Of course you haven’t been to Moosonee. Why in God’s name would you want to travel to this town of 1500 souls that is 180 miles from the nearest roads and only accessible by rail, helicopter, or water,. It is a former fur-trappers’ outpost and called Canada’s “Gateway to the Arctic”, and is about 10 miles south of James Bay, the Southern extension of Hudson’s Bay. It is also at the mouth of the Moose River.
Figure 1: Moosonee downtown
Well, I have been there. I went there with two buddies. This is our story.
All three of us were budding scientists working for a government contracting company in the Washington, DC area. Bart and I had been drinking buddies at Harvard and taken numerous adventuring vacations together. We met Danny at work, and he showed an interest in our past adventures. He is the one who put us on to Moosonee.
Both Bart and I worked for agencies that focused on satellites orbiting above the earth’s atmosphere. But Danny was a student of the ionosphere. As part of his work, he fielded experiments that went on rocket launches that flew out of Churchill, Manitoba situated on the upper Hudson’s Bay. During his many trips to Churchill (accessible only by air and sea) his private, government arranged small craft flight out of Ontario passed directly over Moosonee. He researched it a bit and brought it to us.
He had heard us swagger-talking about some of our previous adventures and hoped to join a similar trip with us. He had heard about the time Bart , and I took a train out of Sault St. Marie into the wildness areas east of Lake Superior. We had the train stop and drop us and all our gear including our canoe next to a lake. From there we paddled around the surrounding lakes, fished and camped. We were completely self-sufficient as the nearest civilization was a least a hundred miles away. After a week, we returned to the drop point and had the train pick us up for the return journey.
Bart and I upped the game for our next adventure. We hired a float plane in Thunder Bay, Ontario to fly us into the remote roadless area north of there and drop us off with our canoe and gear. We then had to paddle back via numerous lakes and portages using only a compass and some well-marked topographic maps. This was in days before cellphones. Along the way we camped and fished, loving every minute of it.
Danny had researched Moosonee. He told us that we could put in on the Moose River near Cochrane, Ontario. He said it was about 200 miles from Cochrane to Moosonee, and that we should be able to do that easily as we were going with the current. Then , we could get back to Cochrane because there was a train called the Polar Bear Express that left Moosonee three days a week.
Figure 2: Polar Bear Express
Danny said to us, “ We can go in late July so there is little chance of very cold weather. I really would like to do a trip like this.”
Bart , in an irritated tone to Danny, “Yes, but you have never done anything like this before. I am scared that having a complete novice will screw up the trip for all of us.”
Danny, to Bart , “ But you and Ian were novices the first time. Nothing bad happened. “
Bart to Danny, “ Yes , but there were two of us.”
I jumped in and spoke to both of them, “I think if you get somebody to be your partner, that we can support your participation”
Danny, to both of us, “I already guessed that. Sam will be my partner. I work with him over at NASA in Greenbelt. He has some canoeing experience.”
I knew that Danny, at 6 foot 3 , in excellent condition grew up in Colorado and was an experienced hiker and backpacker
Bart and I looked at each other. I nodded, “Yes.” Bart reluctantly followed.
And so the planning began. Bart was in charge of getting an outfitter in Cochrane, getting some overnight accommodations in Cochrane, and getting the train reservations for us and our gear (including canoes) from Moosonee to Cochrane. Danny and Sam were in charge of getting their personal gear together. And I was in charge of the communal provisions, no small chore.
For instance, food for four people for a week, even though we hoped to eat fish most days, this was not guaranteed. This in the time before protein bars and fruit-rolls and other such highly prepared goodies. First came the gorp, equal portions of peanuts, raisins, and M&Ms, packaged into two-ounce plastic baggies, at least 3 bags per person per day. Peanut butter and Jelly sandwiches, two per person per day. Beef jerky, pepperoni and instant oatmeal (3 ounces per person per day in baggies). You get the idea. Let me not bore you with more. But I do need to mention that we are not limited like backpackers and can bring canned goods like spam, canned chili, and canned ham.
That’s just the food. There is also the cooking gear and eating utensils, washing aids, first aid necessities, fire starting and maintaining items, things like cooking grates for the fire, trenching tools in case of massive rain and compass and topographic maps to gauge our progress. Enough. Let’s get on to the trip.
We assembled at my place in Sterling because we were using my Jeep to carry all the gear and make the drive to Cochrane. It is a bit more than 900 miles from Sterling to Cochrane and will take about 16 hours with no stops. In late July in Cochrane sunset in not till about 10 PM so we planned to start driving at 6 AM. Assuming we only made pee stops and confined our eating to the sandwiches I had prepared and the drinks we were taking, we figured we would get there about 10 PM, still enough twilight to find our outfitter and our lodgings. We all took off work that Friday and showed up at my place at 5:00 AM.
Bart and I were amazed to see that there was no Sam.
Danny to us. “Sam had a family emergency and can’t come. I’ll just do this solo.”
Bart went ballistic. A 6-foot-tall trim athlete who was nationally ranked as a high school breaststroke swimmer, Bart was highly competitive.
Bart to Danny, “No fucking way you are going alone. I am not going to have you fuck up my trip. Christ, you don’t even know a Northern Pike from a Walleye. How are you ever going to catch enough to feed yourself and I sure as hell not going to give you mine.”
Me to Bart , “Bart , Danny and Sam already paid their share of the trip expenses. And all of the money has already been spent. The outfitter has been paid, the accommodations have been prepaid, and the railroad tickets have been purchased. We can’t kick Danny off the trip.”
Bart to me, “ Fuck him. We’ll give him his money back.”
Me to Bart , “ Well, you have to do that alone. No way will I kick in half of that.”
Bart to me and Danny, “Oh, alright. You can come. But don’t mess things up by not keeping up with us. If you do, I will piss in your boots while you sleep at night.”
We got on with the packing and were on our way by 5:30. The first 8 hours of the trip taking us to the Canadian border just north of Buffalo went smoothly. Three drivers are enough for comfortable shifts. The conversation focused on work related subjects, contracts, customers, colleagues, bosses, technical problems. We ate the sandwiches I had prepared and drank sodas from the small cooler we brought.
Things changed once we crossed the border. Bart insisted we stop in Hamilton and pick up some beer. Bart had always drunk twice as much as me.
Bart to Danny, “Hey, what kind of beer do you want?”
Danny to Bart , “Nothing for me.”
Bart to Danny, “ Nothing for you? Don’t you drink?”
Danny to Bart , “No.”
Bart to me, “I can’t believe we brought along a non-drinking pussy. Shit, this gets worse and worse.”
Me to Bart , “ Let it rest. He is a nice guy. So, he doesn’t drink, so what.”
We picked up two sixpacks of Molsen at a gas station and were off again.
Figure 3: Molson
Bart drove for a while, and then it was Danny’s turn. Bart began to drink as Danny drove. Then I took over for the last leg. .
Shortly thereafter , Bart had gone through his sixpack and began to hound Danny.
Bart to Danny, “Bet you don’t know why we want walleye and not pike?”
Danny to Bart , “ Sure, I heard walleye are delicious and pike taste like crap.”
Bart to Danny, “Do you know how to get the pike off the hook and get rid of them.”
Danny to Bart , “No, I didn’t think about that.”
Bart to Danny, “ Well then, you are in trouble. You need to have a hand gaff landing hook to get them out of the water and a pair of needle-nose pliers to extract the hook. Pike have fearsome teeth.”
Figure 4: Northern Pike Teeth
Danny blanched.
I jumped in, “ Don’t worry Danny, just signal to us that you have a pike, and we’ll get over to you and you can use ours.”
Bart jumped in again, “ Hell , he probably doesn’t know a pike from a walleye.”
Danny said loudly, “ Oh yes I do. I looked at the pictures. They are very distinctive. Can’t possibly not know.”
Bart to Danny, “ Probably forgot your filleting knife also.”
Me to Bart , “Shut up Bart . You are already drunk. You know I bring the fillet knife for all. Let Danny in peace. We are all in this together. Let’s be buddies.”
Bart grumbled to himself, shut up, and in a little while was sleeping.
Danny to me, “Thanks Ian.”
Quiet set in for the rest of the ride to Cochrane.
We arrived in town at about 10:00 PM as planned. Cochrane is a small town of about 5000 souls, so it wasn’t too hard to hard to find our accommodations at a small flea-bag motel. In the brief drive getting there we must have seen 10 or more Cree Indians sleeping in doorways. We could see wine bottles by their sides. God bless. The white man’s curse to native Americans. At the motel, I rousted Bart to call the outfitter to arrange the time and place of the morning meeting.
Bart agreed grumpily. He came back from the lobby with the news to meet the outfitter at the train station at 6:00 AM. Made sense to leave our car there. We were returning there. We were exhausted. We hardly spoke, went to our rooms and crashed.
The 5:00 AM call from the front desk was not greeted happily. Before we knew it, Danny was banging on our door, eager to get some chow and get going. He couldn’t contain his excitement and enthusiasm. Bart and I were not at the top of our games. I had had a couple beers before bed, and of course, Bart had more than his share.
We were able to find a McDonalds near the train station. Apparently they opened at 5:00, so we were in luck. We gobbled the usual breakfast items of scrambled eggs, hash browns, muffins, orange juice and of course coffee. We also bagged up burgers and such for lunch, this being the last civilized chow we would eat for the next 7 days.
Joe, the outfitter, showed up at the appointed time, a grizzled 50-year-old with heavy beard, long hair and a stocky, paunchy build. Bart handed him the envelope with the tip money to finalize the deal and the man broke out in a broad smile.
“Welcome to Cochrane boys. I have your canoes and gear right here.”, he said. The 2 canoes were up on top of a rack on the back of a beaten down Ford pickup truck. Paddles and life vests were laying on the floor of the truck. He handed Bart a packet that contained the marked topographic maps.
We quickly transferred the three backpacks and the large duffle with the communal supplies to the bed of the truck. Only one of us could sit up front with him. The other two had to stand on the truck bed and hold on. I drew the short straw and climbed in. Bart and Danny climbed on the back.
“Let’s go Joe. We are excited to get on the water.”, I said.
Joe broke into a smile again and said, “You guys have some guts. Most of my customers just paddle around the local lakes for the day and bring back the catch for my wife Greta to cook. But you guys will be alright. The river flows a gentle couple miles per hour, so if you put in 12-hour days, it would take you about 8 days with no paddling. Assuming you will be doing a lot of paddling you will be in good shape to get to Moosonee in 7 days.”
It was comforting to have him confirm our estimate. We bumped and jostled along the dirt road for more than an hour, but finally arrived at the launch site. We scampered to get unloaded, get the canoes in the water, and get our gear loaded.
All this done, we climbed into the canoes, and in unison hollered, “Thank you Joe. See you next Saturday.” With that, we were off.
Figure 5: Off we go
It was a slow start as Danny had never paddled a canoe before and he was now going to have to do it by himself. Fortunately, I remembered the possible problem and had queried Joe about it on the way to our launch. It was tricky and Danny did not want to do it. Instead, he sat in the stern of the canoe and tried to paddle from there. It became immediately obvious that this would not work, as Danny’s 200 plus pounds in the stern put the bow up in the air, and every time he tried to paddle the canoe it wanted to turn in a circle pivoting around his weight in the stern.
Danny hollered, “ OK. Let’s try it Joe’s way.” Danny turned the canoe around and sat in the bow seat facing the stern. Sure enough, that centered the weight and the canoe glided smoothly. Thereafter it took a bit of practice with his strokes right and left to get moving straight ahead.
I climbed into the canoe at the bow where the lightweight belongs, me being the shrimp of the crew at 5 foot 7 and 160 pounds.
When Bart got in the stern to push off, he said, “I told you he was going to be problem. We should have left him home.” I said nothing and we pushed off.
The day was warm and sunny, and we just reveled in paddling downstream with the current, seeming to just zip along. This went on for a few hours and it wasn’t long before Danny had no trouble keeping up with us. All seemed like heaven, but the first problem didn’t take long to appear. Horse flies with their painful fierce bites began to appear in droves.
I was well prepared. I am very sun sensitive, so I always wear long pants, long-sleeve shirt, gloves, a bandana for my neck, and wide-brim hat, since this was the days before sunblock. I had also treated my clothes with Permethrin before we departed Virgina. I also had a head net that hung from my hat to keep the flies from my face.
The other two had not taken such detailed precautions. Fortunately, no one was wearing shorts. I had brought plenty of insect repellent, so we made a short stop, and they spayed their pants and shirts and swabbed onto their hands and faces. The peak period would soon be over as it is maximum for the first three hours after dawn. The ascending sun soon put them back in their resting spots. Very few mosquitos after the morning period as well. When we camped at the end of the day, there would be no reprieve. Horse flies and mosquitos would fill the air.
When the flies settled down, we began to turn our attention to fishing. I really wanted to have walleye for dinner that night. We paddled close to shore and allowed ourselves to slowly drift downstream. We rigged our poles using our favorite lures and were soon casting and retrieving , waiting for the hit from the fish.
Unfortunately, we were soon diverted because Danny was having trouble. We paddled over to him where we could see what the trouble was. It was immediately apparent.
Bart opened up right away, “ You idiot. Why did you buy a casting reel. Those are really tricky to use unless you have had a lot of practice. Even then experienced fishermen experience what has happened to you. It’s called backlash when the reel gets spinning too fast and it winds the line on the spool in the wrong direction.”
I said, “ Here Danny. Give it to me. I will get it untangled for you. And then when you want to cast again try short casts, and then learn to put your thumb on the line as it is unwinding. This pressure keeps the line from spinning too fast. It takes practice. Start with short casts.” The line was untangled now.
Bart jumped in again, “Why didn’t you ask us. We would have told you to buy a spinning reel, or even better, a spin-cast reel that don’t have that problem.”
I said. “ Here Danny, the hand gaff landing hook and the needle-nose pliers for handling the pike. We have a landing net, and I was able to weasel another hook extractor from Joe. If you use the gaff on the walleye, try to not kill them. In fact, you need to string them on twine and hang them over the edge of the boat. We have a metal stinger that is easier, but we only have one.”
We all went back to fishing. Bart and I caught enough for dinner that night. Danny struggled to learni all the new activities. About 2 o’clock we decided to give up fishing for the day and began the down-stream paddling to get us at least 30 miles for the day. In addition, we needed to leave enough time to find a suitable campsite. The boreal forest along the riverbanks was not suitable. It was too dense, and we had not brought bushwacking tools. We needed to find places where the forest gave way to low brush and grass. We were told these spots were numerous, but we were unsure of ourselves on this first day.
We found the information to be accurate. There seems to be plenty of spots, particularly islands, to set up camp. We decided to stop about 6:30 PM to figure out how easy it was going to be to set up camp, make dinner, keep the horse flies at bay and be prepared for the morning.
Figure 6: Open area along the moose
I pulled the machete from the duffle, gave it to Bart and asked him to help Danny with the tent setup as well as getting ours taken care of. I went about getting the fire started and beginning the process to cooking the fish. Using the trenching tool, I dug a shallow pit and put the fire makings in it. It was easy to find dry kindling, and not too hard to find larger dry branches for setting the fire big enough to cook on. I used the barn burner matches I had brought to get it started and then began to assemble the necessary items to cook the fish.
I could hear Bart hollering at Danny, “ You nitwit. You brought a tent without a floor. Did you bring a ground-cloth for under it. I hope we don’t get a lot of rain cause you will get soaked. Also, you need to insect spray the bottom edge of the tent. Otherwise, you may wake up with a lot of creepy-crawlers in bed with you. I hope you brought a good sleeping bag.”
Danny to Bart , “ Yes I have good one. Sorry about the tent. Should have spent more time talking to you guys. This is the one I take backpacking and is ultra-light. I won’t complain.”
They went about looking for some rocks to use to drive the stakes. I had forgotten to pack the hatchet that we normally used.
Sheepishly, I called to them, “Sorry guys. My bad. Hope I didn’t screw anything else up .”
I went back to preparing the meal. First I brought out the ground cloth that I used to organize everything, so stuff was not scattered around on the ground. Then came the flying pan and small pot for cooking the string beans. After that was the small plastic bottle of cooking oil, a package of shake-and-bake, and a plastic bag for coating the fish. Finally, I brought out the filet knife and small cutting board for fileting the fish.
As I started to filet, I also put the collapsible grate over the fire, and began to heat the water to cook the string beans.
I called to Danny, “Hey Danny. Come over and see how to filet the catch.” He complied, and after a bit asked if he could give it a try. In no time he was doing it as good as me. He was a fast learner.
I dumped some string beans in the now boiling pot of water, began breading the fish, and soon had the fish in frying pan, one at a time,
I hollered, “ Chow time.” They came, picked a metal plate off the tarp, pulled out their own knife-fork-spoon combo and began eating. By this time, it was 9:00 PM and the horse flies started to arrive. It was a challenge, but we all managed to get the very tasty food down. Everybody seemed happy,
“Time to clean the dishes Danny. Novice’s turn for fun.” I said. He heated some river water in the string bean pot and used the small scrubbing sponge and small plastic bottle of dish soap I have packed. Soon the dishes were done and lay drying on the ground cloth.
I knew we had one more thing to do before bed, but I saw that Bart was having a drink out of a large flask, presumably booze. He invited me to take a nip. I complied. A little booze is OK by me.
Me to Bart , “We still need to get our provisions up in the trees. We can’t have a bear making its way into camp smelling our food. Let’s do this before you get to heavy into your sauce.”
Bart hollered over to Danny, “ Hey Bozo. If you have any food at all in your pack, give it to us. We’ll pack it with our stuff and get it off the ground.”
Danny complied, having only his bag of gorp and a bit of candy he had brought. He then took his backpack into his tent, there being enough room since he had no tentmate.
Bart and I were sharing a tent so there was no room for our packs. Our job was to get our two packs and duffle up into a tree at least 15 feet above ground level so a bear couldn’t reach it. We brought out the rope we had packed for this task, tied a large rock to one end and tossed to over a high enough sturdy enough branch. Having two ends in hand, we tied one of the items to one end and hoisted using the other end, which we then secured around the base of the tree. Three times and we were done. Finally, using the trenching tool, we walked a 100 yard or so from the campsite and buried all the organic remains from supper. Whew. Not a small job all this.
It was now 10 PM and I was shot in addition to being tired of swatting flies and mosquitos. I crawled into the tent, zipped the entry screen, unrolled my bag, took off my outer clothes and climbed in the bag exhausted. I guess Danny was doing the same thing. But Bart stayed up drinking. I felt him come in the tent later and could smell the booze. I wasn’t asleep. In fact, I always worry about the bears on the first night and don’t sleep well.
Soon it was dawn, and we were all awake. We retrieved the gear from the trees. Bart and Danny started taking down the tents and I got a small fire started, heated water for the oatmeal , and put the coffee on to boil. North woods special, coffee grounds in the water and boiled together. Nothing like it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bart taking a few swigs off of his flask. After our breakfast, I doled out the gorp and sandwiches for the day, Danny did the dishes again and we were soon ready hit the river.
Up until the afternoon of the fifth day, the next four days were more of the same. We were in heaven. Danny was a fast learner and contributed in every way, even though Bart continued to periodically hound him.
The afternoon of the fifth day, the weather began to change. In the North the sky began to darken, and a bit of a wind began to kick up. It sure looked like a storm was coming. We stopped fishing and started paddling. No rain started but the wind continued to increase in intensity. By the end of our paddling day at about 7 PM we had put in a total of 160 miles, so we were feeling confident that we could make the last 40 miles with no problem. How wrong we were.
With trouble, we were able to get a fire started and put on a pot with some navy beans that I had precooked together with the small, canned ham. The wind kept most of the flies away, but when I ladled out the dinner and sat down, one fly came and landed on my meal. I tried to shoo it, but it stayed a bit and then rolled over and died. Merriment broke out with my fellows laughing their hearts out. So much for my cooking.
Figure 7: Dead Horse fly on a plate
Next morning it felt like gale force winds out of the North with intermittent bursts of rain. Bart and I got out and put on our rain pants and hooded rain jackets and pushed off. Happily, Danny had the same. What I can say is that it was very difficult to make any progress at all. It helped when we stayed close to shore or had an island in front of us. We struggled all day long. We were pretty sure we had made 20 miles, so that only 20 more to be done on our last day.
We stopped, exhausted at about 8 PM. No chance of a fire, we ate the Spam and chili out of the can , cold. It took all three of us to get a tent set up, with two holding against the wind, and the third driving the stakes. We did that and put the packs and duffle under the tarp, weighted down with large stones that took a long time to gather. We then put the canoes on top of that heap to secure the whole.
The next day seemed even worse. We were up at 5 AM, had gorp, jerky and pepperoni for breakfast, broke camp, and were off by 6 AM.
Before we got out full into the wind, Bart confided in me, “ I have run out of booze. I am pretty squirrelly this morning. I sure hope we get to town before the bars close.”
I replied, “The only bar in town is in the hotel. I have no idea what time it closes.”
We started paddling. We still had sandwiches and Kool-Aid laced water. Gorp, jerky and pepperoni were pretty low. The wind was a bitch, the rain was now incessant, and the river was now very wide, so that we were frequently blown away from the shore. We made very little hourly progress. We had to make Moosonee today. The train left tomorrow. The next one was two days later.
By 9 PM we could see Moosonee, after 15 hour of paddling. We were exhausted. We had no choice but to continue paddling. It was already dark, and we knew the sun would set at 10. We just kept paddling. The lights of the town kept us focused. We finally arrived at nearly 11.
The hotel was next to the dock. As soon as he put a foot on land, Bart ran to the door of the hotel. I followed and heard him bellowing at the hotel manager, “ I need a drink. Why can’t I have a drink. Yes, the bar closes at 11, but you can do me a favor.”
The innkeeper yielded and said, “ Yes, but one double will have to last you to the morning. We have to close up. You can get more tomorrow on the train.” Bart swallowed the drink instantly
Bart accepted his plight grumpily and joined Danny and I getting our gear up to the hotel, and our canoes in a safe place provided by the hotel. We checked in and hit the hay.
Morning came too fast. At 6:30 Danny was already knocking at our door.
Me, “Give us a break Danny. Train doesn’t leave until 8. We want to shower and get some clean underwear on. Go ahead and eat if you’re hungry. We’ll be along in a bit.”
Danny, “ OK. Leave time for getting the canoes up to the train. See you in a bit.”
Bart crawled out of bed and growled,” That guy is a real pain-in-the-ass. I am not feelilng so good. I am really jumpy. I don’t think I will eat breakfast. You go ahead and shower first and go without me. I just want to stay here and lick my wounds. I really feel like shit.”
About 7:45, all the morning preparations were behind us, and we loaded the canoes and gear onto the baggage car. After doing that, we just stood around and waited for the passenger doors to open.
Bart ,” Jesus Christ, I really need a drink. I can’t wait to get on-board and get to the dining car. I’m told it has a bar.”
The doors opened, we climbed in and Bart ran down the aisle to get to the bar.
As he did that, Danny spoke quietly to me, “ It is obvious that Bart is in alcoholic withdrawal with the symptoms he is showing. He is almost certainly an alcoholic. I should know because I am an alcoholic. I have not had a drink in nearly three years. I am a member of Alcoholics Anonymous..”
Bart came running back toward us with a wild look in his eye. He was shaking all over.
Bart , “Thet God-damn conductor won’t open the bar. Apparently 3 or 4 drunken Cree Indians had already caused problems. I could kill that son-of-a-bitch.” With that he started brandishing his hunting knife.
Me, “Bart , are you nuts. You are going to get thrown in jail.”
Bart , “ I don’t give a shit. I am coming apart.”
Danny quietly said, “ Bart . Here is some water and some pills. Take them and you will begin to feel better. At least better enough to get back to Cochrane where you can get a drink. Its going to be al long 8 hours.”
Bart , “ Pills, what pills? What the hell will that do?”
Danny, “ Bart . I am an alcoholic and I work with other drinking alcoholics who are trying to stop. I always carry Librium which they give in detox facilities to ease withdrawal symptoms and prevent DTs. Trust me, you need these, and you will begin to feel better. Here, take them.”
Bart took the pills, put away his knife, and slumped into his seat.
Danny came over and sat beside me, and said, “He’ll start feeling better in an hour or so.
We all sat quietly for most of the rest of the trip.
As we were ready to leave the train, Bart said to Danny, “Thank you so much. Those pills did the trick. I am going to go and get some drinks, but perhaps when we get back to Virginia you can take me to an AA meeting.”
Danny, “ I would be delighted to do that. There are plenty of meetings in the area.”
I smiled to myself when Bart said to Danny, “ I was sure you were going to ruin this trip. Instead, you saved me from ruining the trip. Sorry and thank you”
Our tip home was uneventful, and we were back at work Monday ready to regale our fellow employees with the wonders of a canoe trip to Moosonee.
Yes. We have been to Moosonee.
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