2011, A Year In Paddling

I was sitting in a hotel room in Ireland as 2011 was drawing to a close. I was trying to beat jet lag and get some sleep in spite of the fact that it was 7 am. Still dark outside, but sleep remained elusive. I grabbed my PlayBook and started a slideshow of the pictures I’ve taken over the year and queued up some music. My favourite artists, Prince Perry and the Gladtones, Adam Padfield, Diana Panton and many others started serenading me as the pictures began to file across the screen. I smiled as I looked at pictures of Kade and me negotiating a rapid on the Spanish River, Nigel and his son posing in the canoe beside a waterfall near the Arctic watershed, my daughters learning about echoes in the Barron Canyon, me and Emma on the Moon River, all these just to name a few. My strategy wasn’t working. I was more awake than I had been. Soon I was sitting upright, clinging to the tablet, watching as picture after picture reminded me of adventure after adventure.


For the last few years I’ve had a number in my mind. The quintessential paddling year, I was convinced, consisted of at least sixty paddling days. 2010 was my best, New Year’s Eve I went paddling, logging my fifty-seventh day of paddling. 2011 however got off to a slow start. The ice was heavy and thaws were nearly non-existent throughout December and. I anxiously referred to the heavy snowpack as “whitewater in the bank” to friends on several occasions. In February, while flying over Southwestern Ontario, I scanned the rivers and creeks looking for the telltale bits of open water signalling the approach of whitewater season.


Early in February I found myself in Florida for work. I had an afternoon to spare so I headed over to one of the many state parks and rented a canoe. The fibreglass was rotten from the sun and I was kneeling amidships paddling the canoe Canadian-style heeled up on one edge. Shortly into the paddle I realized that the glass fibres were embedding themselves into my bare shins. I decided to forego wearing my PFD and use it as protection from my boat versus protection from falling out of my boat. Just to be clear, I don’t condone paddling without a PFD but desperate times call for desperate measures! I left the river via a gap in the mangroves. A maze opened up before me and for the next few hours I paddled in eerie silence through the still water of the mangrove swamp. The canopy overhead broke the sunlight into distinct beams highlighting the odd spider web and dappling the surface of the water.


Late in February the weather back home warmed to above freezing for a couple days, then the rain came. The rivers were bursting with floodwater but the ice was still concerning. One Friday evening found me down at the river staring at the flow. Another paddler showed up which didn’t surprise me in the least. We scouted for nearly an hour the only surprise being that there was no ice to be found. I’d expected icejams everywhere. I had a new boat that I’d bought in the fall that I was anxious to get out in and with the Ice out I thought I’d try a section of the river if I could find anyone else crazy enough to go paddling. Saturday morning the temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up. None-the-less, three of us pushed off from Streetsville on the Credit. The river was over its banks with hardly an eddy to be found, but thankfully the ice seemed to be gone… Or so it seemed. I spotted an eddy and headed for it. As the boat spun into the still water I tried to put in a cross-forward stroke but my paddle hit the bottom only six inches under the boat. I began to probe the brown floodwater around me… same depth everywhere. Smooth bottom. Shockingly it still took me a moment to put together the fact that the ice hadn’t gone out. At least not in the eddies where the ice shelves were simply flooded out. The stakes had just risen.


A swim in the rapids is usually no biggie, keep your feet up, get away from the boat, hold onto your paddle and all that jazz… In February a swim has slightly higher consequences. But still, with proper exposure protection such as a drysuit, things should be fine. My personal exposure protection was a little sketchy. I couldn’t afford the drysuit I wanted, so I had a freediving wetsuit on with fleece and a rainsuit over that. I’d be ok for at least 30 minutes in the water if I did go for a swim. But ice changes everything. Had we known that the ice shelves were there none of us would’ve gone. Getting caught under the ice could easily be the last move a person ever makes. I switched modes, a little less playful and a lot more careful. “Keep this thing sunny-side-up” I told myself, “and everything will be fine.” We pulled back onto the river, Peter in the lead. Around the next bend he was sitting in a river left eddy, indicating in no uncertain terms that I join him there. I was on river right however and reaching that eddy wasn’t dead simple, but I did. While working my way cross-current I saw the problem. An ice jam, ten feet above the river level and, as we were about to learn, about 200 meters long, blocked the entire river. The river was rushing madly on towards the frozen jumble… all that water disappearing down into the thousands of gaps in the massive chunks of ice. Peter scrambled up the bank for a better look while Greg ferried over to the other side and climbed up on the ice. A large portion of the river, after passing the initial icepile, was flowing like a swollen creek through the forest on river right. A ferry across the river was the only way. Peter went before me and set up with his throw bag in case I missed my ferry. Getting swept into the ice was not an option. The ferry worked, we dragged the boats across the ice, then headed down the creeky bit. Greg led and Peter followed. At one point I broached on a mid stream tree but managed to stay upright. So began my paddling year.


During the month of March I got out eleven times. I ran the section of the Credit River near Hwy 7 a bunch of times in my newly outfitted Sunburst, got out on the flatwater section of the Humber River near Claireville in my newly constructed skin-on-frame canoe, chased a beaver across a pond with Ainsley, pulled someone out of the Credit river, caught an awesome surf on the Speed River and finally, back in Florida, took the kids on a search for ‘gators.


The 17th of March I paddled twice. The second trip found me at the put-in in Norval on the Credit. I was paddling with some others I’d never met and the river was high and fast. This section of the river is the one with which I’m most familiar and I had paddled it already several times in the preceding weeks. At Huttonville there’s a broken dam that forms a fun little rapid. Not terribly big even at these levels but a little tricky as the flow turns ninety degrees left as it pillows against the old dam, then ninety right as it flows through the gap in the old concrete. I was sitting in a river right eddy directly in front of the dam. A little surf wave forms at the higher levels just above where I was sitting due to a river wide ledge. A kayak amongst our group pulled out of the eddy across from me heading for the wave. A combination of too much angle and too little tilt flipped him instantly as he crossed the eddyline.


About a week before this paddle I’d read an article with different ideas and uses for throwbags. I was employing one of these and had, for the first time ever, tied my throwbag to the thwart in front of me with a slipknot. The idea was that you could get yourself somewhere secure and toss the line to someone who needed it without necessarily leaving your boat. Now, here I was, watching this guy vainly attempt a roll up while the current swept him towards the old dam. He pulled his loop and swam out but there was nothing I could do for him. The eddy I was in didn’t offer any holds and I knew if I gave him the line he’d just drag us both into trouble. I slid out of the eddy as he was being pushed into the face of the old dam. I shouted to him to get his feet between him and the dam worrying that he might get caught on the chunks of concrete or pieces of reinforcing steel below the surface. He listened and did as I said while I kept the boat just out of his reach. When he got pulled through the gap in the dam I told him to swim to the eddy on the left. The one on the right is fine, but it’s just above an island that divides the flow of the river, that portion totally blocked by a downed tree. He was confused however and began to swim the wrong way, positioning himself now above the big strainer. He realized his mistake and changed directions but I could see it was too late. He’d never make the eddy from where he was. I spun the boat into the eddy and threw him my bag, the line spooling out behind. I jumped into the shallow water and held onto my boat as he swung in the current making the shore about twenty feet above the tree. Odd now that I think about that day... I’ve never tied my bag to the boat in that manner before or since. Sure helped that day though!


In April I got out five times. I damaged my little skin on frame boat when I hit something sharp in the water. An easy fix back in the shop however. Took Aurora for a ride in the little boat after the repair. She crawled into the bow, put her chin on the foredeck and watched the water go by. That lasted for about ten minutes at which point she turned around, curled up and went to sleep.
On a snowy day late in the month I paddled the Head River with a couple of friends. Some of the rapids were at the limit of my comfort zone but managed to get through them all just fine.


On the 23rd I went on a very normal, but super special paddle. My dad and I have talked about paddling for years but had never gone. He and I pulled out the Flatwater Special that I’d been storing at his house and paddled the Hoc-Roc River from Lake Muskoka up to the logjam and back. Super cool.


Years ago, a friend told me about a river that was very special to him. The Spanish River had first captured his interest on a trip there when he was living in Sudbury. “It’s a great river!” He told me, “Rapid after rapid, but almost none of them too big to run.” I bought a map and started thinking about it. I re-outfitted my Sunburst, changing it from a big solo boat to a small tandem for the trip, now planned for May. On the 30th of April Kade and I met up with John, the friend who’d introduced me to the Spanish River. We met in the town of Pinkerton with the intention of running the Teeswater River down to just above the town of Paisley. It was a great run and it proved to me that the boat and Kade, my new bow-paddler, were ready for the Spanish.


On the 15th of May, Kade and I, as well as Nigel and Evan, drove north with canoes on the roof and barrels and bags full of river camping gear. Nigel is new to paddling but had expressed interest in going along. I had never been to the river, but thought that if running the rapids was too difficult, he could line and portage them. None-the-less I had him study the map and decide for himself. We talked and planned and a great trip started taking shape. I won’t bother with a play-by-play of that trip as it’s already in a previous blog post, but what a trip! The four of us had adventure after adventure all the while watching the leaves just starting to come out on the trees that covered the steep hills of the river valley. The little Sunburst carried our gear and us and still blazed through the whitewater with ease. We made it off the river just beating blackfly season by a day or two!


Right after leaving the Spanish River in the rearview mirror of the truck, Kade and I headed east through North Bay on our way to Palmer Rapids on the Madawaska River. The Palmer River Festival was just gearing up and Kade and I thought it a great way to finish the Spring whitewater season. On the Saturday Kade did a course called “Kids and the River.” This included a swim through a small section of the rapids. Unfortunately as Kade jumped into the water he smashed his knee on a rock which had him hobbling around for a bit, but he bravely continued. “I’m having too mush fun to quit just ‘cause my knee hurts” he told me. Later that day while paddling down through Second Set I tried for a river right eddy just above the ledge at the bottom of the rapid. We missed it and this left us in a bad position for the ledge. We flipped in the hole and drifted out into the lake. Fortunately the lake was full of boats and someone had our canoe emptied, righted and us back in it within a couple of minutes. I was worried about the knee and now a swim dampening Kade’s enthusiasm for whitewater, but on the paddle back he said to me “That was a good experience Dad! I’m glad I swam ‘cause now I’m not afraid to fall out of the canoe!”


Early in June I observed another milestone slide by. We were going to go for a nice little paddle on the Credit near Highway 7, a nice easy section of the river. The girls were coming with me in the Sunburst. Kade had a friend over and I wasn’t sure if he’d want to go. “Let me and Justin take your Bob-Special!!” Kade said to me. Kade had only paddled alone a few times and had never paddled tandem in the stern before but I’d seen him learn and practice a lot of new strokes on the Spanish and also at PalmerFest. “Okay,” I said, “Be careful though and stay with me.” We twisted and turned following the river on its course until we reached Churchville. Kade sure was proud of himself, and rightfully so. As I loaded the canoes on the roof of the truck the bittersweet realization that my son no longer needed me to go canoeing slowly washed over me. I was thrilled, but in a way also missed the days when he didn’t have the attention span to paddle for more than two minutes at a time, after which he’d drag his paddle, invariably drop it and begin to climb on the packs in his fidgety quest to keep himself entertained. “Do I have to paddle Dad??” He used to ask. He doesn’t ask that anymore. Now I see him shifting his weight slightly and tilting as he approaches an eddy line, switching seamlessly from a forward stroke to a cross-bow draw, often sensing the need for the stroke before I call for it. He’ll be out-paddling me before I know it, and that’s pretty cool.


Also in June I headed out with Emma to paddle the Moon River. I had thought about this river quite a bit and thought it was time to give it a go. We launched in Bala with plans to paddle to Wood’s Bay on Georgian Bay. Things got exciting during the first day, more excitement than either of us were looking for...


Just after leaving the flatwater section just below the Bala dam the Moon River flows through a dam. We carried around this dam, but the flow was huge. I looked at the place where the portage trail led and it was just white foaming outflow, not even a consideration. We dragged the boat and gear through the bush until the river had calmed enough for us to get back in. I took a good look at Hap Wilson’s notes and maps noting the next portage, a spot called “Island Falls Portage.” Looked simple enough, island in the middle of the river, land on the upstream side and portage down the waterfall. So we launched. Several minutes later I spotted a pretty serious looking horizon line approaching on the river... There was an island in the middle as forecast but the flow made the landing look tricky. I got out of my boat and had a good look. Still the landing looked ok, but one had to be in the right place or risk getting swept over the falls. As we approached the landing I had Emma put her paddle down and told her to get ready to hop onto the rock. She put down her paddle and, with less than a foot to go she stood up to ready herself to step out of the boat! Before I could shout to her to sit back down we bumped a rock causing her to lose her balance. In a flash she was in the water and out of my reach. I called to her to grab the boat which she did, I hopped into the waist deep water to ensure she didn’t get pulled toward the falls. Giving a massive sigh of relief I helped her up onto the rocks while reminding her of the importance of not standing up in canoes.


The excitement wasn’t over it turned out. After dragging the boat out of the water I took a look at the portage trail. Not a trail really, just a walk over the rocks, but at the lower end of the island there was no put-in! The water from the twin falls, one each side of the island, came together in a fury of white foaming water. Suddenly I realized, Hap’s notes were made at significantly lower levels. There was no way off the island but the way we’d come. We made a careful launch and a successful ‘scary ferry’ across to the shore where we bushwhacked a portage around the falls. After two loads they closed the dam we had just passed and the water went from dangerously high to totally benign in just a few minutes. Never before had I seen a river change levels so fast.


We proceeded on through now bony rapids and sections of flatwater. We found a nice campsite, slept, swam, ate and pushed off again the next day. It would seem however that this was a trip that should not have happened at all. Or maybe the river was just trying to warn us about something downstream! As the second day progressed into the afternoon the sky darkened. Storms were in the area but we were still in the clear, albeit under a very ominous sky. I was busy explaining to Emma how a thunderstorm works and said that if we felt a cool gust of air that that would be our signal to get off the river. We were on a narrow, flatwater stretch of the river and I knew I could make the shore in less than a minute. The wind died completely and an eerie calm ensued. Suddenly, in spite of the calm, I’d had enough and I wanted to get off the river. We turned the boat and were ashore in less than a minute. Before we could get out the rain and wind hit with a fury. I threw the packs into a pile and dragged the canoe to cover them. Then the hail started. I oriented the boat into the wind and propped the downwind side up on a log and Emma and I dove beneath it. The wind intensified and I began to worry that the canoe would blow away... I was holding onto it with all my strength still knowing that if the wind shifted and caught it, it would fly away like a leaf. Branches began breaking off of trees and landing on the boat. The hail was bigger than marbles, and that was when I heard trees begin breaking. I cringed when I heard a large tree no more than ten feet behind me give way. Fortunately it landed in the river, but when I looked out at the river the wind was so strong that it was lifting sheets of water up off the surface and pulling them up into the air. Never before have I seen such a thing.


Emma was scared so we sang songs and laughed about how she would sure have some big stories to tell after this trip! Shortly thereafter things calmed down and we peeked out from under the canoe. A strange sight met our eyes... The river was full of debris. Branches, leaves and a couple whole trees were covering the surface of the water. Not only that but many trees around us were simply snapped off mid trunk. More than a hundred trees with trunks up to two feet in diameter were broken. I didn’t see any uprooted trees but one tree in particular caught my eye. It was a maple with a trunk diameter of at least eighteen inches, like the others, snapped off. Unlike the others however its stump was nowhere to be found. It had evidently been carried by the massive force of that wind to its final resting place. Giving a prayer of thanksgiving for our safety, we climbed into the boat yet again. I’d had enough however. I called my dad and asked him to pick us up at the highway 400 bridge cutting the trip effectively in half.


Later in June Kade and I spent a weekend at Palmer Rapids. We had planned to take a paddling course but unfortunately the instructor hurt his back and was unable to teach. Kade and I had a fantastic weekend however making run after run of Second Set. Kade and another boy he met went paddling together. Several other times, both early in the morning and later in the evening, Kade slid the Sunburst into the water and went for solo paddles. It was so cool seeing him want to, even after a full day, go for yet another paddle.


On the first of July the whole family piled into two canoes and paddled down the Lake Ontario shoreline from the Humber River to see the fireworks. In the middle of the month I rented a solo boat and did some practice up at the Gull River at the Minden White Water preserve. Just after that I had a work related trip up to Yellowknife where I finally learned to roll a kayak. Got some beautiful paddling in there on Great Slave Lake. Near the end of the month I found myself yet again at Palmer, this time in another rented solo canoe. Lots of play in the Second Set with some new friends and even managed to run the Chute a few times.


In August we all headed for the Barron Canyon in Algonquin Park. A friend had recommended it to me as one of his favourite spots in the park. The kids loved it! We paddled through the canyon in the beautiful, bug-free weather that is so typical in August. The kids learned about echoes in the canyon as we paddled up to the waterfall. Then we went for a hike at the canyon rim looking at the places we’d paddled from so far above. Poor Georgia was in fits watching the kids up there! They were careful though. Several days later we paddled in Tobermory, launching from the lighthouse on Big Tub Harbour. We headed into the foot of the bay to look at the shipwrecks there.


September was great but we had the sale of our house looming cutting into free time. Still, I managed to get out onto my favourite stretch of the Credit River near Highway 7 with the girls as well as a few other nice paddles. The highlight of the month was a run on the Streetsville section of the Credit near the end of the month. This was with a friend and the river was full of salmon! We got soaked by the water the thrashing fish were throwing into the air... What a cool experience!


Near the end of October, with the move finally complete, we found ourselves living on the edge of a pond. From that pond flows a creek, which flows into the Grand River only a few hundred meters away. A paddler’s paradise to be sure! We paddled on the pond, on the creek and on the Grand several times before winter hit.


During the summer of 2010 I built an ultralight canoe. This boat is a skin-on-frame boat and only weighs 20 pounds. Since building it I had taken it on various day trips but never for a solo overnight trip, the very thing I envisioned when building it. I pictured myself with this super light canoe heading off for two or three days at a time to scout out new routes for the family in places we hadn’t paddled before. This hadn’t happened so far. I wanted to prove to myself that the boat was tough enough for trips like that. So, when in November I found myself with three free days, I decided to head for Killarney. The forecast was for rain every day and temperatures just above freezing. I packed warm clothes in a barrel, strapped the little boat onto the car, and headed off. It was gloomy and raining on and off during the drive up, but the sky cleared on my arrival. I headed into the park, across George, Freeland and Killarney lakes up to the grueling, four kilometer portage up to Threenarrows Lake. This is where I discovered that my system for carrying the boat needed some thought. I still have yet to come up with a good solution for carrying it easily. None the less I pressed on up to Threenarrows where I camped. The next morning dawned clear and cool, but not as cold as mornings in November can be that far north! I left camp early and paddled for hours over glass calm water while the sun slowly crept up over the pines on the far side of the lake. I did another huge portage from Threenarrows to Artist Lake, on through Muriel and onto the crystal clear azure water of OSA Lake. I camped again after cutting a good bunch of firewood for the long night. The next day, on Freeland and George lakes, I paddled through the strongest headwinds I’ve ever encountered. The little Northern Scout handled them with ease however as I slowly clawed my way upwind. I didn’t baby the boat and it did just fine including when I ran it up onto a rock fully loaded! Oops...


Early in December I decided that it was time I get myself and Kade solo whitewater canoes. I had been on the lookout for awhile and someone suggested that they might be willing to part with their Phantom. I consulted with some friends and decided that the Phantom was worth considering. I took it for a test paddle on a snowy morning on the pond in Norwood, the town where I had gone to look at it. A good friend was along and patiently waited for me as I paddled off into the gently falling snow. The leaves were gone but there were little red berries on the bushes on shore and the snow was clinging to them and to the branches. I felt like I was paddling through a Christmas card! It was so silent and peaceful. I can’t be sure if the conditions had anything to do with it, but I fell in love with that little yellow boat while on that paddle. I paid the asking price and brought her home and promptly attached a rubber duck onto the foredeck, like a hood ornament, and dubbed her Rubber Duckie! I paddled that boat several times waiting for winter to take hold, on the creek, the Grand and the Credit catching the high water as it passed.


A Composite Creations ‘Splash’ came available at around the same time and so Kade found himself with his own canoe also! He loves it and is paddling it quite a bit. He and I have been out on the creek together and hope to get out a lot in the future too. The Splash will be good for the girls as they start to grow and paddle more also.


One of those paddles on the creek, December 15th to be precise, I reached that number... The number that I had equated to the ultimate paddling year. No fireworks went off on that 60th paddle, but I did fall out of my boat on the second run! I managed to reach 64 paddling days by the time the year came to a close. The last paddle was on Christmas Eve with ‘Santa’ from Handcrafted Canoes as he paddled down the Grand in a tradition he keeps when the river allows.


As I sit now and look back over that year I feel blessed. So much time with family, so much time with friends as well as time alone, all while in my canoe. I don’t know what 2012 holds but I can’t wait to hop into my boat and push off and find out what’s around the bend in the river!