Of Inukshuks and a Stroll Through the Park
by Jim Carrier

Our pick-up point the next day was a floating dock, located about thirty yards offshore on Lac la Croix, about a mile below pretty Twin Falls. We sat there waiting, feet hanging over the water, eagerly anticipating the cold beer promised us by Quetico Dave, and re-telling our fish tales. While we waited, an in-bound tow boat, carrying two aluminum canoes and four anxious would-be woodsmen arrived. As they hurriedly unloaded their gear beside us on the dock, a most bizarre sequence of events followed. The episode was to give my crew renewed confidence in our own meager abilities as voyageurs. It also made us question Charles Darwin’s theories of evolution as they pertained to certain members of our species.

These excited fellows were somewhat like the three stooges... except there were four of them. To begin with, two of the guys proceeded to load gear into a canoe that was sitting on the floating dock rather than beside the floating dock and in the water. Apparently, they viewed the dock as some sort of “launching pad.” Their loading technique was exceptional, as well. The vessel tilted sadly sideways, heaped with lots of separate little packages - and featured several newspapers piled on the top like sprinkles on a cake. We surmised their plan was to do a lot of leisure reading as they paddled upriver. We were further amazed when the two bibliophiles actually propelled their poorly trimmed canoe off the dock, launching it into the air. Somehow they didn’t lose their entire load in the water right there and then! Undeterred by a few fallen items, they tossed their wet Wall Street Journals back into the canoe and yanked their wobbly vessel closer to the dock to get in. Then, employing yet another eye popping technique, the bow paddler got in and sat down facing the stern paddler!

At about this point, matters got really strange. One of the “gentlemen” loading their sister canoe apparently felt an urgent need to relieve himself into the lake, right there from the dock. Etiquette aside, high wind on Lac La Croix made this an unpredictable exercise. The resulting offensive “spray” became an issue for his buddies who had just launched. A lot of cussing and swearing ensued, causing a distraction… perhaps partially explaining subsequent developments. Properly chastised, the fellow on the dock stopped mid-stream, so-to-speak. He and his partner then got into their canoe – employing the more traditional “face forward” seating arrangement - and paddled like crazy for the nearby shore, moaning all the way about their bladders. Right about then, the first set of paddlers, still berating their traveling companions headed for shore, encountered their demise. The last words heard from the fellow in the bow, before they capsized were, “Hey, I think we’re hitting a rock!”

Their comrades, now ashore, apparently decided that bladder relief took precedence over providing immediate assistance to the swimmers. At this point, the rather unflappable tow boat operator, who witnessed this entire spectacle, shook his head in pity or amazement - it was hard to tell which – and keyed the ignition of his 225 HP outboard, jetting off and sending a sizeable wake over the individuals in the water. My own crew watched and listened in amazement, trying our best to conceal laughter as the four stooges continued to argue with each other. Our genuine offer of assistance was declined.

After a few dives by the rock to salvage what they could, these intrepid voyageurs rattled off their losses which included: one brand new camera, travel maps for the Poohbah Lake region, one pack containing a metal boat anchor and a couple jugs of whiskey, six newspapers, fifty worm harnesses, and a container holding one thousand earthworms. We later pondered the question: why would one put a boat anchor inside of a pack? Doubtless this will remain yet another unsolved mystery of Quetico.

After recovering what they could, this hapless crew of wet voyageurs paddled away upstream. How or if they would ever find Poohbah Lake, we could not know. As for us, we were grateful for our own safe trip. Perhaps, too, we were just a little smug. We possessed certain knowledge there existed folks who needed Inukshuks even more than we did.

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Jim Carrier