A River Journey

It was a beautiful late August day when John Douglas and his two teenage sons, Kevin and Jerry, first saw the river that was

to be their home for the next week or so.

A brilliant sun was shining, reflecting off the water at the section of the Kennewash River where they would begin their raft

journey. Mixed conifer forest with dense underbrush surrounded them and grew to the banks of the river.

John, a high school teacher and coach, had made many phone calls during late Spring to various rafting companies that

floated the rivers of northern Ontario. After talking to a number of people and getting information from them as to the types of

water they floated John had chosen the Kennewash as the river that was most user friendly but still had the ambiance he

wanted. Although it was comparatively mild in terms of white water it passed through long stretches of untrammeled

wilderness. Now he was looking forward to the upcoming week as a final summer fling before school resumed in

September.

As a guide John had chosen Joe Bourne, a tall, muscular young man of 29 sporting a bushy, reddish-blonde beard. John

had talked with Joe on several occasions during the Spring and had been impressed with Joe’s credentials and with his

knowledge of the area through which they would float. Joe had rafted this section of the Kennewash three times last summer

and also several times in previous years. As a result he was quite familiar with the river and the countryside it traversed. Joe

had suggested late August as the best time for all around conditions on the river. The water would be lower and slower

moving, there would be few mosquitoes and gnats, the weather generally good and the fishing at its best.

They had arrived at the river the night before after dark and had slept out under the stars in a mosquito free atmosphere.

To reach their present location they had ridden in an old van driven by a college student, Don, who worked for the rafting

during his summer vacation. The driver had to negotiate, in the dark, almost 30 miles of a switch-backing, bone jarring road

which took off from the Trans-Canada Highway 120 miles from their starting point at Kapuskasing, Ontario.

Don would be waiting for them in one week at a location about 100 miles down the river from the access point. If their

journey took more than seven days he would wait at the takeout point for their arrival. If they arrived earlier than expected they

would camp out and wait for Don.

All of them arose early the next morning to inflate the 16 foot raft which the rafting company had provided and to pack all

the gear into waterproof bags and storage boxes which were to be tied securely in the raft. As they unloaded everything from

the van there appeared to be such a mountain of equipment that John and the boys were certain it would never all fit in the

raft. Joe assured them it would.

By 9 A.M. the three bags and two boxes had been filled with their clothing, camp gear, fishing tackle, food and all their

incidental needs for a week. These, along with two extra paddles and two extra flotation vests, were packed securely into the

raft. Goodbyes were said to Don and the journey begun.

The river at this point, was shallow and about 25 feet wide; many rocks were exposed above the surface. “We’ll be doing

more wading then riding today,” Joe commented. “One person can lead and steer us around the rocks, another can trail and

keep the stern in a straight line with the bow. About two miles from here we’ll come to the confluence with the North Fork;

we’ll gain about fifty per cent in volume then. It will also be deeper, which means we’ll be able to ride more. But we won’t get

to real floatable water until late in the day. After today we’ll have all the water we need.”

Kevin, at 17 the older of the two boys volunteered to lead. He was a muscular towhead who, throughout his life, had been

the more athletic of the two.

Jerry, 14, was more frail, the result of a childhood bout with rheumatic fever. In spite of his frailty he had always involved

himself in physical activities and had a never-say-die enthusiasm for everything he tried. In addition, he was the scholarly

member of the family and had done his homework in preparation for the trip. He had studied, and in some cases

memorized, every guide book and map of the area he could find. Although he had never seen the river Jerry could visualize

where every tributary entered and could, if he chose, have added to Joe’s already substantial knowledge of the area. As it

was not his nature to boast he kept the knowledge to himself.

All four donned their cut-off shorts and an old pair of running shoes and carried the raft to the water. The, with Kevin

leading, began picking their way through the boulders. Kevin soon discovered he had not picked an easy task for himself. At

times the space between the rocks was not wide enough for the raft to pass through; in many places the raft had to be lifted

over the rocks. This could only be accomplished by those at the front and at the rear of the raft, who at this point was Joe.

John and Jerry waded ahead scouting the river for the two handling the raft, directing them to the right or left according to

where the best passage lay.

By the time they reached the North Fork it was past noon. All four were cold and bone weary and Joe suggested they

make a long lunch stop before continuing. To this the others readily agreed. While Joe and John started up the small gas

stove and heated some soup for lunch Kevin and Jerry sprawled on a rocky bench in the sun and took a nap.

As they were preparing lunch Joe pointed to the North Fork, a small picturesque stream that came in from their left and

said, “There lies the best fishing stream in Ontario. It’s not easy to fish, but for someone who doesn’t mind tough going there

are monster trout waiting to be caught. I fished it once, two years ago, when the party I was with decided to spend the night

here. In an hour’s time I caught about a dozen trout that would go five pounds or better. I’ve talked to others who have fished

it and they all told me the same story. It’s loaded.”

“I don’t think we’ll fish it on this trip,” John replied. “But it’s something to keep in mind for future consideration.”

The afternoon was considerably easier. As Joe had stated the river was deeper and somewhat wider here. For most of

the next five miles all four were able to stay in the raft and negotiate the frequent boulders by paddling. Jerry rode in the front

of the raft and again acted as the guide, pointing to the left or right to indicate a boulder they should try to avoid.

On a few occasions the river became shallow, requiring them to revert to their previous situation of all four in the water.

This time John took the front of the raft while Kevin waded ahead with Jerry, finding the best route.

Shortly after 4 in the afternoon they passed another small tributary on the right. Joe called out, “Watch for a sandy beach

on the left in about two hundred yards. We’ll make our first camp there.”

Jerry spied it almost immediately and yelled, “There.” A few deft strokes with the paddles brought them to the beach, an

idyllic spot for camping. A large flat area near the trees served as an excellent place to pitch the tent. Previous users had

built a small fireplace which John suggested they put to their own use. Gathering enough downed wood for a fire took only a

few minutes. The boys assumed this task while John and Joe set up the tent. The boys also rolled several large logs close to

the fireplace for use as seats.

“Okay if I go fishing?” Kevin asked while the others continued to set up camp.

“Okay by me,” his father answered. “Jerry can go too if he wants.”

“Oh boy,” was Jerry’s instant response.

As the boys were getting their fishing rod from the raft Joe called out, If you fish the small feeder stream we just passed

you should be able to catch enough pan-sized trout for supper tonight. I suggest flies.”

“Let’s go for it,” said Jerry.

“How many should we keep?” Kevin asked.

“About a dozen,” Mr. Douglas replied.

The fishing was all the boys could have hoped for. In less than an hour they returned to camp with 12 brightly colored

brook trout, all of them between 9 an 12 inches long. They had also released almost as many smaller fish.

In the meantime, the men had completed setting up camp for the night. Sleeping bags and self-inflating air mattresses

were arranged in the tent, a large rock was in place to use as a meal preparation center and another rock as a washroom

where they could wash both the dishes and themselves. The men had also started a fire on which Joe would cook the

evening meal. Another pleasant surprise awaited John when Joe led him to a small spring a short distance from camp. This

provided an excellent pure water source.

That evening, after a delicious meal of trout served with macaroni and cheese, they all sat around the fire and relaxed.

Before retiring John extinguished the fire while Joe secured their bag of food to a high branch of a nearby pine tree.

“No telling whether or no there’s a roaming bear in the area who might want a free sample,” Joe commented. “No sense

making it too easy for him.” All four were in bed before nine o’clock and asleep within minutes.

Early next morning they drifted by the confluence with another large stream.

“Could that be the Little Kennewash?’ Jerry asked.

Joe looked at Jerry in surprise that he had come up with this information. “I believe it is,” he answered.

The addition of the new source of water increased the volume to such an extent that the flow was now more than double

what it had been at the beginning of the trip. The river now ran more swiftly, at its widest it was about fifty feet and, except for

the frequent boulder that protruded from the surface, was much deeper.

“We should have smoother sailing for the rest of the day,” announced Joe. “The river will stay like this for the next 20

miles or so. There is one place we should reach early this afternoon that may require portaging, other than that we’ll be able

to stay in the raft and just mosey along.”

It was as Joe said. All morning they floated down the river with an occasional dip of the paddle, either to correct their

steering or to maneuver around a large boulder that loomed ahead. A warm sun shone down on them for the entire morning.

On two occasions a choice had to be made between two channels, each time the choice was an easy one. By this time they

had established a routine with Joe as helmsman, sitting at the stern and Jerry in the bow watching for rocks and other

hazards. The other two manned an oar on opposite sides of the raft.

As their journey took them farther away from civilization they began to spot more and more wildlife. Twice during the

morning a deer was sighted at the river’s edge; each time the deer remained motionless, standing there staring at the

intruders until the raft was within a few feet. Only then did the deer bolt and disappear quickly into the forest.

In one long, flat stretch a large moose was feeding in the shallows. The moose lifted its head once to glance at them and

then resumed feeding.

“I wouldn’t want to get n the way of those antlers,” said Kevin.

“I agree,” his father replied.

After a short lunch stop they arrived at the rapids Joe had mentioned that might need portaging. It was actually a series

of rapids extending about 100 feet and dropping about 20 feet bore ending at a large, quiet pool. The raft was secured to a

rock above the rapids while Joe and John reconnoitered.

“Too many exposed rocks,’ was Joe’s comment. “If the water was a little higher we might be able to run it.”

“I agree,” John replied. “Is there a trail we can to lug all our gear past the rapids?”

“There is one, but it climbs over that bluff to the west before it returns to the river. It might be better to work from rock to

rock along the river’s edge. Let’s take a look at that option first.”

After exploring this option both men decided that the rocks along the edge, except in one or two places, would not be

difficult. The more difficult sections would still be easier than ascending and descending a steep train carrying heavy gear.

All the gear was unloaded from the raft and Jerry was assigned the job of lining the raft through the rapids while the

others carried the various boxes and bags.

“The raft will be very light now,” Joe explained to Jerry. “All you need to do is hold on to the end of the rope and let the raft

kind of bounce its way down. If you do lose your grip on the rope, it’s no big deal, the raft will bounce down on its own. The

only problem that will cause is someone will have to swim out and retrieve it.”

Jerry had no difficulty maneuvering the raft through the rapids. As Joe had said, the raft bounced off rocks and seemed

to pick its own path. Jerry held on to the 25 foot rope and jumped from rock to rock close to the edge. On two occasions the

raft wedged between two rocks and stopped. All Jerry needed to do was either flip the rope or give a quick jerk to get the

raft moving again. Only one item had Joe neglected to mention, the rapids created so much spray that long before he

reached the pool Jerry was soaked from head to toe.

The others, meanwhile, carried the gear down to the pool. John and Joe together carried the boxes, one at a time, while

Kevin carried the bags and then the paddles and fishing tackle. In all, each of them had to make four hot, sweaty trips. They

were as wet from perspiration as Jerry was from spray.

By the time the portage was completed it was almost four o’clock. Joe suggested they make camp where they were.

“The campsite here isn’t as good as the one we had last night,” Joe remarked, “but we’re all tired and the gear is already

unloaded so it would be easier setting up here than repacking and then unloading again in a time”

Joe led the way to a small bluff a short distance downstream from the pool which proved to be adequate, although barely

so, for them to pitch camp.

After they had carried the tent and other camping gear to the campsite John declared, “You boys set up camp tonight

while Joe and I try the fishing.”

“Okay, Dad,” both boys replied.

Joe and John scrambled back along the shore to the pool at the foot of the rapids, each carrying a fishing rod equipped

with a spinning reel fitted with 8 pound test line. Joe attached a large red and white spoon to his line and began casting

toward the head of the pool. On his second cast he had a heavy strike but was not able to set the hook.

John chose a brass colored lure, waded across at the foot of the pool and also cast his lure to the head of the pool. He

had a strike on his first cast and immediately had a large trout hooked. His rod bent almost double as the fish headed

across the pool. Then the trout turned and headed toward John so quickly that he had to reel in line as rapidly as he could

while holding the rod high over his head to keep pressure on the fish.

Joe, from the other side of the pool, cheered him on, “Go get him, tiger,” he yelled.

John fought the fish for more than fifteen minutes while it flashed back and forth from the head of the pool to the foot of the

pool with sudden changes of direction that caused John to first reel quickly then allow line to be released while the fish made

its run. Finally the fish tired and John was able to reel it in. After removing the hook from the fish’s mouth he held it up for Joe

to see before wading in up to his knees and gently releasing the fish back into the pool.

“I’d guess about 22 inches and 5 or more pounds,” he called across to Joe.

Joe acknowledged this with a wave then called out that he was going downstream a ways to try another pool. John

waved back to show he understood.

An hour later, when they returned to camp, Joe had caught and released two trout about the same size as the one John

had caught. John, meanwhile, had two more heavy strikes but was not able to hook either fish.

In their absence the boys had set up a cozy camp. Everything was in a compact circle with the fireplace as the center

point and the tent and two large rocks on the circumference. John complimented them on their excellent use of the limited

space that had been available to them.

That evening, as they sat around the fire, Joe, in answer to a question, explained how he had entered the rafting business.

“It was a coincidence,” he stated. “My folks live in Colorado and own a ski resort there. It was early summer and I had

just come home from college. Business at the resort was slow, as it usually is during summer, and my dad got a phone call

from a regular client who brought his family to the resort every Christmas time for a skiing holiday.

“To make a long story short, the man was the owner of this rafting business. He told Dad he was a man short on his

rafting crews for the summer and asked Dad if he could recommend someone. Dad recommended me.

“That was six years ago. Now I have the best of both worlds. I ski all winter; actually I teach skiing with my dad, and I raft

all summer. To top it all off, during the slack period in early Spring I go scuba diving all over the world. I’ve dived in the

Bahamas, in the Philippines, in Australia. You name it, I’ve been there.”

“Wow,” said Kevin. “I hope I can do the same thing some day.”

“Get your college in first, then who knows what you’ll want to do,” Kevin’s dad told him. “I’m sure Joe didn’t plan this life

style when he was 17. Did you Joe?”

“Heck no,” Joe replied. “When I was 17 all I could think of was getting out of the sticks in Colorado and going to the big

city. No the big city has lost its appeal. This is where I belong, close to nature. And I did get my degree first, in ‘Recreational

Management.’ Some day I’ll put that to use.”

The conversation soon tapered off as the day’s exertion began to take its toll. Soon, all four called it a night and went to

bed.

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