Aug.27-28: Nahanni Butte, Blackstone Landing

No wetsuits needed today, woohoo! Although I recognized the usefulness of this particular piece of gear, I never fully enjoyed the sensation of pulling on a damp, cold wetsuit in the morning.

August 27th was a long day of paddling. The waters were slow-moving, so paddling was more of an effort than before. Sometimes we would float, and I'd take out my penny whistle and play a few tunes as we drifted down the river. I had memorized a few before the trip, but when I ran out I just improvised a wandering tune that echoed along the valley.

Our reward this day was going to be a brief shopping expedition in the Dene village of Nahanni Butte (the last word rhymes with "beaut") before finding a campsite....some of us envisioned curly fries, others icecream, others chocolate (I fell in the latter camp). Nahanni Butte itself was a bell-shaped mountain, and we could hear the community's diesel power generator as we neared its base.

As we secured our canoes at the dock, however, we were greeted by a horde of mosquitoes. And I mean horde...I've never seen mosquitoes as thick as they were at Nahanni Butte. Apparently they keep a record of the most mosquitoes killed in a single slap of a hand, and this number currently stands at 43. Mere mosquitoes could not stand in the way of a chocolate craving, however, and I followed the others to the small store in the village. Frebis and Duane walked just ahead...interestingly enough, the mosquitoes appeared to strongly prefer black over all other colours. Duane was wearing a black shirt, and I could see about fifty or sixty mosquitoes clinging to his back as we walked (I had no inclination to try to break the previous record). In contrast, Frebis only had about a dozen or so on her purple sweatshirt.

We were disappointed to find that the cafe had already closed, but at least the store was still open. I had ten dollars stored in the pocket of my Tilley hat and had planned to spend the entire amount on chocolate bars to share with the group, but after our experience at the dock and knowing we planned to camp nearby, I decided to spend half of it on insect repellent instead. Some Dene girls were having a small birthday party in the cafe, and the birthday girl generously shared pieces of her cake with our group.

After making our purchases, we fled back to the canoes, followed by a cloud of hungry mosquitoes. The village people seemed totally unconcerned by the bugs; some were walking around in short-sleeved t-shirts. When we had paddled downstream a bit, Dave pulled out a vat of chocolate icecream he had bought in the small store. Karen dug out our bowls and spoons as well as some cookies. We drifted down the river for a while, eating chocolate icecream and batting away mosquitoes. The sun was starting to set, and we discussed possibilities for the night.

If we were going to camp, we would need to set up camp soon. However, no one was keen on the idea of setting up and having dinner with so many mosquitoes to keep us company. Another option was to do a night barge...tie all our canoes together and drift all night. The main risk would be having to face the possibility of rain, in which case we might have to find a place to camp anyway, and set up camp in complete darkness. The main advantage to barging (other than avoiding the mosquitoes) would be not having to do much paddling the next day as well as getting to Lindberg's B&B much earlier. After much discussion, we decided to go for the barge idea.

We pulled up on a nearby sandbar for preparations. The canoes were tied together at bow and stern, and we tried to outfit the canoes for as comfortable sleeping as possible. Nights were getting colder, so extra layers were necessary. I wore five layers on top (thermal underwear, long-sleeved turtleneck sports top, t-shirt, fleece top, rain jacket), four layers on my legs (thermal underwear, fleece pants, river pants, rain pants), two pairs of socks on my feet, and a toque and my Tilley hat on my head. Toasty, or at least so I thought at first.

After a quick meal of hot soup, we piled into the canoes and pushed off. A few on the periphery of our canoe flotilla paddled; the rest of us settled into comfortable positions, chatted, watched the display of Northern Lights above. Soon many were sleeping. I tried sleeping, but found that the cold night air still seeped through my clothes. I finally gave up and started paddling instead; the regular movement kept me warmer. It was awkward paddling from a canoe in the middle of the flotilla, but I managed it by keeping my strokes fairly deep, and cutting the return stroke through the water instead of lifting the paddle up into the air.

It was an eerie feeling, floating on the Nahanni in the middle of the night, the only sound being the paddles moving gently through the water (and the occasional snore). A thin cloud layer moved over the night sky so that the full moon shone through as a hazy disk. All around me, people took turns sleeping and paddling. From time to time, Karen would pass around gorp or other snacks. I passed out my chocolate bars to Signy and Karen, who were the only other people awake at one point. Later in the night, when Ginny and I were the only ones awake, we peered through the darkness at the vague silhouette of the treeline ahead, trying to figure out which way to go. Karen had told me that if there was a dip in the treeline, that was usually where the river went.

I paddled until about 5 am, at which point my brain was so fuzzy and tired that I remember literally letting myself fall backwards on our canoe, shoving my lifejacket under my head as a cushion. Others were paddling at that point, and the morning light was just beginning to creep up over the horizon. I must have slept, because apparently the flotilla was temporarily grounded on a sandbar...I don't remember this at all. I woke at 6 am because of the cold, and started paddling again.

The two Jeffs, John, Duane, and Dave were all seated in the stern of their canoes, and had arranged their sleeping bags and Thermorests so that their heads and bodies were pretty much buried. From time to time they would poke their heads out and look around to see what was going on, like prairie dogs. Karen called them "canoe heads", a term which sent the rest of us into peals of hysterical laughter. Then again, at that time of night and considering how brain-dead we all were, hearing someone read the dictionary aloud would have sent us into hysterics. :-)

Shortly after I woke, we were treated to a spectacular sunrise. The low-lying clouds were soaked a deep scarlet, gradually brightening to brilliant reds and orange, and then fading to a yellow. The whole process lasted only a few minutes; I couldn't take my eyes off the sky. The Nahanni merged with the Liard at some point, and we continued the rest of the way to Blackstone Landing, part of Blackstone Territorial Park.

We got to Blackstone around 7 am, bleary-eyed but triumphant. After pulling the canoes up onto the muddy shore, we lugged some of the gear up to the campsite area and started a fire for tea and breakfast. Some of us also checked out the Visitor's Center, which had hot coffee, a fireplace, couches, and a VCR. Luxury! We took turns napping on the couches and watching videos about the Nahanni and some of its history. One of the most interesting videos was a 1961 National Film Board movie about Albert Faillie (pronounced "FAY-lee"), a 60-year-old trapper and prospector. The film followed his upriver journey from Fort Simpson to above Virginia Falls.

After warming up in the Visitor's Center, we went down to the campsite to have breakfast: freshly-baked cinnamon rolls and oatmeal with fruit (most of us opted for the Patterson variation with cheddar cheese). Cleaning up afterwards was a bit of a challenge...by this time the mosquitoes had discovered us. We decided to skip lunch and go directly to Lindberg's B&B instead, about 3 km downriver. As we struggled against the headwinds on the Liard, we were extremely glad for doing the night barge, which saved us from having to paddle in these conditions for hours today.

When we got to Lindberg's (Frebis and I did a little victory dance on the beach), we were greeted by Marg Jones, a friend of the Lindbergs. We unloaded all the canoes, folded up and packed the splash skirts, packed away gear. When that was done, we were shown to our cabins. Lindberg's B&B is very rustic...there are outhouses, no towels, no bedding (we slept in our sleeping bags on the beds), no heat in the cabins except for woodstoves. Still...it was luxury compared to sleeping outdoors. :-) Plus there were HOT SHOWERS. We were warned of a bear in the area, which made going to the outhouse in the middle of the night a real adventure.

After showers and a nap, we met at the main house for dinner and were introduced to Edwin and Sue Lindberg. Dinner was served outside around a campfire, and consisted of moose and caribou meatloaf, dill salad, and potato salad. After coffee and a fruit pudding dessert, some of us checked out the small souvenir shop which was run by Marg's young daughter. I bought a Nahanni Wilderness Adventures cap and a book (Peter Jowett's Nahanni: The River Guide).

In a nearby cabin, we sang through some old folk tunes while I pounded out an accompaniment on a piano, as well as listening to some Nahanni-theme music that Sue had. We also went through Frebis's and my Nahanni song again, with everyone singing on the chorus. Soon it got late, and one by one, we went to bed. That night, I dreamed I was still on the canoe flotilla, drifting through the night.