From A Dream to a Nightmare, Nakina Trip 2008
Sept 11, 2008 12:03:53 GMT -5
Post by johnc on Sept 11, 2008 12:03:53 GMT -5
On the morning of July 31st Russ and I headed out on a mission; at the same time fulfilling a 40 year old dream of Russ' showing him the area that Jim and Lindsay Vanderbeck trapped and point out the areas on Hoff Lake where the watch grave site was, and the general area where Jim and Lindsay had their line cabins. Unfortunately we didn't have the opportunity to run the two sets of rapids that Jim and Lindsay did as they made their way to their trapline on Hoff Lake.
Since my last moose hunting trip in 1989 on Hoff Lake, logging in the Hoff Lake area opened up roads enabling us to put the canoe into Hoff Lake on the other side of the two sets of rapids. By 11:30 a.m. we were on our way to experience things that we never considered.
On our way up I told Russ I always like to stay close to the shore, so if anything happens we can get back to shore safely.
Continuing on we crossed over where the long carry trail had been described in “Trap-Lines North.” As we paddled, 19 years didn't seem to cloud my mind of the topography of Hoff Lake.
After passing the cove where the watch grave site is, a couple more miles of paddling brought us to the site where I always pitched camp during my moose hunting trips in the 1980's. What was once a clearing protected by huge fir trees on the shore side, is now covered with alders, shrub roses, and a forest floor of blue-berries and raspberries.
We were now about 1 ½ miles from the mouth of Pennock River. Russ was getting excited because he wanted to get some pictures of the rapids as the lake suddenly turns into a river.
This is the same spot as the picture in the book (the picture across from the picture of Lindsay poling up the Beauty ).
By then it was time to set up camp for the night. So we camped on a point about ¼ of a mile from the mouth of Pennock River. According to Russ's GPS we were only 1.6 miles from the site of Jim's line cabin. We did paddle over with thoughts of trying to locate the cabin site but the bush was too over grown. There's no doubt in my mind remnants of the cabin are still there.
Well, maybe that's another adventure?
That night after supper and some fishing we enjoyed the cacophony of the loons. Russ mentioned in our conversation that as far as he was concerned he was satisfied with what we had accomplished.
As dusk turned into a starry black sky, Russ mentioned that he was satisfied that his 40 year dream had been fulfilled.
So it was decided that we would head back out tomorrow morning.
Then I said to Russ, "Do you hear that?"
He said, “No, I didn't hear a thing."
I said, "That's it. Doesn't the stillness of it all sound good?" He said with a smile, "Yea, I know what you mean."
As we fell asleep we could faintly hear the rushing water of Hoff Lake spilling over the rock falls into the river.
It was Saturday, August 2. We left camp about 8:30 in the morning.
I didn't feel comfortable about my pack being a little off center.
So I told Russ, "We're going to have to pull in to shore so I can re-adjust my pack."
We stopped at my old moose hunt camp so I could adjust my pack more toward the center of the canoe.
Not more than a half hour later, at the same he was pulling off his sweater Russ said, “I’m getting hot. I gotta' get this sweater off."
The next thing I know I was in the water. I never had a chance to say or do a thing.
The canoe had acted like a front-end loader, dumping a load of top soil and returning to its original position, with a new load of top soil. Instead of top soil the canoe had a full load of water!
I was looking for Russ. I couldn't see him. My backpack was bobbing up and down slowly floating away from me. Russ' pack was doing the same thing. Several seconds went by and all I could see was his hat floating away from the canoe. I thought he had gone under, and I said to myself, "Oh my God!"
More seconds went by as his backpack kept floating further from the canoe. Suddenly all I could see of Russ was his head. He was probably six to ten feet away from the bow of the canoe.
Russ later told me he wasn't able to get his sweat shirt completely off. He had tumbled into the water with the sweat shirt up around his shoulders and head. No wonder I couldn't see him!
As all of this was happening I had grasped the side of the canoe (stern side) with my right hand; saving my paddle in the process. I had a long stretch with my left hand to grab my backpack; which was floating away from me! With that motion the canoe took on more water. I had no choice. I knew it was either keep holding on to the canoe and backpack or else.
I could feel water sloshing inside my boots. I had thoughts of having to take off my survival belt for fear of the weight pulling me under. But, as I began to lean back a little, I was floating with the canoe and my back pack. My mind was now at ease. Finally I was getting my breath back, plus my composure.
Call it instinct or what you want, but the mixture of my anger of the incident plus my determination was the right potion to make sure we got to shore safely.
The closet shoreline was behind me. Slowly I turned my head and looked behind me. It seemed we were about 30 to 35 yards offshore.
As I turned back around I was beginning to see more of Russ. It seemed as if he had to turn around to get his bearings as the look on his face said it all.
He seemed to be gasping for air as he was attempting to get some swimming motion out of dog paddling.
Realizing that, I tried to stay put with the canoe and my back pack, so he'd have a chance to get back to the canoe. I was also keeping an eye on Russ' paddle floating around within the confines of the canoe.
Nevertheless, I was shouting at him, "Take it easy. Just relax. It's okay. Just make your way to the canoe. We have to get to shore as soon as we can." I was still very concerned about our plight.
By the time Russ managed to grab the front of the canoe I said, "Grab your backpack as it floats by you.”
Little by little his paddle began floating out of the confines of the canoe. The canoe was now completely full of water, yet still floating! He was still trying to get his breath.
Then he looks at me saying, “John I’m so so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
I said, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. Just grab your paddle as it floats by you. We have to get to shore. ”
Leaning back, I slowly began kicking my legs in a scissor motion and pulling. With Russ pushing, we started to get some momentum.
I had no idea how long it took us to get to shore. All I knew is that once we started the “pulling and pushing “we couldn’t stop or we might be goners. I was getting tired and I still couldn’t feel the rocky bottom of the lake to get any footing. The feeling I was getting was that we were still in deep water.
Glancing back behind me I could see the reeds along the shore line getting closer.
Finally my feet began hitting bits and pieces of rock. Now being able to stand up I had a chance to pull the canoe up far enough so it wouldn’t float away.
Russ was now out of water and standing up.
“Let’s take a breather.” I said.
For a second time he says, “I’m sorry, It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all in the past; apology accepted.” I told him.
“I’ll never tell,” I said as I was pulling my part of the gear to safer ground.
“Come on, I said, “Let’s empty the canoe.” We turned the canoe over spilling water that consumed ¾’s of the canoe’s belly.
We managed to get back to the dock at about 11:30 a.m.
As we were driving back to Nakina, Russ brought up the subject; thinking it would be a good story to share on the TLN website. I was very reluctant about it-because of the canoe incident. But, after a brief conversation I said okay.
So we agreed to write our own versions for you the reader to get a better perspective of our experience.
This is my version of what I experienced, saw and did during our adventure on Hoff Lake.
John Callan 2008
Since my last moose hunting trip in 1989 on Hoff Lake, logging in the Hoff Lake area opened up roads enabling us to put the canoe into Hoff Lake on the other side of the two sets of rapids. By 11:30 a.m. we were on our way to experience things that we never considered.
On our way up I told Russ I always like to stay close to the shore, so if anything happens we can get back to shore safely.
Continuing on we crossed over where the long carry trail had been described in “Trap-Lines North.” As we paddled, 19 years didn't seem to cloud my mind of the topography of Hoff Lake.
After passing the cove where the watch grave site is, a couple more miles of paddling brought us to the site where I always pitched camp during my moose hunting trips in the 1980's. What was once a clearing protected by huge fir trees on the shore side, is now covered with alders, shrub roses, and a forest floor of blue-berries and raspberries.
We were now about 1 ½ miles from the mouth of Pennock River. Russ was getting excited because he wanted to get some pictures of the rapids as the lake suddenly turns into a river.
This is the same spot as the picture in the book (the picture across from the picture of Lindsay poling up the Beauty ).
By then it was time to set up camp for the night. So we camped on a point about ¼ of a mile from the mouth of Pennock River. According to Russ's GPS we were only 1.6 miles from the site of Jim's line cabin. We did paddle over with thoughts of trying to locate the cabin site but the bush was too over grown. There's no doubt in my mind remnants of the cabin are still there.
Well, maybe that's another adventure?
That night after supper and some fishing we enjoyed the cacophony of the loons. Russ mentioned in our conversation that as far as he was concerned he was satisfied with what we had accomplished.
As dusk turned into a starry black sky, Russ mentioned that he was satisfied that his 40 year dream had been fulfilled.
So it was decided that we would head back out tomorrow morning.
Then I said to Russ, "Do you hear that?"
He said, “No, I didn't hear a thing."
I said, "That's it. Doesn't the stillness of it all sound good?" He said with a smile, "Yea, I know what you mean."
As we fell asleep we could faintly hear the rushing water of Hoff Lake spilling over the rock falls into the river.
It was Saturday, August 2. We left camp about 8:30 in the morning.
I didn't feel comfortable about my pack being a little off center.
So I told Russ, "We're going to have to pull in to shore so I can re-adjust my pack."
We stopped at my old moose hunt camp so I could adjust my pack more toward the center of the canoe.
Not more than a half hour later, at the same he was pulling off his sweater Russ said, “I’m getting hot. I gotta' get this sweater off."
The next thing I know I was in the water. I never had a chance to say or do a thing.
The canoe had acted like a front-end loader, dumping a load of top soil and returning to its original position, with a new load of top soil. Instead of top soil the canoe had a full load of water!
I was looking for Russ. I couldn't see him. My backpack was bobbing up and down slowly floating away from me. Russ' pack was doing the same thing. Several seconds went by and all I could see was his hat floating away from the canoe. I thought he had gone under, and I said to myself, "Oh my God!"
More seconds went by as his backpack kept floating further from the canoe. Suddenly all I could see of Russ was his head. He was probably six to ten feet away from the bow of the canoe.
Russ later told me he wasn't able to get his sweat shirt completely off. He had tumbled into the water with the sweat shirt up around his shoulders and head. No wonder I couldn't see him!
As all of this was happening I had grasped the side of the canoe (stern side) with my right hand; saving my paddle in the process. I had a long stretch with my left hand to grab my backpack; which was floating away from me! With that motion the canoe took on more water. I had no choice. I knew it was either keep holding on to the canoe and backpack or else.
I could feel water sloshing inside my boots. I had thoughts of having to take off my survival belt for fear of the weight pulling me under. But, as I began to lean back a little, I was floating with the canoe and my back pack. My mind was now at ease. Finally I was getting my breath back, plus my composure.
Call it instinct or what you want, but the mixture of my anger of the incident plus my determination was the right potion to make sure we got to shore safely.
The closet shoreline was behind me. Slowly I turned my head and looked behind me. It seemed we were about 30 to 35 yards offshore.
As I turned back around I was beginning to see more of Russ. It seemed as if he had to turn around to get his bearings as the look on his face said it all.
He seemed to be gasping for air as he was attempting to get some swimming motion out of dog paddling.
Realizing that, I tried to stay put with the canoe and my back pack, so he'd have a chance to get back to the canoe. I was also keeping an eye on Russ' paddle floating around within the confines of the canoe.
Nevertheless, I was shouting at him, "Take it easy. Just relax. It's okay. Just make your way to the canoe. We have to get to shore as soon as we can." I was still very concerned about our plight.
By the time Russ managed to grab the front of the canoe I said, "Grab your backpack as it floats by you.”
Little by little his paddle began floating out of the confines of the canoe. The canoe was now completely full of water, yet still floating! He was still trying to get his breath.
Then he looks at me saying, “John I’m so so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
I said, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. Just grab your paddle as it floats by you. We have to get to shore. ”
Leaning back, I slowly began kicking my legs in a scissor motion and pulling. With Russ pushing, we started to get some momentum.
I had no idea how long it took us to get to shore. All I knew is that once we started the “pulling and pushing “we couldn’t stop or we might be goners. I was getting tired and I still couldn’t feel the rocky bottom of the lake to get any footing. The feeling I was getting was that we were still in deep water.
Glancing back behind me I could see the reeds along the shore line getting closer.
Finally my feet began hitting bits and pieces of rock. Now being able to stand up I had a chance to pull the canoe up far enough so it wouldn’t float away.
Russ was now out of water and standing up.
“Let’s take a breather.” I said.
For a second time he says, “I’m sorry, It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all in the past; apology accepted.” I told him.
“I’ll never tell,” I said as I was pulling my part of the gear to safer ground.
“Come on, I said, “Let’s empty the canoe.” We turned the canoe over spilling water that consumed ¾’s of the canoe’s belly.
We managed to get back to the dock at about 11:30 a.m.
As we were driving back to Nakina, Russ brought up the subject; thinking it would be a good story to share on the TLN website. I was very reluctant about it-because of the canoe incident. But, after a brief conversation I said okay.
So we agreed to write our own versions for you the reader to get a better perspective of our experience.
This is my version of what I experienced, saw and did during our adventure on Hoff Lake.
John Callan 2008
