"CANOEING DOWN THE HISTORIC HAYES RIVER:
An Inter-Generational Experience"

For over one hundred years, the Hayes River system served as the major highway into the western interior of the North American continent. From York Factory at the mouth of the Hayes River, the Hudson's Bay Company controlled the enormous watershed draining into the Bay.

Over the years, prior to 1714, when the Hudson's Bay Company was left in command of York Factory, it had been alternately under the authority of the French and the British, both vying for control of the lucrative fur trade. In the interior, the major staging point for this operation was at Norway House, at the northern end of Lake Winnipeg.

During the winter of 1998, our son Andrew had suggested that he would take my husband Bernie, and myself, on a wilderness canoe trip, as a present to us for our upcoming twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Although it might be deemed a gift of dubious worth in the eyes of some, we considered the offer an honour not to be taken lightly.

After several months of planning, a party of six canoeists equipped with three canoes, left Winnipeg for Norway House, on the morning of Tuesday, August 11, 1998. Three of Andrew's friends were part of the group, and all of them were seasoned tree-planters. Their strength and stamina would stand us all in good stead throughout the duration of our trip. Indeed, Bernie and I realized that a reversal of roles had occurred. We, the two elders on this trip, could not have done it without the young people, while on the other hand, they would have been perfectly alright on their own.

The three canoes were loaded on top of a cargo van and the six of us, in addition to another friend, who was going to drive the van back to Winnipeg, took our places inside.

Driving to Norway House, under those conditions, is an enormous undertaking, but by ten o'clock that night, just before the ferry operator was calling it a day, we reached the Sea River Falls ferry dock on the Norway House Indian Reserve. After arriving on the far side of the Nelson River, we set up camp for the night. Our sleep would not be uninterrupted, as a rock-crushing plant which we had passed just before crossing the Nelson, was operating at intervals throughout the night. However, ahead of us lay many miles of quiet wilderness, and campsites that produced no sounds other than the call of loons. We had hopes of better rest ahead.

"PUTTING INTO THE RIVER"

The following morning, having seen Jeff, our driver, on his way, we put the canoes into the water, and began our adventure. The first several kilometers of our trip took us down the Nelson River. Although it is a dangerous waterway, this short stretch to the mouth of the Echimamish River is quite manageable. After canoeing approximately two kilometers, we ran our first set of rapids. They were clearly marked as rapids on our topographical map, but hardly qualified as such in the current water levels and flows. It was a good exercise in building confidence, since dealing with such a small example of rapids was a bit of a learning experience. Three members of our group had not had exposure to wilderness canoeing before, and we would meet up with a great deal of fast whitewater before the end of our trip.

By contrast to the huge Nelson River, the Echimamish, which we reached after several kilometers of canoeing, is small, ...sometimes hardly more than a creek. The Cree origin of the name signifies that it flows in both directions. Technically, it doesn't, although depending upon water levels, the river may appear to do so. There is only a short portage over a low, flat area, named “Painted Rock” marking the watershed of the Echimamish and the Hayes rivers. At this interesting geographical anomaly, the Echimamish begins flowing west into the Nelson, and its counterpart on the other side of the portage, begins its easterly flow toward Hudson Bay.

We made good progress on the Echimamish, and crossed "Hairy Lake" by mid-afternoon. How the lake got its name is unknown to us; it may be that its appearance gave it that designation. Virtually the entire lake was covered with tall reeds, which were nevertheless fairly sparse so that paddling through them was not difficult. At one point during the crossing, we had pulled up on shore at a good campsite location. However, it was still early in the day, and all of us thought we had enough energy to continue. The weather too was favourable and we had no guarantee of that for the future. After a snack of bagels and cheese, we took to our canoes again, and pushed off.

“SETTING UP CAMP”

By the end of the first day on the water we had covered about thirty-six kilometers in some nine and one-half hours, and were quite pleased with ourselves. Our camp location was near an old dam. We're uncertain what purpose it served originally, but it obviously was man-made and not a beaver dam. Perhaps it was a fish trap in its time.

Andrew, together with Tiffany, a friend of his, had planned the menus and purchased the necessary food for the trip. Tiffany, having spent the summer cooking for tree-planting crews of from thirty to forty people, was well equipped for the task. She knew from experience, that the best way to keep a large group of people happy, is by providing good food, in sufficient supply, on a regular basis. She did just that throughout the trip.

There was always time to prepare food at the end of the day. Our first dinner, while not fancy, met our needs perfectly. We cooked a large pot of pasta, adding vegetable soup flakes to it for flavouring and nourishment. Our food supply also included a good variety of herbs and spices, and they invariably served to complement the meals admirably.

Noon-day meals were a little trickier, but they too, posed no problem. During the early days of the trip, lunches consisted of bagels and cheese and processed meats, while chocolate bars provided quick energy for mid-morning snacks.

A campfire at the end of the day is always a highlight of wilderness canoeing. Fortunately we were able to build one nightly. Not only was our fuel supply easier to ration that way, but the warmth it cast all around helped to make us comfortable, and served to dry, to a small degree, the shoes and socks which invariably got wet.

For me, gathering twigs and branches to feed the fire was, without exception, a good way to end the day. I think it must have something to do with childhood memories of similar activities on the farm.

“OF BEAVER DAMS AND HAILSTONES”

We slept well that night, and were once more on the Echimamish next morning. The river meanders a great deal, and is quite marshy in many locations. Evidently, it is a favourite of beavers as numerous dams crossed between its narrow banks. Sometimes we simply paddled hard to get across the dams, and at other times, it was necessary for the person in the bow to step out onto the dam, and pull the canoe up a little. By hopping back in, sufficient weight was added to the front of the craft to cause it to slip into the water on the other side. At other times, both parties would have to step out in order to drag the canoe over the dam. It's impossible to keep feet dry under such conditions.

Indeed, keeping dry was a bit of a problem that day. It rained hard in the morning, but fortunately all of us had raingear. The tree-planters already knew from experience about the benefits of rain pants. For Bernie and me, the fact that we had made a quick purchase at Mark's Work Wearhouse as part of our trip preparation, would stand us in very good stead. We might well have suffered from hypothermia on various occasions, but for that valuable acquisition. Before long the sun came out, and we were once again warm and comfortable.

During the afternoon, it rained hard again, this time accompanied by an electrical storm. Being out on the water under such conditions is hardly desirable. However, the banks of the river were very reedy, making landing impossible until we reached a beaver dam. Rain and lightning wasn't our only problem. It began hailing hard, and we found that being hit on the head or the hand by golf-ball size chunks of ice, is not at all comfortable. That experience too would form part of the memories of a trip which would etch itself indelibly on our minds.

“WILDERNESS TRAVEL”

We knew it before we left, and by now it was well confirmed in our minds; we were far away from civilization. The only evidence of other humans ever having been here, were the occasional trapper’s cabin, or possibly a prospector’s, on the banks of the river. There were, now and again, flags marking a spot on the shoreline, possibly indicating a trapline.

What was lacking in terms of man-made installations, was more than made up for by the beauty all around us. There were trees on both sides, both coniferous and deciduous, as well as willows and other shrubbery in great abundance along the shoreline.

The plants growing on the surface of the water, and underneath, never ceased to amaze me. There was, in fact, another whole plant world under water. The flowering variety particularly caught my attention. I had never realized that they came in such profusion, both as to variety as well as colour. Some were very delicate, but gave off a riot of colour, nevertheless. Given that we were already far north of Lake Winnipeg at this point, the fact that all this prolific growth could survive the harsh winter conditions was truly astonishing.

Animal life too is fascinating up here. Some frolicsome animals were visible in the water this afternoon -- quite likely otters. We have also observed plenty of birds, mainly ducks.

“PAINTED ROCK”

On the second day of our trip we reached Painted Rock. It is where the headwaters of the Echimamish originate. By pulling our canoes up on to the rock, and carrying them some thirty paces over the smooth, flat surface, we were at the location where the water flows east, and had reached the Hayes watershed.

The solid, flat plane at Painted Rock was an ideal camping location for us, just as it must have been for aboriginal people in the distant past, and for explorers, fur traders and immigrants in more recent times as well. Indeed, on many occasions during our trip, we would realize that the very rock on which we were setting up our tents for the night, had served as a resting place for innumerable other parties over the centuries. There is a sense of history that envelopes the spirit on such occasions that cannot readily be found in most day to day experiences.

Karl, one of our party, lives near Dawson Creek, British Columbia. By anyone's definition, Karl is a fascinating person. Along with his extended family, he operates a farm. He has other interests as well, such as an inclination toward music, in which he engages together with his brother. His mother is an artist, an ability which both her sons have inherited from her. It was not uncommon for Karl to bring out his sketchbook, which he always carefully protected from moisture by sealing it in a sturdy plastic bag with duct-tape. His artistic creations became an important aspect of our summer adventure.

We had brought a rifle with us on our trip, as it is essential to be prepared, as much as practicable, for the possibility of meeting up with polar bears as we approach Hudson Bay. Karl, living in northern British Columbia, knew how to use a rifle better than any of the rest of the party. At our Painted Rock campsite, he, along with others of the group, began target practise. It was an exercise that would repeat itself from time to time as we came ever nearer to the largest polar bear denning area in the world.

“A SAILING EXPERIENCE”

By 8:00 o'clock next morning, we had begun paddling once more. Before long, the young people decided that the water, which was now wide open, and the breeze that was blowing, would lend itself well to sailing.

All three canoes were lashed together by means of the nylon ropes we had brought with us. Spare paddles became masts, and the fly of a tent began to serve a purpose for which it was never intended. By means of wrapping this versatile sheet of nylon around two paddles, and then holding the assembled contraption upright, a reasonable sail was in place. We travelled along beautifully for several kilometres, some of us taking it quite easy, while others held up the fly, which had now become a sail. The entire conveyance was steered by means of a paddle being used as a rudder at the rear. There were a good many laughs along the way, and the water slipped by almost unnoticed.

Alas, such easy times can't always last. As sailors have found ever since such vessels were invented, good sailing is largely dependent on proper wind conditions. In time, the sail came down, the canoes were separated, and we were paddling once more. However, before the day was over, we would again resort to this efficient means of transportation on the wide open waters of Robinson Lake.

As we passed a rock outcropping on the lakeshore, there before our very eyes, was another canoeing party, having breakfast at their previous night's campsite. It isn't often that such groups meet on the Hayes River route, and we pulled up to greet them.

The party consisted of two teenagers, their father, and another man. They too had been on their way to York Factory, but had decided not to continue, and were on their way back upriver. The group seemed very well equipped, and certainly had all the navigational maps they needed. However, they told us that they had been unable to find the Robinson Falls portage. The rapids at this point are not navigable, and therefore finding the portage trail is imperative if the trip is to continue.

“ROBINSON FALLS PORTAGE”

In due time we took leave of the party, and continued on our way. When wind conditions were favourable, we again resorted to sailing for quite a long distance. It was a great energy-saver, as well as providing wonderful entertainment value. We reached the end of the lake, and then found the portage trail without difficulty.

There can be no doubt that the entire Hayes River system has countless artifacts of the fur trade era hidden in the depths of the soil and the water. At the Robinson Lake portage, the evidence was readily visible. The portage is approximately one and a half kilometres in length, and when York boats were used to transport goods both up and down river, a tramline had been built to facilitate portaging the large, heavy wooden boats loaded with supplies. Strips of steel measuring perhaps six meters in length lay alongside the trail, and at the end of it was a large set of tramline wheels. Fortunately we had less gear to carry than did the travellers of old. Nevertheless, there were three canoes, each weighing approximately eighty pounds, in addition to heavy backpacks, to be transported. Furthermore, although the trail is wide enough to make walking quite easy, there were nevertheless large trees in the form of deadfall across it in several locations, which had to be straddled. We could not have managed the portage without the vigour and stamina of the young people in our group.

When every last item had been brought to the end of the trail, we again entered the Hayes River and continued on our way. We had done what travellers over innumerable generations had done before us. By portaging around the falls, we had avoided a drop of thirteen meters in the river. Unfortunately we were unable to get a very good view of the falls, the portage trail taking us too far from them. Looking back as we paddled down the river, we managed to get a glimpse of them, and even at that distance they were spectacular.

We would have numerous lakes to cross during the course of our trip, some small and others quite large. On this particular day we found a lovely campsite on Logan Lake and decided that we had accomplished enough for one day.

The following morning we saw a rainbow near the horizon across the lake from our campsite, beautifully reflected in the water. After only a very short period of time on the lake, we were treated to a beautiful rose-coloured patch of the tiniest water flowers, growing in a myriad of small clusters. A wilderness canoe trip has innumerable rewards. All that's required of the traveller is a willingness to see them.

“EXPERIENCING RAPIDS”

It was our fourth day on the water, and before it was over, we would have experienced the Hayes in a new way. We were passing through spectacular gorges, and would in a short while, have to navigate turbulent water. Indeed, we would take on water as we passed through the first set of rapids, and would have to bail vigorously. Fortunately however, the day was warm, and we were no worse for wear. The next set of rapids was not a problem and we merely paddled through.

The third set was indeed breath-taking. The river at this point divided with a point of land running down the middle. The left channel was not navigable, making it necessary to unload the canoes and take the packs down the portage trail on the left side of the river. The young people were of the opinion that the rapids in the right channel could be run with empty canoes, and they proceeded to do so. One of the canoes would capsize during the exercise, but no harm was done, as they merely got back into it after righting it, and proceeded downriver.

The term lining would take on a new meaning for me during this canoe trip. Instead of being part of a garment, it now came to mean pulling a canoe over turbulent water by means of remaining on the shore, and guiding it with long ropes attached to both the front and the back of it.

When the young people had navigated the rapids, they brought the canoes back up the left channel, by means of lining, to the point where the packs were waiting at the bottom of the portage trail. The route was not easy, and it might have been difficult to carry the canoes over that distance. More likely though, the young people felt up to the challenge of running the rapids, and didn't want to miss the opportunity.

“A RAIN DAY”

The Hayes River had certainly shown itself to us in all its beauty that day. We had seen sensational gorges, and magnificent stands of forest. Bald eagles, ducks, and a crane had also added to the grandeur before us. When we came upon a comfortable and spacious campsite, we decided that we had accomplished enough for one day, and proceeded to set up camp. It was not any too soon, as rain began to come down in a steady stream before long.

We slept well that night, and woke up to the sound of drumming rain. It was obvious that nobody was going to be in any hurry to get up. As the morning wore on however, there began to be stirring noises in our camp.

Our tree-planting young people had obviously dealt with such eventualities before, and knew what to do. Andrew and Tiffany were busy attaching a huge tarpaulin to nearby trees, and under its protection, a line was strung in order to hang clothes that had failed to remain dry. Before long a fire, aided by some fire sticks that we had brought, was blazing. It was necessary to dry out our maps which had gotten wet. With a bit of patience and teamwork, that too got done.

When the rain stopped during the middle of the afternoon, we decided to put in a few hours of paddling time. It was quite windy on the river, but manageable. If it was windy on the river, it was more so on Windy Lake. Indeed the map had a note indicating that it was given to turbulence, and it wasn't long before we believed it.

We battled the whitecaps for awhile, but realized that it would not be advisable to cross the lake under those conditions. On rounding a bend, we came upon a rocky shoreline, and decided to head for it. We managed to land without incident, and made the decision to wait for calmer weather.

There are few better ways to raise the spirits than a bowl of hot soup, and Chinese noodle soup never tasted better. During the evening we enjoyed trail mix, that versatile mixture of nuts and dried fruit and small bits of candy, that hikers and canoeists have learned to rely on, and then called it a day, hoping to have an early start in the morning.

We heard the waves dashing against the shore during most of the night, and wondered how we would fare in the morning. Fortunately, by sunrise, the water had calmed down and we made it off the lake without incident.

“WAIPINAIPINIS FALLS”

Just before reaching the Waipinaipinis Falls we passed under a steel bridge. We were at the site of one of many “winter roads” that are utilized in northern Manitoba every year, weather permitting, and this particular bridge was simply crossing the Hayes River at this point. Given our wilderness location, this was a strange sight, indeed.

There is a drop of approximately two meters at this location on the river, and it branches out into three channels, none of which are navigable. We landed just before the falls, had lunch and strategized, and then proceeded to ferry across the river to the narrow point of land between the two channels on the left. There was a short portage trail on this small island, and after everyone had arrived safely at the end of the trail, we again put into the river, below the falls, and proceeded on our way.

It was at these falls that Sir John Franklin’s diary entry of September 30, 1819 records the drowning of a man who was “…precipitated into the stream and hurried down into the cascades with such rapidity that all efforts to save him were ineffectual.” His body was located a few days later, and was buried on the shore. It was a sobering reminder that the Hayes demanded respect.

“OXFORD LAKE”

We continued on down the river until we reached Oxford Lake, a beautiful body of water, studded with numerous islands. Some of these, such as Cargill Island, are very large, and actually named on our topographical map. We were able to navigate a significant portion of the lake and then camped on one of the smaller, unnamed islands for the night.

There were interesting sights and sounds on the lake. At one location there was a cabin on shore, with a bright blue tarp covering much of its roof. I assume it was a trapper's home when on the trapline. There were numerous birds that caught our attention as well. If bald eagles are an endangered species, they certainly don't appear to be so in northern Manitoba. We saw them frequently, along with grey jays, and a crane. The beautifully haunting call of the loon too, kept us company.

As we came ever closer to the community of Oxford House, the sounds of civilization began to make themselves heard. Motor boats and airplanes have long since replaced York boats and even canoes on Oxford Lake. On one or two occasions during our trip we had heard the drone of motors on adjoining lakes, but had not actually seen any boats. Now the sounds we were hearing were accompanied by the appearance of Oxford House residents fishing from their boats, or making a quick trip from one location to another.

“OXFORD HOUSE”

We were looking forward to seeing Oxford House. It was our first link with civilization since we'd left Norway House. We were now on the seventh day of our trip, and other than the canoeing party we had seen, we had not had any communication with other humans during that time. Long before we reached the settlement, we could see buildings in the distance.

It was approximately noon when we pulled our canoes up on the sandy shore, and climbed the embankment to what used to be the Hudson's Bay Store, but is now the Northern Store. There was no doubt that, barring the unforeseen, we had sufficient food for our trip. However, a little break from campfire cooking was a delightful change, and freshly made pizza never tasted better than it did that day.

We walked over to the RCM Police detachment to make some calls, and to update other detachments on our itinerary. We were ahead of schedule and it was important, for our safety, that we register that information with the other officers through whose jurisdiction we would be passing. We were also able to provide details concerning the canoe party that we had met several days earlier.

We attempted to call our daughter Elizabeth in Winnipeg, but unfortunately were only able to leave a message on her pager. She would inform us later that she attempted to reach us at the detachment, but we had already left. In any event, she knew that we were safe and that we were continuing on our trip as planned.

The world is indeed a very small place. When we checked in at the detachment, a young officer, Jeff Monkman, indicated that he knew someone by the name of Andrew Lodge. Upon further inquiry, it became apparent that he and Andrew, as well as Stephen, another member of our party, had attended high school together. After making the necessary arrangements with his superior officer, Jeff accompanied us down the street to meet his school pals of days gone by. It was indeed an interesting reunion.

There were several matters we needed to attend to while at Oxford House, and we spent several hours doing so. We got to see various parts of the townsite which we would not have seen had we merely paddled by. The extreme isolation of this community impressed itself on our minds, in a way we would never have realized had we merely read about it.

We were truly impressed with the resourcefulness of some of the people we met that afternoon. A young man pulled up on his bicycle just after we arrived, and stopped to chat with us. He was the epitome of enthusiasm, telling us about all the canoe tournaments in which he participated, and urging us to be involved as well. It was encouraging to see someone with so few resources at his disposal, doing so well.

Before we left Oxford House, we met various individuals who were exceptionally friendly to us, who were strangers in their midst, with little reason to be there other than that we were passing through on a canoe trip. Although our gear was by no means ostentatious, we nevertheless had options that the people of that community, by virtue of their extreme isolation and poverty, did not have. They showed us no resentment. Indeed there was a woman who was singularly helpful to us in resolving a problem we had encountered. Whenever we remember our canoe trip, she will play a prominent part in it.

“SUPPER WITH A DIFFERENCE”

It was time for us to be on our way once more, equipped with a replacement paddle which we purchased in the community. Each canoe had been equipped with an extra paddle, but we had broken one on a beaver dam -- still useful with minor repairs -- and lost another at the Waipinaipinis Falls.

Given the inexperience of a number of our group, and the fact that six people had to learn to function as a unit, we thought that we had done remarkably well in reaching Oxford House, and indeed, passing it, on the seventh day of our trip. We had budgeted to reach this community on the tenth day at the earliest, and were considerably ahead of schedule. Our campsite for the night was at Black Lake, which is essentially an extension of Oxford Lake. It was a spacious site and wood for a fire was plentiful.

We set up camp in a leisurely fashion, and then proceeded to cook supper. There was, in fact, little of cooking that was required. The Northern Store at Oxford House had been an ideal location for stocking up on a few grocery items. Our menu this night consisted of fresh buns and wieners. What a treat! Try adding garlic salt to the butter for a bun that's been toasted on the fire, and then roast the wiener to perfection. What you have then essentially amounts to a gourmet meal! It's all a matter of perspective, but campfire cooking has a way of making seemingly ordinary food become a meal fit for a king.

The after-supper hours were pleasant as only late summer evenings in Manitoba can be, with twilight hanging on indefinitely. Cleaning up the dinner dishes was even simpler this night than on most others. As for reflections on our day, they were particularly memorable. We slept well that night, and were ready for the new day when it arrived.

“TROUT FALLS”

It was our eighth day on the water, and we were off to an early start. We knew we had numerous rapids and rough spots ahead of us. Indeed, the route information we had on the navigational difficulties of the river described various sections as being "very rocky and bony"! One section, referred to as a "Rock Garden", apparently is rocky and bony and can be run, although lining will be required for short sections now and again. The language is all beginning to sound familiar, and the activities required in these circumstances too are now relatively commonplace.

Near noon we arrived at Trout Falls, which is designated as a “Grade 5” waterfall. There is a “boat ladder” in place, where larger aluminum fishing boats which can't be portaged, are transported alongside the falls. The boat ladder was an indication that we were nearing a world-class fishing lake located only a short way down river from here.

We took our gear and canoes over a short portage trail. The scene was spectacular, and it was a good location for lunch. In due course, we put back into the water, and then ferried across the river at the base of the falls. In the process we had to avoid running into a large capsized boat which no one has yet taken the trouble to retrieve. We reached Knee Lake, one of the largest bodies of water on the entire route, that afternoon.

“KNEE LAKE RESORT”

We "sailed" across a good bit of Knee Lake on day eight of our trip. The weather was great, and everyone was in good spirits. We even treated ourselves to a reading from the book, "The Hobbit" by J.R.R. Tolkien.

It became obvious to us that we were approaching Knee Lake Resort, as motor boats were beginning to be evident on the lake. The occupants apparently were in good spirits, waving at us from their swiftly moving vessels. I assume they were amused by the sight of our make-shift boat.

The Resort is a world class fly-in fishing lodge located on a peninsula, owned jointly by the Oxford House Indian Band, and the private sector. Paddling to the rear of the establishment in the late afternoon, we enquired as to the possibility of making some purchases from their store, or whether by chance there was a restaurant which we could patronize.

We were advised that we could tent on their property for the night. Dinner for their guests would have to be served first, but after that we were welcome to eat in their staff dining room. Furthermore, we were told that we could use the showers in their staff quarters, which consisted of a series of construction-style trailers. We certainly had not expected such royal treatment.

In due time we made our way to the staff dining area. What a surprise was in store for us! Our meal began with shrimp and marinara sauce, followed by the most delicious barbecued ribs, potatoes, carrots, and hot biscuits, to mention but a few items. The meal was concluded by offerings of coffee and a variety of teas, to go with the desserts and two varieties of ice cream. This would have been a sumptuous meal under any circumstances, but for a canoeing party that had been on the water for eight days, this was almost too good to be true. Even the pitchers of iced tea, water and juice on the table were worthy of comment, since our most common beverage throughout the trip was water pumped through a filter out of the river.

After the staff had completed its chores for the day, we joined various members of the group who were gathered on the dock for the purpose of socializing. One of the men played his guitar and sang. Music invariably draws people together, and helps to relieve the drudgery of the day's work. It was no different at Knee Lake.

“INEVITABLE DELAYS”

Early next morning, we were on our way once more. Other than Oxford House a day earlier, Knee Lake Resort was the only other community through which we would pass during the six hundred kilometers from Lake Winnipeg to Hudson Bay. We would not encounter any other human beings, or even the sight of an aircraft, until we reached the Bay several days later.

In total we would be on Knee Lake for more than two days. The lake is large, and at times turbulent because of its long length and north-south configuration. After we left the Resort, we tried "sailing" for awhile, but that didn't seem to work very well. The water was generally rough, and around noon we pulled up on a sandy shore, where, unlike most days, we cooked some food for lunch, including a fish which Stephen had caught. We spent several hours relaxing, and when the wind seemed to have died down a bit, we started paddling again. After several kilometres we realized that the effort we were putting into battling the waves was not worth our while. We camped for the night on an island utilized during the day by fishing parties from the Resort. The Resort fishing policy generally is one of "catch and release". However, during the day, the guides who take their guests out on the lake, pull into shore at designated places and cook lunch from the day's catch.

This particular location was well-equipped with plenty of stacked firewood, a picnic table and a grate above the firepit. It was an ideal campsite for us, and although we hadn't made good time on this day, we were comfortable with our decision.

When we left early the following morning, the water was calm. In due course it would be rough again, but, after a good bit of hard work, and a strong tailwind in the end, we managed to make it off the lake before nightfall. We found a good campsite on a bay at the Paktikonika Rapids, and called it a day. The water was perfectly calm when we set up camp, and the shoreline was reflected in the water on three sides of us. As we pulled in at this location, we were greeted by Canada geese and the call of a lone wolf.

Every now and again we found bits of evidence of others having been there before us. At this particular location there was a very heavy iron flange or blade near the firepit, measuring approximately twenty centimeters by forty centimeters. How it got there and under what circumstances we, of course, have no idea. It's simply interesting to note that others too have had their time and place on this river. I had seen a rusty barrel at another location, leaving the same unanswered questions in my mind.

Our dinner consisted of a hearty meal of scalloped potatoes. We added some extra cheese from our "aging" supply. The flavour and protein content of our potato dish were significantly enhanced by this addition, and the cooking process, we decided, would counter any undesirable effects which lack of refrigeration might have had on the cheese. Hot chocolate was the perfect beverage for a delightful meal. Stephen had caught a very large fish just after we had pulled into camp. Alas, it jumped back into the water, and we had to make do without fresh fish that night.

“RUNNING AND LINING AND CAPSIZING”

We had a good bit of rapids to contend with on our eleventh day on the water. There were numerous spots that either called for running or lining or a combination of both, but fortunately no portages were required.

On this particular day, Andrew and Stephen took one of the canoes through a particularly rough section of water, and then brought it back upstream to the location where the rest of us had walked by means of stepping from rock to rock.

For the second canoe, Andrew and Tiffany attempted the same routine, but with somewhat less success, capsizing mid-way through the rapids. Fortunately nobody sustained any injury, and without the loss of any equipment essential to the continuation of the trip. We quickly unloaded the canoe that had previously been brought upriver. Karl and Stephen then took it downriver to help right the canoe and to retrieve the packs which began to float away as soon as the canoe was no longer in a position to hold them in place. Eventually, all was organized once more, the third canoe having been moved past the rapids by means of lining.

That day we canoed Swampy Lake, the last of the lakes on the route, and then after running a few more rapids on the Hayes, we called it a day, having reached a beautiful, spacious campsite at exactly five o’clock in the afternoon. There was time to spread clothes and other items out to dry, and to assess what sort of damage had been done to the food. It turned out that our food supply was in remarkably good condition.

Having camped early, we had time for a more leisurely supper. Stephen stirred up a pudding for dessert, and Tiffany gathered leaves for “Labrador tea”. It had been, when all was said and done, a good day. There were numerous Canada geese along the route, and in addition we had also seen a bald eagle and an owl. Over and over again, as we've travelled across lakes, we've been serenaded by loons. It's been a most gratifying sound.

“WHITEMUD FALLS”

Our twelfth day on the route was marked by navigating rough water of varying degrees. We ran some rapids, and lined others, and in some cases portaged for short distances. Sometimes we merely carried, or dragged, or floated the canoes over the rocks. All in all we managed to cover approximately forty kilometres, and then camped for the night at Whitemud Falls, the last of such rough water on this route. We had come about two- thirds of the way to the Bay. The last two hundred kilometers of our journey, we would find, would take less than three and a half days due to the swift current.

Our campsite was on a relatively small island, but easily large enough to accommodate our party. As with previous locations, there was no doubt in our minds that over the centuries many other parties had used this same spot for their night's rest. At this location, good camping sites were at a distinct premium.

York Factory has been named the "Fort of the Pioneers" since many of the early settlers coming to Manitoba entered Canada by this route. I could not help but wonder what it must have been like for mothers with small children who would have been at the same location so many years ago. The island was not large. It would have been so difficult to keep track of energetic toddlers, totally oblivious to the dangers of falling into the waters of the swiftly flowing river. There would have been other concerns too. A fretful baby is difficult to soothe at the best of times. How much more so when everyone in the party is tired, plagued by mosquitoes, and hungry. Possibly added to that litany of woes would be the discomforts of being wet because of an unrelenting downpour. I could easily imagine how distressing such an experience could have been. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that those sorts of occurrences were commonplace.

It was raining when we awoke the next morning, so we took our time breaking up camp. By eleven o'clock we had portaged around the rapids and were ready to continue downriver. We were leaving pre-Cambrian Shield country, and were approaching the Hudson Bay Lowlands. Finding future suitable campsites would begin to be more difficult than it had been in the past.

“MIRY CLAY”

On the thirteenth day of our trip, we managed to cover forty-four kilometres, the water now flowing swiftly, and smoothly. Gorges and rocky outcroppings had been left behind, replaced by clay banks at least as high as fifteen meters in some places. We were on the countdown to Hudson Bay. It was an exhilarating sensation.

Nevertheless, campsites had to be found, as we were still a few days' travel from our destination. By late afternoon we decided to begin looking for a suitable place to spend the night. The term "miry clay" would take on new meaning before our canoe trip was over.

It had been damp and rainy, and generally overcast for some time, and the clay banks along the river had softened up considerably. The low cloud cover was to last most of the way to the Bay, with the exception of only the briefest moments of sunshine. We reached an area that was reasonably flat -- a relative term, I assure you -- and pulled our canoes out of the water The shoreline was indeed wet, slippery and miry, but eventually we completed setting up camp, and eating dinner. It was in all likelihood the most difficult campsite we had throughout the trip, and in the morning we varied our routine. We simply packed up our gear and continued downriver without taking time to eat breakfast.

Before long, we reached the confluence of the Fox and Hayes rivers, and pulled our canoes up on an esker where we proceeded to boil water for our porridge. It was a good break, ...but very cold, and it was easy to imagine snow in August. From here on, the river would broaden considerably, and the current would be swifter, bringing us ever nearer to our destination.

“ENVIRONMENT CANADA - WATER RESOURCES”

We managed to traverse seventy-one kilometres on the fourteenth day of our adventure, the river now flowing rapidly toward the Bay. By late afternoon we began to keep a look-out for an Environment Canada, Water Resources cabin which we knew was on the right side of the river. A white-painted cabin is indeed a rarity along the shores of the Hayes, but there was no doubting it; there it was, perched high up on a clay bank. We would not be setting up camp on sticky soil this night.

The cabin had seen much better days, it is true. However, what it lacked in some respects was more than made up for by the topics of conversation it stimulated. It's furnishings would have to be described as very basic. There were some wooden bunks, a table and two benches. Underneath the window, which looked out over the river, was a shelf. In the middle of the room was a huge oil drum, standing on end, and on top of it was a tin woodstove.

We immediately started a fire to dry out some clothing and footwear. It became apparent before long however, that the room would be unbearably hot during the night if we didn't let the wood burn down. As on other nights, we cooked our dinner on the open fire outside.

The original purpose for the cabin was to provide shelter for Environment Canada personnel who monitor the ice break-up on the Hayes River in spring. There was a seven-day log written out on the wall of the cabin commencing on May 5, 1988. It made for interesting reading:

"May 5, 1988 - Day 1 Jim Millman and Al Chomica Water Survey of Canada - Thompson LHQ Viking dropped us off for the early ice breakup study - still 1.5' snow. DWL 24.608 M. Renovated cabin and clean-up. Temp. 0 C. This cabin a mess. Just a suggestion anyone that uses the cabin should try to keep it clean.

"Day 2 Not much ice movement 'til after 3 p.m. Temp. +10 C. Otters are becoming curious and geese, mallards, pintails and gulls are blowing in with south breeze. Saw eagle, flicker and marsh hawk.....

"Day 6 Bitter cold winds and river freezing up again. Hopefully we will depart tomorrow. But who knows. Our radio doesn't work.

"Day 7 Ice breakup study over."

It is my understanding that the monitoring of ice conditions is now done through the Thompson office. However, the cabin serves as a shelter for anyone needing it. Judging by the accumulated materials it is being used extensively.

There were entries by various individuals and groups, mainly canoeists who had overnighted at the cabin. One 1993 note made reference to what we too had been experiencing for a number of days -- "May the long time sun shine on you!! It ain't shining on us. Oh well.", followed by a similar sentiment... "my raingear wore out on this trip!".

One particularly remarkable note scribbled in 1992 by "Danny", who was far away from his home in Los Angeles read as follows: "Day 1 [at the cabin] -- 650 [days] in Gillam, York Factory and Churchill -- no women -- FOG, BOG, and Poverty. 2.4 years until Statute of Limitations expires -- [then] Home."

In the late afternoon of our fifteenth day, we were approximately twenty-eight kilometres from York Factory when we set up camp on the south end of a large long island in the middle of the kilometre-wide river. To minimize the possibility of polar bear encounters, it is advisable not to camp near the shoreline of the Bay. We had been fighting a relentlessly strong headwind, and had covered fifty-one kilometers -- a shorter distance than the previous day, and less than we had hoped at the beginning of the day. Our original strategy had been, depending upon our speed, to reach York Factory that day, ...or in the alternative, to camp at a “cabin” marked on our topographical map ten kilometers upriver from the factory. As we later discovered at York Factory, the cabin is dilapidated and unusable, ...and in addition, the tide begins to rise at two in the afternoon and its influence is felt in the Hayes as far as eighteen kilometers from the Bay, making headway difficult. Camping on the island, as it turned out, proved optimal, all things considered.

It had cleared up during the afternoon, and a beautiful, silvery, sliver moon was out. We were comfortably settled in at our chosen campsite, when we heard a splash on the water. It couldn't be a beaver, we were convinced, since we hadn't seen any evidence of them for some time. Before long, we saw a smooth round head bobbing in the water, and realized that we had a seal for company. The sight was fascinating.

What was not so intriguing however, was the fact that if seals were this far inland, polar bears might not be far behind. We prepared for the night as well as we could, keeping rifle and air horn at hand, and called it a day. Karl, the most experienced among us in terms of hunting, kept a loaded cartridge clip in the rifle, and duct-taped a dozen additional cartridges to the rifle stock so as to have them readily available even in the dark. Morning arrived without incident, and we wasted no time breaking up camp. It was our sixteenth day on the water, and York Factory was now within reach. By 6:30 we were on the water, Canada geese serenading us, and seals keeping us company.

“ARRIVING AT YORK FACTORY”

We had a bit of wind to contend with, but fortunately the tide was on its way out, and at approximately 11:00 a.m. we saw the Hudson's Bay Company flag flying from its mast on the left bank of the Hayes River, and just beyond it, the cupola of the main depot building at York Factory. We had arrived!

Having canoed six hundred kilometers on the Hayes River route from Norway House to York Factory, in fifteen and one-half days, we were well ahead of our budgetted schedule. We had planned conservatively for an average of twenty-five kilometers per day, exclusive of rest and “storm” days, and consequently had taken food for twenty- seven days. Even seasoned canoeist take eighteen to twenty days to make the journey, and one earlier crew which had started for the Bay after flying into Oxford House, took fourteen days to canoe that partial portion of the route. We had jelled well as a paddling team.

As we pulled up at the dock, Jim Settee, who together with his wife, Betty, are in charge of the Parks Canada National Historic Site at York Factory, came down the steps to greet us. It was a memorable moment. The tide now being well on its way out, the clay bank was gummy indeed. I had no sooner stepped out of the canoe, when, my feet refusing to move in the stickiness, I landed ignominiously in the clay. Jim, with his good sense of humour, assured me that I hadn't arrived at York Factory until I had fallen in the clay. There was no doubt, I had arrived. Fortunately I was still wearing rain pants, and they were easily removed and hosed down.

We were given a wonderfully warm welcome by Jim and Betty in their Parks Canada residence. Tea and coffee never tasted better, and the chocolate chip cookies, hot out of the oven, simply melted. It was a truly historic moment for us. Jim and Betty are an aboriginal couple in their sixties, who are an amazing blend of contemporary and traditional Canadians. Their home during the summer is at York Factory, where they are the custodians of the site. In addition to numerous maintenance tasks, Betty takes and receives messages on the satellite telephone, and Jim provides valuable historic information as he gives tours of the main depot building of the Hudson's Bay Company. During the winter they make their home in Churchill, as well as running a trapline. Jim and Betty enter their pelts in northern competitions, and invariably take top awards for their entries.

One of the favours Jim does for visitors is to brand any personal item they wish, with the York Factory symbol. The replacement paddle we had to purchase at Oxford House was a wooden one, and was the perfect item for a souvenir, one we will treasure for many years to come.

York Factory became the headquarters of the Company's Northern Department in 1810. By the 1860s, there were over fifty buildings at this location. It was, indeed, a busy trade centre. There were other structures within the palisades, such as an Anglican church, a hospital, a photographic room, and a library, to name but a few. An Indian village lay one kilometre south of the fort.

Life at York Factory was highly structured, with the brigade from the interior arriving early in September, and those setting out for Norway House and Red River, departing in mid September. There were numerous other activities such as hunting, gardening, and of course, taking stock inventory, and making structural repairs. The annual winter mail express was sent to Norway House in December where the exchange to and from Red River was finalized.

It was throughout its long history a major depot of the Company, receiving trade goods from Europe for inland distribution, as well as being a trans-shipment port for furs destined for England. The main depot building is the only one remaining at the location, along with a small library of an Anglican priest of days gone by.

The main depot is a sturdy wooden structure, its original purpose having been that of a warehouse for trade goods. It was designed and built by master shipbuilders during the 1830s. In order to prevent structural damage due to shifting permafrost, its walls were constructed independently from the floor. Today it is the oldest building in Canada still standing on permafrost, thanks to its unique design.

When we toured the building on August 27, 1998, under the capable direction of Jim Settee, we were taken back in time to an era which can never return. We were amazed at the wealth of information our guide had acquired, and was keen to pass on to those interested in hearing about it. The artifacts, so out of character with the present-day activities of York Factory, had nevertheless, in their time, served the occupants of this remote northern post. The cast-iron stoves with their unique, ornate designs, had kept homes and other structures warm, although not the main depot itself. It was unheated in order to preserve the goods that were stored in it. There were numerous household artifacts, as well as tools of various descriptions. Weaponry of all sorts too was on display. There could be no doubt in anybody's mind, York Factory, in its time, had been a place of much activity. For some it was home, and for many others, it was a rest stop. The gates of its wooden palisades would see Indians, settlers, Company personnel, soldiers, and administrators, to name but a few, pass by.

There would also be those who passed through these gates to their final resting place. North of the fort was the location of the graveyard, and to this day, it bears testimony to the frailty of life.

Particularly poignant were the markers indicating the graves of children and young people. One such gravestone, erected by John and Annie Spence, read: "Sacred to the memory of" and then listed their four children, William aged 4 years, 26 August 1904, Lydia aged 2 months, 11 September 1904, Alfred aged 16, 15 December 1905 and Jessie Harriet aged 5, 19 July, 1910. The inscription then read: "Thou shalt keep them O Lord. Psalm XII.7."

The cemetery was also a reminder of the fleeting nature of our earthly achievements, as evidenced by the headstone for William Sinclair Esq, a Chief Factor, who died at age 52 on April 20, 1818. The inscription read: "Behold thou hast made my days as an handbreadth: and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his last estate is altogether vanity."

York Factory remained open as a trading post until 1957. In 1968 responsibility for this location, so important in the development of North America, was taken over by Parks Canada, and in 1991, major archaeological work was begun. The amount of historical data available at this site is enormous. Indeed, one need simply walk on the riverbank when the tide is out, and artifacts from hundreds of years ago, can be seen, lying where the most recent tide has left them, exposed by the erosion of the high clay banks. There is a very real sense of history at the mouth of the Hayes River.

The historic site of York Factory is today home to no one except to Jim and Betty Settee for a short period each summer, and thanks to the warm welcome we had received from them, we too had briefly felt that we belonged. At the invitation of Jim we had climbed up into the lookout tower of the depot to have a better view of Hudson Bay in the distance. We had seen numerous names carved into its walls by previous visitors, among them Canada's former prime minister, Pierre Trudeau, and Tom Lamb, that legendary bush pilot of Manitoba's north.

In the evening Bernie and I went back to Jim and Betty's for a bit of visiting. We were spending the night at the Silver Goose Hunting Lodge, just beyond York Factory, and when it was time to return, Jim and Betty, equipped with a shotgun and flashlight, accompanied us down the path. The polar bear presence here is a reality, and not to be taken lightly. The following morning they took us down the shoreline in their motorboat to see a polar bear feeding on a seal. Betty had expressed concern about whether the bear could survive the winter, given that it looked too thin. She observed that his mother must not have taught him well. When she saw him on this occasion, she commented that he would be alright, since he was eating. I was fascinated by her awareness of the world in which she lives, and by the ease with which she moves between the modern world of technology, and the harsh realities of life in the wilderness.

Next morning it was time for us to leave York Factory. We flew south from Hudson Bay by chartered aircraft, ...taking a minuscule fraction of time by air what had taken us days to traverse by canoe. Manitoba's north country would now hold a sense of history for us which we had never before known. Even though some portions of it had been challenging indeed, it was an adventure we had truly enjoyed!