Cayuga A
2011
Attawapiskat / Groundhog
Ah, where to begin? The dusty Root River Bridge? The end of the Wabun dock with a cheer and the blast of a cannon? After that, flying over the Dobie? In Pickle Lake? At Badesdawa? Or perhaps on the Groundhog River- deep and green. Through many new beginnings the Phoenix Women of Cayuga A have risen from ashes and reinvented ourselves on rocky rivers stretching from the Northwestern borders of Ontario to the sandy tidal pull of James Bay in the East. We have traveled far and wide, paddled up and down waterways from here to there, and found kindred souls in the river villages of the North. And in our section we found strength, comfort, confidence, and joy. This summer, more than any other, we learned that it truly is the journey and not the destination (or destinations!) that matters. Though we paddled many strokes, portaged many loads, and traveled many miles this summer, our trip was not about getting from here to there- it was about, as my friend Pete says, the journey from head to heart.
I would say that our journey really began with Norm. Like it always does. A bus and a van, two canoe trailers, four drivers, four staff, and twenty-six campers piled into roughly as many seats tucked in amongst packs and wannies, babies and canoes, for what we came to know fondly as “bus camp.” Thirty-six hours, a stay at the lovely Thunder bay KOA, hundreds of sandwiches and thousands of kilometers later we arrived. We waved goodbye to Norm and the Wabun van at the Root River Bridge, cheered goodbye to the boys and we were off.
The Root River, our gateway to the North, is a steeply up-hill and little traveled waterway. Beautiful rocky drops and a stiff current helped us fine-tune our Wabun muscles and appreciate the subtlety of the ferry angle. Eddy by eddy we climbed the river, and the exertion left little breath for talking. The resulting quiet allowed us glimpses of the wild things that shared the woods with us. Moose lifted dripping snouts from lily roots to watch us pass. A big black bear sow lumbered along shore sniffing the air. Curious otters tried to make heads or tails of our dipping paddle strokes.
The hot sun, dry wind, and strong current on the Root heightened our appreciation of the wide flat water and deep swimming holes of Lake St. Joseph on the Cat River. With the decrease in volume as our section sang and swam our way North, our days of wildlife viewing had come to an end, but for the hundreds of bald eagles that circled and soared above our sound. They were companions throughout the summer.
The Cat River pools into a series of big and beautiful lakes. The rocky islands create a glittering labyrinth that stretches south from Blackstone Lake to North Bamaji Lake. We paddled its course up the river ducking back into the bush each evening to make camp. Some evenings we came across old Wabun-bushed sites complete with stacks of firewood and fly poles leaning in the trees. Other evenings we picked out a rocky outcropping or the rare cedar grove and played house, carving out a kitchen area and choosing just the right spot for a fireplace. As we dined on calzones or licked the icing off of warm and gooey bannock, it never ceased to amaze us how we were able to work with the wilderness to create a cozy and welcoming home for ourselves in the wild. Even in some pretty unlikely spots. On North Bamaji Lake, we stopped by the native community of Slate Falls. We chatted with some of the folks who call this stunning part of the country home. Elsie at the band office shared some fishing tips with us as she opened her office for us to check in with Wabun. Our call south was to discuss what would come to be a fixture of our summer: the smell of smoke on the wind. Wabun confirmed our suspicions that a fire was burning to the north and west on us. Wabun and the MNR assured us our route to the east remained clear and so we continued on our way with scheduled check-ins to Wabun and thanks to Elsie.
As we moved north and east out of Kezik Lake and off of the Cat River onto the Dobie, the smell of smoke intensified. The fires remained many, many miles from us and our section was never in any danger - the fire did, however, make for travel conditions unlike any we had experienced before.
Columns of smoke rose like tree trunks into the sky and branched out in streams that flowed from Ontario and drifted into the skies as far east as Nova Scotia. Our days were seen through a softening filter of haze, blurring the tree line and painting the sun a brilliant red ball as its traveled its course across the northern sky.
Moss crunched under our feet and crackled into flame at the strike of a match before supper. She was a dry one! We dug our fire pits deep down into the clay of the banks, doing our part to prevent a burn. MNR helicopters and Pickle Lake attack base water bombers buzzed above us doing their part to protect the woods.
The North was burning, its residents were mobilizing, and we were witnessing history. The routes that Wabun travels weave a web of waterways cast across the wilderness of Northern Ontario. This summer many of those routes and rivers were deeply changed. In summers to come…green shoots of new growth will spring up on old portage paths and brilliant fuscia fire-flowers will blossom in the burns. These forests are resilient. Ancient trees with roots that reach deep into old soil will survive. Jackpine pods will awaken in the flames and their craggy trunks will spiral up from the ash. In the future we’ll cut trails in the new growth and stake out our tents in clearings where bare trunks of black spruce stand silver. But, not this summer.
This summer, Nature said,“No”. She asked us all to step aside while she reset the woods in a cycle as old as the forests themselves. And so we said goodbye to the woods of the North West. A series of flights and van shuttles later, we began again. At bus camp, with Norm. Like we always do.
Back through the KOA, south along the Superior shore, and we found ourselves at a new beginning. The Groundhog River, welcomed us. Deep, green, and moving. The rocky drops and swift current, moving down stream this time, offered us our first rapids of the summer. Our seven canoes wound down swifts, swirled into eddies, and skirted around the stacks of the dramatic six-mile rapids and the continuous stand-and-shoots snaking through ten-mile rapids.
As days slipped by, chats over dinner lingered into dusk. Section huddles included some tears among the laughter. And conversations changed tone from the favorite hot-topic of every kind of food everyone likes, to one more reflective, awakening memories of the summer we shared and reliving them as a section that would soon fade from present to past.
It is the strong hearts and bright minds of these young women that made this section and this summer a success. It seems that a Bay Trip is 10% about what happens and 90% about the attitude with which we react. The positivity, courage, and grace with which this family of women rose together to meet every challenge encountered, every curve ball thrown, and every change of best-laid-plans this summer was nothing short of humbling. Girls, I have learned so much from you, and feel honored to have been a part of this family. Elizabeth’s artistry, Heidi’s compassion, Izzy’s wisdom, Jessie’s charm, Jo’s happiness, MT’s positivity, Marcy’s spontaneity, SG’s initiative, Savy’s honesty, Reagan’s wit, Sarah’s adventurousness, and Sherman’s thoughtfulness brought light, laughter, and love to our section. Thank you all.
Our unit of fourteen is tight, motivated, and powerful. Out on trip it can seem that we are a self-sufficient unit with no strings attached. This summer though as we were faced with some tough decisions, we were so grateful for the ties that bind us to the incredible base camp staff. The guidance, comfort, and support that we received from Sarah, Julie, Marg, Dick, Nibby, and Ann, this summer was phenomenal. Phone calls to Bob Thomas—Thank you Bob, Mattawa is in the works! Emails, boat trips, car trips, hours researching routes, marking maps, and mocking up itineraries, meant that our section could move safely from dry, smoky woods of the North to the welcoming watery rivers of the East with minimal intrusion to our summer. We appreciate you, and we thank you for working so hard to keep us safe in the woods.
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