Canada

Kayak Canada

3 Nov 1999

It had been a high water year with record snow fall all through the Rockies. By August, the rivers were just starting to drop, the summer was at it's warmest, and the beer was it's coldest. The crew was an international mix including an English Bloke named Jay (Krusty), 'Big Wave' Dave from Colorado, the locals Brock and Shawn from Edmonton and me, a Kiwi from Scotland. After a week touring Edmonton's night life and customizing the 'big bad boogie van'; installing beds, sofas, T.V-Video, fridge, carpet and motorbike for shuttles, we were on the road to the Slave river. Our trip started with a 16 hour drive through the night, straight north to Fort Smith in the North West Territories. Sometime around four in the morning the van got acutely ill and developed a sickly death cry when we drove faster than 60 kph. We dropped out of warp drive, and proceeded to limp into the small town of Hay River on a Sunday morning during a long weekend. After consulting the only two hillbilly mechanics we could find, we lay about in the sun on old car wrecks while our new friend Ron tallied up a big bill replacing a perfectly good transmission. Had to limp through to Fort Smith where it took two more trips to grease shops before the problem finally got fixed (thank you visa for sponsoring our trip!).

Sugar on the first of two waterfalls at Boulder Creek

On the way into Fort Smith Shawn pitted himself against a road-side Buffalo which was about the size of eight kayaks, in an attempt to chase it into the camera limelight. The beast turned and started stomping its foot while attempting to focus on its target. Shawn escaped with only an extra large squirt of adrenaline and no injuries.

Next morning some hydrotherapy on the Slave River provided the required tonic for the past days van trouble. The Slave is an enormous (mile wide) labyrinth of islands and channels that contain a disproportionate amount of the worlds best and biggest river surfing. Overlooking the river from the shore the true scale of the rapids is lost; dwarfed by the absolute enormity of the overall setting. The boils and eddy lines swallow and spit out kayaks and the massive mid-river eddies called elevators will carry you hundreds of metres back upstream to your surf wave. Everyone surfed for hours, exhausting any pent up cravings for big warm surf. My Kogg shortie top found a home away from home in the warm water of the Arctic summer.

Brock heading into 
Pelican Falls

Sugar surfing Pelican Falls

Sugar in front of big fat hole 
beside Pelican Falls

Now the day had come to tackle the big one...'Pelican' Rapid (named after some of the near-by island residents). Close to 300,000 c.f.s. pass through a 100 meter wide channel, creating a giant 25 foot high glassy wave exploding at the peak, followed by a chaotic kilometre of descending waves. Keen to be the first to surf the biggest river wave we've ever seen it only took us about sixty seconds to scout, chose our lines, and get in our boats. It's a fairly straightforward line above, with the real danger being a house size hole beside the big front wave. We each took turns paddling out across the surging eddy above the giant dragons tail, and made a last few minor adjustments in trajectory as we floated down the rolling mountain of water. Our surfs were short but intensely powerful rushes of adrenaline as the wall of water behind us shot our boats screaming down the face of the ocean size swell. With the water racing under our hulls at highway speeds, it was all we could do just to stay upright as the wave broke above our heads and flushed us into the next kilometre of white-water madness. The junkies had their fix and life seemed all the sweeter as we paddled the remainder of the day away. The next couple days were spent exploring the 'S-Bend' rapids, 'Mollies Nipple', and every inch of the playground waves and holes. To round off a stormin' time at the Slave, the local paddling community showed us unprecedented hospitality with BBQ's, parties and a day at the lake trying our hand at wake boarding.

Back on the road with a healthy van, we drove for two days straight to get out to Prince Rupert, a town on the west coast of BC near the Alaskan boarder. The tidal rapid know as 'Buttsies' was suppose to rival "Skookumchuck', but was a sad disappointment. The saving grace was the brilliantly clear salt water and the giant blue/green starfish clinging to the rocks. We spent most of my day looking at the marine life and modifying the look of our kayaking gear with the abundance of kelp and seaweed on the island. Time for another river trip, The Babine and Skeena rivers were next on the agenda. Big wave Dave had his raft there outfitted for multi-day trips. We set off down the Babine in our kayaks as Dave rowed the floating hotel. It was a fabulous scenic 3 day trip, highlighted by the sighting of over 20 Grizzle Bears, hundreds of Bald Eagles, and thousands of spawning Salmon. Of course the Roman-candle fights and trumpet playing helped with the fun as well.

Now in Smithers, we dabbled in the local creeks like Kleanza and Boulder, and played on other runs like the Kitsakulum and Tatlow Falls. On the road again, like some bad Willy Nelson song, we were headed for the Chilko River and it's 'White Mile', described to us as BC's 'White-water Orgasm'. With the high water in the Rockies this year, we were treated to an extra large load of stimulation on the Chilko. The run usually takes about 8 hours with all the surfing to be had, but with the water level set on high, we road the continuous exploding wave train for two solid hours. Never sure weather to expect a pour-over after the peak of every wave helped to keep a peak on the excitement level. Definitely one of my favourites of this trip.

Driving into the night again, we spiced up the tedious chore with a little roman candle fight while burning down the highway at light speed. The big van took a series of direct hits to the starboard side, but the victors were crowned after the strategic bombardment of rockets to Big Wave Daves’ windshield, crippling the opponent.

Now at the Quenell and Caribou rivers, we paddled during the day and drank Margaritas at night. Krusty, with a degree in biological engineering, experimented with the maximum human consumption of Tequila. He concluded that Volume does not equal the square root of headache sustained, divided by the number of Aspirin devoured, multiplied by the revolutions of the spinning tent.

Fully recovered, we set off for the Clearwater River to enjoy some more great surf and big volume white-water. We carried on down to Revelstoke to meet up with a friend of Shawn’s, Becky. She had recently broken her back on a waterfall, so unfortunately wasn't able to paddle with us but instead fed us with local river info, and all the Blackberry pie, pancakes, and other delectables we could handle. Her surrogate family and partner Jeff provided some of the best hospitality imaginable and made us never want to leave. We got to paddle on the Tangiers and Woolsley creeks near town, and even ran the first descent of 'Blackberry Surprise' and 'Krusty's Crack'; a short class 5 gorge section with a 3 meter waterfall and a couple river wide ledges. The run was short but sweet, and was a great afternoon project. After a couple days of living the high life, we made a move to Golden and the Kicking Horse river.

The people in this town must be very nice because they called an ambulance to look after me when I was sunbathing on the footpath, maybe they thought I would get sunburnt (in full paddling kit)! But before the ambulance men could charge me for their services we were back on the road to Panorama and Toby Creek-Seven canyons run. We put on at our usual crack-of-noon starting time, and paddled the wild canyons at medium to high flows. We decided to call it a day at about four o'clock when scouting the fifth canyon. It looked pretty haywire for a late day adventure, and with the extra water, the first four canyons were a great river trip themselves.

Heading for home now, we stopped at every hot-spring we could find to heal our aching bodies, and finally made it back to Jasper. We paddled the Maligne canyon and the Fraser the next couple days, and finished our tour on a great note. After 10,000 kms, 18 rivers, 30 roman candles, countless beers and Margaritas, we had had an epic of a trip in every sense. Thanks to everyone who made this summers tour a good one, including Chris at KOGG for the great kit.

Co-authored by Shawn Grono (Canadain Kayak Club) and Dave Nelson (Freelance Custard Adventurer).