Day of the Dumps

Saturday, August 9, 2025 Day 6

If you had talked to me during the past year, you know my priority was to get white-water paddling training and experience. I couldn’t find any where for lessons near Ely or back in CA. I spent hours watching instructions on YouTube. I understand a lot of the principles and practices of how to maneuver your body and the paddles. It’s like learning to ski by YouTube. For me it’s not only knowing the moves and doing the movements, it’s being fast enough that the movements can make a difference (the right direction difference. Is nice)

As we leave Swampy Lake behind, and are instructed again to always wear our helmets, I get serious. I think we all do. Overall, we’re a pretty serious bunch.

As Swampy Lake narrows, we pick up speed and we’re back to the Hayes. When you don’t know the river or your partner for the day, it’s difficult. We’re in tandem canoes. We have different roles to play. You both will pay the consequences for the other’s mistakes.

I was assuming, correctly, I’d be paddling with Garrett because I’ll always be the weakest and he’ll always be the strongest. I believed because of the wide disparity in our skills, I made his job harder if not more dangerous. My feeling didn’t do much for my ego, but it did a lot for my sense of security.

We passed through a number of riffles and swifts adorned with rocks and slabs and boulders. Garrett and I danced around danger. All that was required of me was to paddle. I would silently chant “paddle like you mean it, no hands on gunnel.” When the canoe is squirreling under you, your body heaving one way and boat the opposite way, you automatically grab for something. I mostly extinguished that gunnel-grabbing instinct. At one point I actually did a draw which pulled us to the right of a big rock. Garrett acknowledged it was a good move. But I saw the problem that could arise. If I had been one beat late on taking that draw the boat would turn too late and run into the rock on the right. I felt skittish to try again. There was no debriefing. We were all supposed to be ready for wind, weather and waves.

We continued the pattern of eddying out just after the rapid to turn and watch the others follow each other. The number one problem was getting stuck on a rock requiring the stern paddler to jump out of the back of the canoe and push the boat off the rock from the back. I watched in awe of my fellow paddler’s confidence and ingenuity to tackle their situation. We were carry twelve days of food and gear for eight people. I was reminded this wasn’t training with an empty canoe. This was the real thing, and we were up against a strict deadline.

This waiting and watching takes time. But it’s time we have because this is group travel. Garrett doesn’t give pointers. He praises. And tells them why he chose his route. Of course, this is not a strict science. There are many choices for every run. It couldn’t be thrilling sans the unknown danger.

At one of the tricky runs, the two most experienced paddlers came down last. And in an instant they over turned. A quick blink of the eye and when I looked up all I saw was the bottom of the red canoe up. The male paddler was trying to right the canoe. The female was farther down the river. She started to do the side stroke. And inched over to the shore.

The guy had the pushed the canoe near shore. He and others were putting the gear back in place. Most everything was clipped to the boat and safe. Some miscellaneous items were free. Others paddled down stream to recover the items. Most everything was rescued. We immediately resumed paddling to stay warm.

Garrett was good at doing patchwork portages. He could find a work-around the bigger falls. This time, we dipped the bow of our empty canoe almost straight down off a crack in a narrow ledge. Both of the paddlers grasped the stern leaning back, trying not to drop the canoe while carefully lowering them until they reached the water and slid to rest in a little pocket wedged between the rocks. The paddlers, Garrett and I, demonstrated. Once the boat was perpendicular to the water, yet held by rocks, we scrambled down and hopped in the canoe. We pushed and hopped our hips me pushing paddles on rocks until we dislodged. Garrett pointed us right into the face of the crashing falls. It seemed we were heading for . . . We turned out and road the smooth line down and turn to watch the other three canoes wrestle successfully with this crazy plan.

After some fun runs, we headed in for a rest. The sun came out, and we appreciated the beauty of this area. Coming in behind a spit of land, we could spot Mount Baldy. At 2,730 feet, it’s the highest point in Manitoba. It looked tall, green, and grassy. A nice feature that would peak at us for the next day. We soaked in the sun promising dry clothes. We were struck with joy. Garrett pointed out we were at the northern most point of the Canadian Shield. And then clouds moved in.

The day continued cold, wet, rain. Just as we were approaching our campsite. The same couple dumped again. It was a quick rescue and hop across the river to a slab of rock just big enough to set up a tight camp. We all hung up wet clothes.

Try to dry out