The End of the Road – Part III-B – The River by Jean-Yves Domenjoz

Mercifully, my tent, food and change of clothes stayed dry in my sturdy seal-line pro. And my feet, though submerged, stayed dry in my trusty old gore-tex boots… For about 5 minutes.

Stepping out of the canoe to empty it, at the very start of our canoe trip, in 10 degree weather, is the precise time that the seal around the sole of my old boots decided to finally crack. On both boots. Instantly wet. The gore-tex, of course, stayed intact and impermeable, but ice-cold water now rushed in all around the former seal, marking the end of dry feet for the rest of the trip. I resolved never to leave again without shoe sealant.

The End of the Road – Part III B – The River by Jean Yves Domenjoz

Taiga: Even on the river shore, where the forest is thicker, the trees are not large and sparse enough that you can carry a canoe right through them. The underbrush is completely absent, save for lichen and moss, making improvised portaging a breeze.

We met a cold rain and a brutal headwind (the river runs West) at around two and both stayed with us for the rest of the trip. The temperature dropped and never rose above 12 again. Overall, the conditions were pretty miserable but I hadn’t set out for Virginia Beach (which would be closer), I had set out for the North and this is what I had come to see. In this weather and with the cold, that becomes wet nothing ever dries, so extra care was taken to keep everything protected from rain and river. I tucked my raincoat into my wetsuit gloves, which I favoured over poggies since water can penetrate poggies and run down your arms. By never delaying to put on my rain jacket, my upper body stayed dry and comfortable throughout the trip. But having never really believed in rain pants, I had taken only quick-drying polyester pants for my legs. I now believe in rain pants. My “quick-drying” pants can dry really fast, but like my boots they never had the chance to do so in the constant rain, and I my legs were mercilessly battered by the icy rain every day for the rest of the trip.

The wind worsened all day eventually reaching gale-like speeds. We had been warned by a Cree from Chisasibi that the winds mostly come from West-North-West and so we hugged the North shore to help a bit. But the rushing trade winds, having accumulated speed over the vast expanse of James Bay and now being funnelled into La Grande by the shore of the bay, conjured ever rising waves that soon were rising over the bow of our canoe. To make matters worse, we found out that the current comes to a standstill as the water deepens ahead of LG1. We had to stop many times to bailout rain and wave water taken in by the canoe but I reckoned that it was still more pleasant to paddle in these miserable conditions than to set up camp in them. So we pressed on until, at about 4pm, when we found we could barely move forward against the hastening headwinds anymore.

Camping: The forest was so wet, we barely got a fire going

We set up camp in the most sheltered bay we could find on the shore, and with the darkness of the clouds, and the noise of the torrential rain, we didn’t notice until the next morning that we had pitched our camp next to a little cascade. This far North, the forest is thin and the trees are small, and not much shelter could be mustered from them. In fact, it was quite hard to make a fire with the few soaked branches but we managed this right up to the last day.

Here, it is crucial to have a tent of the new generation that doesn’t have pole sleeves but clips instead onto the poles with the top sheet shelter laying over the poles. This was essential because it allowed me to pack the interior itself while under the top sheet such that the tent itself never got wet the whole trip. This is good because my -7 down sleeping bag is toasty warm until it gets wet. Then it is useless. As it was I slept well every night.

One of the most memorable part of the trip was arriving at LG1. Kilometres in advance, we saw the titanic structure spanning the river. The dam very imposing from the main and as its 1km shadow engulfed us, it was hard not to imagine being sucked into the turbines below by some invisible whirlpool. We approached it until it was uncomfortably close, the giant floodgate structures towering high above, and set down on the shore next to a panoramic peninsula for tourists to view the dam from. The peninsula was deserted, and from exploring the dam, we discovered that it too stood eerily abandoned. It turns out that only a dozen people work in the kilometre-long structure at any given time, and all somewhere in the underground structure below. We spent over an hour walking on and around the dam and never saw a single soul. Eventually, we carried our gear around 1.5 km around the dam to continue our trip. There was no path per se to follow, but the forest is so sparse and the trees so small, that we had no problem carrying the canoe right through it. It should be noted that below the trees, the underbrush is nearly entirely lichen and moss, a carpet on which it is easy to walk but makes a wet bed in the rain for a tent.

LG1: The giant structure looming menacingly across the horizon

Behind LG1, we found current and mild rapids again, a welcome aid against the strong headwinds. Figuring we would be in Chisasibi in one day, I made sure to fill up every bottle I had before reaching the salty waters of the La Grande delta. I also worried about the tide. How strong would they be, and could they drag me out to sea?

We landed at the community boat launch without any trouble from the tides and easily found our driver’s house; we only had to ask the first passer-by “hey, where does Joe live?” We found our car and begun exploring the town.