June 23, 2006
After yesterday’s adventure my load was lightened by several kilos.
No Teva’s today.
I exchanged Muck Boots for my tried and true wetsuit booties. Having survived weeks wading muddy ponds in the Australian Outback, diving the Barrier Reef and most importantly years of kayaking and rafting I trusted they wouldn’t let me down. Besides they were just enough smaller that they allowed my largish feet a more comfortable fit inside the kayak.
I’d been so busy yesterday I hadn’t had time to take many photographs. I’ll keep the camera but no extra lens today. Just in case I have to hike to the road I’ll keep the Baggie’s shorts as well as some lightweight rain gear.
Lunch, who needs lunch? I took a small snack.
Expecting the worst, I thought it would be at least 4 hours until I reached the next pickup point.
The squiggle seemed wider today – more river like. I rounded the first bend – 200 metres – a beaver dam!
Wait, this one has been breached on river right. Cautiously I paddled to the lip of the beaver dam. It might be tight on the corner, but I think I can slide over the top and plunge down to the next pool – all of a 20 centimetre drop. It worked. That took all of 30 seconds – not the normal 5 or more minutes for each dam yesterday.
Another beaver dam that I could paddle over, and another. I paddled past a clear cut that came right to the river’s edge. I was a little disappointed that a riparian buffer had not been left. I could see where during last week’s rain, sediment had flowed off the hillside and into the river. Are there native fish in this river? I hadn’t seen any, but I was more interested in watching for obstacles: rocks and beaver dams.
I’d noticed that anytime I encountered a beaver lodge there was a dam about 100 to 150 metres downstream. It wasn’t until the fourth beaver dam that I had to crawl over a dam. I was making good time today. The water just above a beaver dam was often thick with duckweed. Sometimes very thick! After gently paddling it was a good aerobic push to ply the duckweed waters.
There was something different about this dam. As I moved closer I noticed something sticking straight up from the beaver dam. Sticks, somebody had planted sticks irregularly along the top of the beaver dam. Closer now, I could see there was a short section of hogwire attached in a v-shape to a few sticks. Were the sticks a form of fence to slow cattle in their attempt to cross on the dry ground of a beaver dam? Ingenious.
Further downstream I noticed another patch of duckweed, but there shouldn’t be a dam here, I haven’t seen a beaver lodge. I rounded the meander. The duckweed became thicker. There was a bridge across the river or more aptly, a bridge sitting on the water’s surface. All surface flow was stopped – different from a beaver dam where surface flow is maintained while subsurface flow is stopped.
I paddled harder, then harder still. Duckweed was churning. Duckweed was flying. I was coated in decaying duckweed and putrid cattail residue trapped behind the river-obstructing bridge. I stopped for a breather. The elasticity of the decaying mass forced me back upstream. I sat there in shock – a crow walking on water, walked to the bow of my boat. Blackbirds were grazing on the spiders, thrips, dragonflies and flies living on the trapped mat. With difficulty I gained shore.
The river was good today. About 8 beaver dams but only three had to be portaged. In just 2 ½ hours I reached the final dam just above my pickup point on Highway 36. Do I hang my red flag with a note that I have continued on? Even with good floating conditions it would 6 hours to the Amisk and Beaver River confluence. I didn’t know of any other crossings closer. There was one section that on my limited map looked like might be narrow and potentially be a challenge. I decided to forgo paddling the section until the next day.
Instead I paddled back upstream to have a closer look at the perhaps century old beaver lodge. It was easily 5 metres across and 3 metres tall. There were 15 cm in diameter trees growing from its surface. While I was examining the lodge, the beavers investigated their floating visitor – initially indicating their skepticism about my presence then ignoring my activity.
I arrived back at the beaver dam near the highway for pickup. Nobody was there. I slithered out of the kayak to stretch my legs. I quickly noticed my feet were sinking into the beaver dam mud. When I pulled a booted foot out I noticed water was excitedly exiting through my small divot. Absently, I pulled at a stick, then another. Before I realized what was happening I had a torrent of water flowing over the dam. It separated me from my kayak. I cautiously crossed the torrent. Watching with amazement, I witnessed the sedge meadow below become a flooded wetland.
What happens if I pulled out too many sticks? Will the beaver dam give way? I cautiously moved closer to my kayak. Then the thought struck – This is the largest dam I have encountered, “If I removed sticks from the middle of the river channel would I be able to ride over the crest of the dam and keep kayaking at the bottom of the nearly 2 metre plunge?”
I decided not to try, but if I had one of David Thompson’s fully loaded, 5 metre long canoes I certainly would have considered opening the centre of the dam and at least floating my heavily loaded ship the next step down the river.
I believe there is historical reference of breaching dams on the upper Beaver River to increase river flow enough to allow the boats to float. Not only is this certainly something to consider, but it is also likely true that it was only the presence of beaver dams that allowed the upper Beaver River to be a viable navigational and trade route. Without the beaver dams the volume of water flowing down the upper Beaver River would not be sufficient to float even a small canoe.
Segment 2: 2 ½ hours
Visit http://voyagetothebay.cauc.ca/ for the complete story of the nine other voyagers who paddled 3,038 kilometres in 84 days by canoe and foot . . . .
