The Long Journey to Hudson Bay at York Factory, Manitoba Canada

Monday, August 4, 2025. Day 1

We left our suite in the Best Economic Lodge in Thompson, Manitoba at 8:30 AM. I was hoping to get some double shot canned coffee for my serious caffeine need. Walmart was open. They were located near the mall that blasted operatic voices through the air of these local shopping vendors. My sense is that the merchants were profiling the audience of opera lovers as people who are hungry to buy and loathe to steal. But I have no data on this.

On August 4th, Anne and I set out for the Hudson Bay. This trip was one year in the making for me. But for Anne, it was only a small portion of her journey that would end her multi-year expedition from the start at the Mississippi River at the Gulf of Mexico to Hudson Bay Canada. That means over many years she paddled the whole Mississippi River, the Red River, Lake Winnipeg and now she’s finishing the Hayes River. This is a huge feat.

It was extremely smoky that morning. Neither Anne nor I wanted to be in the way of the firefighters, but we had time to head out toward the fire just to collect data for our safety and those of our other paddling compatriots. Actually they are not our compatriots. No matter what I might think, I’m not Canadian, and they are damn proud of that.

We arrived in first place at the airport. The female and male thirty something guides arrived next. Of course, they are darling and provincial, and have the cute accents.

Then a couple of sixty something guys arrived independently of one another. Only two more participants left to meet. If this had been a clear day, we’d be in the air on the way. But the smoke was still with us.

The other participants, an old guy, my age, from Newfoundland and a Sixtyish woman who lives in Manitoba. They came together by train from Winnipeg, which is about nine hours straight above Winnipeg. But for some reason the train lollygags along through Saskatchewan until it takes about 30 hours to get to Thompson.

I know that everyone has more experience than I do. In fact, I have no white water experience. But at least we are all seniors.

Finally we were going to chance it. Anne and I were in the first group. The canoes were choked into the fuselage of the plane, along with hundreds of pounds of gear. This left just a single row for passengers in the Cessna 208 Caravan. Ooo, air sickness nudges some. The pilot told us this was his first time flying to Lake Knee. Fear and sickness at Knee Lake. The sky was kinda clear for a fair while until it turned opaque. The pilot admitted he didn’t know where the runway was. But then he fell through the hole in the clouds and fell softly on to the Air Strip.

The plane ride to the lake which included loading and unloading is two hours. The pilot had to do this twice. So it was eight hours for the pilot and six for us. But all assembled at the dock about 6:00 PM. We were primed to paddle the couple of kilometers.

We were off. Seven PM we leave dock at knee lodge where they had a landing strip and let us use it. It was only a 4K paddle to a gorgeous beach and campsite with dispersed sites. What could be more perfect than the near full moon working the rungs up the sky with me sinking into the biggest moss and liken bed of my life?