[Paddlewise] Trip Report: Central Canadian Arctic Coast

We just returned from a 7 week canoe trip on the Hiukitak River and Bathurst
Inlet. This is the first half, of what I apologize for being a rather long
trip report:

Bathurst Inlet stretches 130 miles south from Coronation Gulf on the central
Canadian Arctic coast. Bathurst Inlet is unique in climate and geology, with
a rich Inuit history, and has been proposed as a National Park.

There is a small Inuit settlement at Bathurst Inlet (pop.18) at the mouth of
the Burnside River, while on the northeast side there is a small Inuit
settlement at Bay Chimo (pop.51). Cambridge Bay (pop.1351) 200 miles to the
northeast on Victoria Island is the nearest town with services. The first
European visitation was by the Franklin Expedition in August 1821.

The Hood, Burnside-Mara, and Western Rivers flow into the southern reaches
of the Inlet. The Hiukitak Rivers drains the  hilly tundra from the east,
and is sometimes reached via the Ellice River in Queen Maude Bird Sanctuary,
further to the east. The Hood and the Burnside are relatively popular with
paddlers. The Hiukitak, 80 miles in length and descending 530 feet from its
source to the sea, is seldom visited.

For 3 weeks in July, my wife and I explored the Hiukitak from its headwaters
to Bathurst Inlet, and then paddled leisurely through the fault block
granite islands of Bathurst Inlet, to our pick up point at the mouth of the
Burnside 4 weeks later.

Notoriously fickle, mid-summer temperatures can range from 32F to 80F. There
is 20-24 hours of  useable daylight from mid June to mid August. Cloudless
days without a breeze can bracket multi-day storms with rain, sleet and 60
mph winds. The Inlet is generally ice-free by July 16th. Tides are
relatively small on the Inlet, averaging a foot or two difference between
high and low tides.

July 3rd-8th

>From Yellowknife NWT we flew 400 miles NE to the lake which forms the
headwaters of the Hiukitak ( 67o 10' 27" N / 106o 17' 01" W ) via
floatplane. The larger lakes to the south, such as Contwoyto, still had exte
nsive ice cover, and there was persistent snow pockets in protected areas on
the tundra. The sea was still frozen at the mouth of the Hiukitak, and
sea-ice was visible to the north on the Inlet. Large ice floes covered much
of the lake, although there was open water at the northern end, and along
the western shore. Strong southerly wind and air temperatures in the low 80'
s promised a quick ice-off. The hillsides were blanketed with fragrant
Labrador Tea (Ledum decumbens), Mountain Avens (Dryas integrifolia),
Richardson's Milk Vetch (Astragalus Richardsonii) ,and  Crowberry ( Empetrum
nigrum) in bloom.

The next morning we managed 1.5 miles before being stopped by a solid
shore-to-shore wall of ice. The  floating ice fragments tinkled like a
dozens of crystal chandeliers in the wind, as we paddled through the ground
ice slush An enormous musk ox skull lay on the gravel shore. That night a
windy thunderstorm pushed the ice far enough offshore for us to continue
south, however our progress was limited to 2 miles, before the lake became
solidly ice-choked again. Here we waited for a day, watching white arctic
wolves run along the esker on the opposite shore. A strong wind from the
south drove massive ice floes against the shore, the ice groaning like a
cello quartet tuning up. The foot thick ice built up on the windward shore
in 6-foot walls bulldozed by the wind. Mid-80's temperatures quickly opened
long leads in the rotting ice, which was visibly shrinking hour by hour. The
sandy hills were colored by Lapland Lousewort  (Pedicularis lapponica) and
yellow daisy-like Arctic Arnica (Arnica alpina) . At night a dense fog
settled on the lake, only the tundra hilltops poking through.

We broke free of the ice on our 4th day.  4 miles of ramming the bow of the
heavily laden canoe against the ice edge. Alternately wading and pulling the
canoe through the honey-combed ice along the shore, smashing the ice with
our paddle blades and pushing the thicker fragments aside, we made slow
progress. A unique experience standing in knee-deep ice water while sweating
in windless 76F-degree warmth, beneath  a cloudless sky. Shelves of shore
ice, in some places 6 feet thick, glowed  in the sunlight with the greenish
blue of ocean icebergs. That afternoon with relief we sighted the southern
extent of the ice, and made a mad dash  through 2 miles of  ice-free water
to make camp before the building  black  thunderheads, wind and rain
descended on us. Saw an arctic hare along the shore.

The following day we left the lake behind after a 2-hour/400 yard portage
passing the 3 small rapids at the lake's outlet.  Across a cotton grass
 Eriophorum angustfolium) bog , swarms of mosquitoes rose up  from the
tussocked ground to greet us in the sultry afternoon heat.  Masses of  white
Arctic Bell Heather (Cassipoe tetragona) , Primrose (Primula stricta) , and
Bog Rosemary (Andromeda poliflora) occupied the less wet ground. The last
150 yards we slid the unloaded canoe down across a large hillside snowbank
into the Hiukitak River.

July 9th-15th
The Hiukitak drops 575 feet in 55 miles of its 80 mile length. On the 1:250K
maps there are 9 marked sets of rapids, and we  soon realized that there
were unmarked rapids as well. What we had not counted  upon was the record
warmth of that July and the near total absence of precipitation. The
riverbank mud gave mute testimony to a recent , rapid drop in water level  -
perhaps as much as  3 feet. Although driftwood and high watermarks indicated
periodic massive flooding along the river channel, it was all from prior
years.

The river channel often was 3 feet or more deep, however in many of the
rapids the flow was through a boulder sieve. completely routeless. The
Hiukitak is a typical "pool and drop" Shield River , most of the rapids were
400-1000 yards in length, separated by long stretches of nearly currentless
water. The river banks beside the rapids were generally boulder fields 10-50
yards wide making for tough portaging. The unique climate of Bathurst Inlet
permits Green Alder (Alnus crispa) to extend its range northwards to the
Arctic Coast. Combined with the Felt-Leaf Willow (Salix alaxensis), there
were often dense thickets of brush at the end of the rapids where the river
expanded into very deep sandy pools.

I estimated that I hiked and waded nearly 14 miles of the Hiukitak, tugging
and hauling the fully loaded 17 foot canoe and its 300 pound load, through
those boulder sieves. The daily distance traveled was often less than 2.5
miles, over a 6 hour day. Wendy followed along the shore, carrying some of
the gear and scouting. At times it seemed like a penance, the slow
foot-by-foot progress through the boulders. Yet at other times the crawling
pace gave me ample time to appreciate the dense purple expanses of  River
Beauty (Epilobium latifolium) along the banks, the colorfullness of the
boulders underfoot, the darting trout. And always I remembered that I was
fortunate to be so cursed  as to have 80 degree air temps and 60 degree
water to be immersed in! After our first  grizzly-bear encounter, watching
Wendy weave her way through the alder thickets, I often thought that I had
the less fearsome task.

The first full day after leaving the lake we attempted to portage an
unmarked rapid, but quickly realized that wading the canoe along the shore
was much faster, and less strenuous. New flowers greeted us on the tundra-
yellow Groundsel (Senecio atropurpureus), delicate white Sudetan Lousewort
(Pedicularis sudetica). From our hillside camp we overlooked a small rapid
and what appeared to be a canyon ahead. We found a small overgrown stone
tent ring, where the Inuit had camped many years before.

Last night ( July 10th) there was a thunderstorm,  today a  vicious cold
wind blows from the North. Low leaden clouds, and air temps only in the low
50's. We scouted the "canyon" ahead, which was flanked by steep 500 foot
cliffs. The river ran fast and rocky, until ,hidden in mid-gorge, it was
squeezed by an  enormous rock funnel , the river poured through a narrow gap
with a deep hole and 6 foot standing waves. Following the cliff edge,
overlooking the river, it was a depressing 2-mile portage from our campsite
to a safe put in below the canyon, where a large unnamed river entered from
the southeast. Sitting on a boulder in the cold wind , the trip I had spent
10 months planning seemed a colossal foolishness. We were embarked on a 7
week trip beyond our abilities.

Checking the GPS to verify the distance of what I foresaw as a multi-day
portage, I realized that we were only 0.8 miles from our campsite. Although
the sun did not  dramatically break through the  low clouds, things  did
seemed brighter, as I realized that a straight-line portage across the
tundra might be completed in 2 days. Plotting a route back  to camp we found
several hill-tops which would make suitable camps enroute. Our 300 lbs of
gear was packed into 8 drybags, which made for light loads, but lengthy
portages. The Royalex canoe we hauled across the tundra heather using rope
harnesses around our waists. It was "easy" but time consuming. I  later
calculated that half a mile of portaging took the better part of three hours
to complete. The next day we began the portage with grey skies and cool
temperatures. The cold weather proved an unexpected blessing during the
portage. On the 13th  we completed the portage, and began a flat water
portion of the river. The unnamed river from the SE, flowing through red
sandstone hills doubled the volume of water in the Hiukitak ;  both the
river and shore become much more sandy from this point.

 Hoping to pick up speed we ran several small rapids over the next day,
after scouting. Late in the afternoon , at my insistence , we ran one last
riffle without  prior scouting. Over a small ledge, swamping and overturning
the canoe. The weather was warm, the damage confined  primarily to my
self-confidence. After a  silent , sobering change of clothes we went on,
and made camp high on a bluff overlooking a  very long rapid . Shown on the
map as two close-together  blue slashes, the actual length of the rapid  in
low water was nearly 3 miles.

The next day July 15th was a turning point in our trip. After a 3 hour
portage ,we  scouted the river ahead. Suddenly we saw a large grizzly bear
500 yards away , climbing down the hillside headed toward us through the
alders, oblivious of our presence. I was carrying a 30.06 rifle with 220
grain slugs, but in the narrow confines of the canyon we dashed back to the
canoe, after yelling and firing a shot into the air. From the base of the
hillside I fired another shot in the direction of the bear's path, thinking
that even the deafest of bears must surely be able to hear the roar of the
rifle over the roar of the rapids.  Without  time to think , I grabbed some
more ammo from my gear, Wendy grabbed a food pack, and we scrambled  up the
steep hillside  overlooking the canoe and all our gear and food packs spread
out on the boulders directly in the path of the bear.

Dry mouthed and hearts-pounding we sat on the hill top waiting for the bear
to round the bend below us. And waited. As minutes passed I wondered if the
bear had decided to take a nap in the alders? Or was it circling around the
hill behind us? Terror gave way to boredom as we waited for something to
happen. After 45  uneventful minutes we became embroiled in a comical debate
as to who should go down the hillside first and move the gear closer to the
river for a hasty  departure. Dubiously Wendy accepted my argument that I
had a good field of view of the alders, and was in a better position to
cover her down by the canoe-able to shout out a warning if the bear
appeared, and shoot the bear before it reached her. Armed with her pepper
spray, she descended the hillside, and began to move the packs to the river
side. After a few minutes, I also came down the hill. We tensely loaded the
canoe and  waded it across the shallow boulder field of the river to the
opposite shore. Exhausted, we camped that evening on the opposite bank of
the river about a mile downstream from our encounter with the bear. Evening
brought neither darkness nor sleep.

July 16th-24th

On the morning of the 16th we broke camp and saw 5 dark shapes moving on the
hillside opposite our campsite. Musk oxen!!! Big shaggy beasts, without
threat! My heart climbed back into my chest. The long bend in the river hid
more shallow rapids.a day's worth of wading, pushing and pulling the canoe
through the shallows. Reaching flat water , we passed up a mediocre
campsite. Immediately afterwards Wendy  saw another bear coming along the
shore. Waving a paddle and shrieking , Wendy sent the bear ambling away.
That evening, we camped on a gravel bar  covered with  wolf prints and mats
of purple River Beauty in mid River. We had reached the half-way point on
the river.  After dinner , a male and female grizzly bear appeared 40 yards
opposite our campsite. The female bear was driven off after a single rifle
shot in the air. The male however was less timid. Standing and waving its
paws , 7 foot tall and perhaps 700 pounds in weight, it was a terrifying
sight. It "woofed". I fired another shot a few feet to its left. It whirled
around to look, but its curiosity remained undiminished. It approached the
water's edge to cross over towards us. Firing another shot towards the
water,  the grizzly stood and whirled around. Now noticing that the sow had
runoff, it paused in hesitation. Its curiosity as to our edibility perhaps
replaced by its desire to mate, it reluctantly turned, and with one final
look back,  it ran off after its partner. A long sleepless night lay ahead.
This was the absolute nadir of our trip.

After that evening Wendy no longer went for her customary long walks across
the tundra. I  began to wear a cartridge clip on my belt, and wouldn't walk
20 yards across a campsite without shouldering my rifle. We passed  up
dozens of pretty sandy beach campsites which formerly we would have
considered ideal.instead,  choosing hill-top sites, rocky islands, or other
spots that I silently thought of as "defensible". Before we set up a
campsite we wandered around looking for bear tracks or other sign,
regardless of its age.

Cranky and weary-eyed we left  that riverbar camp at 5AM. Ironically the day
's travel proved to be one of the easiest yet. . We paddled 10 miles of
flatwater, running a few short riffles. At times  we  heard the sound of
moving water, and saw a line of white foam in the water at a distance .
Puzzled as to why these rapids seemed to recede from us as we paddled
towards them , we soon realized that we were continually disturbing huge
flocks of moulting ducks, which being flightless, beat the water into a
frenzy in their  paddling efforts to outdistance us.

Reaching the 50 mile mark, I waded the canoe through a short unnavigable
rapid. In the middle of a wide deep segment of the river there arose a steep
sided island. There was a small ledge filled with river sand about 10 feet
above the water's surface. We camped 2 days  on this fortress-like island,
catching up on our sleep, washing clothes, and did some minor equipment
repairs. A wind from the southwest, and brought a  smoke haze in the sky
from very distant forest fires. (We were nearly 250 miles north of the
treeline.) At night we heard wolves.

The next few days settled into a routine of short paddles and lengthy
"canoe-wading". Wendy was surprisingly vocal as to how much she hated the
Hiukitak and  how she couldn't wait until we reached the end of the  river
rapids and reached  the salt-water of Bathurst Inlet. For my part however,
my feelings changed. My physical strength  was now well matched to the
arduous  wading and hauling of the  loaded canoe over the rocks. My
confidence had increased to the point where I  would hop into the canoe for
short rock-smashing paddles through sections of the shallow rapids.  We saw
solitary male caribous along the shores, we saw wolves running along the
hillsides, and always there were new flowers to look up each evening in our
plant books. One evening we camped above rapids on a sandy hillside, home to
a den of red foxes. Periodically we would hear their sharp raspy barks as
they  paced the hilltop complaining of our presence.

At one campsite we found an old stone tent ring made by the Inuit.

One  hilltop campsite involved a climb up a steep gully, where the willow
thicket was draped with the shed wool of muskoxen. From another hillside I
watched a wolverine creeping along the rocky shore towards our beached
canoe. Every camp was well visited by noisy siksiks.the noisy and fearless
ground squirrel of the tundra.

Our progress was  halted on the 22nd-23rd  as a storm moved through. Cold
days with wind driven drizzle. The clouds rested low on the hilltops,
obscuring them.. As we approached the coast, the hills became higher and
closer to the river. The gentle green hills flanking  the  60 miles of the
upper Hiukitak, were replaced by talus slopes, and craggy cliffs, bare of
vegetation.   Bleak rocky granite slopes now loomed above us appearing as
mountains, although their height was only 1000 feet above the river.

On the 24th we portaged the last  rapid marked on our maps. Here the rapid
was a short  series of ledges and chutes,  white water boiling across the
sloping granite and red quartzite. A short carry with easy footing, we had
achieved the end of our torment! We saw a large group of musk oxen on the
bank opposite. The river quickly settled down into a gentle meander, wide
yellow sand beaches and towering sand cliffs. The Inuit name "hiukitak"
means "beautiful sandy place". And, finally , it was!  As we paddled the
remaining 8 miles to the coast , under warm sunny skies, we periodically
tasted the river water. When would the sweet clear water of the Hiukitak
mingle with the tide borne salt water of the Inlet? We were at mile 73,  6
miles short of Bathurst Inlet and the Arctic Ocean.

A few miles further we stopped on a sand bar to fill our 3-10 liter
Dromedary bags with water, uncertain as to the availability of fresh water
ahead. The sand bar was covered with wolf tracks. That  day we  broke our
previous  21 day record (set in 1998 in northern Saskatchewan) of traveling
without seeing another person!

We camped on a high sandy cliff, at an old  Inuit hunting camp.  A few hours
later we realized that our canoe which we had beached up on shore, was now
afloat. It was high tide.  We were in the broad estuary of the river's mouth
(67o 08' 15" N / 107o 03' 43" W )  We toasted the end of  our river journey
with a double-dose toast of our  EverClear and Tang punch. After three weeks
of descending a river of rock, the sea lay ahead of us! Silence surrounded
us. the first time in 2 weeks that we were not within hearing of rapids.
Perversely,  I  (but not Wendy) had a sense of loss  at leaving the river
behind.  In 25 years of wilderness travel the Hiukitak was the most arduous
trip I had  ever completed. It was also the most remote setting I had  ever
experienced . Never before had I seen a land so unmarked  by signs of prior
visitation. Never before had I been in a land so full of life and so empty
of humankind.

The next day was sunny and warm. The Hiukitak expanded to a 2 mile width as
it met the Arctic Ocean . Paddling across the tidal sand bars we frequently
were forced to get out of the canoe and wade through 6 inches of water
pulling the canoe behind us.

July 25th - July 31st

On the 25th we paddled 6 miles along the shores of Bathurst Inlet under
cloudless hot (80F) skies to camp on a red shale beach. This was the first
time I had the energy at day's end to fish. Caught a large arctic char for
supper. We began to see many new  plants on the Inlet:  on sandy hills dense
stands of  Wormwood (Artemesia tilesi)  or sage, the crushed leaves smelling
like the desert sage of the US Southwest.  Beach Pea (Lathyrus japonicus)
with its delicious pea pods tasting very similar to snow peas.
Liquorice-Root (Hedysarum alpinum),  salt tolerant Lyme-Grass or Beach-Rye
Grass  (Elymus arenarius) and yellow mats of flowering  Seaside Potentilla
(Potentilla ededii).

Fresh water was fairly easy to locate from streams cascading down from
inland lakes. Often we could hear the sound of running water for quite some
distance out on the bays, before we could see the water courses.  Hidden in
dense alder-willow thickets it was always with a sense of nervousness that
we filled our water bags from these streams as we watched for bears.

After seeing  fresh bear tracks on one beach we began to choose island
campsites. These islands, though small and hilly offered 360-degree
panoramas across the inlet. Warm sunny days continued to be the norm,
although there were occasional evening thunderstorms. The islands and
mainland were mostly granite and red quartzite, although there were
occasional low outcrops of red sandstone. The shores were mostly small
pebble beaches, although we were surprised to see a lot of narrow sandy
beaches. One small island with nesting gulls was covered with yellow arctic
poppies ( Papaver radicatum). Here on 28th we spent a rest day. Fishing was
mostly for flounder and tom-cod, which I released. The 29th brought dark
storm clouds from the south, with high winds and white caps on the Inlet.

We would occasionally paddle in the early morning hours after the day-time
winds died down. Even at 2 AM the "night" could hardly be called dusk. Other
days we would start out in the morning, but quickly found ourselves
shore-bound again as the winds increased. We began to see ring seals
frequently . Their smooth round heads would pop up from the water , watching
us with silent curiosity, , often only 50 yards from the canoe. Along the
island hills we would also see an occasional solitary male caribou, nothing
like the vast herds we had seen the prior year on MacKay Lake on the
southern Barrengrounds.

Our actual distance from our fly out point at the settlement at Bathurst
Inlet was less than 40 air miles, perhaps 80 miles by the shortest paddling
route. Our progress across the inlet was slow and leisurely. On July 31st we
saw 2 Inuit kids in a power boat, out fishing for the day. They were the
first people we had seen in 28 days.



***************************************************************************
PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not
to be reproduced/forwarded outside PaddleWise without author's permission
Submissions:     PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net
Subscriptions:   PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net
Website:         http://www.paddlewise.net/
***************************************************************************