We figured we would have better luck fixing our sunken quad near Stan’s fly-in hunting camp. Towing the swamped machine back up the trail was definitely not a trip highlight for me. We kept our eyes peeled for the sow grizzly and cubs we ran into the day before.
Debora, Stan’s wife, let us rummage through their tool shed. I found a star key that fit our oil drain and soon several quarts of water poured from the machine.
Stan and Jesse, one of Stan’s guides, landed in a bush plane and walked over to see if they could help. Jesse, believe it or not, has a history racing quads in the Baja desert and his father is a mechanic. With a sat. phone call to his father we rolled the quad, shook it, and watched the water rain from the crankcase.
The day after we called off the rest of the trip, we ferried our quads over the manageable braid in the Twitya. We winched the quads up that same dug-out hillside and started down the same trail that took us two previous weeks to cover.
The following day, after stopping in to see Stan Simpson and the gang at Ram Head Outfitters, we were at the Ekwi River.
We tried to get across the Twitya River for five days. Five days of rain. Five days of swollen water. Five days of frustration.
Camped on a gravel bar, and with the water rising, we worked and waited and swam back and forth against the roaring current more times they we remember. We watched the rain failing. We watched the gravel bar get smaller.
An Editor’s Note From Tim Romano: As a fisherman and whitewater-rescue trained individual watching snippets of the Canol adventure have made me cringe at times. Not just for the sheer brutality of the trip, but there are a few instances when safety precautions in or near the water are not adequate. To the viewers of this specific episode: You should know to never, ever try what you're about to see unless it's a do or die situation, which for the two on this trip it nearly was. Some things to consider:
- Crossing a river without a PFD is dangerous when you're near help. When you’re days away from rescue, this could spell disaster.
- When "pendulum swinging" the raft, Jim wraps his hand around the rope and walks to boat down. Please don't do this. Anchor the boat to a tree or rock and let it swing. Bad things happen when you're holding onto hundreds of pounds being pulled by the force of rushing water.
- You see them cross a deep, powerful river with a backpack on and a rope tied to it. First, never cross a river with your pack on and around your shoulders. Take it off and put it above your head or swim with it next to you. Should you fall and a piece of the backpack gets stuck in the rocks or a piece of wood there is a high potential for drowning. It's very, very difficult to get out of. Additionally, a rope attached to the pack presents more dangers. Not only do you have a pack that can get stuck, you also have 100+ feet of material that can wedge anywhere in the river bottom or woody debris. If that happens, it will knock off your feet and the force of the water will hold you down.
When Jim and I were planning our Northwest Territories Adventure, he said he’d cover the food. When I asked about coffee, he mentioned something about grinds in a Nalgene bottle and instant creamer.
My stomach turned.
You see, I have a coffee problem. It takes a cup just to get me out of bed. By midday a pot is gone. In a pinch I’ll pack a frappuccino up a treestand. Duck hunting I carry a thermos as big as my leg. And like most coffee obsessives, I’m a terrible snob. I’ll happily drink dishwater brew in a diner at 2 a.m., but first thing in the morning its Organic Nicaraguan French Roast from my local importer.
I know, I know... Please don’t hate me.
So cowboy coffee of Folgers and river water? I’d do better without food.
It took us a week to finally find the banks of the Twitya River, but with all the breakdowns, hang-ups and dead ends along the way, it seemed so much longer.
We managed to catch a few fish on our way. The catch was almost exclusively arctic grayling, with a Dolly Varden or two thrown in the mix, on No. 1 Mepps spinners. They made fine dinners, crisped in a pan or over the fire. Much needed energy, it would turn out, for tackling the Twitya.
As we rolled down into the Twitya River Valley, the trip nearly came to an abrupt and final end. We were a tire valve away from a helicopter evacuation, a fix so simple, yet impossible without the right stuff.
We were almost at the Twitya River when we hit the steep, cut banks of a small tributary. Wanting to get to our destination we hastefully pulled out our ramps and casually drove them down. They seemed secure but "seemed," we soon learned, wasn't good enough.
1. An event marred by confusion, ineptitude and shenanigans.
2. The term gong show is widely used in the hockey locker rooms across Canada. It has become the nickname of many out-of-control young men.
Shortly after repairing my trailer we had an unprecedented host of bad luck. The winch going, O.K. The trailers breaking, fine. But to run a spell of the winch breaking (again) two blown tires, a temporarily lost bag (not tied down properly), ditching an ATV--in a ditch--twice, a busted hitch, and getting stuck in a swamp, then in the muskeg, then in another swamp; it was almost too much.
The metal ribs that held box to axel snapped clean off Jim’s trailer. In nearly the same place, on my trailer, the welds broke free. One minute, I was rolling over mountainscape, the next minute I was pulling a sleigh.
To Jim’s credit, he thought he could fix his trailer. (I scrapped mine in a cache of hiker, biker, camper detritus--a little monument, it seemed, to those beaten by the trail.) And I must admit, I was a little skeptical of Jim’s plan--and the time it would take--but of all the repair jobs we attempted in the bush, none were more successful.
Jim’s plan was simple: attach spruce poles to the axel, plane larger trees to boards, plank boards in the trailer box and screw spruce poles to the boards. Without proper repair gear, three tools made this possible: a knife, an axe and a saw. This trifecta of backcountry basics saved our tails time and again.
Anytime we asked anyone back in Whitehorse about the weather, they had one word: wet. We launched this epic ATV adventure at the tail end of the wettest summer anyone up North could seem to remember.
It rained as we prepped our gear in town. It rained as we moved down the Canol Road to the trailhead. It rained when our ATVs finally touched trail dirt and it kept on raining. With three rivers to cross and dozens of ancillary creeks, water levels quickly became our No. one concern.