Gumotex 2 Expedition

The Gumotex 2 Expedition

A Traverse of Middle Fiordland

This is the continuation of a journey which started in the summer of 2005/06 across remote mountains and fjords of Southern New Zealand. On the Gumotex 1 expedition two Invercargill men set out in a small inflatable kayak and traversed a series of lakes across the southern part of Fiordland from Lake Hauroko to Preservation Sound in the extreme southwest corner and then made their way northwards to Doubtful Sound. The next journey took them to the middle fjords in a great arc around the lofty peak of Mt Irene, Guardian of Middle Fiordland.

The two men were Simon Marwick, a fisherman from Stewart Island and Stan Mulvany, an adventurer/doctor from Invercargill. They decided to take two Alaskan packrafts instead of the heavier Gumotex kayak used previously. Inspection of the map of Fiordland shows the Murchison Mountains occupying a great wedge between the South and Middle Fiords of Lake Te Anau and Mount Irene sitting on its western boundary. To the west are five narrow fjords, Bradshaw, Nancy, Charles, Caswell and George Sounds. Their plan was to strike westwards along the southern axis to Bradshaw Sound and then move northwards, climbing across the mountain ranges between each of the sounds and to encircle Mt Irene from the east and finish by crossing the Murchison Mountains back to the South Fiord of Lake Te Anau. Part of their route was in a restricted area and they were granted a special permit by the Department of Conservation to enter the Murchisons.

The morning was cool and clear as the two men arrived on the stony beach of Patience Bay at 6.45AM. Their kayaks were carried down the beach and loaded. They set off on a mirror calm lake heading in the direction of Dome Island at the mouth of the South Fiord.

The kayaks moved rapidly away and soon were seen to enter the South Fiord. It is about 30 kilometres to the head of the fiord and as they neared the top an easterly wind came away and they raised their sails which carried them effortlessly along. At the Gorge Burn they beached their kayaks and sorted out their packs. When all was ready they carried their kayaks into the bush and then set off up an indistinct trail to the falls.

The day was blisteringly hot and soon Stanley was in a lather of sweat and stripped off his shirt and followed slowly in Simon’s wake. The valley rises in a series of elevations each of which has a small lake. At the first level they stripped off and jumped into the river which was most invigorating. Then it was a slow plod on deer trails onto the next elevation. Nearing Lake Cecil there was a stirring in their packraft bags as the boats felt the excitement of their first paddle in Fiordland. There was a faint murmur of “Let me out! Let me out!”

Arriving at the lake they unfolded their packrafts and soon they were pumping them up as they stretched and took on shape. Then the four piece paddles were snapped together, the packs tied on the bow loops and the magic moment arrived as they set off paddling across the one kilometre long lake. This was a great time saver as it only took them a few minutes to paddle across what would be at least an hour in thick steep bush. Moirs Guide says it was 1.5 hours from Lake Cecil to Lake Boomerang but this was incorrect as the excellent deer trials made for a rapid passage. They arrived at a clearing caused by an old slip at the east end of Lake Boomerang and set up camp. Simon went off for a swim as Stan prepared dinner. Later they could hear several helicopters at the head of the valley probably on deer recovery and just on dark they zoomed overhead bound no doubt for Te Anau.

Next morning the boys set off early for Fowler Pass around the south side of Lake Boomerang following the rather vague direction in Moirs. They followed along deer trails that sidled along the base of a steep spur. After maybe 100 metres they headed straight up through very steep bush. Higher up this eased off and they reached a sort of plateau. Here they turned right and up to the crest of a ridge and followed this along to a waterfall on the right which they crossed and then a little higher reached open tussock.

From here there was a great view of the valley below and higher up a gentle valley rose to Fowler Pass at 1085 metres. There were pleasant flats and stands of beech forest. It was overcast and starting to drizzle and once on the pass it was cold and windy.

A long way below was Lake Tuaraki and a strong westerly wind was driving across it. The boys decided not to paddle across but to drop almost to lake level and then climb a bluff on the true left of the lake. Moirs describes a rock gut on the other side of this but it looked evil and slippery so our two adventurers cautiously descended the snowgrass bluff beside it and used their rope to lower their packs to the bottom. Once past this they descended to the forest of the Tuaraki and a little below this reached the margin of a swamp where they stopped for lunch in the trees.

A good deer trail took them down the valley and then dropped to the left crossing a tributary of the Tuaraki coming in from the south. They continued down to a large flat area covered in tall forest where the Torre stream joined the Tuaraki. There were many deer trails here and they followed down the valley till the Tuaraki started to drop steeply where they did a long difficult sidle at the 400 metre contour. This was mostly on a deer trail and butted up against high cliffs. Eventually they crossed a spur and found themselves high above the Camelot Valley. They sidled down valley for awhile before dropping straight down to the Camelot River where they found an open space on its bank to camp.

They had a system established by now. Stan would pitch camp and Simon would have a swim. Then a hot chocholate drink and dinner followed. Clothes would be hung out to dry and sometimes washed. Occasionally there was some repairing done. They tended to head off to bed early as most morning started at 6.00 AM.

Next day dawned clear and they set off at 7.30 AM. There was good travel on the numerous deer trails in the valley. They saw a deer running through the forest and the scenery was magnificent. Its a long way from the Tuaraki/Crozette junction to the navigable part of the river. They passed the Bevidere falls which were quite impressive and found no sign of Murrells hut site. On they walked for several hours till they reached a wide slow part of the river and here they decided to inflate the packafts.

They drifted down the final two kilometres of river to the estuary. There was a strong wind blowing down the valley. Landing they contemplated the white caps out on Gaer Arm. Then they set off in the small rafts closely following the shore at first and later striking further out into the sound. The wind at their backs helped a lot and they covered the 8 kilometres in about 2.5-3 hours of paddling. Landing at Rum Creek they set up camp a little up river. The sandflies were thick there necessitating headnets

Another fine day as the boys had breakfast and broke camp. The going was easy and they covered the three kilometres on the Rum to the junction with the Toddy river in two hours. Here the forest was quite open and they moved on a deer trail into a steep valley.

This deteriorated rapidly into a tangle of huge rocks and gullies covered in thick vines and scrub. After a while they broke out of this onto a slip where they had a break. Then it was into a large flat area covered in forest and on good deer trails till the valley curved around to the left and started to climb towards the Toddy Saddle. Here they went astray and climbed a steep bluff on the left only to descend and move too far right. This eventually took them out onto a small clearing and the easiest way seemed to be to continue upwards. Needless to say it got worse as they struck a band of leatherwood where the only option was to bash straight upwards. At 4.30 PM they mercifully reached the saddle above its high point and onto a clearing. This was ideal for their camp and soon Stan had the tent up and a brew on. There was mossy ground nearby and Simon made a soak here to collect water. There were some pretty mountain gentians in flower. Across the valley rose the Trios Peaks and Mt Namu.

In the morning Simon set off to climb the peaks and Stan decided to have a rest day. It was lovely and warm so he had a bath and washed his clothes. It was too hot to sleep even with the sleeping bags over the tent. He used the VHF to call up DOC at Te Anau for a forecast. At 4.30 PM Simon returned successful after a great day on the tops and suggested they descend to Heel Cove, site of their first food cache. They found good deer trails and descended the 700 metres in three hours. Their food cache was near an old hunters camp where they stayed. They cooked up a big meal and then retired.

It was fine next morning as the boys were up early and got breakfast. Stan had sorted out the food cache. He left a bucket of food that was surplus and to Simon’s chagrin a pottle of honey was left which he did not discover till later. The sandflies hastened their departure and it was a pleasant paddle to Toe Cove. Here they landed on tidal flats and quickly packed up their packrafts and set off into the forest.

Again deer trails provided the easiest going but these tended not to go in the right direction so they were not really sure if it would lead them to the saddle marked at 328 metres on the map. The deer trail wandered about a bit and then took off straight uphill to the 400 metre contour to the southeast of the saddle. This was alright as it was a good route and the trail was well trodden. Crossing the ridge it was decided to head straight down to the Windward River which they struck southeast of the hill marked 110 metres near its mouth. They wandered around it to find a most impressive gorge with the river thundering below into Charles Sound. The entrance was cliff bound so they sidled around for awhile till they found easier access to the sound. Here they launched the packrafts and paddled out to a small island. As there was no fresh water on the island they decided to carry on for another kilometre to a beach on the true right of the fjord against a strong wind. There were extensive tidal flats and they carried the rafts across these. The far shore was poor for camping but they managed to clear an area and set up camp. They got the marine forecast on their VHF radio and it promised more wind.

The alarm went off at 5.00 AM but the wind was strong so they slept in. Later it seemed to ease off so they decided to give it a go. They left at 9.30 AM and at first the winds were light and they made steady progress. However once past Fanny Island the wind gusts grew stronger and progress was at a snails pace for Stan who found it difficult to keep pace with Simon. Every headland was a battle as the wind drove the packrafts back. The waves grew larger but the rafts rode over the swells easily. Then they could see the open sea on a grey morning with waves driven in by the northerly wind. Ahead was Eleanor Island and Friendship Point and here they really battled the seas to get around into Emelius Arm. Once around though the wind dropped and they stopped for lunch on some rocks under a cliff. It was the usual Tortilla wraps with peanut butter, cheese and dried fruit. Although it looked disgusting they scoffed them down. Then they carried on up the sound with the wind on their backs and made steady progress to the head of Emelius Arm. There it was quite shallow and with the tide ebbing it was a hard push up the Irene River for about 1.5 kilometres to a pleasant campsite in the tall forest under the Marjorie Ridge. Simon headed off for a swim as Stan set up camp in the rain.

The rain stopped overnight and they had a late start at 9.30 AM. Stan had a restless night and dreamt of the Taliban though why was a mystery to him! They started up the ridge behind camp and found easy progress at first up a gently ridge climbing towards Marjorie Creek. This climbed up to 300 metres where the going became more difficult in some gullies but eventually they reached Marjorie creek at about 340 metres. There was a steep descent into it and a straightforward climb on big boulders up to the hanging valley above. It was grey and drizzling. After 100 metres they entered a level boggy valley. In one area there was a clearing with stumps of saw off trees evident and likely to have been a helicopter clearing for deer recovery years ago. They picked up a side creek and found deer trails that took them up to Shirley Saddle at 780 metres at 3.30 PM. It rained all day and the lads were cold and wet. The lowest point of the saddle did not look promising for camping so they turned left up a steep gully onto an open plateau still in the bush with several good campsites.

 Simon called up Sue at DOC and had her patch him through to his mum who was having a birthday. Lake Shirley was 150 metres below them. They had a pleasant camp on the ridge.


The route on Google Earth and on their maps appeared to be to the left of the saddle so they set off on a deer trail in that direction. After a while they decided to head straight down and although steep proved straightforward. They got down to a beach at the head of the lake and blew up their rafts. It was a pleasant paddle down the 2 kilometre long lake. There were stunning reflections of the forest on the hillsides in the dark waters.

At the end of the lake which they renamed Lago Alpacka in tribute to their packraft maker they headed off to the left and had lunch on some granite domes at the 630 metres level. From here there was a fantastic view of the whole length of Caswell Sound from the ocean to the head. They set off along the line of the domes and at the end of them dropped straight down to Caswell Sound. The forest was very steep in places and in one spot they stumbled on a nest of bees which attacked them speeding up their descent. They came out on a rocky stream bed on the sound just as the rain came on. Packrafts were speedily launched and a slow paddle was made in pouring rain to the head of the sound.

The current was strong in the river at the head and they paddled up this to the first rapid to land near the Caswell Sound hut. This venerable historic hut was built in 1949 by Colonel J K Howard Wapiti Expedition. In the summer of 2007 Ken Bradley and Grant Tremain restored the hut as it was in danger of collapse. It is a wonderful old place and a welcome refuge in the pouring rain. They got a fire going and welcome hot drink and then it was a bath in the river. The rain bucketed down that evening.

They awoke to a grey day but at least the rain had stopped. At lunchtime they decided to set off up the river to Lake Marchant. There was no wind and the lake was huge and hemmed in by massive cliffs to the south. They blew up the rafts as a weka paid them a visit. Trout was jumping out in the lake which was very still. They set off up the Stillwater which ran slow and deep beneath high banks. They were able to paddle the best part of 3 kilometres up river before the current stopped them. They it was a tramp up the true left of the river towards the Knob. It took an age to reach this and navigation was difficult. They missed it initially and then managed to get a GPS reading and backtracked several hundred metres to the rise to the pass on the south of the knob. Light was fading as they slowly made their way through the swamp in the saddle. At the far end they reached a steep drop off which they avoided by sidling along and then an easy descent took them to an open grassy though very wet area. On the far side they made camp in the forest on the banks of the Stillwater.

The next day dawned fine and the lads were moving by 8.00 AM. They made slow progress up valley through boggy flats and dense bush. Below Ethne Saddle they reached a gorge and expected to find a walkwire so continued up it on a deer trail that climbed quite high and then dropped back to river level past the gorge. Again no sign of a crossing so they retraced their step back to the start of the gorge. Here Simon blew up his raft and he ferried the gear across and then Stan. On the far side they had lunch and then set off up a swampy Ethne valley. Better going was found on the right on a deer trail which they followed all the way to the saddle at 270 metres. Then it was a straightforward descent to the South West Arm of George Sound which they reached later in the afternoon. There was a nice beach there and it was hot so the lads stripped off and went for a swim in the warm water. They picked up their food cache including a previous one put in one and a half years ago which was quite edible. They loading all the buckets into the packrafts and started the six kilometre paddle to George Sound hut. The sandflies were a pest and attacked them even as they paddled. There was a headwind to the junction with the Southeast arm and it took a few hours to get there.

They decided to have a rest day at George Sound hut the following day. It dawned overcast and windy. Simon paddled over to Alice Falls and carried his raft up to Lake Alice and paddled to its head. Stanley spent the day resting, reading and of course eating there being no shortage of food. Surprisingly their old food cache was fine even the pumpernickel which over a year old. Later in the day Simon returned and they sorted out excess food and left a food cache nearby for the following year. It rained heavily that night and was very windy.

They left at 9.00 AM next day for Henry Saddle. It was hot and overcast and thankfully the rain had stopped. Stan walked in just his shorts and made Lake Katherine in one and a half hours. Simon arrived shortly afterwards. It was a short walk around the lake and then a long grind up to Henry Saddle at 830 metres. It was 2.30 PM before Stan arrived to meet Simon who had arrived earlier. Simon called up DOC at Te Anau for a forecast and it predicted a southerly for several days which proved correct. They had lunch on the saddle and then it was a descent to Deadwood Lagoon. Here there were some awesome mudholes and the track was very wet. They carried on down the valley arriving at Lake Thompson Hut at 7.30 PM. This was most welcome as the boys were a bit sick of the track by then not to mention hungry and dying for their hot chocholate drinks.

Next day they continued down the valley. At lake Thompson Simon elected to paddle down in his packraft while Stanley walked around. Below the lake is an awesome walkwire. They arrived at Lake Hankinson Hut and there launched their packrafts into the river to paddle down to the lake. There a very rough lake stirred up by the southerly wind greeted them. It was difficult to make progress at first as the waves literally threw them backwards. The only hope was to claw their way around the shoreline which they managed. There was one dicey part which involved crossing the narrows just over half way down and they were nearly across when the wind increased along with williwaws creating quite a maelstrom. The rest was easy and they landed at the boat ramp. Then it was an easy carry over to Lake Te Anau. Here there was a big wind blowing up the lake. They were going to camp but late evening it eased off so they set off in the rafts. It was hard work in the waves and wind but they made slow but steady progress. The plan was to get around into the South West Arm but night caught them short of the corner so they turned around and surfed back to a beach not far from the junction. This was a good spot so they camped there.

Next morning it was still very windy as Simon set off first. Stanley found just getting off the beach a battle as the waves threw the raft back onto the beach several times. He had to empty the raft which got swamped and then in a lull dashed out and jumped in and paddled like hell. Although the junction was not far it was a huge struggle just getting there as the gusts blew him backwards. Then he noticed his raft seemed to be loosing air as the pack strapped on the front deck was slowly sinking into the waves. It was not looking too good for some time till he was able to claw around the corner and call over Simon who was able to blow up the leaking valve which had worked loose. After this it was a breeze literally as the wind was on their backs and they moved along steadily down the arm. About half way down they were surprised to meet a lone sea kayaker and exchanged some pleasantries with him. They reached the Junction Burn Hut in a few hours after leaving and changed here. Then it was up the Woodrow Burn on a good track. There were a few gorges to negotiate but it was pretty easy after their previous route. At 6.30 PM they stopped at a flat just past a tricky gorge at 580 metres and had a pleasant camp and meal.

It was cool that night and clear next day as they set of up the valley. There were tantalising glimpses of snow covered mountains at the head of the valley. There were extensive clearing and excellent going. Eventually they reached a small lake and a bit further on the disked route ended. Up ahead was a gorge and Simon found a good deer trail up the true left of this. Further on were some lovely clearings and then they were above the bushline and stopping for lunch near the stream.


They traversed around a shoulder of Mt Irene at 1000 metres and sidled across to a small tarn just northeast of Robin Saddle were they camped. As it was early afternoon Simon set off on a reconnaissance of Mt Irene and Stanley elected to have a rest and wash instead. Later that evening Simon returned having climbed to the summit. That night is was cool and clear.

Next morning the lads were up at 5.00 AM in the dark getting breakfast and packing up camp. There had been a light frost during the night. They left most of their gear and for the first time on the trip could move along with feather light packs. They climbed up a ridge straight above their camp which took them across a sort of plateau with several small tarns and then over another ridge to a larger tarn below the main bulk of Mt Irene. There was a massive cliff here with amazing stratification. The dawn had arrived with a lovely alpenglow. Down below them the valley was shrouded in cloud and an easterly wind blew clouds over the passes to the west where the ephemeral strands dissolved into thin air. On they pressed to sidle around the cliffs to the south of Mr Irene where a break let them scramble upwards onto talus slopes to the summit. Here there was a superlative view all around them. In a huge 200 kilometre circle was their route over the past two weeks laid out below them. It felt like a homecoming to a sacred mountain lording it over the lesser peaks of Middle Fiordland. Our two adventurers felt very privileged to be there. On top was a VHF repeater and a small shed with lots of batteries and electronic gear. A freezing wind blew across the summit as they sheltered in the lee of this ‘dogbox’ to have some lunch. Then it was a round of photos before descending back to camp. Here they packed up and set off down the bluffs into the Esk valley and on to lake Duncan and down to Te Au Hut.













Next day the lads started early and sped across the saddle to the Mckenzie Burn and on down to the McKenzie Hut where they had lunch. From here it was a short walk to the lake where they paddled across to the mouth of the Gorge Burn. Their kayaks were in the bush as they had left them 18 days previous. These were hastily loaded as the sandflies were bad. An easterly wind blew up the lake as they set off but this later eased off. Several hours later they were crossing Lake Te Anau where they spotted the welcome sight of Sue waiting on the shore. Simon did two victory rolls in the lake just before they landed for the last time.

An account of the first traverse of a new route through Middle Fiordland circumambulating Mt Irene by Simon Marwick and Stan Mulvany 2-18 February 2008

Acknowledgments: To Sue Lake for looking after us before and after our trip and for keeping in radio contact. Thanks to Lloyd Matheson and the staff of Southern lake Helicopters for looking after our food caches and their concern and interest. A big thanks to the DOC staff at Te Anau including Phil Tisch, Beth Masser, Ken Bradley and the staff on the radios who do such a wonderful job. I acknowledge Simon Marwick who is such a stalwart companion on these trips, who carries the heaviest load without complaint and who often scouts out the route and is so patient when I am struggling to keep up. Lastly but not the least my long suffering wife Belinda who never complains when I dream up these mad expeditions.
Photographs were taken by Simon and myself.

Stanley Mulvany
Invercargill

Deh Cho Journal, a Paddle on the Mackenzie River Canada

Deh Cho Journal, a paddle on the Mackenzie River, Canada

By Stanley and Belinda Mulvany

For some years we have been interested in kayaking down the Mackenzie River ( Deh Cho to the Dene Indians) since reading an account of that trip in Victoria Jason’s book “ Kabloona in a Yellow Kayak”. On further research I found some good articles on the Mackenzie River on the internet, one by Cominco and others by the Pinsons and Peta Owens-Liston. There was some useful information in a book called ‘Canoeing Canada’s Northwest Territories” by Mary McCreadie. Surprisingly there is no published book of the Mackenzie though I understand Jamie Bastedo of Yellowknife is about to publish one soon

Our plan was to kayak to Tuktoyaktuk in the Beaufort Sea, a distance of approximately 2000 kilometres. We estimated it would take us a month and allowed another 5 days in case of bad weather and the return to Inuvik which is the main hub in the western Canadian arctic. Last year Bevan Walker and Russell Davidson from New Zealand kayaked from Hay River to Inuvik in 18 days which is probably a record time and we did not expect to match it.

On 7th July Belinda and I flew from Invercargill to Edmonton where we overnighted and next day boarded a small plane for the 1000 kilometre flight to Hay River. We flew over vast areas of forest and then a huge inland sea, Great Slave Lake opened out in front of us. At the airport Doug Swallow who runs ‘Canoe North’ met us and showed us around town and then dropped us at our motel.

Next morning Doug picked us up and took us to his warehouse where I bought some maps of strategic parts of the river, an airhorn and some bear spray. Then he dropped us off at his house where we found our rental kayaks. Doug’s garden backs onto Hay River. We spent the rest of the morning packing the kayaks and getting ready. The kayaks were Inukshuks which are a large 17 foot polyethylene sea kayak which we found excellent for the trip. I brought along a sail which I rigged to the front of my kayak.

We set off at noon and kayaked down the Hay River which was huge and muddy coloured, and then took the left hand fork around Vale Island to enter Great Slave to the west. The lake is shallow so we moved off shore about 100 metres and headed west. The country is flat and forest comes right up to the shore which is covered in drift wood. At 5.00 PM we stopped at a peninsula which had a navigation beacon on it. I took a GPS reading and found we had only covered 20 kilometres. As it was a pleasant camping spot we pitched our tent. Here we had an unfortunate accident and broke one of our tent poles but luckily we were able to sleeve it. I went for a walk and found a deserted cabin nearby in the bush and more importantly a long drop beside it.

We woke to a lovely day. There was a gentle wind from the east so I deployed the sail and with Belinda hooked on behind me, we moved along steadily reaching Point Roche in 2 hours. We stopped for a break on a small island and then set off along a reedy shore which went for many kilometres. I was only able to use the sail for some of the time as the wind was quartering. It took several hours to reach Gros Point where we pulled into a tiny island with a green hut. By now the wind was blowing hard on the beam and we kayaked into a channel with lots of islands at the outlet of Great Slave. We found an old campsite on an island where there were some poles and a fireplace. I had a wash, shave and dried some clothes. I had a look around for animal trails and noticed an old overgrown trail back in the forest. After dinner I took the food away in 2 pack liners and hid them well away from camp.

I awoke at 4.30 AM, got up, organised camp and later got breakfast ready. Belinda was still in her sleeping bag as I wandered down to the river bank to get something. Then I heard a branch snap and I thought that’s odd as B was still in the tent. I walked back up to the camp and came face to face with a large bear. I’m not sure who was more surprised. I called out to Belinda that we had company and that we’d have to depart promptly. Then as B was frantically packing up gear in the tent I got out the airhorn and gave Smokey a few blasts. He hesitated and then slowly moved sideways into the forest. Then we had a mad panic to pack up everything and take off in case Smokey changed his mind about breakfast. One good thing about this episode is that we made an early start! Belinda finished her breakfast out on the water. It was a gorgeous morning with soft light and vast channels between huge islands that seemed to go for many kilometres. We saw and heard numerous birds and later I hit a large fish with my rudder and saw a huge fish broke the surface.

On we paddled past a reedy shore with no opportunity of pulling in. This went on for 7 hours so that we were very sore and cramped in the kayaks. I used my mug as a urinal but poor Belinda had to use her bowl and perch on the side of her cockpit while we rafted up. O the joys of kayaking! Eventually I spied some rocks at the side of the reed beds and guessed correctly there might be a beach there. What a relief to get out and stretch. As it was quite warm we went for a swim which was very refreshing. We carried on and found the ferry crossing and further on a second one with the ferry going back and forwards. Eventually we reached Fort Providence, an attractive Dene community on a high bank on the right side. There is a park at the southern end of town with a boat ramp and we camped on the bank there. We walked into town and bought a buffalo burger. I felt knackered and we’d only come 121 kilometres from Hay River and 65 that day. My hands were full of blisters.

I slept well and woke to another gorgeous day. It was very quiet as we packed up and had breakfast. We got away at 8.00 AM and had a nice paddle down to Mills Lake with a fast current and many islands. Generally we followed the buoys as they mark the main channel. We stopped at an island for a break near the lake. Then we rounded a headland and were into Mills Lake following the southern shore. It had picturesque forest and some nice shoreline where we had breaks. Out in the lake a coastguard ship passed us and later a tug pushing some barges. We stopped at the entrance of the Mackenzie for a snack and I went for another swim. Belinda was complaining of burning hands and we guessed it was a photosensitivity to Doxycycline which she was still on from her Cambodian trip immediately prior to this expedition. We had a slow paddle down the left hand shore as Belinda was not feeling well. I ended up giving her a tow. Then the wind got up and we decided to cross over to the right hand bank. This became more urgent as we had several kilometres of open water to cross and the wind was building fast from the north creating quite a chop. There was a collective sigh of relief as we closed on the far bank and then had to slog into the wind for several more kilometres till we reached a large open flat area full of birds mostly Arctic terns who seemed to be nesting there. There was an old campsite there so we set up camp. I had a good check around for bear prints but it looked safe enough. Our tally for the day was only 48 kilometres, which was very disheartening.

I slept badly that night and arose at 5.00 AM to a lovely morning. We got away at 6.30 AM and made fast time for the first 25 kilometres. Then we cut across the river to where there was a barge moored with some buildings in the bush. Later we crossed back to the right bank and saw a huge nest in a high tree with a bald eagle in residence. The day became very hot which slowed us down and after 52 kilometres we called it a day at Red Knife Creek. The flies were quite bad and Belinda indicated she was already sick of the trip. Our tally so far was only 221 kilometres.

We arose at 4.00 AM to try to beat the great heat of the previous day. I had slept poorly being anxious about being disturbed by a bear during the night. Set off at a cracking pace upon this endless river. Belinda remarked at one stage that all she could see was a mind numbing paddle to another distant headland. Yes, it was a bit like that! After several hours we reached a lovely tributary on the left called Trout River which flowed deep and tannin stained past a high bank with some picturesque cabins. We paddled up it to a landing and climbed up to wander around a group of cabins spread along the bank. It was deserted and most of the cabins were locked. There was an interesting pit toilet which had two seats and a gallery of children’s art works and newspaper clippings. I were just getting ready to fire up my cooker on a table near a cabin when my gaze locked onto a familiar face swimming across to us_ my friend Smokey!! I could not believe it. When I told Belinda who was down by the kayaks about our lunch guest she did a Haka ( Maori war dance_ very frightening!!) and scared the poor thing which fled back into the reeds. What a meanie!

We left mid morning and paddled another 10 kilometres to Willow Island mid stream. Here the river narrowed and the current sped up. Our speed now doubled to 12.5 kilometres /hour which was great. From far off you could hear the rush of water around the channel buoys where the water was piled up on the upstream side. Then it grew warmer and Belinda more irritable as the temperature rose. I thought she might want to pull out at the next town. Later in the day we reached Jean Marie, a Dene Village on the left bank of Dhe Cho. This is just a small settlement and we were told by Doug there was a B&B there. There were a lot of huskies chained up near the river and when we landed a large husky dragging a chain came to investigate us. I’ve been told one of those brutes can tear a man in half and sledge dogs have been known to eat their drivers but I’m pleased to report butter would not melt in this dog’s mouth! Maybe he was just well fed! The place seemed deserted apart from one local native who was not really very helpful. Having established that no one was at home at the B&B he then proceeded to give us the vaguest of directions to a deserted sawmill down river at Spense Creek. He indicated it was just around the next corner but omitted to say on the far bank!! Maybe half an hour later as we rounded a huge bend I spotted a deserted building on a hill on the far bank. We swung into action to commence a massive ferry glide across a kilometre wide, fast flowing river. We seemed to be loosing ground as we power stroked into a massive current with the far bank slipping past but near the bank it eased off in shallower water and I could paddle upstream to join Belinda.

We pulled the kayaks up onto a grassy bank and then walked up a trail 100 feet to an old two story log house on a bit of a lean sited on a terrace. We pushed open the door and found a rickety stairs climbing to a nice attic with a great view of the river. It looked like heaven to us as we set up the tent against the flies and mosquitoes.



Open windows looked out onto the river. Later we went down to the river and had a wash which was easier said than down as there were large biting insects called ‘bulldogs’ orbiting our naked bodies. This encouraged a rapid undressing and submerging and a reverse performance on getting out. It was heaven to be in the attic out of the sun. Our tally was 83 kilometres that day, our best so far.

We decided to spend the day at the sawmill so slept late. In fact Belinda did not get up till 1.00PM. I woke to a shrill noise of a squirrel like animal which appeared in the window of the attic and which vanished just as suddenly. I went for a swim in the river which was very refreshing. As the day heated up the Bulldogs arrived and made life outdoors uncomfortable as they would bite through your clothing. We also decided to some washing of clothes which turned out to be a frantic scrabble into headnets and into the water where we removed our clothes whilst submerged. A great flailing of arms and clothes ensued with much shouting and slapping. It was even worse trying to get on our wet clinging clothes back on. Those flies could bite!! Lesson learned wash your clothes while still wearing them. We had a good sort out of supplies in the comfort of the attic and decided to try a night paddle to Fort Simpson 65 kilometres down-stream thus avoiding the heat of the day. At 10 PM we shoved off and paddled quickly downstream. Later we met a runabout coming up river with some Indian men in it who were intrigued by us and took our photo. The current was fast and we moved along quickly. It grew darker but enough to see where we were going and to read our watches. It was very quiet apart from the roar of water around the buoys. It took us 7.5 hours to reach Fort Simpson across the mouth of the Liard river.

We pulled up on a muddy foreshore near the official campground. Then we walked around town and had to kill a few hours till the shops opened. At 8.00 AM the grocery store opened and we stocked up on supplies. Then I carried them back to the kayaks while Belinda went off to find an internet site. We visited the information office which was very worthwhile as they had some great photos of the early years at Fort Simpson and also had a birchbark canoe. A bonus was free internet access there. We decided we did not like the idea of staying in Fort Simpson so we left at 1.00 PM. In the afternoon we paddled 30 kilometres and camped on a beach. When the sun came out it was like a furnace in the tent and the only way to cool down was to jump into the river.

I woke at 5.00 AM. Belinda was still asleep so I waited for an hour before trying to get up. All I got for my effort was “ leave me alone” in an angry voice. This was understandable as we had decided the night before to get up at 6.30 AM. Anyway we did get away at 7.15 AM and later found some locked cabins on the right bank about 19 kilometres before the Wrigley ferry crossing. There was a large grassy area which would have been a perfect campsite. We stopped for lunch at the Ferry Crossing. No one was about. We continued for another 10-12 kilometres before camping on a sandy beach ahead of a fast moving thunderstorm. It got very windy and there was heavy rain. We were going to stay here but once the storm passed the sun came out and it got very hot so I suggested we have dinner and carry on. This went well and we eventually camped 13 kilometres short of the North Nahanni River at Campsell Bend. It was picturesque country with mountains in the distance and lovely forest and vistas. We found a nice stretch of beach on the right side at 9.30 PM and set up camp. Shortly after we retired we heard an odd noise like a child speaking and movement outside. When we looked out there was a furry animal the size of a wombat waddling away from our camp. It’s a mystery to us what it was.

We woke next day to a foggy morning at 7.30 AM. We were on the famous Camsell Bend which is reputed to be one of the largest river bends in the world. There was no view of the mountains due to low cloud but this dispersed in a few hours. We passed the entrance of the North Nahanni River and there was no sign of any cabins. It was fairly monotonous with a slow current, numerous islands and few birds or animals though we did see fresh moose hoof prints on the bank. The mountains faded into a low range of hills in the distance. A striking phenomenon was the total lack of sound in this vast landscape. I shouted a few times to see if I could make a noise! We had dinner at 27 mile island about 8 kilometres from Willow Lake river to the east which we never saw as it was behind an island. It was a pleasant evening. We camped soon afterwards. Out total distance was 560 kilometres since leaving Hay River but it felt like we’d come much further.

Slept well and woke to an overcast day. Away at 8.45 AM and arrived at Wrigley at lunchtime covering 48 kilometres. We had wind and rain though the river was running fast. Wrigley was a small settlement of log cabins on a terrace above the river. There. was a picturesque church where we had lunch in the foyer out of the rain.

We bought a few groceries in the tiny store. Walking back to the kayaks an Indian couple stopped in their 4WD to talk to us. They were most interested in our journey and told us to make an offering to Dhe Cho by throwing some tobacco ( or food) with the left hand as it would bring us good fortune. I was careful to do this when emptying out food scraps.

We set off in the dismal afternoon rain across the river to camp at old Fort Wrigley but could not find it in the forest so stopped at an old campsite where there were the frames of a shelter. I draped our fly over the rafters and pitched the tent on the ply floor underneath. It was a nice camp out of the wind which now blew strongly from the north making paddling near impossible. All the left hand bank forest had been burned years ago and was covered in secondary growth and fireweed. Across the river was the 350 metre Roche qui Trempe a l’Eau where there were reputed to be hot springs but these were not evident from our campsite.

Next day I made a bad error in starting. I was bursting to get going and make the Blackwater River where there was supposed to be good camping but I did not appreciate how windy it was in our sheltered posse. So off we went and I immediately regretted it as we struggled into a gale force wind followed by rain. After 8 kilometres we made camp in a not ideal spot with old bear prints nearby. It was rather depressing to think of the huge distance yet to cover and our slow progress to date. In the evening the wind died and it looked like it would fine up so we left. We moved along steadily but unfortunately up ahead cats paws ruffled the water. This quickly built into a gale so we put into the right bank and camped. Out total for the day only 10 kilometres.

Though it was a windy night I slept well. The barometric pressure rose 9 mb but it was still windy. I made use of the day by washing my clothes, having a shave and washed my hair. The rest was also beneficial. In the evening the wind dropped so we decided to leave about 5.30 PM and covered 40 kilometres to camp on a muddy bank under a bluff. The usual operation involved digging out a platform in either sand or mud and pitching the tent on that. We were careful to tie the kayaks to a log or rocks in case they got blown into the river which needless to say would have been disastrous. During the night I had to get up and put on the fly when it threatened to rain.

The north wind greeted us again next morning as we arose but it was not too strong so we set off. We reached the Keele River at 8.00 PM after a long day. I had an anxious time when I got stranded on a rock bar at the entrance to a side channel and was afraid to get out as it was windy and could not gauge the depth of the water due to its siltiness. Shortly afterwards the wind rose to about 25 knots which created a very turbulent chop so we pulled in to a muddy bank, chopped out a platform and made camp. Later 2 large power boats with Indians roared past nearly swamping our kayaks. I was none to pleased with that. Our total for the day was 90 kms.

We had a comfortable night just past the Keele River and overnight the wind seemed to drop. We were away at 7.30 AM. It was Belinda’s birthday but she did not seem to be in a good mood probably from lack of sleep. We made fast progress and the wind was light. We kept mostly to the right bypassing lots of islands on the left. There were two big bends to the west. We kayaked 80 kilometres to arrive at Fort Norman also known at Tulita. We had just pulled in to the boat ramp at the southern end of town when Rod Hardy drove up in his 4WD. He was very helpful and suggested we camp on his lawn. I went off with him in his car to check it out while Belinda looked after the kayaks. Rod has a fantastic place with several acres of lawn spread out on the high terrace overlooking the river with old tractors, trucks and machinery scattered about. We kayaked down to his place and set up camp. Then we walked to the Northern Store and bought some food. The manager was most friendly and was interested in our trip. Back at Rods place we went over for a chat and hot shower.

Rod is an amazing man, a retired oil company executive who has had an extraordinary life and an intriguing family history. On the wall of his lounge are a number of acknowledgments from various First Nations for the work he did in crafting treaties between them and the Federal Government in Ottawa. He was an advisor to Prime Minister Mulroney when that was happening. His father died in his 90’s and was reknowned for having ridden a horse from eastern Canada to Fort Norman after WW2 taking 16 years to work his way across. His mother was a Metis ( a person of European and Indian heritage) and his grandmother was Marie Fisher Gaudet who was an identity in the north and who is buried at the Catholic cemetery at Ford Good Hope. Rod in his youth had travelled with the local Indians on hunting expeditions hundreds of miles to the Mackenzie Mountains off to the west. He told us stories of ancient Indian trails in the mountains.

We had a comfortable night in the tent and made a leisurely start at 7.30 AM. We packed up and went up to the house to have breakfast with Rod. It was 9.45 AM before we got away which was a shame really as I enjoyed talking to Rod so much. The wind had got up as we set off to cross the entrance of Great Bear River with it’s beautiful clear cold water. This runs side by side with the silty Mackenzie for a kilometre or two before mixing. On the other side of the Great Bear River rises Bear Mountain which has 3 large red patches of rock said by the Dene to be 3 huge beaver pelts that a giant killed and stretched out on the mountain. I would have liked to have climbed it but our pressing need was distance. The wind built and we gave up after 30 kilometres and camped. After dinner the wind had dropped so we pushed off at 7.00 PM and had an easier ride in the 10 knot headwind and camped 14 kilometres from Norman Wells.

The temperature dropped during the night and we awoke to a windless day for a change. We reached the township of Normal Wells at 10.00 AM. Norman Wells is an oil town with 6 man made islands mid stream with 19 oil wells. One wonders why they choose to drill under a very large river with so much land about. During summer employees are ferried to work by boat. In winter they are driven across the ice and in spring and autumn they are ferried by helicopter. At the boat ramp was a life jacket ‘tree’, each jacket had a name attached, a memorial to those drowned on the river. A notice displays a safety campaign encouraging boat users to borrow a jacket and return it to either Fort Norman, Normal Wells or Fort Good Hope. There we stocked up on food and then we visited the information centre/museum which had very friendly staff and a great display of photographs, crafts and books. The ladies there were very helpful and let me recharge my camera battery and use the internet. Rod had suggested a Chinese restaurant which also served more traditional food. I enjoyed a caribou burger while Belinda celebrated her belated birthday with a large plate of fresh vegetables.

We set off at 4.30 PM into a 10-15 knot headwind and kayaked 18 kilometres. We spent the night in a hunter’s camp in the bush. This was a large canvas tent on a platform surrounded by plywood walls with lots of nails poking outwards no doubt to discourage bears. Inside were some mattresses but best of all there were no bugs and it was semi-dark at night so we slept well.

The rapids now lay just ahead of us as well as the Arctic Circle. We left early. It was windy and overcast to start with and it just improved all day to a lovely sunny windless day. I spotted the famous metal tepee on a rise on the left bank and pulled in. It was a bit of a bush bash up to it and obviously not many people come this way. It was a small tepee with barely enough room to camp inside.

The ‘hut book’ had only 3 entries this year and dated from 1960. It was a memorial to a young man called Hugh Lockhart who drowned in the San Sault Rapids in 1961. It was quite moving looking at his photograph and reading the account. We made an entry and carried on.

We stopped for dinner just above the San Sault Rapids as we were both tired having come about 100 kilometres that day. After dinner we carried on keeping to the left side of the river looking for the rapids. I was checking my Map GPS which unfortunately does not have the rapids on it. Once I was sure we were past them I told Belinda and we decided to keep going. Further on the river banks were steep and crumbling and with no good campsites so on we went for hours with Belinda getting more vocal and irritable. Late that evening I spotted a beach on an island which proved to have an ideal campsite so we stoped there. This was our best run about 120 kilometres. We were both knackered.

Next morning we had a late start at 8.00 AM and on the water at 10 AM. Another day sunny, warm but not too hot and NO WIND. Arrived at the Rampart Canyon which was spectacular with crumbing sandstone cliffs towering 80 metres straight out of the water topped with spruce forest. As suggested in most written reports we stayed close to the right hand side. The current was fast with boils and large eddies but not a rapid to be seen. We concluded this lack of rapids was due to the risen water levels.

The canyon is about 12 kilometres long and coming out of it we spotted the statue of the Virgin Mary high on a cliff on the right side. We pulled in for a closer look. Down river we could see the striking church of Fort Good Hope on a bend of the river. Arriving at this Slavey community we left the kayaks at the boat landing and walked up into the town and made for the Northern Store to restock and visited Our Lady of Good Hope Church built in 1860’s by the Oblate Missionaries. A missionary Fr Emile Petitot painted the striking murals in the church. Unfortunately this was locked so we did not have a chance to see them. In the cemetery behind the church we found the graves of Marie Fisher Gaudet who was Rod Hardy’s grandmother and also Fr Grollier and Brother Kearney of the Oblate mission. Brother Kearney was from Ireland and spent his life working in this far flung corner of civilisation so far from his native land. I spoke to some men about camping and they suggested we make for Loon River and then Grandview, the Sorensen homestead. They informed me Fred and Irene had died but their daughter was at Grandview. As it was late we set off and camped about 3 kilometres downstream. We had come about 100 kilometres in total that day.

We were dog tired and it was 9.00 AM before we paddled on. Another perfect day with no wind again. It is 350 kilometres to Tsiigetghetic ( pronounced see-ga-chick) also know as Arctic Red and this is some of the most remote country on the Mackenzie. There are no settlements on this section and the country is mostly flat. We kayaked on through pleasant enough country with northern spruce. We stopped at a large deserted Indian encampment on a high bank on the left. There were a collection of cabins, tepees and a canvas tent with beds. Out front were 2 lazy-boy arm chairs which were so comfortable I fell asleep as soon as I sat down, much to Belinda’s amusement. Across the river was a large cliff with a track or road winding up it which seemed odd in such a remote region. Late in the day we passed a tug pushing barges up river. After 90 kilometres we reached the Ontaratue River where I hoped we’d find Grandview but nothing there.

After breakfast I kayaked up river for maybe half a kilometre to get some clean water but no luck. Then we set off and after a kilometre found Grandview on the left bank. There was a red aluminium boat with a large outboard pulled up on the beach and a driveway went back into the bush where we could see a tall aerial. This opened out into a large clearing with several buildings. This was the Sorenson camp. It was very quiet. The main house was boarded up and the others were unlocked. In one I found a note on the table dated the previous year inviting travellers to make themselves comfortable and to leave them a note. Only one entry was on the sheet of paper from the previous month. The house was spacious and clean. The two bedrooms had the beds made up as though we were expected. We had a look around and nearby were two graves of Irene and Fred Sorenson. Irene has passed on in 1998 and Fred in 2001. It was a shock to realise that it was only in 1993 that Victoria Jason had visited and wrote in her book about all the happiness she found at Grandview. Now it was deserted and deadly quiet and all the main characters of that time have left us,
including Victoria.

We would have loved to stay a day or two but the weather was fine and there was no wind. We spent the morning looking around. There were several old tractors parked in the clearing and at the back the old sawmill. It looked like someone had taken a teabreak and you expected to see someone bounding down the clearing. It was like a picture frozen in time. There was a melancholy aura to the area and I grieved for the Sorensons and Victoria. I wrote a note to the Sorenson daughters and at lunch time we left.

We kayaked 40 kilometres in the afternoon and had dinner near an odd collection of prefab huts on a hill. It may have been a mining settlement or maybe a CIA post. No one appeared and it remained a mystery. After dinner we followed along the left hand bank until we came across a lot of islands and on the far bank was a cabin on a hill. I thought it might be unlocked so we ferry glided across only to find it firmly locked. We camped on the beach.

Next morning our old friend the wind was back. It was blowing about 10 knots as we set off at 10.00 AM. We kayaked 75 kilometres to the Travaillant River marked on my GPS map but could not find it. I had only my map GPS and this did not show all the tributaries coming in so it was a bit of guess work figuring out where we were.

I slept well and set off at 8.45AM. We soon came on the Travaillant River flowing broad and clear into the Mackenzie. We deviated up this to get some lovely clear water. In the afternoon we spotted a cabin on the right bank and met a friendly young man called Daniel Andre. He invited us up for a cup of tea. First though he shot off to check his fish nets on a nearby creek. We strolled up to his cabin and met his father. We sat outside while Daniel brewed up a jug of water over an open fire. He is a trapper hunting Lynx, Martin and other fur bearing animals. He told us about his trap line along the Travaillant River to the lake upstream. He also studies geology at Victoria University. He wanted us to stay for dinner but as usual we felt the need to kill more kilometres and reluctantly left. He showed us his smoke house where he was smoking lots of fish. He told us that his sister Julie and her family were camping further downstream and we should call in. We did another 20 kilometres that evening before camping. I calculated we had paddled 1437 kilometres.

Next day we found Julie’s camp 20 kilometres further on. We introduced ourselves and were invited to have a cup of coffee in their camp. Only Julie was up and the rest were asleep. Julie studys in Inuvik and has a house in Tsiigetghetic. She spends her holidays with her family on the river. She showed us the route to the East Channel to Inuvik. She also told us where to find Arctic Chalets near Inuvik which proved to be very useful. We continued into a strengthening wind and reached Tsiigetghetic at 4.30pm. Again the church was a prominent feature but on closer inspection it was run down with broken windows surrounded by weeds. It had a tidy medical clinic, an old peoples home and various building projects underway. We found the local shop, bought some groceries and had dinner on the waterfront near the car ferry on the Dempster Highway. After that we did another 7 kilometres before camping on the riverbank near a side creek.

We set off at 8.00 AM and soon reached the Point of Separation where the Mackenzie widens into a massive delta with many channels and islands. We followed the east bank for another 20 kilometres to the start of the East Channel going to Inuvik. This was marked with buoys but could be easily missed. I had taken a waypoint on the Rengleng River just at the start of the east channel and found it easily. The river here was much narrower maybe 50-75 metres. Oddly enough there were no buoys in the East Channel nor boats all day and I wondered if our map was correct. After several hours we took another right hand turn and moved along steadily around numerous bends. About 31 kilometres from Inuvik we hauled onto a grassy terrace and pitched camp. I was curious about some animal prints in the mud on the bank and it was only when I was in the tent and heard a large splash I realised they were beaver prints. Beavers are funny creatures. They swim about with their snout out of the water and then suddenly their tail flicks up and they smack the water and disappear. They are quite common on the whole river.

Dawn promised another warm day with no wind, and the mosquitoes were bad at our campsite. This made for a rapid departure. We found although it was only 31 kilometres to Inuvik in a straight line it was more like 50 with all the bends. We did not arrive till 3.30 PM. At the first road coming down to the water before Inuvik, next to a beached ship we put ashore and I wandered up and found Arctic Chalets. This attractive place is on a small lake surrounded by trees and is run by Judy and Olav Falsnes.

They were very welcoming and told me we could actually kayak up a side creek to the cabin which we did. What luxury to have a clean bed and our own shower and not have to strip off and jump into the river.

Inuvik is the largest town in the Western Arctic and the main administrative base. It has about 3200 residents, a large hospital and the famous Our Lady of Victory Church also called the Igloo Church opened in 1960. We spent a day at Inuvik resting and eating and then decided to kayak the remaining 200kms to Tuktoyaktuk or Tuk as its affectionally known. Tuk is an Inuvialuit village on the Tuktoyaktuk Peninsula at 69’ latitude north. It is beyond the tree line and faces the Beaufort Sea. Off shore is the polar ice pack some 250 miles away in August and rapidly encroaching in September when the sea begins to freeze.

On 5th August we left Arctic Chalets bound for Tuk. I had allowed for 4 days to take us there. The weather was fine but I noticed the barometer was falling and the forecast was for unsettled weather. We reached Reindeer Station on the right bank near the Caribou Hills. It was run down with broken windows surrounded by weeds and nearby were several empty and partly derelict cabins. It was established as a base for the Alaskan Reindeer herd. We had lunch there and then pushed on. In the afternoon we met our first paddler coming up stream. He was a Japanese man paddling a folding kayak up river and he spoke poor English but it appeared he had difficulty with big seas but we could not figure out if he actually made it to Tuk.

The sky now looked ominous and so we camped on the left bank further along just before it started to rain Our camp was on a dried out mud terrace backed by dense scrub, full of driftwood. The view to the east was of the Caribou Hills a few kilometres away. There were some moose foot prints in the mud but thankfully not bear prints. It blew and rained that night. After mid night I went out to tie the painters to a large log in case the river rose and our kayaks drifted off. I cannot imagine a worse calamity than loosing our kayaks in such a remote place. We had no radio or means of communication so it would be an extreme survival situation. We slept in as it was too windy next morning. Later in the morning I noticed that the barometer had risen and the wind had dropped a bit so we set off at 2.00 PM. To our right was a long stretch of reeds backing a low lying shore and we battled along this for 2.5 hours to cover only 13 kilometres. At the far end there were several kilometres of open water to cross and the 25 knot wind was causing quite a mass of waves. We had to battle across this to a beach which I was very pleased to reach. We went along just a short way and camped on a gravel beach behind some low bushes that gave us a bit of shelter. At least we were beside the Caribou Hills so there was somewhere to wander. We were about 20 kilometres from Tununuk.

It was now very cold and we changed into our thermals. We set up camp and I went for a walk up into the hills. These were about 200-300 feet high and backed a verdant plateau of tiny bushes with lots of berries. There was not an animal in sight! There was an extensive view of the vast Mackenzie Delta full of channels and lakes. It was dark and cloudy to the north towards Tununuk with a bitter wind flowing down from the North Pole. We were quite concerned about the prospects of reaching Tuktoyaktuk in such weather. We had about another 70-80 kms to the open sea and then about 50 kilometres of open sea to cross, a daunting prospect.

It blew like hell next morning, curtains of mist blowing up the river, grey sky and a bone chilling wind. Oddly enough the pressure seemed to be rising but no signs of an improvement. I went off for another walk up on the tundra which oddly enough was not too windy. When I was up there a huge helicopter came low over me heading south and never acknowledged me which I thought strange in view of the remoteness of the place. I went back to the tent later and read Michael Pallin’s book
‘Himalaya’ to pass the time. We were now resigned to not reaching Tuk by kayak and decided to head back to Inuvik tomorrow if no improvement. It felt like we will see pack ice soon!

The 8th of August saw us make the decision to return to Inuvik. There was no let up in the storm and I was concerned we might not be able to get on the water at all in such strong winds. I went out and rigged up my sail which I carried all the way with us and had only used on Great Slave a month previous. The wind had dropped to maybe 20 knot by now as we set off at 7.15 AM. Belinda tied on to my stern by a tow rope and we made fast time as we paddled south. We reached Reindeer Station at noon and had lunch there. We made fast time and could probably have covered the 80 kilometres back to Inuvik but decided to camp 9 kilometres before. In the afternoon the sun broke through. Next day we went back to Arctic Chalets. Then we dropped off our kayaks to the Northern Transportation Company to be barged back to Hay River and we took a tour by plane to Tuk. The flight was well worth the expense as we flew over a vast landscape of channels and lakes, 25 thousand lakes in the delta. We could see our furtherest camp and marvelled at the vast desolate tunda spread over the Tuk peninsula. We flew past many pingoes which are rounded hills 100-200 feet tall caused by underground lakes freezing and expanding upwards. Then we flew into Tuk which is a collection of colourful wooden houses on piles on a barren landscape. It was being lashed by a freezing cold wind. Our host was an Inuvialuit man called Googy who was a village elder and trapper, most informative and helpful.

Next day we said goodbye to the Falsnes and flew to Yellowknife where we spent a day exploring this fascinating town. Then it was on to Edmonton where we had arranged to meet two lovely ladies called Gladys and Sheila Orr that I first met as a wandering medical student many years ago and so ended our northern adventure.



Equipment: Besides the kayaks, paddles, spray skirts and dry bags, we took basic camping equipment including double skin tent, down sleeping bags, thermarests and multifuel stove and 4 litres of Fuel. We had a Garmin MapGPS and only a few maps of the river mainly the Mackenzie Delta and Tuktoyaktuk area. I also had an EPIRB and survival emergency kits. I took a large airhorn and bear spray for bear protection. We did not carry firearms which I consider unnecessary. For water purification we used a Steripen Adventurer hand held water purifier which unfortunately ceased to work during the trip despite being brand new. We also had a supply of iodine pills and we mainly used side creeks and runoffs on the banks which were cleaner. We did not bother with satellite phones, flares or filling out wilderness trip reports with the RCMP. However some people might find this useful if they are not used to remote wilderness travel.

Camping: We found for much of our journey the best camping seemed to be on the right hand bank which tended to be drier, less muddy and have better access to side creeks and generally larger areas for camping. Large stretches of the left or western bank in the middle section of the river had been razed by fire in previous years. Bugs were bad in many places and less of a nuisance on the river banks where there was some breeze but very bad indeed in the forest.


Acknowledgments: First to Belinda for accompanying me on this longest of paddles and enduring so much hardship. To Doug Swallow who provided us with our kayaks and made the arrangements that made the trip possible, To folk we met along the way including Rod Hardy of Fort Norman, Daniel Andre, Judy and Olav Falsnes, Boogy of Tuk, Gladys and Sheila Orr and the nameless folk who waved to us as they passed us on the river. Lastly I would like to mention the Sorensons who were kind enough to make their house available in the wilderness for weary travellers like ourselves.

Stanley Mulvany
Invercargill

Appendices:

Sir Alexander Mackenzie 1764-1820:
Born in Stornaway on the Isle of Lewis he emigrated with his family to Canada and entered the North West Company becoming a fur trader. He eventually found his way across Canada on a series of remarkable expeditions reaching the Arctic and Pacific Oceans.

In June 1789 he left Fort Chipewyan on Lake Athabasca with a company of French-Canadian voyagers and Indians and travelled to down the Slave River to Great Slave and down Dhe Cho River to the Beaufort Sea. He then turned around and paddled back. The great river was named in his honour.

In 1792 Mackenzie again left Lake Athabasca and travelled along the Peace River to the west to what is now known as British Columbia eventually reaching the Fraser River and the Pacific Ocean at Bella Coola on 22/7/1993. He then returned east to Fort York in August 1793. He earned the distinction of being the first to travel across the continent north of Mexico.

The Oblate fathers:
The modern history of the Mackenzie River is intertwined with that of the Oblate missionaries of Mary Immaculate, a French Catholic order which arrived there in 1856. They were part of a worldwide re-awakening of Catholic evangelicalism and they espoused the Ultramontane Theology which opposed liberal secular movements and in particular Protestant Apostacy. They were highly regarded by the aboriginal peoples, the Metis and the Hudson Bay employees in the remote woods of the west and north for their piety, zeal and ascetism.

Spread along the 2000 kilometres of the Mackenzie River are six small settlements and the striking aspect of all of them is their Catholic Church. Once these were the focal point of their communities but it seems today this is no longer so. The Oblate fathers endured a hard demanding life and as would be expected this drew social misfits to these remote outposts. Foremost among these was Fr Henri Grollier who established missions at Fort Simpson (1858), Fort Norman (1859) and Fort Good Hope ( 1859). Fr Grollier is buried at FGH and we visited his grave behind the Catholic Church there on our travels. He was described as having “a scowl on his face and personality” and crossed swords with all and sundry. He had particular scorn for the Protestant minister Rev Kirby who he described as “Satan’s emissary” and he once wrote a ten page diatribe about him to Bishop Tache. He regarded the Indians as a “hopeless, faithless people” and no better than Englishmen.

Another Oblate Father was Emile Petitot who succeeded Grollier at FGH in 1864 when the latter died of an asthma attack. He denounced his colleagues Fathers Grouard and Gascon at FGH. In the course of his career he earned a reputation as a leading geographer. lingiust and antrapologist and wrote 20 books on these subjects. He was also a gifted artist and decorated the inside of the church at FGH with striking murals which unfortunately we were unable to see as the church was locked when we were there. On the dark side he was accused of being a pedophile and seems to have suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. He once tried to kill a colleague with an axe and on other occasions her would run naked into the minus 40 weather and would have to be restrained for up to two weeks till the fit passed.

The Oblate Fathers and the Catholic congregations of sisters and brothers were by and large dedicated to spreading the gospel and worked hard for their communities not only in this regard but also in providing orphanages and schools. Some did remarkable travels of thousands of kilometres by canoe and dogsled. In 1872 Bishop Isodore Clut travelled from Fort Providence to Fort Macpherson and from there to Lapierre House and on down the Porcupine and Yukon Rivers to what is now Alaska. It was a journey of over 3000 kilometres in the wilderness.


The Reindeer Herders of the Mackenzie Delta
In the 1920’s the Government of Canada decided to introduce reindeer to the western Arctic to stave of imminent starvation due to alteration in the annual caribou migration route away from the Mackenzie Delta. They bought a reindeer herd in the western Alaska at Kotzebue, imported Sami reindeer herders from Lapland and in December 1929 in the depths of winter started the great trek. They reached Kittigazuit in March 1935. This proved to be a poor choice and later the reindeer were moved south to Reindeer Station about 70 kilometres from the ocean on the banks of the Mackenzie River. Some of the Sami people stayed on and one of them Ellen Pulk married Otto Binder an Inuvialuit thus joining two circumpolar cultures. The Binders have been associated with reindeer herding ever since. The herd still exists and is now privately owned and thrives in the Mackenzie region. Reindeer Station was abandoned years ago and is reverting into the bush.

Bibliography:
Victoria Jason. Kabloona in a Yellow Kayak Turnstone Press 1995
Robert Choquette. The Oblate Assault on Canada’s Northwest University of Ottawa Press 1995
Gerald Conaty and Lloyd Binder The Reindeer Herders of the Mackenzie Delta Firefly Books 2004
John Donaldson. A Canoe Quest in the Wake of Canada’s “Prince of Explorers” Artful Codger Press 2006


16/11/07
Stanley and Belinda Mulvany
PO Box 6071
Invercargill
eiger@xtra.co.nz

An Ascent of Mt Hedin

Mt Hedin lies in the Barrier Range to the west of the Dart River above Daley’s Flat. At Easter Paula Macfarlane and I climbed to Seal Col on the other side of the Margaret Glacier and noted a straightforward route up it on the other side of the Margaret Burn.

On 11 April 2008 Paula, Simon Marwick and I arrived at Chinamans Bluff and set off up to Daley’s Flat where there is a swing bridge crossing the Dart. We left our packrafts hidden near the bridge and continued up easy slopes to the bush line on Hedin. After several hundred metres we entered an odd area of rocky outcrops and mini canyons in the bush similar to what we found below Seal Col. We called it ‘Middle Earth’ and it was slow going amid thick bush and fallen timber. We found some old red tin blazes on trees and eventually reached bush line. We found a nice campsite a bit higher.

The weather was perfect and we had a frost that night. We were away early next day and climbed up tussock slopes among scattered rock outcrops and deep holes. Higher up we reached rocky slopes, which took us to the glacier on Hedin. This we straightforward though quite crevassed in places. We cruised up to the summit at 2135 metres hoping to traverse to Mt Albert at 2353 metres, the highest peak in the Barriers. Our hopes were dashed once we saw the big drop off Mt Hedin to the connecting ridge. The glacier on Albert was also badly crevassed and it looked like serious climbing. We spent some time up there before heading off down. Paula saw some animals ? goats or tar in the Dredge Burn.

We headed down valley that evening and camped just down from Daley’s flat. Next morning Paula set off to walk out and Simon and I blew up our packrafts and set off on an exciting trip down the Dart. Downstream of Sandy Bluff we entered an area of huge rocks in the river where the river takes sharp turns and here I capsized. I surfaced and grabbed my raft and got washed down another rapid before I was able to get out. The rest of the trip was rather chilly and it was a relief to reach the sun. At 10.30 AM we pulled into Chinamans Flat at the same time as Paula.

The Barrier Range is a neglected range of alpine peaks with all grades of difficulty and very accessible. Get a packraft for an effortless return!!

Thanks to Paula and Simon for a great trip

Stanley Mulvany
Invercagill

A Traverse of the Takitimus

After a long wet winter it was a relief to see some fine weather for a change and as the weekend approached Paula and I made plans to traverse the Takitimu Ranges from Blackmount to Aparima. This is one of the best ridge traverses in Southland outside Fiordland and has an alpine grandeur in winter conditions.

We left at 2 PM on Friday and drove 2 cars to the cattle yards at the end of the Dunrobin road near the Aparima River. Leaving one car here we drove the 100 kilometres around to Blackmount/Redcliffs Saddle were we dropped off the second car and walked into the Jericoe Plantation to Windy Creek. At the start of the valley there is a side valley on the right and we struck up a spur past the first stream to bivi on the first level bit of ridge at 650 metres just on dark.

Unfortunately I picked a lumpy spot to pitch the tent and at midnight I’d had enough (pain) and crept silently out of the tent dragging my sleeping bag to find a level spot in the nearby forest. During the night Paula woke up in a fright to find I had not returned and thought I might have fallen off the mountain but then realised my sleeping bag had gone!

At 6.00PM Paula roused me and we had breakfast and broke camp at first light. Then it was a big pull up to the top of the Brunel Peaks at 1600 metres. There was excellent crampon conditions higher up and the long sinuous ridge snaked along to the ‘Difficult” peak overlooking Long Valley. This is the crux of the traverse and always involved some exposed climbing. There was an astonishing amount of new snow and some huge avos in the top of Windy Creek. We sidled left as usual and arrived on a steep prow with an almighty drop on both sides. We had been a bit optimistic and only taken a 12 metre short rope, 4 karabiners plus a few slings. This was clearly inadequate. My attempt to do a classical abseil down into the head of Long Creek with a 12 metre rope was shall I say unrewarding and not recommended. So we headed left and very carefully descended a broken rock and ice face for maybe 50 metres to a steep snow slope. Then followed a long sidle across increasingly soft steep snow slopes to a saddle overlooking Long valley. Once across it was an easy walk to the Telford Saddle.



It was now about 3.00PM as we headed into Telford. At first the snow slopes were firm but lower down we started breaking through and it was horrible in the creek where we sunk in up to our knees or crotch at ever step. Now it was a real fight to keep on in increasingly difficult conditions and on dark we managed to reach Telford Bivi. Boy was that good, like the proverbial beating your head on a brick wall it felt good to stop. I got a fire going and a brew on and we enjoyed a well earned rest after 11.5 hours on the go. Telford Bivi is delightful, a two person hotel complete with 30 year old cans of tinned peas and other delicacies left over from the retreat of the New Zealand Forest Service. I could see relief on Paula face at having arrived in Nirvana. Despite the relative comfort I had a good sleep and we were up again in the dark and off at first light. It was a repeat of the drunken lurch forwards into soft snow though not as deep as we made our way down to junction with the North branch of Telford. Then it was climb up the North branch for about ¾ of a Kilometre. Unfortunately we headed up too soon and ended up on the wrong side of a huge slip. This we followed up around the head wall and into some scrub and into some rock buttresses where we found an easy route up to Bull Basin.

This was a huge expanse of deep snow as we made our way down into the Upper Wairaki. It was a beautiful sunny day and soon enough the snow would not support us and we broke through often. It took us 4.5 hours to reach Upper Wairaki Bivi. Just before the bivi we started a huge deer that bounded out of the scrub and on down the valley.

By now we were seriously worried we might not make it back to the car by dark as most the options involved high crossings from here. In the end we decided to plough down the Wairaki valley all the way to Lower Wairaki Hut which we reached in another 3 hours and then strike north over open tussock country to the east of the mountains on farm tracks back to Dunrobin which we reached on dark after a 12 hour day. Paula’s feet were starting to fall apart but my hydorcrocs saved the day. Then it was back to Blackmount and on to home comforts.

A Traverse of the Takitimu Ranges from Blackmount to Aparima via the Brunel Peaks by Paula Macfarlane and Stanley Mulvany on 29-31 August 2008