RED LAKE

(Pictures Coming Soon)

After 32 hours of non-stop driving we were less than one hour from being on the water, if we could just find where the portage trail crossed the myriad of logging roads. Standing on the ground things just don't look the same as they do on the map, especially since the map only shows only one road in this area. We finally located what appeared to be a trail leading off toward a low area of water that we were hoping was Blackbear Lake.

We found a point along the roadside where the trees opened to expose what may be the canoe portage trail. Gary, Joyce and their two young children helped us pack the gear about 800 meters to the launching point before they left with our car for Cianci's Lodge where we would complete our trip after 6 days and 75 miles of paddling. Gary is a relative of Lamar's who lives in Red Lake. We ate Sunday dinner with them before they lead us out to find the starting point for this wilderness adventure.

The launch area was in high grass and was swampy under foot. We couldn't even see the canoes sitting on the water from 25 feet away. Fred and Lamar loaded up first and paddled out to seek a passage into the next lake. As Ed and I loaded our canoe we were alarmed that it might not float with our weight added to all the gear. To make matters worse, the car was gone, it was getting late in the afternoon, and rain was approaching from the west. We couldn't catch up to the other guys and we couldn't go back. Finally, Fred and Lamar returned with good news; the lakes were connected by a waterway. They took a few of our items to lighten our load and we headed out for Trout Lake, feeling a little more confident that we were in the right place. This lesson on packing light was the first of many lessons to be learned on this trip.

The MNR has this marked as an Indian canoe route, but it is rarely used and definitely not maintained except by the few local Indians who may occasionally come this way. Nearly everybody in the Red Lake District uses airplanes and powerboats to move around in this roadless territory. We split up to find the portage trail into Trout Lake. Investigating a shiney object on the shoreline we found a canoe abandoned by someone at the start of the portage trail. This was somewhat better than our carry from the car, but darkness and rain were even more eminent by this time. Again, Fred and Lamar loaded first and paddled out to look for a campsite. Fred has a small powerful frame. He made it difficult for Ed and I to keep up with them.

I marveled over the hostility of this land, especially on the upper end of Trout Lake. The trees there grow so close together, and the ground is criss-crossed with their fallen comrades, that one couldn't find a flat place to lie down. This gave little comfort to my plans to bushwack a portage in a few days.

Fred and Lamar found a campsite just a few kilometers from where we put into Trout Lake. It was right were we rounded the point to turn south. Although small, it was a nice camp.

Since every thing was wet Monday morning we decided to stay there the next day and fish. Ed and I found the river flowing into Trout Lake from up around Coli Lake. We would have liked to further explore the river to see if passage could be found from Coli Lake that was better than the three miles carry via Anderson Lake. A later study of the maps would show that such a passage is highly unlikely.

The days fishing was not especially successful, but Lamar and Fred caught enough Nothern Pike for dinner. We were surprised the fishing wasn't better. We expected to catch 10 pounders in this land a fly-in fishing camps. It never occurred to anyone to take pictures of the fish before they were frying in the skillet.

I made the disturbing discovery that I left the menus in the car. This made it difficult to organize the meals. It was a good thing I hadn't left the maps in the car. We would have been in about as much trouble as having only one paddle. The importance of maps on a trip like this was a lesson well learned. I also learned the importance of allowing contingency time for winds and weather. Fortunately, we had sufficient time in our schedule because we used it all. As we bedded down for the night it was a beautiful mild evening.

A terrible storm went through Monday night. I don't know when I have ever seen such a storm. The wind whipped the tent and pressed the sides down. The rain came down in torrents. The lightning didn't flash on, it occasionally went out. I was surprised that we stayed dry and comfortable in the tents. I was even more surprised to find that Lamar slept through it! Our only casualty was the dining fly collapsing and a wet stuffed friend, Kermit the Frog. But what is wet to a frog? Kermit has been tripping with us every since I rescued him from a neighbors trash can. The storm that night taught us never to assume good weather but always be prepared for the worst.

We packed up and left Tuesday morning for the 17 Km paddle to Cat Island Lodge. The islands on the lake blended into the skyline making it difficult to juge distance. A rear quarter wind made stearing difficult, but a tailwind is always better than a headwind and it would be the only tailwind we were to see on this trip. The wind was strong enough to create .5 meter waves. This concerned us initially, but we quickly adjusted and stayed within a kilometer of the shore. Trout Lake is a BIG lake! I really felt insignificant out there. We ate lunch in the lee of an island just off the northern tip of Cat Island. Our time paddling was going as planned.

We arrived around 2:00 in the afternoon and introduced ourselves to Dick and Barbara Johnson the owners of Cat Island Lodge. I located the cabin my father helped to build 30 years before. When my wife and I were still dating, my father and mother tried to bring us up the Trout River to see the cabin. This visit culminated a 28 year dream of completing that journey. The cabin is now serving as the kitchen to which the main lodge of this fly-in fishing camp has been attached. The lodge is graciously appointed with carpeting and natural pine furniture. Trophy sized fish, a moose head, and various animal skins are hung on the walls. Near the center of the room is a large wood stove. The entire west wall is open with windows looking out over the water. The wood stove was to be fired up Wednesday morning when the temperature dipped below 50° (10° C). We took pictures of everybody huddled around the stove before leaving.

We showed the Johnson's the video tape I had made from Dad's 8mm movies of that first cabin being constructed and the trip upriver with the first fishing boats before the Johnson's were the owner's. Anxious about the strong crosswind we would have leaving the bay, we prepared to leave about 4:00 to make make camp. However, the Johnsons graciously invited us to stay for the night. They provided us a cabin with a shower, plus dinner and breakfast the next morning. This gave us the opportunity to unpack our gear and dry it out. This was a most unusual luxury beyond civilization and unreachable by any roads.

In talking to the Johnsons and their guides, we were able to get a lot of good information about the portage trails we considered using. The one into Joyce Lake was reported as very rough with a lot of swamp. The passageway from Joyce Lake downriver was not known. Later, at Cianci's Lodge, we heard that someone tried to go up the Joyce Lake River but was unable to do so. It was said to be too narrow, but we don't know what type of watercraft they had. Due to the shortage of time we decided not to take this route. Perhaps on another trip we will explore Joyce Lake and the river below.

On our alternate route we were informed that a portage already existed where I had planned to bushwack from Trout Lake to Otter Lake. It was made by the fishing camps to avoid the long boat trip to Otter Lake. After arriving back home, I found the instructions from the MNR told about this trail but I had overlooked it.

It didn't do any good to stay the night waiting for the wind to die down. It was blowing even stronger by launch time Wednesday morning. We surveyed the conditions and discussed possible routes. Initially we decided to paddle into the wind to the western shoreline and follow in its lee until we reached Johnson's Bay at the southern end of the lake. After getting underway, I could see this route would be further in high waves than the direct route. We had a conference in the open water and I prevailed upon the others to paddle straight toward the bay.

After about 2 kilometers and an hour of hard paddling (that's slow!), we reached the lee of an island where we rested and prepared mentally for the rest of the paddle across the lake. This was the first opportuninty for a drink of water since the wind demanded uninterrupted paddling. The Johnsons sent one of their guides out in a motorboat to see that we made it safely across. The remainder of the crossing was fairly short, but the wind kept increasing in intensity. It even had the small bay whipped up pretty good. We followed the bay around until we located the portage trail. There was a good campsite where I had planned to camp Tuesday night had we not stayed at the lodge.

We saw a fishing boat on Otter Lake when we launched. That was the last people we were to see until we reached Bruce Lake three days later. The water was not as rough on Otter Lake and the paddle to the river section was not too long. We ate lunch on the river before arriving at Little Trout Lake. There wasn't anyplace to get out of the canoes so, we ate in a lee where there was a lot of beaver activity. I filled my canteen and took a drink before Fred and Lamar arrived from an interlude of fishing. Lamar warned us not to drink the water from here because it might contain Beaver Fever (Giardia). It was too late for me. It was the first time I had heard of such a disease, but it is a problem in some areas. From that time we began purifying our water because of the high beaver activity. Apparently there was no Giardia in that water but it served as another wilderness lesson for the many trips that were to follow.

We were learning a lot about the durability and handling of canoes in adverse winds. None of the rescue techniques we practiced would have worked in the rough water of Little Trout Lake. We had to paddle about 5 Km in open water with 1 meter waves. We probably traveled further bouncing up and down than we did laterally. We stayed close to shore and headed for the lee of an island. The waves crashing on the rock shoreline gave us encouragement to keep the canoes afloat.

By the time we got behind the island, thunder clouds were building up. We decided to find a campsite and set-up quickly. We spotted a large bare spot on the Western shore. Large rocks caused such visible spots that usually marked a campsite since few trees grow on the rock. We paddled hard in that direction where we found a very suitable campsite that had been used before. We made camp quickly, preparing for a storm. By the time we finished setting up the storm passed us by with just a light sprinkle. The wind died down and we had a beautiful evening. The guys went fishing and caught enough fish for dinner. I cooked the Walleye and Northern Pike on the griddle, using some Cajun seasoning. As we ate dinner we could hear loons wailing back and forth from both sides of the lake. It was really special being so far out from civilization and all by ourselves. I believe we took more pictures at this campsite than anywhere else on the trip.

Thursday morning we were able to pack up dry gear and head for the river. The scenery changed as rock formations raised high out of the water on either shore. There was a little rock island with a nice camping spot right in the middle of the river. We were watching closely for moose along the grassy bays. We had a long way to go on this Thursday to reach Big Falls, 32 Km downstream and with unknown portages ahead.

We stopped at the first rapids and scouted. It was very short and not too rough. We decided to run it with the canoes loaded. It was fun and we were glad we would not have to go through the process of unloading, carrying and reloading. It also encouraged us that other rapids may be runnable, but that encouragement was short lived.

The second rapids were further downriver than we expected according to the map, but the MNR description was correct. This rapids were definitely not runnable. I am sure some world class kayakers that welcome such an opportunity. The portage was very scenic with deep moss on the forest floor and little plants that looked much like a miniature pine forest. It also had a lot of deadfall across the trail.

By this time I realized that my trip plans did not take into account the portage times. This was mostly due to the error which anticipated making each portage in one or maybe two trips. It actually took three trips (five trips each way). First, you cannot double carry the canoe with backpacks since the packs interfere with the canoe structures. This is not a problem with a single carry since the canoe is wide in the center and has no seats or decks immediately behind the center thwart. Second, the loading and unloading time is considerable. We did a few one man carries, but not often due to the long distance and rough terrain. I was to later learn how to plan and execute one way portaging.

I had great hopes of paddling the rapids shown by the map. Knowing the difficulty of the rapids is critical to trip planning to allow sufficient time for the portages. This is another important lesson learned from the trip. A rating for the possibility of paddling the portages was one thing I stressed in my correspondence with the MNR for future paddlers. It is important to know that you can't paddle a part of the river, however, they treat all rapids as portages, even the ones that can be paddled.

The next two rapids and portages were much the same. We found it necessary to spend a few minutes clearing the portage trails with our camp saws. On the second portage we actually cleared a 10 meter passage to a new launch point. The original launch was in reeds and water. Underneath the water, criss-crossed logs made footing nearly impossible. The new launch allows loading and launching from rocks which we considered to be more desirable. This portage marked our forward progress in the attempt to reach Cat Island Lodge 28 years ago. From here on I was faintly familiar with the river.

As well as I could remember the next rapids should be paddleable. It is a short chute, (I have chosen to call it Kenney's Chute), with some nice standing waves at the bottom. We could have paddled this loaded if we were sure to avoid the standing waves, but we took the cautious approach. We unloaded and carried the gear. It was getting cool and none of us wanted to get wet except Fred. He paddled both canoes through Kenney's Chute; going right through the standing waves. He enjoyed it and we took pictures. I would still like to know if the standing waves could have been avoided because Fred didn't try.

We paddled quietly down the river looking for moose around each turn. Each time we rounded a turn and didn't see a moose we were more amazed. We saw all the signs of them but they were not out in the water. We saw many, many beaver and ducks, but NO MOOSE! At one point we stopped where the river entered a small lake. We got out and stood up looking over the tall reeds at several square kilometers of shallow lake but we could not see a moose, even using binoculars. As the sun set the ducks began to settle down in the wild rice along the edge of the water. Every ten meters we would startle two or three of them and they in turn startled us as they noisely took to the air.

With the setting sun the wind subsided and the water became as flat as a mirror. A full moon began to peak over the trees. Illuminated in its light our images could be seen colorfully reflecting on the surface of the water. Looking back over our shoulders the western horizon was still colorfully painted by the sunset. We paddled silently, awed by the serene beauty of the setting with the realization that we were many miles from any other human beings. This is what modern man rarely experiences that unites the soul with the creator and makes you thankful to be able to glorify a loving God that makes it all possible. This was definitely the most memorable occasion of the trip.

As we approached the first rapids at Big Falls the river narrowed. The tall trees along the riverbank blocked the direct light of the moon but we could follow the black ribbon of water toward the sound of the rapids at the top of Big Falls. Fred and Lamar let us go ahead; far ahead! I remembered the approach to the portage from 28 years before. At least I hoped I did. I eased the canoe along with my paddle while Ed cast his flashlight along the bank trying to locate the place to pull our boats ashore. As we continued downstream the sound of the rapids grew louder. Fred and Lamar continued to fall back. Finally, as Ed moved the light along the shoreline, I spotted the grassy slope I was looking for. We called back to Fred and Lamar to let them know we had located the portage landing. We later found out that Fred and Lamar thought the rapids we heard was Big Falls, which was another 1.6 kilometers below the rapids.

It was now 9:30 P.M. We pulled the boats up the bank where we could get to them to unload. We searched around in the dark for a suitable camp site. We found a spot about 100 meters up the portage trail where trash marked the spot hunters had camped some years before. We had to unpack and set up our tents with flashlights in our mouths. This takes great teamwork since commincation is restricted to unintellible grunts. I believe this was the very site where I camped with my mother, father and sweetheart 28 years before. I regret that we didn't set up some kind of marker so this spot place could be identified in another 20 years.

We didn't take time to cook breakfast this Friday morning. We ate canned peaches, poptarts, and drank coffee before scouting the area. The first rapids was runnable but it would be difficult. We elected not to run, especially since we already had the boats out of the water and because of the risk of being so far from help. The discussion now was about whether to carry the entire 1.6 Km portage or to launch below the rapids and paddle down to the falls.

I remembered that the rapids downstream were not too difficult. I also remembered that the river was calm above the falls. We agreed to paddle as much of the river as we could. Scouting ahead we already knew of one small rapids a short distance from where we launched which we paddled smoothly through. The next drop was more than we cared to venture with loaded canoes. We lined the boats through quite easily and saved a lot of effort unloading and reloading the gear.

I was right about the calm water above the falls. Just before the falls we found a very nice portage trail that was evidently cleared by the Canadian Water Survey people when they established a monitoring station. Apparently the power source was provided by the solar cells on the roof. Next to them was a radio antenna. The high angle on the antenna, the short elements and their circular polarization lead me to believe that radio transmissions were relayed via satellite.

The portage path went around the falls on the left and down a steep bank to a large pool below the falls. I remembered the steep bank and also remembered that this route had really confused us because it comes out further up the river than where we had taken out for the portage in the upstream direction. The falls is actually two different waterfalls separated by enough distance that both parts cannot be seen from the same place.

The map shows a road within a short distance of the waterfall. It even shows a trail going out to the road. I suspect that you can easily walk in to the falls following the trail made by the water survey people. Further evidence of this premise was supported by the well used footpaths around the falls.

We continued our trip downriver to Whitefish Falls. This would be the last rapids and portage on the trip. It was also to ultimate test of my memory because the map showed the portage to be on our right as we approached from upstream. I was sure it was on the left. I remembered on that earlier trip when the tackle box my sweetheart was carrying came open, decorating her with a variety of treble hooked lures. The portage was on the left side as I remembered but we did not use it. Whitefish Falls is what we classified as a difficult Class #4. The entrance was blocked by a large piece of driftwood.

Again, we decided to line the boats through, but even this was tricky. We finally unloaded and carried our gear along the rocks beside the rapids. As I lined my boat through it swamped and was almost pulled into the turbulent waters. Fortunately I was able to recover it undamaged. Whitefish Falls would have been a wild ride which I don't believe I would try without some real expert coaching. It was definitely the wildest part of the river which would be considered paddeable.

By the time we got through Whitefish Falls we realized we couldn't make the takeout before dark. Besides, we weren't up to paddling the distance. The maps showed that the last stretch of the river would not offer suitable campsites, we decided to go as far as the last good campsite. About 16 Km from Big Falls we found an excellent spot used by moose hunters about two years before. This spot was evident by a chair on the bank of the river. The chair was made from two pieces of plywood nailed to a tree stump. Exploring the site we also found a wooden box with a toilet seat. There was a fireplace made from a truck wheel and plywood nailed to tree stumps to make tables. We were able to get settled in early and take showers. We boiled water and purified it with Clorox to prevent Giardia. Fred took one of the canoes and went up a tributary exploring. He likes getting away from all the confusion to be alone with God in His creation. We all relaxed and were able to get to bed early that night.

The wind blew through the night which kept the dew from wetting our tents. We got up early and were able to pack up dry gear. What a blessing! Except the wind was still out of the west which was not a blessing at all. When we got to Bruce Lake we again found ourselves paddling hard against a headwind. The wind continued all the way up the river to Cianci's Lodge. We arrived at 11:30, paid for the extra days parking and showers before the 32 hour drive back home.

We decided to take Ed back to Dayton instead of meeting his wife in Toledo. This was a little further to drive but it avoided quite a bit of the turnpike tolls. We stopped outside Indianapolis and phoned Ed's wife and arranged to meet her along Interstate 70 north of town at 8:00 A.M. We arrived within one minute of the appointed time.

I dropped off Fred and Lamar in Lancaster at 9:30 P.M. By the time I got underway and got home to Baltimore it was 11:00 P.M. Such a memorable trip I will likely never have again. I hope to go back to Red Lake in 1995. If my boys go I may return to Trout Lake except we will probably try the Joyce Lake route. Otherwise I hope to go into the even more remote Woodland Caribou Provincial Park west of Red Lake.