August 10th: Considering Adventure

August 11, 2008

Peace River, Alberta

Author: Meg

"Adventure is a inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered." -- G. K. Chesterton

As I stare ahead at a vacant, gravel parking lot, somewhat of a basin amongst three Northern Alberta automotive shops, I wonder if any quote could more appropriately describe the BPE approach to adventure, to life, that is. We are one flight and one day's drive south of the Arctic Ocean and the adventures are still finding us. Although we've spent four days without a topo map in hand, we still operate under the premise that each and every obstacle is part of the greater journey. So when our beloved GMC Safari released a foreign smell and a questionable sound after yesterday's 12 hours of driving, the BPE was ready on the scene. We immediately pulled the vehicle to the side of the two-lane road -- still too far to be on the main Alberta atlas -- and began an extensive investigation. Five different descriptions of the foul smell were offered. Five pair of eyes and ears scoured beneath the open hood, searching for the source and solution to the problem. Fluid levels were deemed "not great, but good enough," by the three with experience driving a car completely out of oil. One even looked under the vehicle's body while another asked if she was searching to entangled Canadian roadkill. The assertion behind our speculations might have suggested we were onto something, but compared to our canoes, the broken GMC before us might as well have been a spaceship. We eventually called for a tow from our satellite phone in our usual, overly-inquisitive, overly-informative, overly-chatty manner. Two hours later, we convinced the industrious truck driver of few words to pack all 5 of us into his two passenger cab for the 40 kilometer drive to town. Although he refused our offers to help push buttons on the dash, we managed to crack a few laughs out of him--not the first Canadian we have surprised with our humor and energy amidst the rather precarious situations.
My time awaiting the van's recovery will be well spent describing the final leg of our paddling trip. Karen's last update left us a day into our exploration of the Rae River -- a most interesting point in our timeline. It wasn't until we reached the Rae, or possibly somewhere within the 50 miles approaching it, that we felt really out there (maybe this necessitates 2 really's). Really, really out there. Each elevation line climbed and river bend paddled, were followed with ponderings of those that had come before us and a strong speculation that there had been very few. We were left to our map and ourselves--and there is only so much a topo map will tell you. The story unfolds by discovering the sheer drops of the waterfalls between the elevation lines and the runnable lines amongst the map's whitewater slashes. We followed no suggestions from previous canoeists, no readings from traditional travel. The Rae River is difficult to reach by canoe/foot, as we have described, it lacks a large headwater lake for planes to land on, and the waterfall near its drainage into the ocean impedes the upstream travel of motorboats. The river is only 80 miles long, so it seems logical that for many, the challenge of getting to the Rae would outweigh the time actually spent on it. All in all, it is really, really remote. The knowledge of this seemed to amplify every minute we spent on it. If the 50 mile watershed was the crux of our itinerary, then the Rae was the reward for making that move. We were pleasantly suprized by the multitude of boat-scoutable sets of whitewater (we ran almost everything, even with fairly low waterlevels), the talus-covered cliffs that were unlike any we had yet seen, and the tundra ridgelines in the distance that ran all the way to the point where the water became silty, then brackish, then ocean.
What an unusual feeling it was to reach the ocean that sun-swept morning. We chose a particular kind of challenge with this route, one with inherent possibilities of failure and waves of uncertainty, but we found a way to live it with joy, one day at a time. There was never a question of whether we were right or wrongly considering an inconvenience, for adventure is seemingly only measured by attitude. We learned all that we could from the silence of the still evenings, as well as from the roars of the whitewater. The nights of rocky tent spots didn't make us miss our beds, but rather relish in the nights of flat ground. The bugs made us love the breeze and the cold of the breeze made us love our down jackets. The lesson was simple, and it was everywhere: life, no matter where, is what you make of it. It is not whether the glass is half full or half empty, is is how psyched you are to drink it. This was our chosen vacation, our temporary promised lands, and could easily be another's agony.
Before my ramblings run any further, I must attempt to describe our days in Kugluktuk, the small, predominantly Inuit community, we paddled into and flew out of. The town of 1400 people is situation on a hill of the Coronation Gulf coastline, just west of the Coppermine River. We instantly felt a sense of ease and kindness upon our arrival. Our boats hadn't yet touched the sand by the time the curious children had gathered and we had become a bit of a spectacle. Minutes after talking fish with the kids, we were greeted by a men's canoe trip from Menogyn (a Minnesotan wilderness program somewhat similar to Manito-wish), It was a great coincidence to be in Kugluktuk on the same day and we loved hearing about the lower section of the Coppermine, which we didn't get to run. Great job again, Guys. Literally moments after they left for their departing plane (we still had not moved from our boats), Alister, the local Justice of the Peace, gave us a town tour in his old, blue pickup truck, Dolly Parton joining us on the radio. The tour lasted about 6 minutes and was immediately followed by a welcoming from a couple of the RCMP officers. We decided that, at least in our experiences, RCMP must stand not for Royal Canadian Mounted Police, but for Ridiculously Cool, generous folks that we love to hang out with. By the afternoon's end, we drank more than our share of cop coffee and visited with the entire office at great length. No trouble transitioning to new people -- just bring the caffeine. We camped on an ocean front site, cooked up our ritual of Ed Abby - inspired bacon 'n eggs, and slept under a sky that was just a bit darker than that of the night before.
Our sacred coffee sipping was interrupted by Elliot and Dimitri, two of the RCMP officers, inviting us to join their morning of Arctic Char fishing. If I can say one thing about the BPE, it is that we jump to any invitation for a boat ride... or a plane ride... or a truck ride for that matter. We were stoked. The 7 of us, along with Elliot's lady-killer, German Shephard, Tundra, loaded the boat and headed out to sea. We stopped 7 miles out at an island that felt nearly tropical, as the sun lit up the turquoise water. Elliot and Dimitri fished while we took Tundra to find a sneak route to climb to the top of the the nearly shear cliff. We were having such a great time sharing stories and the enjoying the unusually exceptional weather, that we opted to stay out and hit up another hot fishing spot. We headed back to town at the end of the afternoon with our dinner of 4 sizable Arctic Char and one Saltwater Whitefish. We cooked up 3 Char over an open fire and an amazing day's recollections.
Our time in Kugluktuk was cut short by pressing commitments at home, but was so rich, nonetheless. Countless people stopped by our camp to say "Hello," ask where we came from, introduce the grandchildren on their backs or the back of their ATVs, offer to sell us their soapstone carvings, say "Hello" again, tell us about their farthest venture south, or inquire about buying our gear that we hadn't actually put up for sale. They were all intrigued to hear that we had come from the Rae, as canoeists that reach Kugluktuk usually do so via the Coppermine. They are a soft-spoken, easy-paced people whose smiles, squints, and eyebrows do much of their taking for them. To the people of Kugluktuk, we that you for your hospitality and kindness. We couldn't have chosen more wonderful community to complete our journey. To our new friends on the ocean, Elliot, Dimitri, Isabel, Nicole, and of course, the Great Mule of Kugluktuk, we can't express how much we appreciated all of your generosity and enjoyed our time with you. You absolutely struck the bitter from our summer's bittersweet ending.
A final thank you before I wrap this entry up: TO OUR SPONSORS. As with our 2005 expedition, we were fortunate to receive some very substantial sponsorships that were crucial to our ability to do this trip. We felt confident that we were outfitted with the absolute top-of-the-line gear and were as comfortable as 5 could possibly be in the Arctic. Please check out the sponsor page on our website for more details about what we use and don't hesitate to contact us with questions about our gear and food. We would love to share our thoughts and experiences.
This is the last update from the field, but we will soon be posting photos from the trip and a listing dates and venues of future presentations. We hope you have enjoyed following along a bit our our journey. Know we have been sending the energy of the barrenlands, tundra, and Arctic right back at 'cha, all summer long. Here's to all the inconveniences, yours and ours, rightly considered.