Canadian Yachting April 2022 - 35

The saying of a thing is easy. The doing, however, is something
else entirely. And the doing, the actual physical doing,
pales in comparison to the planning.
As a sailor, I know all too well how difficult it is to get off the
dock. To actually, irrevocably cast off those last thread-like
ties to family, home, and shore. Nearly all adventures, big or
small, die a well-talked, poorly planned and badly prepared
for death at the dock. If the physical preparation for this
trip doesn't kill me, it seems the planning and preparation
surely will.
I've been at it now for the better part of a year. Shortly after
the completion of my 5 Capes voyage in July 2020, I began to
plan for this next adventure. Solo trips of this scope and duration
are extremely rare. There's next to no precedent and
the problems that must be solved are yours and yours alone.
For me, the most important question has always been how
to finish. I can start easily enough. But to finish? Ah, there
indeed lies the rub. What do I need to do to finish? It's a very
good question and asking good questions generally leads to
discovering good answers. Because I'll be on foot for close
to 1,000 kilometres, the question boils down to how can I
carry, on my back, all that I will need to survive more than
seven months in the Canadian bush?
The Canoe
A 40-pound modern-day epoxy composite canoe is about as
far removed from birch bark as one can get. One of the first
things I set my sights on was getting hold of one of these
wonders.
My canoe skills being suspect, I needed a canoe that was
not just light but one that I could effectively wrap around a
mid-stream boulder. Seeing one of these wonders unscathed
after being nearly doubled while pinned against a giant rock
in a tortuous Canadian rapid sealed the deal. Getting it was
straightforward. Learning to paddle, pole, portage, line and
track the thing, fully loaded or otherwise, was not. Considering
the canoe carrying me and my gear will need to travel
about 6,500 kilometres up and downstream, on lakes, over
dams and even the sea, there is zero room for error.
I've been training with at least six different paddles. Anyone
who has paddled for more than 14 hours straight and needs
to do the same again the next day needs no convincing that
all paddles are not created equal. Mine are custom-made
works of art from Canadian manufacturers who have been
at it for decades, if not generations. I've got paddles, and
spares for flat water, white water and big water.
Canoes don't like going upstream any more than Dutch river
barges like going upwind. Sadly, I'll be travelling upstream
on the Fraser, Columbia, Winnipeg, and French rivers. To
do that, I figure I will do what the Voyageurs did. I will pole
upstream whenever I can. To do that, I'm bringing along a
10-foot 2-inch diameter bamboo pole. Down from 12 feet
and up from 8 feet, this one weighs next to nothing, can
double as a ridge line and is stout enough to discourage
uninvited camp guests.
The Portaging
I am dreading the portages. Thus I can be found portaging
myself and my gear here on Gabriola nearly every day. People
so far have only stopped and stared at me harnessed to
the canoe as I tow it down the road. I figure soon enough
somebody's going to ask me what I'm doing. No matter what
Canadian Yachting April 2022

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