Tundra and Taiga

Getting There: We drove to La Ronge, Saskatchewan, then on Route 102 (a gravel road) another 250 miles north to Points North Landing, from where we chartered into the upper Nowleye with Points North Air Services. Contact Andy Eikel at (306) 633-2137. There are scheduled flights from Baker Lake to Churchill, then a train or another flight to Winnipeg. Points North shipped our van to Winnipeg. Timing: Small northern streams drop fast after breakup. Be on the Nowleye by July 1. Check ice conditions with your charter airline. Wildlife: Everything is benign except the grizzly. They should run from a loud shout or pot-banging. If not, get out the pepper spray. You may also want to carry a "bear banger," a small tube firing a firecracker-like shell that should produce retrograde movement. Remember, you are faster than a grizzly on water, but not on land. Go for the boats. Weather: Be ready for anything with light layers of clothing that can be adjusted to conditions. Prevailing wind is N or NW, so you will be going into it. Travel at any time is possible because of constant light, so let weather dictate when you move.

Our little flotilla made fast for the opposite bank, presumably a safe distance from the bear. But this magnificent animal, probably a young male, wanted to get up close and personal. Fixing the group with an intensely curious stare, it swam across to our bank without the slightest effort, then advanced up the shore toward us. Our warning yells only seemed to provoke more interest. At that point, photography and cool analysis of bear behavior deteriorated into a spineless scramble for the boats. Even when we were out on the river, the grizzly trailed along behind us for a while, probably with regret at missing a tasty meal.

So began a two-day stretch in which we sighted four of these massive carnivores. Bob even had to chase one out of camp the next morning, which certainly made for an early exit from that site. Given a grizzly's extensive forage area, we believed this represented a heavy concentration. And what of those bears we hadn't seen?

More banner days followed. The Finnie had its share of tricky passages, as we had to stay alert for river-wide rock bars through which there was no channel. As long as we got to shore in time, it was no problem to wade the canoes down, but the hazard had to be recognized well in advance. Small, sharp-walled canyons held active nests of peregrine falcons and rough-legged hawks. Near its junction with the much larger Thelon River, a substantial growth of spruce appeared. Many bank-side trees looked as if they had been blasted with explosives, remnants of the bash-and-tear effect from outgoing ice. We were interested to find a sizable moose population, unusual in an area generally considered to consist more of tundra than taiga, and possibly a result of global-warming trends that are causing vegetation to advance farther north.

When the Finnie joined the broad Thelon, we passed from a small to a big river milieu: being windbound and dealing with "traffic" in finding two other canoe parties over the next two weeks. Now on our final leg, we turned east toward the Inuit community of Baker Lake. But the Thelon had certainly lived up to its reputation as the "zoo of the North." Bold Arctic ground squirrels snatched cheese from our lunch; stolid, shaggy musk oxen glared down from high banks; hundreds of ducks and geese bobbed in the river; foxes and wolves prowled the shores--and then there were the caribou.

Ever since the Nowleye, we had spotted single caribou and a few pairs. From mid-river one afternoon, they looked like a field of brown rocks. Soon the rocks moved, and more appeared to take their place. We paddled hard to the shore, then ran over marshy ground to try to intercept the animals' line of march. The next hour was the most rewarding of our trip. We closed to within 30 yards of a herd about 1,000 strong as it left our shore to swim a small bay and then file up the opposite hill. They set off a primordial din, what with jostling, grunting, splashing, and the clacking sound of hinged hooves hitting the cobble beach. Mothers hustled uncertain calves ahead on the age-old quest for forage. After the herd had passed, we were left with a humbling sense of "Wow, did I really see that?"

When the mighty Thelon broke through a final range of hills on its way to tidewater, it created one monster rapid. Fully a quarter-mile wide and a mile long, it greeted us with a deep rumble on the approach that ratcheted up into a full-throated roar as we scouted from river right. Holes in mid-river looked an easy five feet, no place for open canoes. After a tough letdown past the initial drop, we ran a half-mile and then pulled ashore for a second scout. From our vantage point it looked as if another shore-hugging run was possible, but when John and I got out, there we were, fast closing toward the nastiest back eddy I've seen in 40 years of northern canoeing. The eddy line would roll us in a moment, and the upstream current was throwing up four feet of spray.

"Left, more left!" I shouted from the bow. Somehow John got us angled out just enough to miss the upstream tug from that seething reverse current, but then we were into the holes. After three pitches through them, the old Mad River had taken on a load of water, but we held course with just enough freeboard to get us back to the bank. Phew! Some exit from the North.

A few days later in the post of Baker Lake, I asked first-timer Richard for his reaction to the trip. His reply was unhesitating, "Great country--great experience."

Since 1962, John Lentz has logged 18 wilderness canoe trips in northern Canada and two in Siberia.

This story appears in the 2003 issue of Canoe Journal, published by Canoe & Kayak. To order a copy, click here or call (800) MY-CANOE, extension 114.