Canada's Nahanni River
A Solo Paddle in Canada's Northwest Territories

The river, which up until now has been flowing at 7 to 10 kms/hr, slows down to 3 kms/hr as it flows past Rabbit Kettle lake on it's way to Virginia Falls, 2 days paddle down river. I take advantage of the slower current to lie on my spray cover and watch the world drift by.

Virginia Falls tumbles some 90 meters in a boiling mass of foaming water into the non-glaciated canyons below. I spend the day exploring this spectacular site. In the morning, a cold front moves in and I wake up to snow on top of Sunblood mountain. By early afternoon, I've completed the 1.2 km portage on a well maintained boardwalked trail. A rocky switchback leads down the steep embankment to the river below the falls where I don my drysuit and prepare the canoe for what is possibly the most interesting section of the river, the four canyons.

Fourth canyon (the numbering starts at first canyon further downstream), as with 2 of the other 3 canyons, is characterized by definite entrances-sheer cliff walls rise dramatically hundreds of meters from the water on either side of the river. Once inside these immense canyons, I am dwarfed and humbled by the mystery and magic of this wild and magnificent place. The canyons owe their unique beauty to the fact that they escaped the full force of the last glaciation, which ended about 10 to 12,000 years ago.

At this water level, there are few difficult white water sections and I am able to sit back and enjoy nature's exuberant display of color, lines, shapes and textures. Sedimentary layers have been heaved up into every conceivable angle and curve from horizontal to nearly vertical. In my exalted frame of mind, these fantastic rock formations are strangely reminiscent of ancient archeological sites I have explored in the past. One moment I am immersed in the overgrown jungle temples of Tikal in Guatemala and the next I am surrounded by the mysterious Buddhist temples of Borabodour inIndonesia. Round and round I rotate the canoe in an effort to take it all in.

As the last warm rays of evening light fade on the canyon walls behind me, I turn my gaze towards the sprawling plains of Deadman's Valley stretching out before me and I feel a tinge of regret at having to leave this magical place. For I know that the plains will bring me back to the world of man.

On cue, as if nature could sense my mood, it begins to rain. I paddle on into the late evening as there is nowhere to camp on this grassy shoreline. With each paddle stroke the rain gets heavier and heavier until it is pouring off the edge of my rainhood visor in steady rivulets. It is now the third week of July and the failing light of dusk comes much earlier. I am forced to camp on the first available semi-level site I can find.

As I hastily put up my tent on the muddy gravel bar, just centimeters from the river's strong current, I am reminded of an entry in one of the park's registry books: "The river rose by several meters in just a few hours last night, in these heavy rains." As I contemplate this ominous possibility, I am assaulted by an army of mosquitoes that are relentless in their single minded pursuit of my blood. I am almost driven to a frenzy as I frantically crawl into my tent and out of the elements.

Follow Luc as he paddles the Tasenshini River Solo.

A low pressure system has moved in and I paddle the next four days under gray skies and intermittent rain. I am now accompanied by a group from Whitehorse and I enjoy their lively camaraderie as we paddle steadily in these dismal conditions. The mosquitoes are now a nightmare and it becomes increasingly difficult to prepare meals at camp as their squirming bodies become stuck in my food and drinks. In exasperation, I resort to mixing them in my meals, as it is impossible to pick them all out.

At Nahanni Butte, a native settlement at the confluence of the Nahanni and the Liard river and a day's paddle upstream from the take out, we are offered accommodation and a hot shower and I rejoice at not having to deal with the elements. My first hot shower in 25 days! It seems so incongruous to be enjoying these modern amenities in such a remote area but I am thankful.

At Blackstone Territorial Park and the end of the journey the next evening I deregister at the park office. The next morning I set off with two paddling companions from the last days of the trip, for the drive back to Watson Lake to pick up my vehicle. During the almost 900km drive I share numerous river stories with them. Theirs drift naturally towards the wonderful moments they shared as a group. Mine are quieter, more pensive moments. When I reflect back on the trip, what stands out in my mind is less the excitement of running the whitewater than the experience of being totally immersed in this magical landscape. The profound inner peace and the commune I experienced with this great river will live on in my heart and keep me coming back to paddle these remote rivers solo.

Luc Bedard resides in Vanouver, BC, Canada when he is not solo paddling wild Alaskan rivers. He has been paddling for over 25 years all over Canada and the U.S.