Fort Simpson to Tulita: dirt, thunderstorms and birthday cake

I'm going to start this blog with a brief overview of our trip so far in figures. This might help put our journey into context. So here we go:

Set off: 19th June from Fort Providence
Arrived in Tulita: 21st July (100 miles from Arctic Circle)
Days on water (paddling): 23
Days off water: 8 (4 stormbound, 4 stopovers)
Total miles paddled: 370 nautical/473 statute

Total miles to go (until Arctic Red River): 311 nautical

Estimated arrival in Arctic Red River: August 22nd (assuming 3 days for stop overs, 6 days for bad weather)

Paddling days left: 21 days
Average Distance per day: 15 nautical
Worst record: 2.5 nautical

Best record: 36.5 nautical

 So there you have it. Our little adventure boiled down to facts and figures. Sitting here looking at the list I have just typed is strangely heartening. It seems much more managable now I know where we are in the grand scheme of things. Well, I can't really elaborate any more on that collection of numbers so I will, instead, tell you all about our journey from Fort Simpson to Tulita.

It took us 16 days as it is about 244.5 nautical miles. We set off late afternoon on the 5th of July having been food shopping and repacked the food barrels and personal kit. Very used to the home comforts provided by our generous hosts at the Mackenzie Rest Inn I was not looking forward to getting on the water again. They provide Elizabeth Arden bath robes in every room...I would be wearing the same clothes for the rest of the week.
 You can see my problem.
Dave (the Pilot from Simpson Airways) and his friend were kind enough to save us carrying all our gear down to the float plane dock where we were going to launch and instead we piled it all in their truck and were driven down. They helped us offload it all, which saved my poor arms carrying those weighty food barrels, and stayed to wave us off. Reg from the B and B came to say goodbye too. I don't know why but I was more grateful for the goodbyes than anything else these people had done for us. After a bit of reflection on this I decided it was because when you are heading out into the wilderness and you might not see another person for days on end it's nice to know you won't be easily forgotten. If people take the time to come and say goodbye or wave you off then that link with other people lasts just that little bit longer before you are absorbed into the little bubble that is you and your paddling companions and the endless river.

I have to say that once we were on the water I was glad of it. The current was relatively swift and we were in good spirits after our restful weekend. It was sunny and I sang as we paddled along. For some reason the song that always pops into my head as I paddle is that one from "Breakfast at Tiffany's". You know, "Moon River":
                                               Moon River,
                                               Wider than a mile.
                                         etc etc
                                               Two drifters off to see the world,
                                               There's such a lot of world to see

There are bits in between but those are the bits that are on repeat in my head. We had paddled about five or six miles and Fort Simpson was no longer visible when we heard thunder rumble in the distance. We stopped to put our waterproof tops on and fortify ourselves with trail mix (I swear I never want to eat another mouthful of that stuff ever again) and continued on. It got a bit bumpy and chilly after that but it was alright and we finished the day with a good 15 nautical miles between us and Fort Simpson.
It's hard to give you an accurate account of our progress in the days that followed because really the days all roll into one. One campsite is similar to another, one bend in the river the same, maybe, as the one before. But I can give you the highlights, the bits that really stick in my memory.
There was the day we paddled past the ferry to Wrigley. In winter the road continues over the frozen river, in summer there is a ferry. We stopped to put our rubbish in the bin there and ended up having coffee and a chat with Dave (no, a different one this time) who drove it and then with some Rangers who'd come from Tulita and what had intended to be a five minute trip to the bin ended up being a very pleasant couple of hours riding backwards and forwards on the ferry. We then paddled on and got no more than five miles away before we stopped for a snack and ended up sitting out a minor thunderstorm. We were joined by a party of three paddlers (one canoe, one kayak) from Minnesota, USA. Chuck, his son Richard and Richard's girlfriend Alana. Oh, and Cody the dog who was wearing his little yellow anorak. We chatted for another hour and a bit sharing horror stories of bugs and mud and then, deeming the weather to be better, we paddled our separate ways....only to end up camping on the same beach. A very enjoyable night was spent in the company of people who liked the outdoors, had travelled the world and had a lot of very interesting conversation between the three of them.

Cody the dog in his coat. His anorak was cuter. It was yellow and it had a hood

The next morning we were late out of camp because, yet again we were chatting and having exchanged emails we said our reluctant goodbyes. I'm ashamed to say I did think for a second that we could hide Cody the dog in a barrel and take him with us because he really was too cute but my morality won over thank goodness.
The next few days were punctuated by thunderstorms that were a merciful relief from the heat of the sun. At a campsite a few miles past Camsell bend, where the river starts to go north, we were woken in the middle of the night by a disturbance outside. I didn't see it, being at the back of the tent and without my glasses, but according to Dad and Mum a Wolf chased a young and very frightened Moose out of the trees and onto the beach. It lunged at it's prey and missed it by an inch as the terrified animal launched itself into the river and floated swiftly off (the current at that point was about 6 or 7 knots). Dad said he didn't know what had happened at first because it was the half light that passes for night time here. He thought that there were two moose and one had been stranded on the shore. The dark, hunched shape sat panting with exertion and frustration before straightening up and turning towards the tent. He said that it's dog-like appearance became more apparent as it turned and he realised it was a wolf. Mum described it as a breath-takingly magic moment seeing such a majestic creature up close. It eyed them coolly and disappeared back into the trees, silent and pissed off.
After that, the weather improved and we had a series of blisteringly hot days with temperatures over thirty from ten in the morning to ten at night. This weather began at the same wolf campsite which was situated next to a beautiful stream where the water was sweet and fresh. We had a half day of rest where we washed, as best we could, ourselves, our clothes and our hair. The water was so cold on my head I got a brain freeze as if I had eaten ice cream but it was refreshing in the heat of the day. Again we donned bikinis because it was too hot for anything else and even so we roasted slowly. I'm still peeling sun burn and that was two weeks ago and I was wearing factor fifty. We paddled late into the night that night, enjoying the perfect stillness that made the river like a mirror and marveling at the heat. We paddled in our bikinis and burned to a crisp until the sun went down at half eleven.

The view from our Wolf Campsite on one of the hottest days we had

The proof of our midnight visitor...we think

A few days after that we arrived in Wrigley. We had camped about four miles before it and were entertained at breakfast by a beaver swimming determinedly upstream against a very strong current. It was so close to the shore that you could see it's little ears sticking up, shaped like little chocolate drops. It was sleek and mover smoothly through the water, bent to the cave of the wave it was creating. A couple of times it disppeared only to reappear downstream and beging it's journey back up again. It landed further up the shore from us too but ignored us not even glancing our way. We, of course, were enraptured. Standing as still as we could, moving as quietly as possible. I don't think it would have made a difference if we had jumped up and down and shouted, he really was indifferent to us. Finally after about twenty minutes he slapped his tail and dived down and we didn't see him again.

That was also the day the zip on the tent broke. The zip to the inner of our Tipi no longer closes which is ok if there are no bugs to bother us even if it is a bit chilly but we are going to try to find someone in Norman Wells who has a sewing machine to sew another one on. We could do it by hand but it would take hours as it is a very long zip. Having patched up the zip as best we could we paddled onto Wrigley. Unfortunately we were unable to stay and to see the settlement but we had an interesting conversation with some brothers on the beach. They had been raised in the bush until they were about twelve, until the fur trade dried up, and then they settled in a settlement as their parents wanted them to go to school.

A couple of days after that we became windbound at Johnson River for an extra day. We were waiting until it blew through when a coastguard ship passed. We checked in with them for safety and thought no more of it. After the wind died down we paddled into the night (bearing in mind it doesn't get to be darker than a bright twilight) until Blackwater River about 17 miles north. True to it's name the water of the Blackwater River as it met the Mackenzie was black as ink. We then paddled a couple of miles down the coast searching for a good camping spot. When we found one we landed and, for the first time in a week, were much troubled by mosquitos as we set up camp. We realised soon after landing that we were about a quarter of a mile away from where the coastguard ship we had seen was moored. We could see it white and pristeen just around the corner from us. The next day was as windy as the day a Johnson River. We sat and tried to wait it out as the wind screamed past our Tipi. One of the crew members from the coastguard ship passed by onhis way back from fishing and stopped to chat. I was asleep at this point, knowing that naps are important if we are going to paddle during the night again, so I don't know how it occured but we ended up being invited down to the ship "say hi".
So at about half seven we made our way down the beach, following the wolf tracks, the bob-cat tracks and the pin-toed porcupine prints as we went, and were welcomed warmly onto the "Dumit". We were given a tour of the galley and fed cake and orange juice; the engine room (Dad loved that); and the bridge which has stunning views being three walls of windows. Then it was back to the galley where we were given yet more chocolate and banana cake (not ashamed to say I had three slices) which made a nice change from instant mash, and also coffee with PROPER milk out a carton, not dried. We talked to various members of the crew who were around and they all seemed pretty excited about having visitors. We also got to use the internet quickly which was nice. We left about half past ten in the evening, full up on cake and cookies and grateful for the conversation and the hospitality we had been shown. The wind, however, still had not died down sufficiently to paddle and so we made the decision that, after eating dinner and packing up as best we could, we would get up early at 4 am and continue on to try to make up for the miles we had lost.
And so that's what we did. We had a cup of tea, packed the personal kit and the tent and then loaded the boats. Being so early we were a little sluggish and didn't get on the water until half six but by half nine we had about twelve miles under our belts. Maya and I begged Mum and Dad to let us stop for breakfast which we did. I fully intended to help cook but as soon as I had laid out the mat that we sit on I just don't know what came over me and I curled up and went to sleep. By the time we had eaten and had a nap it was twelve befor we were on the water again. We paddled until three and then stopped for a sort of lunch/dinner. We ate and slept again, getting on the water at half five and carrying on until about nine when we stopped to set up camp. By the end of that day we had made up the miles we had lost on our windbound day at Blackwater and set our record of 36.5 nautical miles. I don't think that will happen again though.
The next day we did a respectable 23 miles and in the process passed the half way point from where we started at Fort Providence to where we will finish at Arctic Red River. This point is called Old Fort Point and I was very glad when we passed it because now what we have left to paddle seems more managable. We paddled on a further seven miles or so to Seagull Island where, seeing swollen, purple clouds loomingin the distance, we began to look for a camp. Dad had a hunch that the storm would set in for a few days instead of blowing over in an hour as they had been so he was very picky about where we camped. It took an hour and a half of searching before we found somewhere and even then it wasn't ideal. It was next to a stream but it wasn't good drinking water, the ground was relatively soft so the pegs for the tent went in ok but it was stony  so we had a bit of difficulty. We were also close to some tall trees incase the lightning which accompanied the great drum-rolls of thunder decided to strike but the ground was uneven making for sloping sleeping areas. All in all it wasn't bad and we were so tired, it being about half ten at night, that we didn't want to go on searching so we set up camp to the melody of the rain hitting the river and the crashes of percussion thunder. The occasional flash of lightning served as pyrotechnic effects. This was the 18th of July and it was Mum's birthday in a few hours. At midnight I took her a birthday meal of instant mash and a tin of tuna in the relative warmth of the tent. I promised myself we would make more of an effort once we had had a sleep.
When we woke up the next day the wind was shrieking all around us. The rain pelted our poor Tipi incessently. Dad and I got up around ten to make cups of tea and cook cinnamon and raison porrige. We were joined by Mum and Maya during a lull in the rain but the wind was so strong our meal went cold in a matter of minutes. We shooed Mum off to the tent to keep warm and relax with her book and set about trying to make her birthday a little bit more enjoyable.
We had a Betty Crocker Chocolate cake mix and a tub of Vanilla Cream Frosting that Maya and Dad had bought in Fort Simpson for this purpose. However, we had intended to cook it over a fire for better results that with the stove...you cannot light a fire in driving horizontal rain and a wind of force 5 gusting 6. We discussed at great length how to devise a make-shift oven to stop the cake burning with the concentration of heat you get from a stove. Eventually we settled on an idea that Dad had.
We put some water in a large cooking pot and brought it to a rolling boil. We mixed the cake mix (albeit with dried egg powder) and poured half into another cooking pot of about 6" diameter and 6" depth which we had greased and put the lid on. This we placed inside the big cooking pot with the boiling water and put the lid on that. We had effectively created an oven that would spread the heat to cook the cake all the way through. Huddled under the cooking shelter we waited. I left about an hour later to play cards with Mum (I won) and Dad and Maya waited further hour until the cake was cooked right through and risen beautifully. They took it out the water pot and put it inside a barrel to cool without getting wet. When it was cool we iced the top and decorated it with dried apricots for want of anything else. We had with coffee after a camp dinner of macaroni, tinned tomato sauce and cheese. I have to say we were proud of our little achievement and pleased that Mum enjoyed it. I think it turned out to be a nice birthday under the circumstances. We had a card too and a belgian chocolate bar we had saved that hadn't melted quite as badly as the rest of our chocolate so the thought was there!
We were storm-bound the next day too and, if possible, it was even worse than the day before. I stayed in bed until about half eight in the evening when I got up to ice the cake that Maya had made with the left over cake mix. I washed up the coffee cups from supper and collapsed the food shelter but apart from that I was thoroughly unhelpful. I will try better next time I promise.
The next day was thursday 21st of July and we were determined to get to Tulita. It had been a tantalising 17 nautical miles away for the past three days and we couldn't stand not having a shower any longer. The storm had died down but we woke with a shock when Mum realised that a storm surge had caused the river to rise to within 6" of our tent. It was a mad scramble to pack up the tent and the kit before it was engulfed but we succeeded and watched the water rise to cover the space from the shelter of the cooking area further up the hill. We rang ahead to the Tulita Hotel and managed to get a couple of rooms booked for that night and the next with the help of Cecil from the band office. We set off around 3pm and made good time, arriving at about half seven. We were given a lift up to the hotel and a tour of the town by a very kind Valerie. Tulita is a lovely little hamlet. The Hotel is opposite the Northern Stores and the band office and there is a community congregation area in the centre of this circle of buildings, rather like a village green.
That first shower was amazing. I scrubbed and scrubbed and I still couldn't get all the dirt off my hands but it didn't matter; I FELT clean and I certainly didn't smell anymore. I don't know whether you have even been so dirty that there are permanent gray streaks down you arms and face and your elbows take on a black tint. I don't know if you have ever been so dirty that if you rub your hand firmly along you skin the film of filth -of sweat and mud and old suncream and insect repellant - breaks up into tiny, greasy black balls that roll down your arm. And I don't know if you have ever been so dirty that your nails are black for days on end but that is how dirty we have been for the past two weeks. The shower was heaven.
We were also able to wash all our clothes which reeked. This is partly due to our canoeing gear. Gortex dry trousers, whilst being useful when faced with the Mackenzie mud do not breathe well. We ended up emitting a rather pungent and vinegary smell that clung to the trousers we wore under the dry trousers. It was repulsive. Thankfully that smell has been banished for a while but I am sure it will return once we spend more than about four days on the water.
We cooked a meal in the communal kitchenette (hotels up here are generally self-catering) and for the first time in days I ate a meal without the shiver-making crunch of lumps of grit in my rice.
Yesterday we went shopping (!!!) and I ate myself stupid. We had brunch after we came back from the store and I had a fried egg, two rashers of bacon, two toasted cinnamon and raison bagels with nutella, a slice of hot buttered toast, a bowl of cereal and two cups of tea with proper milk. A very happy Hannah indeed. I then sat down to write this blog entry and the one about the float plane tour and upload pictures and consumed god knows how many oat cookies. I didn't get the blogs finished as you may have guessed even though I was writing for hours. I just didn't realise how much we had done. For dinner we had Ceasar salad to start, then roast chicken legs in gravy with veg and fries and then treacle and pecan tarts with custard. And more cups of tea. Simply having the variety of food, the tastes, the textures, a meal that isn't cold as soon as it's cooked and that doesn't contain sand is a pleasure. I have truely come to appreciate the sheer amount of THINGS our way of life allows us to have. I am pleased to say that I will go home a happier, wiser more contented person. I find it interesting I have let go of a lot of the things that worried me at home. Most notably my life plan. I had planned to be successful and working myself happily to death by the time I was thirty. Whatever I was going to end up doing I was going to put my all into and be the best. Now I simply don't care. Where would that get me? Lonely and disillusioned I'm pretty sure. I have learnt to enjoy myself. To enjoy the sun on my back, the food I am given and to make the most of every situation because nothing ever goes according to plan. I know now that what means more to me than any career are the people I will meet who will become my friends and the people who are already my friends, my family and my boyfriend. Chuck who we met after the Wrigley ferry said an interesting thing to us. He said that if you do interesting things you will meet interesting people and I think this is true. University no longer seems to have the importance it did. It is still important but less in the way of being successful and getting on in life and more for the things I will learn and discover and the people I will meet. If this trip has given me anything it is a fresh perspective on who I am and what my life is about. I am lucky. Some people go their entire lives and never understand the things I have come to understand. I see my life spreading out before me, empty and huge like the bowl of sky we paddle under and I know I will live it until it is full to the brim. It might be hard at times but I think that, overall it will be a happy one and everything I do will be worth it.
Enough of philosophy and revelation for now. I musn't bore you with things you might already have know for yourselves. We leave this afternoon and I have yet to add pictures to the blogs. Next stop is Norman Wells about 82km or three days paddling so a nice relaxing stretch with swift current and food barrels stocked with all kinds of goodies like caesar salad kits and oat cookies. Sorry about the lack of pictures again. The internet is very slow here. It took over half an hour to upload the ones I did. This is also why I haven't posted the float plane blog. It is written but I can't do it justice without the pictures. Take care all of you back home.
Lots of love,

Hannah