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