A river runs through it: A trip through Saskatchewan’s wilderness

“Dumped at Trout Lake Rapids”. The humiliating phrase returns as I lie in my sleeping bag at dawn, reflecting on yesterday’s mishap.”

This was my guide Clint Austin’s description of how my canoe turned turtle as it emerged from the rapids into an eddy, tipping both me and my paddling companion into the river.

But today’s another day. Sunrise is creeping through the flysheet and the loons are calling from the lake.

Soon I’ve packed up my tent and am heading down to the shoreline, where a curl of blue smoke between the pines tells me breakfast is on the go.

This morning, Clint has whipped up baked oatmeal with rosehip powder and Saskatoon berries. And we’ll need it, with more miles of paddling ahead.

It’s day two of my five-day adventure with Churchill River Canoe Outfitters.

Four of us, plus two seasoned guides, are paddling eastwards along a 65km stretch of the Churchill River as it snakes and spills from lake to lake across northern Saskatchewan, wild camping on islands and generally undergoing a thorough wilderness induction.

Canada’s best-kept secret

For me, it’s a steep learning curve – but a very satisfying one.

Saskatchewan is little known to most international visitors to Canada, lying midway between more famous attractions to east and west. But in many ways, it represents the very essence of the nation.

This vast landscape of lake, river and forest is arguably the crucible in which Canada’s identity was forged, from the legends of the First Nations peoples to the journeys of the 18th century Voyageurs who used the river to supply the fur trade that became the foundation of the nation.

“It is one of the world’s best kept paddling secrets,” says Martin Bernadin, owner of CRCO. “The combination of deep history, remoteness and intact wilderness makes the Churchill River System unique.”

America As You Like It, which offers a variety of CRCO packages, agrees. “Saskatchewan is more local and more authentic,” says Product Director Cath Pusey. “It offers that true in-depth wilderness experience.”

Daunting and thrilling

Our route follows in the paddle strokes of those hardy Voyageurs, albeit with such modern comforts as inflatable airbeds and satellite phones.

Much of our journey sees us paddling sedately across wide expanses of calm water, but where the channel narrows into gorges there are rapids to negotiate.

And despite Clint’s patient tuition in how to tackle them, the occasional upset – literally – is par for the course. No worries. Our gear – tent, sleeping bag, clothes and other essentials – is safely stashed in waterproof barrels.

Unpacking and repacking these barrels is now a well-oiled routine as each day we make and break camp.

Other daily chores include digging the pit latrine, setting up the kitchen (an upturned canoe on two tree stumps) and collecting and filtering the water. Clint organises us with all the efficiency you’d expect of an ex-military man.

“The trip can go sideways pretty quickly if you don’t learn some basic stuff,” he says.

But this “stuff” is half the fun. And it brings our little group closer together as we journey deeper into the wilderness.

“Our expeditions appeal to visitors who are willing to push their boundaries a little,” Bernadin tells me.
America As You Like It’s Pusey confirms this, adding that her clients cover every level of experience and ability, but that the adventure creates firm bonds. “Everyone works as a team, which gives a great sense of belonging.”

Knowing that we’re alone out here is both daunting and thrilling. Since waving goodbye to the Otter floatplane that dropped us at McIntosh Lake, we haven’t seen another sign of humanity.

The only voices have been those of the birds – the wailing of loons, chattering of kingfishers and shrill cries of bald eagles – while neat piles of moose droppings, beaver-chewed tree stumps and the tracks of a timber wolf reveal the presence of larger creatures.

Nosing down one back channel, we surprise a female black bear and cub, who barrel away from the water’s edge and into the treeline.

By day two, we’re all getting a better idea of how to handle the white water. And where the rapids are too rapid, we leave the river and ‘portage’ overland to the next safe put-in, tramping the forest trail like pack mules, with bags and barrels on backs and canoes on heads.

Ghosts from the past

Each day’s paddling and portaging is followed by a companionable evening around the campfire. As we recline with full bellies and weary limbs, Clint and his co-leader Ric Driediger regale us with tales of the river.

“Imagine the ghosts of those Voyageurs who passed through here,” says Ric, describing the ordeals of those original travellers. We break out the wine box as he relates the history of place names like Lake of the Dead, and tells stories of the “Little People” – mythical characters that First Nations communities see as the river’s custodians.

On our final night, the Aurora Borealis unveils a spectacular display, as though to emphasise that out here nature is in charge. Watching the colours bleed across the heavens, I reflect that few parts of the world do wilderness like Canada – and few parts of Canada do wilderness like Saskatchewan.

Out here, even beginners like myself can tackle genuine challenges, both physical and emotional, while assured of their safety and essential comforts. It has been a transformative experience.

The next morning, two canoeists pass our island. The sight of their bright red craft comes as a jolt; a reminder that other people do exist and that shortly we’ll be paddling our final stretch, back to the tiny settlement of Misinipe, where our journey began.

As they disappear from view, I spy something else in the current – the round heads and long tails of two river otters, crossing from our island to the next. A parting gift from the wilderness.