The Lure of Faraway Places by Herb Pohl

Author:Herb Pohl
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2010-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

Once again, by choice, Herb carried his gear from the George River watershed, over the divide into Labrador, and then down over countless portages to the sea. To Herb, a canoe this far above the water was a point of privilege.

The change of plan was not totally without consequence. Years earlier, I had met Frank Moriarty aboard the Taverner, and he had invited me to stay at his place in Goose Bay. A few years later, Frank moved away and it was some time before I located him in Nova Scotia. He was surprised to hear from me, and went on to explain, “There was a story going around Goose Bay that a fellow from Ontario named Herb, started a trip down the Kanairiktok and was never heard from again. I was sure it was you, and thought you wouldn’t mind finishing that way.” The story no doubt originated with the people I had met on Crossroads Lake, and po nts to the readiness with which the locals embrace disaster stories of this sort. And, just to set the record straight, I’d rather die in a comfortable bed.

I was nearing Snegamook Lake, the only substantial body of water along the river’s course, when the sun returned. It was only mid-afternoon but fatigue had me looking for a campsite. I spotted sandbars extending from both shores not too far ahead, a welcome prospect after kilometres of dense bush and marshy ground. Drawing near, I noticed a large black bear patrolling the southern shore. He was the centre of attraction of two wolves who occupied the northern shore—until they noticed me. As I drifted along near the shore, trying to decide on a course of action, the wolves kept pace with me at the edge of the water not more than ten metres away. It seemed a good opportunity for a picture. Alas, the clicking noise when I opened the camera case startled them and they withdrew far enough to spoil the chance of a close-up. With some apprehension—I am a confirmed coward at heart—I went ashore, put up the tent and soon had a camp-fire going. At this point I felt a little more at ease, although all the while the wolves kept a close watch. Periodically during the evening, and several times during the night, they serenaded me with their melancholy howls. In spite of the beautiful setting I wasted little time breaking camp in the morning. Only when I was back on the water did I realize that my departure was watched not by two but seven wolves. Further downstream I was to witness the chilling spectacle of a pack of wolves pursuing a caribou. Mother Nature is a remorseless lady.

The Kanairiktok River below Snegamook Lake is characterized by a number of rapids and falls. The latter can always be instantly assessed on approach as either utterly unrunnable or negotiable, there is no middle ground. As everywhere in northern Labrador, there are no trails around obstructions, but in many instances bare bedrock along the edge of the water affords an easy passage.

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