This article first appeared in the Newfoundland Herald magazine.
See the author's notes at the bottom of the text
"Bartlett and Ivory are the only two female kayakers, to my knowledge, who have made this extreme venture. Grand Lake is prone to sudden storms rolling in off the Buchans Plateau. Howling winds funnel through the 1500 foot clifts around Glover Island creating very high waves and there are few places where a boat can find shelter. Being an experienced boater and sailor for some 60 years, I 'tip my hat' to these two ladies" - Ray Broughton, owner/operator, Ray's Hunting and Fishing Lodge, Howley.
Map 1. Route map, 160 km by kayak (click on image to enlarge)
Everything we needed would be in the hatches of our kayaks. We would no longer be watching computer screens and televisions. We would be tuned into wind conditions and changing cloud formations. We would be studying the shoreline for a sheltered place to bed down for the night. The challenge in paddling the Grand Lake watershed was not the distance, but rather it was about making the right decisions.
The physical characteristics of a watershed can change dramatically from one hour to the next. Our trip cannot be duplicated. The next kayaker will not have the same circumstances. Water levels change. Wind force and direction varies. Sun and rain negotiate a better deal. That moment in time is gone.
It was about six years ago when I first saw Grand Lake. My work for the Department of Tourism, Culture and Recreation involved the inspection of many wilderness outfitting lodges. My recollection of each lodge has faded but the image of an ocean-like body of water suddenly divided by a massive island, was unforgettable. Peering through the helicopter window on the south west coast of the province I could see Glover Island rising from the depths of Grand Lake. It was awesome and intimidating! The shores of both the mainland and this emerald island were granite cliffs. I wanted to see more.
Southern end of Glover Island (click on image to enlarge)
Grand Lake is Newfoundland's largest body of fresh water. In geological terms it exists on the Cabot Fault, a deep incision in the earth. It is also one of the few areas left on the island that provides a habitat for the endangered Pine Martin. In the 1920s hydro-electric power was needed to operate the newly constructed Corner Brook paper mill. A dam was built near Howley at the north end of Grand Lake. This raised the water level of Grand Lake, Sandy Lake and Birchy Lake by as much as 35 feet, creating a huge watershed. The water still generates electricity for the mill.
Outdoor Trends
When Patti Ivory, a teacher with the Avalon East School Board, heard that I was looking for a partner to kayak the Grand Lake watershed she was enthusiastic. Patti is part of a growing trend among North American women to become more involved in outdoor adventure.
Planning
An wilderness adventure has three stages: the planning, the trip and the reminiscing afterwards. Everything has to come together so that the memory you hold for the rest of your life is good. My planning for this trip really began twenty years ago when I enrolled in outdoor skills programs such as canoe schools, leadership training, survival courses, rescue clinics and wilderness trips.
I quickly learned that one of the most important decisions in any successful endeavor is choosing the right partner. Trust based on character and competence is critical to a positive experience. On a trip such as this, it is important to have confidence in ones abilities but it is just as important to leave one's ego back in town.
Before embarking on our adventure, Patti and I met with canoeists who had paddled the route. We honed our map reading skills, developed supply lists and discussed meal plans. Tents, thermarests, sleeping bags, rain gear, warm clothes, personal hygiene products, first aid , food, emergency flares, boat repair, paddling gear, stove, fuel, cooking utensils, head lamps, hiking boots, sandals, all had to be packed in our kayaks to be readily accessible.
Patti agonized over the possibility of encountering a bear. I teased her saying "the only animal to be feared in the woods of this province is the two legged one on the beer." Nevertheless we contacted Shane Mahoney, Executive Director of Science and Research for the province. He confirmed that the only incident of a Black Bear attacking a human on the island of Newfoundland was at Conne River at the turn of the century. A person got between a sow and her cub.
We left St. John's on Sunday at 6:00 AM and ate our last home-cooked meal in Corner Brook, at the home of fellow paddlers, Dan and Sheila Chaisson. Salads and barbecued chicken were served on the deck while I made our final call to the Gander weather office. Dan would drive us to Grand Lake and then, a week later, he and Sheila would drop our car at Fort Birchy, our final destination, so that we wouldn't have to back track
The Trip
Sunday, June 23
It was 4:00 o'clock when Dan helped us load our kayaks on the beach at the put-in of Grand Lake. I laughed as one curious onlooker kept referring to him as Captain. When Patti and I got in our boats and pushed off, he exclaimed in horror, "What! The two women are going?"
Posing at the start of the trip (click on image to enlarge)
Our first evening's paddle was 15 km in summer heaven; warm temperatures, flat calm waters and annoying black flies. Within the hour we encountered loons. Their haunting calls accompanied us for the rest of the trip. Paddling through the maze of dead tree tops protruding through the surface of the water was an eerie experience. These were the remains of trees that had reached heights before the area was flooded. We found a little cove, as identified on our map, and set up our tents on a short sandy beach, mottled with moose tracks. During the night a rising south east wind brought rain. This changed to an easterly gale and howling winds. Due to the channeling effect caused by the mountains, the wind blew straight down the lake. We secured our tents with boulders.
Monday, June 24
Wind bound.
For most of the day I walked the beach while Patti read in her tent. I forgot about the rain as I marveled at the formations and colors of the rocks. I was fascinated by one deposit in which the rocks were a soft rose colour. They ranged in size from that of a compact car to a soccer ball. Greg Stapleton, a geologist for the Province, later informed us that some of these rocks are 600 million years old.
What a beautiful place (click on image to enlarge)
Tuesday, June 25
At 4:30 AM we were awake with anxiety. Outside our tents the mood was out of a Sherlock Holmes movie... gray fog and dead calm conditions. The weather office had forecast a north easterly wind, the most dangerous for Grand Lake. Patti came over to my tent and we reviewed our map, studied the contour lines, and decided on a plan. 15 km would take us to the end of a shoreline where there was a small beach. We would not venture through the dangerous walled section until evening, even if the lake was calm. We didn't want to get caught in the channel. Waves on a big lake can be very dangerous. Unlike an ocean there is no swell and the waves can be very close together.
After paddling a couple of hours we reached our destination. We pulled our little boats onto a strip of beach just large enough to set up camp. The fog had lifted to reveal a clear, calm morning. I lit the stove and boiled some water for drinking. Within the hour, rain and wind appeared. Ripples turned into angry whitecaps. I undressed, snuggled down in my sleeping bag and fell asleep hoping the storm would abate. The sound of water lapping on the shore and rain beating on the tent roof had a subliminal effect on my bladder." Darn it," I protested, to Patti through the nylon walls of the tent, "I've got to go out in this rain. I might as well get a shower while I'm out there." As I unzipped the tent door and ventured outside, Patti asked in alarm " Are you nude?" "Yes", I retorted,"and I have an audience of eight million raindrops!"
The wind subsided around 4:30 PM. We dismantled our tents while in anxious anticipation. The next 15 km would be through the granite corridor with its possibility of danger... The weather was on our side. At dusk we arrived at Red Indian Falls, and a golden, sandy beach. According to our maps the next possible campsite after this one would be 10 km away. I was aghast as I walked down the beach. Within a couple of hundred yards, there were eight fire pits, beer cans and litter. When one considers the remoteness of this area such a scenario does not reflect positively on our values. On this trip, Patti and I practiced minimum impact camping. We used our one burner stove for cooking, burned our toilet paper (with a lighter) and buried our waste. All of our garbage was brought out.
On the way to the campsite at Red Indian Falls (click on image to enlarge)
Wednesday, June 26
This was a morning for fleece hats and neoprene pogies. The nip in the air soon burned off with the rising sun. Over the past day and a half we had been paddling parallel to Glover Island for almost 40 km. We decided to set foot on the island before we passed it. Once on the water again, light south westerly winds helped to move us along. As we passed the island, the lake widened to resemble an ocean. An hour later we stopped for lunch and took advantage of our first hot, dry spell by spreading our wet gear upon the rocks to dry. The sun was rejuvenating. We ate a big lunch intending to paddle into the evening. Mother nature had other plans. An unyielding cross-wind came up around 4:00 PM so we set up camp by a cheerful little river. The resident beaver contested our intrusion with militant tail slapping.
Linda studies the maps (click on image to enlarge)
Campsite next to a beaver's home (click on image to enlarge)
A little R&R (click on image to enlarge)
Duct tape has many uses, including snowpants (click on image to enlarge)
Thursday, June 27
We left the beach at 6:00 AM and paddled 25 km to Howley. The water was like glass and the rhythm of our paddles became hypnotic. We arrived in Howley at 1:00 PM just ahead of a rising wind.
Howley is a small community nestled at the north end of Grand Lake. It was a thriving logging town in the 1930's and 40's. Most of the houses are made from local white pine, a testimony to the fact that Newfoundland once had pine clad hills.
We were met at the beach by Ray Broughton, the owner of an outfitting lodge which overlooked the beach. He was quite surprised to see us and offered food and shower facilities. An interesting man, Ray is 68 years old, fit, knowledgeable, and the proud owner of a new yellow corvette. "Life is 90% attitude. Yesterday is history, tomorrow's a mystery, so live today" he mused. It was easy to see why 50% of his customers are repeat clientele.
While standing on the beach we were amazed to watch a gull open a ziploc bag of dried fruit which Patti had secured under the deck lines of her kayak. The little thief devoured the dried papaya, apricots, chocolate and nuts and then flew away with the bag.
A little later, Ray drove us to the store. We purchased some bananas and a bag of cheezies. When we returned we laid the white plastic bag beside the kayaks while we set up our tents beside the lodge. I stopped dead in my tracks on the way down to the beach. A large, black crow flew by with three cheezies dangling from its beak. The bananas had holes pecked in them but the crow's preference was junk food. We suspected that there were birds in Howley suffering from cramps that night.
The four American bear hunters staying at Rays Lodge headed out to the woods at about 4:30 PM. When they left, Patti and I showered and enjoyed the view of the lake from the timbered living room. I curled up in an oversized chair and watched Oprah before retreating to my tent. Life was good!
The winds roared through the night and my tent poles strained under the force. Definitely our worst wind. At least it was warm. We stayed in our tents for most of the morning as a light rain kept everything wet. Around noon the winds subsided and the flies attacked. A good sign. We dismantled our tents, said our goodbyes and at 2:00 PM pushed off from the beach at Howley. As we were leaving, Ray called out, "Watch Sandy Lake. It's large and the winds come up quickly."
Friday, June 24
The wind was gentle at our backs and we made good time as we paddled through Sandy Lake to the bridge at Birchy narrows, a distance of about 35 km. Once under the bridge we looked for the nearest campsite. The sunset was a dramatic orange but we fell asleep to the drone of trucks in the distance. We were nearing our destination.
Saturday, June 25
We had a leisurely breakfast and left the beach at 8:30 AM. It was a brilliant morning and we saw three moose drinking at water's edge as we paddled the 15 km to Ft. Birchy. Such sightings had been rare over the course of the week as most sensible creatures were taking refuge from the bouts of wind and rain that had continued to beat on us. A week ago Birchy Lake looked enormous and threatening from our car window. Now it seemed small and narrow, relative to the other lakes.
We arrived in Ft. Birchy at 11:00 AM. It was hot. When we passed Hinds Brook earlier in the week, a sports fisherman recommended that we eat at the restaurant at Ft. Birchy. We went inside and had a chat with the owner, Wesley Organ while we waited for our meals. He recalled that a group did the trip a couple of years ago and got caught in the channel. They rescued themselves by throwing ropes up into the trees and rigging up a pulley system.
We tied our kayaks on our car roof, threw the gear in the back and headed east. My only regret was that my camera would not work during part of the trip. Nevertheless, some of the images are already indelible.
End of the journey (click on image to enlarge)
Conclusion
I've had the good fortune to travel from Northern Labrador to the south coast of Newfoundland...and from Hollywood, California to Kathmandu, Nepal. I recognize that we live in a special place. Each day this province is being reshaped by us. Our attitudes and values affect the integrity of our environment. The type of adventure we choose is personal depending on our character and our life experiences. Adventures in the outdoors give us that opportunity to reconnect with nature, and challenge ourselves both outwardly and inwardly.
I wish to thank two competent canoeing friends, Lloyd Button and Lou Feltham, for
reviewing their Grand Lake experience with us; Austin Anthony for being my map and compass
mentor; Roger Pearson for years of invaluable outdoor leadership training; Alex McGruer
for lending me his kayak when mine sprung a leak, and my father who introduced me to our
magnificent wild places.
Linda Bartlett worked for eight years with the Department of Tourism, Culture and
Recreation in product development and marketing for the outdoor sector. She was a director
for Kayak Newfoundland and is past-president of the Newfoundland Canoeing Association.
She currently serves on the Board of Directors of Mountain Equipment Co-op
and Serratus Mountain Products.
This article was originally written for a non-paddling audience. Distances were
rounded and are not exactly to scale.