|
Manitoba's
Bloodvein River: The Kingfisher King
Chasing
the Kingfisher From Canada to Chile
Blue
feathers cap a seemingly oversized head. They meet a black beak
too large to balance on such a small bird, let alone a jack pine
branch already weighted down with cones. Belted Kingfishers perch
alongside Manitoba’s Bloodvein River, one of Canada’s
premiere wilderness whitewater paddles.
They
manage their unruly masses and escort us on our seven day trip
down the river, pooling and dropping from Canadian Shield granite
to moody Lake Winnipeg. There are eight of us, on tour with Manitoba’s
premiere paddling company Northern Soul Wilderness Adventures.
We are dropped off by float plane, dropping onto Katunigan Lake,
meaning ‘Dish’ in Ojibwa, the native tongue of this
area.
It
is a typical September where we will encounter four seasons in
our seven days, toques (woollen hats) and sandals, rain jackets
and sunscreen. It is still ‘fall’ when we start, cool
and rainy, it is mid-afternoon but a mid-mourning mist hangs over
the lake. Fall colours wait, respectful and silent, along the
shores. The rain lights up their leaves, yellow, orange, red,
one last burst of life before joining the dull and fleshy understory.
Kingfishers
prosper here, feeding on little fish in the tannic waters, picking
them out of the river and clubbing them to death on the nearest
tree or rock. Life is good for Kingfishers in this untouched strip
of northern forest.
It
soon becomes apparent that life is good for a lot of wildlife
here. Each day, we paddle past beaver dam upon beaver dam, sprawling
riverfront suburbias heaped with sticks, reed and mud. Each day,
we pass little piles of white shells speckled on granite ledges,
split and discarded by agile otter hands.
Animal
trails lead up the banks . Everywhere, there are signs of a silent
and nocturnal civilization, unseen eyes waiting for our canoes
to pass.
Now
and then, the Bloodvein opens its coat, exposing otters teeter-tottering
along the rocks and beavers splashing their tails. A young moose
wades across the river at dusk and a black bear rests his head
on a rotten stump, chewing on termites and wood as we paddle by.
Eagles
and vultures soar high in daily rituals while merlins, kestrels
and rough-legged hawks call and swoop and disappear. And, of course,
Kingfishers escort us along the way, making sure the new visitors
don’t languish too long, tempted by plans for a wilderness
lodge, cottage subdivision or superhighway.
Each
campsite and lunch spot is a postcard view, whitewater spilling,
tumbling and churning. We relax, a persistent rumble in the background,
ambivalent to campfires, digital photographs and the occasional
swamped canoe. It feels good to be hours away from everything.
It feels better to be hours away from everything and eating curry
or thai pasta or campfire pancakes.
There
is a push for a road up the east side of Manitoba, many remote
and under-serviced Aboriginal communities could benefit from the
increased access. But, at the same time, this is one of the few
truly pristine stretches of boreal forest, a candidate for UNESCO
World Heritage designation. 42,000 square kilometres of boreal
forest would sit amongst the world’s wonders, on par with
Machu Picchu and the Acropolis.
It
is a long process though, Manitoba will not be ready to pitch
this site until 2011 and it could be more than a decade before
designation after that. A lot can happen in the mean time.
Shortly
after our trip, a controversial decision by the Manitoba government
was announced to run its new power line west of Lake Winnipeg
instead of east, preserving this stretch of wilderness for now.
Still, it’s a mixed blessing, conservation versus employment,
one opportunity at the expense of another. Its a controversial
topic that becomes front page news in Manitoba.
As
we pack up our daily campsite, taking care to leave to ‘leave
no trace’, the kingfishers have returned, fishing and weaving
from perch to perch, once again ready to escort us through their
territory.
The
kingfishers will wait and see what happens, roads may or may not
come, designations too. They will adapt, nesting in the gravel
ridges and ditches of road construction or fishing in pristine
rivers. They will still peering over big beaks at cars and powerlines,
horses and canoes.
One
year ago, I visited Chilean Patagonia to catch the tail-end of
their summer, again experiencing four seasons in a week. Here,
too, Kingfishers prospered, this time the Ringed Kingfisher, the
belted kingfisher’s slightly larger cousin.
Perched
on the shoreline, they dip from tree to tree, swinging on invisible
vines, just out of reach of camera lenses and tourists. Like their
northern cousins, searching for fish to brain on the rocks, frogs
and bugs to quickly gulp down.
And
here, too, there is untouched wilderness, this time along the
shores of Lago Puelo Inferior. Patagonia is remarkably similar
to Canada, a dry and cool forest, this time mountains instead
of granite cliffs. An austral instead of boreal forest.
Ulaa
Lodge is a remote, holistic spa and ecolodge, again a long drive
and half hour boat ride away from civilization. Handbuilt cabins
ring a quiet bay on Lago Puelo Inferior, it is an easy pace, hiking,
canoeing and relaxing.
Of
course, there is always time for an adventure; this time, horses
replace canoes. We ride through farms, streams, valleys and pastures
to a remote family farm. Chickens, cows and sheep scatter as we
pass, farm and stray dogs joining and then departing our ebbing
and flowing posse.
Arriving
at an isolated farm in this yawning mountain valley, we are extended
a warm greeting by our hosts, Ricardo and Norma. It is akin to
stepping back a century, no power or roads. We sit back, sipping
Yerba Matte sharing stories of our countries and prepare fresh
vegtables from their garden for supper.
They
show us how they milk cows by hand, where they smoke the meat,
where they get water, all of the things that make up the so-called
simple life. They have spent many years here but are still vibrant,
they have found the elixir of youth and it is one part smoked
mutton and two parts endless hard work.
Eventually,
we harness up the horses again a ride up a mountain pass to the
border of Argentina for a stunning view of their homestead and
Las Horquetas Valley.
After
dinner in their home, mutton stew, freshly baked buns and homemade
wine, Ricardo plays guitar and sings of songs about Chile, its
victories and defeats, life and times. Norma serves up food and
more food. There is a glint of pride and freedom in their smiling
eyes and weather-worn hands. Substitute Icelandic for Spanish
and we could be visiting my great-grandparents. Life could be
worse.
Here too, there is talk of a road. The same story is playing out,
a road through pristine wilderness, remote valleys and rivers
It will change things, cars will likely replace the horses that
saddle up to the lone saloon in Segundo Corral, open only when
the bartender is in town and in the right mood.
Unlike
Canada, the approval process is much faster in Chile and work
has already started, progress is just a couple valleys away. At
the same time, Ricardo’s work on the new addition to his
house has stalled, he cannot justify the full day trip into town
for a gerry can of gas for his chainsaw. A road will ease life
to a degree and complicate it as well, pulling this beautiful
valley a century ahead, a little closer to today.
Back
in Manitoba, I am getting ready to travel in time once again.
We stand a little sore-shouldered and sun-tanned, endng our river
trip at the Bloodvein River Lodge, a more importantly its fireplace
and showers.
A
crowd of islands and bungalows have gathered to greets us our
boat approaches Bloodvein proper. It is a tiny village, an Ojibwa
community resting, maybe a little worse for wear, at the mouth
of its namesake, shaking the river’s hand as it slips into
Lake Winnipeg.
We
are getting ready for a sweatlodge ceremony, sitting by the fire
and a twisted ribcage of wood wrapped in rope and canvas. Local
resident, Yvonne Young, and her sister, Martina, offer these ceremonies
to locals and travellers alike, keeping their traditions alive.
The sweatlodge is a healing ceremony, an honest glimpse into Aboriginal
culture, a real treat for weary travellers.
Soon
it is time to enter the lodge, before closing the tent flap, we
welcome the ‘grandfathers’ inside; heated rocks carrying
spirits dosed with sage and lavender. There are four sessions,
one for each direction, one for each stage of life. Before each
session, she pours water on the’grandfathers’ filling
the lodge with steam and sweat. She asks us to open our minds
and to think about people important to us.
As
the drum beats, eagles and kingfishers fly in the embers and tree
spirits come and go in the darkness, their faces forming and falling
back into the steam. Soon, the floor floats away and the darkness
dares you to ask whether your eyes are open or closed. And, after
a while, you realize it doesn’t make much of a difference.
It’s a memorable end to seven days in the wilderness.
Martina,
Yvonne and her partner, Norman, invite us into their home for
a dinner of moose, pickerel and bannock. Still a little dazed
and drained from the ceremony, we crowd into their kitchen and
talk about plans for road to Bloodvein, work for winter, hunting
and even the fur trade and Hudson’s Bay Company.
A
plate is prepared for the ‘grandfathers’ as well,
maybe on a full stomach they will be able to tell us whether there
will be a road or not. Or maybe we will ask the Kingfisher tomorrow
while we wait for the ferry to take us across Lake Winnipeg and
back to reality.
-
prepared by Kelsey Eliasson
Visit
the Bloodvein River or hike in Churchill with Northern Soul Adventures
- www.northernsoul.ca - or explore Chilean Patagonia from Ulaa
Lodge - www.ulaapatagonia.com
|
