We hope you enjoy these dispatches straight from Canada. May it remind you of past adventures or connect you with those grand memories a son or loved one is making, maybe even this summer.
July 24, Day 2
Today was a most excellent day. The blueberry muffins we baked the night before turned out perfect. Even though it was our first full day on the trail, we got camp cleaned up and were on the water in under an hour. With the low rays of sun just beginning to glitter on the water, we set off down the Brightsand River.
We passed a solo canoeist and his dog, Shutter, a few miles downstream. Shutter was such a good boy! Our first portage of the trip went exceedingly well! Everyone allocated gear according to their ability, we kept the unloading and loading spots organized, and no one shied away from the hard work we knew portages were sure to bring. The boys have come a long way since their first trips with Chippewa. Without wasting any time, we were back on the river and enjoying some delicious, and well-earned, power bars.
We cruised down the Brightsand River and entered Moberley Lake. Cliffs rose out of the water on the eastern shore, and we could not ignore the possibility of some cliff jumping. The scramble to the top wasn’t too challenging, and the height above the water was perfect—just enough to send a tingling sensation down your spine when you peeked over the edge. “One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to GO!” Laughter and splashing filled the next hour. To leap into a clear lake is to feel the very essence of freedom.
The day kept getting better and better. We found some pictographs on a rock wall and floated in our canoes pondering their images. We saw a moose swimming along the far shore, a sure sign that the land we were in remained untouched wilderness. And we capped that off with peanut butter and jelly on pilot biscuits for lunch. There really isn’t much more you can ask for on a trip, is there?
The afternoon continued, and we eventually arrived at a set of rapids. Everyone hopped out to scout the flowing river, and a careful analysis revealed two hydraulics: one river-left, one river-right. The gap between the two was wide enough for a canoe, and though the drop was significant, it occurred over deep, clear-running water. We decided to shoot. It was a thrilling set! Water rushed and foamed on all sides, both bow and stern maneuvered together to keep the canoe on course, and we couldn’t help but let out a cry of excitement as the canoe pitched and bucked over the waves. Though some of us got a little wet, the canoes stayed upright, and we continued downstream. The next set was unshootable, so we quickly portaged and paddled the remaining miles to a lovely campsite on Little Metionga Lake where I had stayed the previous summer.
We filleted some walleye, ate an outstanding pot of “fish taco mac and cheese,” quickly got camp put away for the night, and enjoyed some pristine swimming off the sandy shore. Looking around our group, I saw the inevitable smiles of satisfaction and contentment among the boys. Today was perfect. The loons even decided to start calling as the sun dipped below the horizon. As I sit in my tent, I am overcome with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection for this group of voyageurs. It should be a great trip. Goodnight.
