1999
One River and Murphy's Law
by Brian Sites
The water carried their canoe forward quickly, violently towards the rocks. As my canoe partner and I watched our friend's canoe draw closer yet to the rock bed, we both knew one thing for certain: those rocks weren't going to dodge them, so they better get paddling. Seconds later, half the canoe was underwater and Ben, my canoe partner, and I were on retrieval duty for the few things that had escaped their canoe. Needless to say, they didn't paddle enough.
The river was the Missinaibi and I and seven other canoe enthusiasts were part of a Boy Scout canoe expedition starting two-hundred miles from Moosonee (in Northern Canada). Although not the youngest on the trip, I was indeed at a disadvantage in experience with Canadian wilderness. Six of the eight members of the trip had canoed a nearby river, the Mattagami, three years ago. However, I did at least have the benefit and knowledge gained from having attended two white-water canoe clinics, a flatwater clinic and several canoeing/kayaking trips all affiliated with Scouts. As we departed Columbus, Ohio for Canada, the eight of us had no idea of the adventure to come. We expected rapids, danger, mosquitos and generally a good time. Unfortunately, in many aspects, we got much more than we bargained for.
The trip started out fine, never mind the two day drive there. The idea was to pile as many people into a few cars and get there as quickly as possible. The idea worked fine, except when the truck hauling the canoe trailer died just past the Canadian border. Now into Canada, it was going to take some creative thinking to just make it to the actual adventure! A few hours and a U-Haul later, the trailer was on its way. Dropping our unneeded things off at a very friendly scout hall near the Missinaibi river, our team the "M-Crew," set off to canoe.
An adult and I arrived at the river first, setting up camp in the darkness of night. We found a perfect camping site: however, it resided in a local's back yard. So, Dan (the adult) and I, dressed much like the killer in I Know What You Did Last Summer in our large rain coats, walked to their door and knocked. Much later on, a fairly distraught woman approached the door, saw us and then quickly turned off the house lights and left our sight. We took that (and the approaching rain storm) as a 'yes' and began to set up camp. As the others arrived and I settled into my sleeping bag, bright lights illuminated the road-side of our tent. Rising to meet the visitor, I found myself explaining what I was doing on a woman's doorstep at 11:00 at night to a Canadian police officer. At this point, perhaps we should have caught on to the series of bad omens and turned back, but of course we didn't. Why? Because we're Boy Scouts!
The following days were spent moving downstream and nursing a recently ill member of the team. Thinking little of the faint illness, we continued about 15 miles downstream against fierce winds, piercing and stinging rain and absurdly shallow water. If we weren't dodging rocks, we were out of the canoe pulling ourselves over them and if not that, we were busy laughing at others in our party who made the mistake of following the lead canoe into a rock garden. However, the crew member's illness increased and, after a half-mile portage, we set up camp and prepared to stay there awhile. The illness got worse and then got much worse. He, my sick friend, could keep nothing down and was running a high fever. Although he broke the fever at least twice, it always returned to torment him. In the midst of such disaster, we knew we would have to stay at the camp site and devise a plan. And we did. Three days later, we left that sandy patch of Canadian wilderness in hopes that our goal would be met and our sick friend would soon be in the hands of trained medical officers. The idea was to get him to a nearby trail, marked faintly on our river map, and send two guys up the 15-mile trail to get help. I volunteered, but was not sent because I was not old enough. Although I was frustrated, I had faith in my friends' capabilities to reach help quickly. On their way up the path, Dan and Greg (the two sent) ran into a group of natives on ATV's and an ARGO. The natives were very understanding, and took the two members to a nearby village to get help. There, an outfitter that specialized in taking people to and from remote fishing spots took his battle-hardened truck in and got our sick friend out. We had averted disaster, for the sickness infecting our friend was mononucleosis leading to dehydration and a severe liver dysfunction. We were very fortunate.
Although the trip was partially in shambles, we were not ready to give up on canoeing to Moosenee. We spent a few days on shore in town enjoying the local cuisine (for me that was KFC and Subway) and traveling the small town. Eventually, we took a train to a lower point on the river and headed on towards Moosenee. Only one problem, though: we had seven paddlers and four canoes. Someone was going to have to solo-paddle the next day. Having a fair amount of kayaking ability (and a lot of stupidity), I volunteered. Duct taping (did you really think we would go to Canada without duct tape?) two paddles together to jerry- rig a kayak paddle, we headed on the next morning. After what seemed like a million miles (our scoutmaster insisted when we started that our destination was "just around the corner") and about 80 corners later, we reached the small town of Moosonee. Finding a campsite off mainland on an island, we spent the afternoon in town and the night talking of our adventures. We had made it to Moosonee just like we planned... sort of.
Overall, the trip was great. Our team, the M-Crew, had made it through one of the toughest rivers in Canada and averted what could have been a disaster. Fortunately, Steve recovered after a week in a Canadian hospital and was sent safely home, and the trip ended generally in a good fashion. Although we, the M-Crew, had few problems with canoe flippings and so forth, our younger counterparts, the A-Team (a group of younger scouts who set down the easier Mattagami river at the same time as we did, meeting us in Moosonee) did not do so well. Apparently, the majority of their aluminum canoes now looked more like bent fenders than anything else. Apparently, the rivers were all quite low, not just ours. The trip was not what was planned, not in any fashion save one: it was still tons of fun. Although there were times when all I wanted to do was turn back, there were also times I knew I could canoe like this forever. I'll never forget the night I stayed up until past midnight and watched the Northern Lights. Seeing them, watching them break across the horizon and back, I knew that for me, it was all worth it. Now, would I do it over again? Oh yeah, sure, of course... then again, I still have mosquito bites from that trip.
