Bowron Lakes part 3

Matt near the spot we found the wrecked canoe

Matt had been up for a while when I finally rolled out of my sleeping bag. Several sleepless nights and a fair amount of paddling were starting to take their toll.

We ate a quick breakfast and broke camp in good time, and just after the party of four canoeists left, portaging their canoes and gear around The Chute and the rapids behind it, we pushed our boats out into the very last part of Isaac Lake and floated around the bend to line up and drop over the Chute. The previous evening we'd been scouting the rapid and noticed a tree blocking the immediate exit, if a boat ran the chute and just stayed in the current it would run right into the log jam. We formulated our own ideas for getting around it - Matt ran into the drop backwards and ferried across to river right, I ran the drop forwards, eddied out left, then ferried across the whole rapid. The Chute was a bit of a disappointment, levels were so high that most of the whitewater was washed out.

However the river got better. Just downstream was the section called the Roller Coaster and that rapid was in full swing, I'd not taken a 17ft boat through whitewater before but after about three seconds my concerns passed and I enjoyed it as much as I would have in a playboat. I turned to check on Matt and he was whooping as his boat splashed through the rapids, so I figured he was doing ok too :)

Moose calf swimming in Skoi Lake

The fun stuff was over very quickly and we had to take out to avoid the signposted waterfall. As we packed the boats onto their carts for the short portage the canoeists passed us hauling their boats. I was glad we paddled the short river section. Dragging our kayaks, we stopped to check out the 'waterfall' - the first section was a good class II-III rapid that I'd have loved to run in my playboat. Matt was looking a bit cheated, it was obvious he figured we could run it. We had a discussion about how they obviously had to stop boats going through there in case Johnny-first-time-canoeist capsized with no lifejacket on, but then just downstream I heard a thundering noise and we moved to the edge of the trail to check it out. There was a huge class V drop which at normal levels maybe one or two people I know could have run... at the current water level it would be suicide. We both looked at each other and I said 'that will be the waterfall then'.

The next part of the circuit was tedious, short river runs followed by short portages around difficult rapids. I was getting pretty good at packing my stuff into my carry-bag, putting my cart together, strapping the kayak on the cart and hauling, but my original fix for the lost wheel pin was totally inadequate on the rougher trails and the gaffer tape would scrape off. Matt fixed that by zip-tying my cart wheel on.

Before too long we'd done three portages and we were on McLeary Lake. As we started to paddle down the right side of the short lake, we could see another trapper cabin on the left shore. I said to Matt that would have been our stop the previous night if we'd been able to keep going... part of me thought it would not have been too much further, but then it is easy to think that way when you are dry, it isn't raining, and you haven't paddled all day. And as Matt pointed out, it may have been occupied last night.

One of the few cabins around the circuit

I found myself worrying that the portages had taken a couple of hours out of what we already knew would be a long paddling day, and I tried to force myself to stop thinking about the time and relax. That became easier as we left the lake behind and funneled into the Cariboo river. The weather started to improve and the clouds that had veiled the scenery parted to reveal the mountains. Matt kept asking me to take pictures, we were both loving the occasional sun and the view. Added to that it was very relaxing to just let the current take the boats, with the odd correcting stroke to avoid wood in the river. We agreed that this was the best part of the trip so far.

There were some stumps and other hazards in the river and it wasn't long before we came on a wrecked canoe. It wasn't - we were relieved to see - the party that we'd stayed with the night before. It looked relatively clean so it was hard to tell when it had happened, but it was very obviously abandoned. We shouted to ensure there was nobody nearby in need of assistance. The whole boat had buckled and cracked in the middle, evidently it had got sideways on a stump and the current had destroyed it.

The river widened and slowed slightly and eventually deposited us into Lanesi Lake. My shoulders and torso had appreciated the break and started to complain as soon as I began the long paddle up the lake. Lanesi was nowhere near the length of Isaac - maybe a third the size - but it was significant and I knew we had to cover the whole of it and a lot more in order to keep our trip to five days.

Pretty much out of nowhere a very strong headwind hit us and within minutes we were smashing through big waves. The wind was catching my inactive paddle blade as it came out of the water and blasting it backwards which was making it harder to paddle. I put my head down and paddled as hard as I could into the wind, occasionally having to track diagonally to keep toward the shore. When I did that, the waves would break across the boat and swamp my spraydeck, and had me paying close attention to keep upright. Up ahead I could see Matt, head down, powering on through so I just kept going too. After a few minutes I stopped fretting and started laughing at the ridiculous weather. I wondered briefly if I'd finally lost it, a few days kayaking in the wilderness and here I was laughing like a maniac in a 20 knot wind as the waves crashed over me. Maybe the next step would be running around naked covered in mud and talking to mushrooms.

We pulled into the lee of a headland and saw two canoes pulled ashore - sure enough it was the group of canoeists we'd left with that morning. Their canoes had started to take on water faster than they could bail it, so they'd been forced to stop. Matt checked our position on the map and we were both stunned to discover we'd covered almost a third of the lake. We braced ourselves and pulled around the headland but the weather had changed totally and the wind was non-existent. Paddling on we started enjoying the views as the clouds shifted and the mountains surrounded us once more. Hugging the right shore of the lake I listened to the eerie silence of the rainforest on the slopes of the mountains, broken by the occasional exotic-sounding bird call. I wondered what it would be like to be hiking through that, and I felt rather small and insignificant.

As we basked in the sun and put another third of the lake behind us, we could see another weather front ahead towards the end of the lake. We determined to try to paddle for the end before we got hit again... bizarrely we had a tail wind on the lake, but the clouds were moving toward us. Crazy mountain weather.

Another problem that started to become apparent was my lightweight packing. I'd packed five normal days' worth of food, not five days of paddling for 6 hours a day. Matt had extra and we had the jerky and granola that his wife had made us, but I was starting to find that I was hungry more or less constantly, and everything I ate was not enough. As the afternoon drew on I figured I'd have enough for breakfast, a handful of jerky and a Mars bar for lunch, and an energy bar for our planned last day. We really couldn't afford to hang about.

The storm hit us as we made our way towards the end of Lanesi Lake, thunder rolled overhead and we stayed tight in to the trees on the right shore. Every time we tried to round a headland we'd battle the wind, until right at the end of the lake we rounded a bend and the wind died. Soon it was overcast and a little rainy, but we could deal with that. We passed into Sandy Lake and paddled gently up the right shore. It was getting late, and Matt asked what I wanted to do. My body told me it wanted a very large burger, some beer and then a nice warm bath but since we were some miles from any of those, I figured we had to press on. We were both feeling pretty strong still so we agreed to keep paddling as late as we possibly could. Matt figured if we could get through Babcock and Skoi lakes, we'd get all the portaging finished and just have a relatively easy paddle the next day.

We started to pass campsites where sane people had decided to call it a day several hours ago and were sitting around chatting and eating. I'd been sitting in my boat for so long that most of my lower body was numb, but I didn't want to get out since I'd chill and all the water trapped in my drypants would slosh down my legs. As we got to Babcock lake though, we had no choice. Helpfully the rain returned as we took out to portage onto the lake. Slogging through the muddy trail I could feel water sloshing about so I took off my boots and held open my latex ankle seals. Water poured out and although I was chilled it felt much better without a pint of water in each leg. The rain stopped and we did too briefly to chat with some campers on the edge of Babcock Lake, but the mosquitoes were bad and I didn't want to stand around long, soaked as I was. We powered across the lake and the rain closed back in, but I wasn't really in the mood to look at the view so I just focussed on paddle stroke after paddle stroke. It was hard to keep my head up. Looking back I noticed the campers watching us go, I guess they thought we were nuts paddling into the sunset.

There was a really short portage at the end of Babcock, leading to Skoi Lake. As I got to the end of it, happily chatting to Matt now the rain had stopped, a big Moose stepped up right in front of me out of the lake. Matt said over my shoulder 'don't move'.

The Moose was evidently disgusted by the smell of unwashed paddler, since she jumped straight back into the lake and swam. I heard some distressed sounding grunting, and realised her calf was still in the lake too. I'd recovered from my surprise enough to grab my camera, and took a couple of pictures as they got out on the reedy far bank. We put in and had to paddle through some twisting reed beds to get out into the main lake, all the time keeping an eye out for grazing moose. As the small lake opened up the sun came out just as it was dropping behind the horizon, and the lake steamed in the pink sunset. A Loon sat in the middle of the lake giving it's weird-sounding call. Another moose watched us suspiciously from the far side of the lake and ran off as we paddled closer. I smiled to myself - if we'd stopped when we should have, five or so hours ago, we'd have seen none of this stuff.

We took out at the end of Skoi Lake and it only took a few minutes to haul our kayaks across the short portage. We were the only people at the campsite on the shore of Spectacle Lakes, so we decided to stop there for the night. My final dinner of two rehydrated chicken breasts, some cheesy mash potato and some green beans tasted like Heaven. I savoured each mouthful, eating by the light of my headlamp. We'd paddled for 11 hours more or less continuously, apart from the portages we'd only stopped very briefly for lunch. The last thing I remember as I lay in my sleeping bag was the haunting sound of the Loon on Skoi Lake, a few hundred metres behind us.

After breakfast the next morning we packed up and headed out fairly early. Just as we were leaving the people we'd talked to at Babcock Lake the night before turned up, obviously we were NOT early starters :) We paddled just in front of them for the whole of the Spectacle Lakes and it wasn't clear where Spectacle finished and Swan Lake started, but they were still with us as we passed reedy islands in Swan Lake, looking for Moose. There were none, so we pressed on. The canoeists pulled into a campsite for lunch whilst Matt and I pressed on and stopped at a site Matt had been to before on the Bowron River. I ate my last handful of jerky and made a smug comment about how my next meal was going to be a burger with all the trimmings. We were both looking forward to a big meal... I think the previous day had really taken it's toll on both of us.

We pressed on and wound through the reeds on the Bowron River - finally taking our first wrong turn of the trip - looking for Bowron Lake. I was really starting to get the hang of turning the long sea kayak so the twists and turns of the river were fun. The sun was out too. We started the long paddle up Bowron Lake and I was disappointed to see it was so... civilised looking. There were houses and cabins and for the first time in several days we heard engine noise as powered boats came down the lake. Bowron is a recreational lake and apart from the first kilometer or so there isn't much to see. Matt asked which shore I was planning to paddle and I told him the shortest route - straight up the middle! I aimed for the end of the lake and got on with paddling. Looking at my watch I figured we'd be done by 2.30pm. All that time looking forward to my Bowron adventure and here I was wondering what kind of time we'd get to Tim Hortons.

At the very end of the lake we took out, high-fived each other and then dragged our gear up the short hike to the car park. Matt brought the truck down and as we loaded up a park ranger asked for our names - they'd had an emergency VHF call from a party of two guys in the park. Apparently they'd been forced to pull ashore in the bad weather and they'd simply run out of food. The ranger had been hopeful we were the guys, and went back to figuring out a rescue. We mentioned the wrecked canoe we saw, but apparently that had been there since last year.

Driving back into the real world we decided to stop at Wells and eat. However after a very strange cafe kicked us out - they had customers but told us they couldn't serve us until 5pm - we went to a gas station to get coffee and as we opened the door the lady in the fully-stocked looking store told us they couldn't sell us anything except gas. Bemused, we decided to head for Quesnel and hope that Matt didn't fall asleep at the wheel. I looked at myself in the mirror - half closed eyes, red face and hair standing up like I'd had a bad fright. Matt looked little better. The people of Wells probably figured we were escaped from an asylum.

We ate a couple of burgers each in Quesnel, followed it with a bunch of doughnuts and finally arrived home in the early evening. For several days afterward all I could do was eat, sleep and scratch my mosquito bites.

Now the rain, pain and insects are a dim memory I'd be tempted to do it again sometime. In August or September. Preferably during a heatwave. But there are so many other places to explore here...

Hope you enjoyed the write-up.

Frase.