled to believe the weather was really that bad, but a severe weather warning for strong winds and big swell covered the entire of west Lake Superior, and on looking through binoculars at the treetops behind us and on the other side of the bay we could convince ourselves to sit tight… we whiled away the time with our books and Lord of the Rings, made some necessary repairs, battled with the tarp and failed to catch some more fish. It was a particularly pretty camp though and we told ourselves there were worse places we could be stuck… 


By Sunday morning the weather was due to have settled so we were up early to make the most of it. As usual, Mike was out of the tent first but returned pretty smartish. 

‘It’s bloody freezing! And I can’t see a thing!’. 

‘That’s because you’ve got us up before dawn…’ I may have replied. 

‘Nope, dense fog. Can’t even see the water.’ 


We had breakfast in the tent and found our extra layers before packing up and setting off. Mike was right, it was freezing and we couldn’t see a thing, and the first glimmers of dawn had the same effect as full beams in fog: quite magical but entirely unhelpful. Still, armed with GPS and compass we were able to progress with me trying to describe to Mike whereabouts we were. At one point, questioning a direction change, he said ‘nope, I just can’t visualise it’ to which I said ‘I’m writing ‘Happy Birthday Phil’ with our track!’. He stopped asking questions after that… 

Two days of strong south westerlies had created a pretty significant swell which we enjoyed rolling over on the crossings. There were vacuoles in the fog which gave us glimpses of the coast but most of the time we could just hear the waves crashing on the shore somewhere off our beam. And then suddenly they were crashing in front of us and beside us and behind us and we found ourselves amongst some rocky islets not marked on the map. We dove in to the shore and had ’emergency coffee’ (read: chocolate) until we could see a bit more.


Whilst on the shore we spotted a double sea kayak paddling past and out straight through all the breakers. ‘People!!!’ I squeaked. But they were already swallowed by the fog. Amazingly we caught up with them a few kilometres along the coast. We’d been behind them for a while when they abruptly turned to head out to sea – nearly t-boning them we saw the name of their boat: Titanic! We stopped for a chat and they asked if we’d found any of the ‘Secret Saunas’. ‘Then the stories are true???’ We asked. They very kindly pointed the next one out on the map and we promptly paddled our socks off to get to it. 

Tucked deep into a bay where we undoubtedly would have missed it is the CPR slip (I may be giving away Superior secrets here but I’m trusting to our readership not to tell…). A cabin, several pontoons, a big fire pit and a HUGE sauna! We had the fire lit before we’d even unpacked the boat or explored further – we’d noticed the weather was distinctly cooler since we’d stopped in Thunder Bay but now it was most certainly Autumn and any opportunity to warm up was very welcome! 

We had considered carrying on that evening but once clean and warm, we really treated ourselves and spent the night in the cabin which meant food at a table and a bunk to sleep in. Ultimate luxury. 


Knowing the weather was against us we set off the next day to paddle in the relative shelter of St Ignace island which was stunning, and then got absolutely brutalised by conflicting wind and 2m swell on the exposed sections south of Simpson island. Physically and mentally exhausted we pulled into a beach which had looked promising on the map. Not a spot to pitch a tent (but lots of wild peas, surprisingly, which we happily harvested for dinner). We had lunch and discussed and eventually carried on just around the headland to find ‘MacKay cove’ – another backcountry campsite, maintained by volunteers and beautifully sheltered. Think of it as a bothy but without the building… we spent 2 nights waiting out some fierce northerlies, reading and eating warm bannock for lunch and drying our kit. It was all very relaxing apart from being woken by something tripping over one of our guys ropes at night and then thundering off into the bush… 


With the freezing northerlies reportedly subsiding we set out towards Rossport… and pulled in again after 5km to let them actually subside. Waiting it out on a tiny pebble beach, which we convinced ourselves we could probably camp on if we really had to, we kept a pretty close eye on the channel we needed to get across. 


Eventually the white caps disappeared and we made fairly short work of the 2.5km crossing. Gaining a bit more shelter in between the islands of Rossport we planned to head to a provincial park along the coast. Then we got some mobile signal and found out about the restaurant in Rossport… and the cabins. We didn’t make the campsite! 

What we learnt: 

Superior is beautiful but frustrating in equal measure.

The saunas aren’t a myth.

Cas’s navigating isn’t half as shonky as it used to be!

Thanks go to:

Carole and Yvan for the tip off!

The lovely couple who let a pair of stinky paddlers join their table in the packed restaurant.

Physician chill thyself…

thedoctorswild

After just over a week in Thunder Bay we finally got back on the water and paddled away from Joan’s cabin. We cannot thank her enough for her kindness in allowing us to stay, giving us the chance to rest and the hope that we might be able to carry on. The combination of rest, anti-inflammatories and a steroid injection by the fantastic Dr Wark at her sports medicine clinic settled the shoulder pain down for now. The diagnosis: supraspinatus and biceps tendonitis due to the many and prolonged portages. Another injury for my quite extensive collection. 


Beautiful Lake Superior


Our first day back in the boat could not have been better – sunshine, very light winds and flat calm. I was nervous, hyper-aware and not exactly brimming with confidence, but we had to try. Thirty kilometres later, sat on the opposite side of Thunder Bay looking back and having noticed only a few small twinges, all seemed well. But we both had an unsettled night, in part due to the shoulder, but largely due to the novelty of being back out again, listening all night for noises around the tent. I sat on the beach the next morning tired, dejected and about ready to give up. I proclaimed, with tears welling up in my eyes, that I thought I might be done. I pretty much was and thought this might be the trip’s end. But we knew this would be hard. We had spoken about the loss of momentum and how difficult it would be to get that back. How we needed to give it time to make paddling a boat all day, every day, normal again. Yes there’s the delight of waking up to birdsong and splashing clear lake water on our faces; the simplicity of 2 mugs, 2 plates, 2 bowls; the joy of watching otters playing whilst the sound of the Loons echoes across the lake. But then there’s the discomfort of being in the boat for hours; the monotony of the endless paddle strokes; the constant eye on the weather and the uncertainty of finding somewhere to camp. Good or bad, over the last 3 1/2 months these things have become our world. Our enforced break had taken us away from these and plunged us back into the real world. But we weren’t ready for that again yet. After much discussion, more tears, and another cup of tea, we decided I wasn’t done. My wife’s words: “I’ll tell you when you’re done”. Welcome to married life.


The Sleeping Giant
The paddling that day was brief. We managed 10km before a storm forced us into the shore. We eventually found a campsite after first nearly losing a paddle and potentially the boat by not pulling her high enough up the bank in a swell. We were definitely out of practice. The sort of storm after which the bay must be named crackled around us all night with the ground shaking from the proximity the strikes, and the next morning dawned, just, giving us our first taste of Superior fog. Rounding the cape we pulled in to the bird observatory at the end of the Sleeping Giant peninsula and were warmly welcome by Rinchen, the resident ornithologist. Amongst many other things we finally learned who has been singing the first few notes of the Snowman to us since Alberta – a white throated sparrow. We also learned that Rinchen used to live in Cannonmills, Edinburgh. Small world indeed. Continuing on we passed the small village of Silver Islet, once home to the largest silver mine in the world, and camped in a calm bay waiting for the wind to fall.


The Giant’s lover…?
Early the next morning we set out to leave the Giant behind us. This was a significant moment, as for the next 150km there would be no opportunity to quit. There are few habitations and no roads until Rossport. This was us saying the shoulder was good for now, we were going to carry on. We celebrated with over 40km of stunning paddling. Lake Superior celebrated with a full day of wind, but we managed to pick our way through the islands and battled across the gaps to find a suitable spot for the next 3 nights – two days of 20+ knot southerlies were forecast and we were going into hiding.

Magic Mike

thedoctorswild

It’s his birthday, so I thought we’d celebrate with a few magic Mike moments…

Mike the fur trade company director …


Mike the pudding fiend…

Mike the voyageur…

Mike recovering…

Refuelling…


Thanks to some folk who shouted Dip, dip and swing  to us just out of Kenora, we have had this song in our heads for over a month. Once you’ve listened a couple of times and it’s stuck, you can learn the Wild version:

  • Michael is mostly white, covered in freckles 
  • His beard is quite a sight, like a Viking
  • His beard is quite a sight, growing all over
  • Paddled a continent: dip, dip and swing
  • Bear hangs in silver birch, tail slaps from beavers
  • We have been paddling three months and more
  • Although his shoulder’s sore, we can return once more
  • Finish our journey, finish our journey, finish our journey…

Fingers crossed for a quick recovery so we can keep going on this amazing adventure. 
Thanks go to: Mike! Happy Birthday!!! 

Rest and be Thankful

thedoctorswild

Anyone following the tracker over the last few days will see that we’ve made it to Thunder Bay, but not by boat. After the exertions of the Grand Portage my shoulder injury got significantly worse, leaving me unable to paddle. Pain throughout the night means neither of us are sleeping either, though we have at least managed to find and patch the holes in our mattress. So, with a heavy heart, we made plans to miss paddling the first part of the lake and get ourselves and our kit to Thunder Bay whilst we rest and see what we can do. Of course, being in the US, in a tiny town with no car hire or taxi, and a border between us and our destination, made things a little tricky.

High Falls, Pigeon River

We have to thank many people for their efforts in getting us here (see below), but not least John Walker, of the National Parks Service who volunteers at the Grand Portage Museum dressed as a Voyageur. On hearing of our trip, and our plight, he offered to drive us the 50 miles to Thunder Bay, and hung around until we had been to the clinic and sorted a hire car to go back and get our boat. He even bought us lunch. Our land border crossing back into Canada took a little explaining, having never really officially left, but went pretty smoothly. And the subsequent trip back to Grand Portage to get the boat and our gear also went fine and gave us a chance to go and look at the stunning High Falls on the Pigeon River, Cas finally admitting that it was a good idea not to try and paddle it. Once back in Thunder Bay we headed to the home of Joan Halonen, the mother of a friend of Jess’s, who saw our plight via Facebook. Having been delighted to avoid social media for so long on this trip, we are now grateful for it. Joan fed us and provided us with a bed for the night, before taking us down to her cabin on the shores of Lake Superior where we are now staying. It’s a pretty good place to rest up and fill myself with anti-inflammatories, whilst Cas is taking pleasure in strapping the shoulder, excited about the prospect of removing the tape along with any unfortunate hairs…


The closest we’re going to get to Lake Superior for a few days


Thanks goes to:

  • US and Canadian Border Services
  • John Walker 
  • Jess & Jake
  • Mikey Parsons and Westly 
  • The wonderful Joan!
  • Adam (sometimes not so) Useless