Preliminary report of the continuation of my solo canoe voyage retracing the fur trade cross-Canada

On the 8th of August I resumed my solo canoe journey along the historic fur trade water route across Canada. This time, it was on Lake Winnipeg starting from the mouth of the Winnipeg River, aiming for the mouth of the Saskatchewan River in the diagonally opposite end of the lake. I escaped innumerable chances to die, not only from the attempts of nature, but, believe it, even in this time, from "bad Indians". The weather extremes, which I have come to call "The Fist of Nature" unfortunately flattened my tent, breaking its pole frame and I was sadly forced to abort, extracting myself from the voyage after less than two weeks. Yet, the images of nature's beauty and the memories of the barely survived adventures will stay with me for life. Here are a few examples:

The lower part of the east shore of Lake Winnipeg has many beaches.

For several days, right from the start, I was battling horrendous headwinds.

One is totally isolated in the wild environment.

A long stretch of the east coastline had a massive jammed up deposit of driftwood.

Pelicans rule on Lake Winnipeg. I consider them the most graceful fliers.

I found bear prints and sometimes also wolf prints in all my beach camp spots.

From about the third day above the mouth of the Winnipeg river, the east shore of the lake reunites the fur trade route with the Canadian Shield. It provides little coves that often sport a small beach inside.

After a day of paddling, the water was pleasant for a little swim.

In most places, my Spot satellite messaging device was the only way of letting a predetermined list of e-mail recipients know, where I was and that "I am O.K.".

I ran into the infamous "Blue-green algae" during the third and fourth days of the journey. It gives off gas with chemical smell, something like latex paint

It is both, beautiful in its turquoise color, when dry and awful with its slimy toxicity. I thus carried some bulk of drinking water.

Elsewhere though, the water was fine and I thus practiced my daily boiling of four liters of tea as drinking fluid for the next couple of days.

One day, I spied a rock that looked like a big brown bird of prey. When he lifted off, I saw that it was a big vulture of solid brown color - unlikely to be a juvenile bald eagle. Only when three of these birds circled ahead, I realized that they were turkey vultures. Indeed, they landed at a huge dead fish on a flat rock along my way,.

They were about to start a feast, when another visitor invited himself:

Out of the bush ran out a black bear all puffing from haste. He was aiming straight for the fish, making the vultures flee. Yet, when the bear saw me in the passing-by canoe, he just bent his run trajectory back into the bush without loosing a stride. The play must have resumed, when I was deemed to be at a safe distance.

After about a third of the way up the lake, I dared to cross to its west shore at the lake's narrows. Striking difference: while the east shore is the Shield granite, the whole west shore consists of layercake- like cliffs of limestone yielding almost no level spot for a tent. I was lucky to find a slab for it that had collapsed ending horizontal.

At about ten at night, a, second in two days, "Fist of Nature" storm hit trying to rip my tent apart. It broke the cross piece of its pole frame and I held the tent from the inside with my arms for two hours. The next day the wind and waves continued blowing from the northwest, making it impossible for me to continue. I was windbound, holding the tent with a half of my spare kayak paddle from the inside between my knees.

The sad decision was made. Overnight, the lake calmed and I set out at day break, aiming east, towards Bloodvein Indian reserve. The wind and waves resumed before I was across the lake. I ended up surfing with the canoe on huge waves that tended to bunch up below the boat and lift it like a surf board. To spice things up, the vast lake bay was shallow with many above and just under the surface reefs and rock formations. That must explain why I had not seen practically any motor boats near the east shore of the lake. Fortunately, the wind-driven waves were reacting to the rocky disturbances similarly to white water in rapids - marking them with white bubbly traces.

A quiet wind-sheltered spot for my breakfast of an oatmeal bar and cold tea in the canoe turned out to be an otter territory. I was subjected to much angry ratchety snorting outbursts, while eating.

When I finally entered the lee of the Bloodvein River mouth, having escaped capsizing and smashing on the rocks outside, I expected a welcome party of the Native village. Yet, everything was dead like following a smallpox plague. I needed to arrange a ride to Powerview for my Jeep. I woke up an RCMP corporal from a Sunday afternoon nap, who immediately put on his full uniform, including a bullet-proof vest and side arms. He insisted that we had to fetch my canoe and gear right away and take it to the detachment, lest it be stolen. I had envisioned that to arrange my ride for my vehicle would take until the next day. I revealed my plan to the officer to set up my tent on a sand bar jutting out from the village into the Bloodvein River. In no way would he allow me to do that. In his words, he would "have a homicide on his plate by the morning". He himself immediately arranged for reliable persons (not just anybody - who could even still rob me on the way) to take me and my stuff down to Powerview on the same afternoon. I was skeptical, but the driver, Richard, and his Native wife confirmed all the officer's worries. The culprit: boredom and drugs on the reserve.

Within a couple of hours of my arrival, my canoe was tied onto the roof of Richard and Gloria's van, with my gear inside. Paying them $200 was nothing for saving me a trip of 500km with my Jeep on gravel. And it made them happy too. The wonderful RCMP officer did not want his picture and name be made public. Once I reached my Jeep in Powerview and tied my canoe onto its roof having loaded in the gear, I drove all the way to Portage La Prairie. The next day, I made it all the way home to Edmonton.