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THE SPIRIT OF THE NORTH
by Laurie Gullion
Our first view of the Moisie River from the Quebec-North
Shore Labrador Railway is always an impressive one. From a dark
tunnel the train bursts onto a trestle high over the river, and
travelers can look into the heart of the final canyon along a
stretch of Class II through IV rapids that hammers through the
gorge. My heart also starts to hammer when I am reminded how big
and wide the river really is. Last summer on July 5 we peered
through a haze of misty rain from the train windows to see a river
in flood.
Our itinerary allowed three weeks to reach the canyon, and we
reassured ourselves that the floodwaters would recede by the time
we descended to that point. My husband Bruce Lindwall and I were
beginning our first remote trip without the support of our usual
paddling friends--our first trip "alone." Rather than paddle a
tandem canoe, we decided to take two solo Pakboats to enhance
safety and rescue in the Moisie’s very technical rapids.
The river is also notorious for long portages, and the 40-pound
boats would ease the strain of boggy and rocky paths. We’d
paddled the river in 1991 under low water conditions and sunny
skies, which is abnormal for the Labrador plateau where the river
begins in a series of large, pristine lakes. In 1993 moderately
high water and periodic rain gave us a new respect for the river’s
force.
 The 2001 trip would represent our most challenging conditions,
because it rained for the first 14 days, and a river on the rise
is always sobering. Each night we placed a stick at the river’s
edge and watched it disappear underwater by morning. Because we
traveled each day, it became difficult to measure the overall
rise. Overshadowing our increasingly conservative decisions on
the river was the reality of the final canyon.
Several strategies paid big dividends for us. On the upper lakes
we paddled the Pakboats a 14 footer and a 15 footer with kayak
paddles, which allowed us to match our mileage in tandem canoes
from the previous trips. Canoe widths of only 30" and 31" inches
make kayak strokes very efficient in the Pakboats. Staying on
schedule in the upper lakes and river was psychologically reassuring,
because we knew we might have to portage rapids we’d paddled
previously in the middle and lower reaches. Water swirling into
the bushes made the prospect of lining quite impossible, and we
speculated that we might face difficulty at the Moisie’s
Class IV rapids, which are often guarded by short, severe drops
that end in a waterfall.
The extra power and quick corrections offered by the double-bladed
paddle allowed us to handle the open and windswept lakes quite
easily in the Pakboats, especially because shifting pack weight
into the bow and stern helps the canoes to track well. On the
river in Class I and II rapids, our ability to ferry powerfully
was enhanced by the kayak paddles, when we found ourselves on
the wrong shore above a rapid. Generally we stuck to inside bends
to scout and get out of the main flow, but we often had to change
sides at the corner to find the best route.
The rockiness of the upper river had disappeared in big waves,
and our challenge was keeping the canoes dry. The Pakboat’s
flexible frame made it possible, because the canoe rises over
waves and sheds water beautifully. We stayed amazingly dry in
Class III rapids filled with crosscurrents and exploding waves
by picking our way carefully and actually cruising through holes
I would normally avoid. The canoes remain remarkably buoyant in
frothy water, given the air sponsons along each side. Bruce and
I have never developed much comfort with spray covers and the
confinement of a spray skirt around the waist. We appreciate the
ability to rapidly scramble out of a canoe if necessary, which
we were able to do here in tense moments when portage trails seemed
to appear at the lip of a drop.
However, I did capsize my canoe when trying to sneak past the
edge of a hole, where a boiling eddy line sucked one gunwale underwater.
By the time I hit the next two wave trains, my canoe turned into
a low rider. The benefits of the Pakboat’s air chambers became
apparent, because they stabilized the canoe to prevent any overturning.
I used lots of low braces and forward strokes to reach the relative
security of a pulsating eddy upright--although the boat completely
filled with water and I was filled with adrenalin! It’s the
first time I’ve capsized a canoe while paddling in a remote
location. A spray cover would have prevented the capsize, but
I still prefer to paddle without one for speedy exits onto shore
if necessary a strategy I used very successfully farther downstream.
We reached the government-operated fish ladder on Day 16, which
had opened only the previous day. The start-up was two weeks late
due to high water conditions, and the operator said the river
had risen 5 feet on his gauge in the last week! We started to
speculate about hopping back on the train just before the canyon
which would still be raging. We’d paddled it before under
less challenging conditions, had been impressed by its character,
and agreed that we didn’t need to challenge ourselves after
an excellent but arduous trip. The Department of Transportation
regulations now severely restrict the number of stops on the rail
line, and we knew we’d need to call out to arrange for the
train to stop. Fred Burroughs, the proprietor of Pourvoirie Haute
Moisie Inc. just 10 kilometers downstream, had a new satellite
phone that the fish ladder operator assured us we would be able
to use.
In one of those great moments of serendipity, we paddled up to
Fred’s dock at the same time that the first of two float
planes landed to bring in a party of six canoeists from Quebec
City. The hospitality of the North is such that Fred invited us
into the fishing club for the best carrot cake I’ve eaten,
while we waited for the trip leader to arrive in the second plane.
Each year this group of six from the Quebec Recreational Canoeing
Association chooses a different river for a 5-day trip. And they
offered us their empty charter back to Sept. Iles and refused
our offer of payment. Offered the opportunity to eat fresh crab
and drink a fine wine in the comfort of our favorite local restaurant
(Chez Omer), we jumped at the chance. Within 15 minutes, we disassembled
the Pakboats, rolled up the shock-corded aluminum frames in the
PVC skins, and dumped every ounce of wet gear into the float plane.
No need to fuss with tying a boat onto the pontoons, since our
duffel-sized boats slid right into the interior. Fred, his employees,
and the six Quebecois watched in amazement at our efficiency in
exiting the river. It was a new record in packing up the boats.
We wished them much luck, tried not to grin too hard as the Otter
lifted off the water, and appreciated the power of the lower river
from the air as we flew back to the Saint Lawrence. Later that
night the crab, scallops and shrimp was the best I’ve ever
tasted.
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