Aug.26: Riffles and Kraus Hotsprings

Lots more rain today. Mentally, we were all prepared for the rain...Karen had even pointed out to us that it was raining less on this trip than others she had been on! Physically, constant rain was more complicated to deal with. For one thing, clothes inevitably got wet, or at least damp from all the humidity. We all hoped fervently for a solid few hours of sun in which we could dry out our gear. Also, constant rain made it more difficult to keep things clean, as ironic as that may sound. The rain made campsites and tents muddy, and some dirt and mud inevitably made its way inside the tents.

Today we decided to split up the cata-canoe for the first time. I had Jeff as a paddling partner again, and I could tell we were both a bit nervous about the change as we approached George's Riffle, which Neil Hartling (Nahanni: River of Gold, River of Dreams) says is "an understated name if ever there was one". The section of river was also known as Cache Rapids and is sometimes referred to as a sort of "entrance exam" into First Canyon; there is no portage available around these Class III to IV rapids. High standing waves are created by a low band of rock extending into the channel. Dave gave us tips on how best to run this rapid by drawing a diagram on the sand; he suggested sticking to the far left, which was supposed to be much calmer. I felt as if we were going into battle.

Dave and Signy went through the rapid first. We all held our breaths as we watched the canoe being flung around in the waves, the bow soaring and diving.

"Oh my god," said someone in a small voice (who knows, it might have been me).

The canoe came to rest against the far eddy, and we heard a series of sharp whistles. Dave was holding up a paddle and pointing to the center of the river with a series of quick arm movements.

"The left route wasn't as calm as he expected," said Karen, interpreting. "He wants us to stick closer to the center. Ok, Al and Ginny, you're next!"

Hearts pounding, we set off for the rapid, one canoe at a time. Those of us who used to be in the cata-canoe would call out encouragements to each other when any of us set off: "Ye-me-ya Mamas, Frebis!" She'd yell back, "Ye-me-ya Mamas!"

Finally it was our turn. Before we reached the rapid, I could sense the river picking up speed as we passed through a long riffle section. Jeff began calling out instructions ("Draw! Draw harder! Back paddle!!") and I'd follow them, my concentration totally on the water just ahead. I felt the bow lift up on a huge wave, then crash down, the next wave looming. "BACK PADDLE!" yelled Jeff. It was an intense few minutes. I forgot about the others, the canyon walls, my sore muscles; my entire awareness was of the water just ahead, keeping the bow pointed straight, sometimes back paddling to avoid a direct collision with an oncoming rollercoaster wave.

And at some point, I actually began having fun, terror melting into sheer excitement. I could hear the encouraging whoops and cheers of my tripmates from the eddy ahead as well as from those still waiting behind, and I knew that I would never forget this particular moment.

After all the canoes were through, we continued on our way. First Canyon, one of the deepest river canyons on the continent, was unbelieveably beautiful. We craned our necks as we floated down the river, which wound its way through a spectacular canyon flanked by 1000-1300 metre (3000-4000 feet) limestone and dolomite cliffs. We passed White Spray Springs, whose waters are clear and fresh enough to drink. Jeff and I also investigated a small cave, just large enough for a canoe to fit through.

Later in the afternoon, we came to Lafferty's Riffle, which basically consists of high standing waves created by outwash from a creek. Jeff and I and some others opted for the safer "river left" route, while some chose the roller-coaster ride on the right. I got a huge kick out of watching Frebis and Jeff O. tackle this route beside us, their canoe bucking and soaring into the air, hurled by the huge waves. I wish I had had the nerve to drop my paddle for a few minutes to take a photo (Jeff would have killed me). Duane and Karen were in another canoe, and we found out later that Duane learned how to do a high brace in the middle of the rapid.

We could smell the sulphor odour of Kraus Hotsprings long before we reached it. The hotsprings were named after Gus and Mary Kraus, who lived there for over thirty years until 1971 while prospecting, trapping and gardening. Plants from the Kraus garden are still evident in the area. When we reached the hotsprings, we wasted no time in changing into our swimsuits and wading into one of the natural pools, where the temperature is about 35 degrees Celsius. Many ecstatic groans could be heard as we eased ourselves into the hot water up to our necks, paddle-weary muscles relaxing.

Meanwhile, Karen and Dave prepared lunch. When it was ready, they brought the entire table and set it right in the middle of the hotspring. We only had to raise ourselves out of the water a little to reach the cold cuts, cheese, potato salad, crackers, fruit, jam, cookies, and juice. A separate group who were camping at the Hotsprings were highly amused by the scene and came out to take photographs.

After leaving the Canyons, we entered a region known as The Splits, a wide open valley full of gravel islands; constant erosion in this area results in a frequently changing landscape. We encountered many "sweepers" here, trees which have been toppled into the river, a potential hazard to canoeists. The water also moved more slowly here and we had to work harder paddling; I found myself missing the faster-moving waters of the Canyons. Ironic, since I had initially dreaded them. :-)

Before camping at North Elbow at the top of the Splits, Al and Lin left us. Al had to help guide another group, and Lin was going home. Frebis, Lin and I sang our Nahanni song, and several people made short speeches thanking Al and Lin. Many tearful good-byes. Lin decided to leave her rooster, Eddy, in our safekeeping. It felt strange to see their canoe take off without us, and we all waved until it disappeared from view.