Day 10 - Makami Lake to Gogama (30 km)

We made a quick coffee and oatmeal breakfast as the sun rose and attempted to fight through the clouds. The marbled cloud reflections off the glass-like lake were sublime in the early morning light.  

We departed the site just after 7 AM. I took the following shot of the site as we paddled northeast toward the Makami River. 

Within a half hour, the lake had narrowed into the river once again and we entered an area that had been recently burned just a couple of years earlier. It was somewhat foreboding under a canopy of patchy dark clouds.

The river narrowed in a few spots there and in the high-water push, we enjoyed running a series of swifts and easy C1 rapids. It was a fun little section of the river. 

Shortly past 8 AM, we spotted the rail bridge of the cross-Canada rail line ahead of us. The train that would pick us up the following morning would need to cross that bridge before stopping in Gogama. There was a fun swift under the bridge that quickly swept us past it. 

Past the bridge, the river made a ninety-degree turn to the south and followed parallel to the rail line for a bit. Suddenly, the early morning quiet was disturbed by an increasing clanging and rumbling noise. We knew a train was on its way. 

Within seconds it was upon us. The train was long and it was moving very fast. After 10 days of serene and quiet wilderness for the most part, the juxtaposition of a massive machine brashly and noisily slicing through the wilderness was jarring and vulgar. I recorded some video of it, but it simply doesn't demonstrate the intrusiveness we felt in person. 

At that moment, I had mixed feelings. On one hand, we were paddling next to history. The very tracks that we were paddling beside are a part of the transcontinental Canadian Pacific Railway that helped shape this country. In the railway's absence, Canada would most likely not have continued to exist as the nation we know, today. Without the continuing distribution of Canada's vast resources that this rail line provides, the economic and material benefits that all Canadians enjoy would simply not exist. The train was and is necessary. 

On the other hand, watching the train thunder through the woods next to pristine waterways is a symbol of innocence lost. The construction of the railway was a combination of the opening of Pandorra's Box and Eve's bite of the apple in one fell swoop. The Garden of Eden shall never be the same. This dichotomy is what it means to live in the modern world. Unfortunately, the machine realm is tipping the balance in its favour. For this reason, I go on canoe trips. I'm trying to enjoy what little slice of Eden still exists. Who knew a passing train could stimulate such thoughts?!

Later that day, we would arrive at a specific place that fully embodies the environmental destruction a railway can possess. More on that below. 

The river turned to the east and then north again at a junction with a creek to the south that could take canoeists into Wizard Lake. We continued following the Makami to the north and, within minutes, spotted a large set of rapids ahead. There was a portage on the left that we pulled up to and got out of the canoe. I walked the portage to the bottom of the rapids to scout and saw that we had a clear run moving from centre to right. I took the following photo of the rapids, made my way back to Dad and the boat, and paddled back out to the top of the run. It was a great run and we nailed our line without a single bump of a rock; however, we got away clean because of the high water -- this set would be a little bony at lower water levels. I recommend scouting these before running them. 

Although we were happy to have avoided a 120-meter portage, we were alertly on the lookout for the next set of rapids ahead. We came upon them within minutes just as the clouds blew away and the sun came out. Would the predicted nasty weather miss us?

 There was a ministry-installed portage sign at the top of this set on river-right, quite close to the top of the drop. To the right of the portage, a pond extended past the woods through a boulder garden. Though it was a little tricky amongst the rocks, we managed to get our canoe up to the take-out spot. We walked the portage first to scout the rapids and assess the trail. 

What we found was interesting. The top of the rapids was a winding, pushy drop over a couple of ledges. It was bumpy and technical, and quite frankly, a little dangerous in the high water. 

The middle section was runnable but had a steep ledge into the final drop that had a narrow needle to thread into a small souse hole on the left next to a couple a canoe-tippers on the right. The ledge was quite questionable and although it was runnable at the bottom, the entire run was fairly risky. 

The prudent choice was to take the portage; however, the first half of the trail was mucky and had deadfall across it. Fortunately, the trail allowed us an out for this nasty first part. Halfway down the trail, it met up with the far end of that pond that we saw extend off to the right at the top of the drop. We could take the pond to the halfway point of the portage and miss the mucky part littered with deadfall. 

We hiked back to our boat and gingerly got our canoe back out through the bouldery take-out area and into the pond. There, we had to choose our route carefully through the pond, negotiating many boulders. We eventually made it back to the midway part of the portage where we brought the canoe ashore next to a couple of downed trees -- a bit of work, but less than a mucky portage with deadfall across it. 

From there, it was only about an 80-meter carry over a bluff and down a slope to the put-in. In this section, we got our second taste of the emerging wild blueberries of the season.

The pool below the rapids was in a gorgeous canyon below rocky cliffs on the left bank. 

We continued northeast amongst a thick forest atop high, rocky ridges on both sides of the river. It was a beautiful area -- one of the most scenic stretches of water of the entire trip.  

Through this topography, the path of the river did a 180-degree turn to the south and narrowed over a drop in the river. It was a singular drop with no other noticeable whitewater There wasn't a portage, but the rocks on the left allowed for an easy carry past it. This would be our last rapid of the trip, so Dad and I decided to do something that we never do -- record one of us running a rapid on video. 

We are not Youtubers and the only camera equipment that I bring on my canoe trips is my cell phone. I am interested in photography and have dabbled in the past; I just don't fancy carrying a bunch of cumbersome camera equipment on my canoe trips. Besides, I enjoy writing about them. If I video-recorded everything, I probably wouldn't feel the need to write it down. That's just me. 

This particular rapid was so short and with the rocky ledge on the left bank, it lent itself well to a clear and easy shot of the run. So, Dad got out and carried his gear to the bottom with my phone. I ran the drop with a half-empty canoe while Dad filmed it. I must say, he has a much steadier hand than I do while filming! Youtubers...don't be jealous! (wink, wink, nudge, nudge!) 

We couldn't see it from the top of the run, but at the bottom, in the pool below the rapid to the left, there was a nice new dock. We walked over to it and saw that there was also a stairway leading up to a nice cabin amongst a grove of spruce trees. 

Hats off to the owners of this gorgeous little spot. What a great location! 

Most likely in an effort to protect their little slice of paradise, they had managed to install a very unique alarm and protection system. From the bottom of the stairs, I couldn't see the cabin or what was at the top of the stairs, so I began walking up to take a peek. Something popped out of nowhere behind me, and ran up the back of my pant leg! Whatever it was remained on my buttocks for a microsecond or two before I shouted out in surprise and sprinted back down the stairs at which point, I saw Satan's Squirrel run back down my leg and perch itself on the edge of the stairs, giving me the side-eye. I hadn't heard nor seen it before it was on me. All I understood was that there was a wild animal on me. Needless to say, I was a little taken aback. I'm not sure who was squeaking louder, the squirrel or me. I was howling in laughter when I realized what had happened, grateful that the little bugger didn't try to bite me.

Once I got my heart rate below 150 bps, Dad and I decided to have our lunch wraps under the watchful eye of Sauron the Squirrel who flitted back and forth nearby looking for his One Spruce Cone to Rule them All.  It was only 10 AM but we had already been on the water for nearly three hours and we knew from that point, it would most likely be a long and twisting run down the lower Makami. We needed a bit of sustenance. 

We weren't wrong about the lower Makami. There were not a lot of viable spots to camp and we were glad to have decided to camp back at that sweet site on Makami Lake the previous night. There was a healthy current helping us along for the majority of the paddle through a topography of sandy river banks and wetlands. There were no impediments, plenty of water volume, and best of all, no portages.  

It was a pleasant paddle and we enjoyed the ride. It certainly wasn't the most exciting part of the trip, but it wasn't horrible, either. It reminded me of paddling the lower Sturgeon River between Lower Goose Falls and Kelly's Farm. Although it took us three full hours to arrive at the bridge that allowed Highway 144 to pass over the Makami River, it didn't feel that long.  

Just past the highway, the same rail line that I discussed above passed over the Makami River once again; however, this particular bridge is somewhat infamous. On March 7th, 2015, a freight train, carrying crude oil derailed at the bridge there spilling 2.6 million litres of petroleum crude oil into the atmosphere, water, and surface.  Thankfully, no one was injured, but the oil contamination of the Makami River was intense. CN spent at least two years cleaning up the river but some local residents felt it wasn't enough. The Mattagami First Nations filed a lawsuit against CN and three weeks after our trip ended, 9 years after the incident, I learnt that CN was fined $8 million dollars. To regular Tom and Dicks like myself and most middle-class Canadians, that seems like a hefty fine, but for a company that earned just shy of $17 billion of revenue in 2023, the fine seems like nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Was it enough of a deterrent to motivate CN to invest in better maintenance of its infrastructure? Was it enough to set up better monitoring techniques to ensure their trains are not approaching potentially hazardous track sections at appropriate speeds? Was it enough to ensure that with the next accident, CN would do the best job possible to undo the damage an oil spill has on the local flora and fauna?  

Approaching the bridge, Dad and I were very curious to see what the site looked like 9 years after the disaster. We paddled closer to the rail bridge and wouldn't you know it, a train came by and crossed the bridge just as we were about to paddle under it! 

Does lightning strike the same place twice? It was a little like being in Dealey Plaza, nine years after the Kennedy assassination, and watching another presidential motorcade come through. Well...maybe not quite like that, but you get my point. I might have held my breath for a second or two as that train whizzed by. 

The right bank of the river next to the bridge appeared to still have some material lying about from the clean-up effort.

Just past the bridge were some baby blue posts spaced about 20 or 30 feet apart. We weren't sure what they were but thought it might have to do with monitoring and testing. If anyone reading this knows what they are used for, feel free to let me know using the form at the bottom of the page. It would be appreciated. 

Downstream from the crash site, the river seemed to be recovering. We didn't really see any trace of the oil. That was very good news.  

We were only a few kilometres north of  Minisinakwa Lake and the river began to widen. The wind had really picked up and some dark clouds were blowing in. Alas, the weather forecast would be correct after all, and we knew we were in for it. 

The closer we got to the lake, the stronger the wind became. When we emerged out of the wetland area where the river dumped into the lake, a steady gale force hit us head-on. 

With hard work, we could manage it against the incoming white caps, but unfortunately, we needed to turn to the east. Doing so meant the waves would hit us broadside, making the canoe jostle dangerously. We were forced to tack into and out of the wind, zig-zagging our way eastward around Poplar Point. We stayed fairly close to the shore in the event of a capsize. 

We did notice that the water was clear by the time we reached the lake.  Nearly ten years on, and with the two-year-long clean-up effort, we felt confident that the large waters of Minisinakwa were oil-free by that time.  

We could see a resort/trailer park across the bay from Poplar Point and made our way over to it. By the time we arrived there, some large waves had already crashed over the gunwales and we had water coming into the boat; the wind was getting stronger and the waves were getting bigger. We pulled ashore up on the beach of the resort to take a rest and assess our situation.

We waited a bit to see if the wind would subside, but it only got stronger. A storm was definitely inbound. To continue on to the public landing in Gogama, our intended destination about 1.5 kilometres away, would have been foolhardy. It was around another point where the southeasterly wind from the wide expanse of the lake would be hitting us full-on; we were windbound!

After 10 days of backcountry travel by canoe, we were so close to our destination, yet so far away! We came up with three options for a course of action: a) portage the 1500 meters into town, b) ask the good people at the resort if they had rooms available and stay there, c) ask them if they could give us a lift into town with our canoe and gear. 

As we were mulling it over, a lady came down to the beach to speak with us. She was the owner, and when we told her where we had come from and the predicament we were in, she immediately offered us a room. She was friendly and very helpful. The resort looked nice, and we would have loved to have stayed there, but we did have a train arriving at 4 AM the following morning and a 1500-meter portage between the resort and the train station. That portage in the middle of the night to catch a train was not desirable. She then said that her husband would be happy to hook up their trailer and take us and our gear to the Stardust Motel next to the train station. We were incredibly grateful! 

So, with our canoe and gear in the trailer, the fantastic owners of Morin’s All Seasons Resort drove us into downtown Gogama to stay at the motel next to the train station. This occurred with approaching thunder and lightning going off just out of town. What lifesavers they were!