Of Inukshuks and a Stroll Through the Park
by Jim Carrier

That morning began with granola bars and a rich brew of coffee made in our French coffee press, one of our better camp discoveries in recent years! Soon we were cruising and exploring the picturesque Narrows area of Jean en route to Burntside, an island-studded jewel of a lake. We stopped for an early lunch on Rouge Lake, near Jean Creek. Toppled trees and charred remnants of a bad fire marred Rouge’s western rim. We munched on summer sausage, cheese, and crackers on sun-bleached rocks that once formed the “kitchen area” of a campsite, now ravaged by flames.

Conditions on Jean Creek were jungle-like that warm, cloudless, sultry June day. We found the stream sluggish, the bugs bothersome, and discerned virtually no moving air. Big Ed’s struggles peaked during this stretch. Repeatedly getting in and out of the canoe at portages and low water points, hauling loads through the muck, and the sweltering heat took its toll on him – and on all of us. We sure grumbled about the lack of a “Portage Monkey Service” that afternoon! When we sighted a beaver dam completely obstructing our passage, we only begrudgingly conceded its superb construction. Lift-over promised to be a nightmarish prospect for Ed. Just then, I noticed a low point in the dam where a canoe just might blast through without overturning. Without consulting my paddling partner, Ben, I backed us up and charged us forward, yelling, “Ben! Ramming speed, please!” Our assault resulted in only minor, easily repaired, alterations to this fine beaver edifice. The gambit proved successful and, after an anxious moment, worked equally well for Gary and Big Ed.

The excitement of beaver dam jumping, however, did little to relieve our misery. We rejoiced only when the vastness of big Sturgeon Lake opened before our eyes, offering a fresh sea breeze to greet us. Sweat dried quickly off weary bodies as we bee-lined it for a breezy point on the western shoreline. We flopped out of our canoes and sprawled, in recovery mode, onto a beach that had also been scorched by the big fire. An hour later, we set up camp on an island northwest of the Maligne River.

It rained like crazy that night. We awoke to the boom of morning thunder. Our bags had gotten wet. Ben and I wondered if Big Ed had spent the night under the Dry Fly or if he had gone into Gary’s tent. Whistling and the banging of pots quickly answered the question. I poked my head out and, sure enough, there was Big Ed, happy as a lark, working the French coffee press and making breakfast…right beside his sleeping bag. By the time I fully emerged, breakfast was ready, rain had slackened, and Gary and Ed were singing “Glow little glow worm, glitter, glitter” – from another Mills Brothers song. Ben rolled over and went back to sleep… like a true teenager. A little later, Gary & Big Ed embarked in the drippy dreariness to fish and explore Bentpine Creek. I remained in camp, hoping for a break in the drizzle and a chance to hang wet bags and clothing.

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Jim Carrier