Saturday,
July 1, 2006:
We’re on
vacation at the beach in Duck, NC. Terri and I headed out for a training
ride. I put in 3 hours and 20 minutes
clocking an average speed of 20.1 MPH for a distance of 67.49 miles. My average heart rate equaled 128 BPM. Terri
rode 30 miles at an average speed of 15.1 MPH.
Thoughts –During this ride, Terri and I talked about physical
hardships. This led into reminiscing about the advanced dog sled trip we took
during the first week in March, 2003, in the Boundary Waters between Minnesota
and Canada. Terri remembered I had kept a journal of the trip. The following is my account of one of the
hardest physical endeavors I have ever been involved in.
Friday, February 28, 2003 –
Awoke at 3:30 am. Showered quickly and
loaded the bags into the Pathfinder for trip to the airport. Terri and I are
real excited about our trip with Wintergreen Outfitters in Ely, MN. The 7-day
advanced dogsledding camping trip we booked appears to be heading into what we
feel will be more of a challenge than first anticipated. As we drove our rental
SUV into Ely, MN, we picked up the weather forecast on the radio. By Sunday the
forecast has the high temperature at – 5 degrees Fahrenheit. The lows are
forecast at – 15 to -24 degrees. The wind is forecast to be out of the North at
15 to 20 MPH. The wind chill factor will be incredible. We can only hope that
our cold weather gear is stout enough.
Our trip starts
Monday from the facilities of Paul Schurke. Paul is the author of Bearing Bridge - The Soviet-American
Expedition from Siberia to Alaska. [Duluth: Pfifer-Hamilton] 1989.
According to
the inside jacket sleeve, ‘Paul was a team member of this [sledding] expedition.
He developed a love for wild places early on when his mother and father, a
homemaker/teacher and building inspector/carpenter, respectively, purchased
property on a river in Wisconsin. Roaming those woods and early forays into
Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe Area locked in his passion for adventure.
That, coupled with the Benedictine influences of his college, St. John’s
University, led a classmate and Paul to establish Wilderness Inquiry, an
adventure program for physically disabled people.’
Over
the weekend, Terri and I will be staying at the Silver Creek Lodge. This facility is outside the small town of
Ely, right on a frozen lake. Our reservation calls for a two bedroom condo. But
a mix-up in reservations has us as the sole occupants of an entire 8 bedroom,
2-floor lodge for our entire two day stay.
Our
Friday night dinner finds us at a table at the Silver Creek Lodge Restaurant
where an ‘after-town council meeting gathering’ seems to be in full tilt. Loud
discussion is taking place about the town council rescinding their prior vote
to send a proclamation to President Bush not to invade Iraq. Terri and I first
heard about this proclamation on the AM radio station WELY as we were driving
on Route 1 into town. A station
representative was broadcasting from council town hall. We never thought there
would be enough Republicans in Northwest Minnesota to garner enough votes to
overturn this vote. The boisterous crowd at the restaurant apparently is the
losing side as their laments are loud and frequent. Oh my! Terri and I are
ready for bed. It’s been a long 17
hours!
Saturday morning – March 1, 2003
– Up and showered by 7:30 am. Coffee is on with Terri sleeping until 8:30 am.
Gazing out the living room picture window, the entire landscape is frozen
solid. The lake is frozen. The pine
trees are glazed in ice. It is cold,
cold, cold. There are around 6 inches of
fresh snow on the ground. We are heading into town to check out the
International Wolf Center. This organization is dedicated to the
re-establishment of wolf populations in the continental US. Paul Shurke is on
the board.
We spent
the entire afternoon at the Center. Taking in just about every program, Terri
and I remarked that the Center has invested their program dollars wisely. The
only presentation we did not get to view was the ‘Conflict and Resolution’
program. We left the Center to get some lunch and pick up our gear and clothing
from the Wintergreen store.
We
returned to the International Wolf Center for two evening programs. The first,
at 1830, dealt with the wolf’s feeding routine. Malik and Shadow, two male
brothers, were real active in the observatory in anticipation of their
impending meal. Their dancing around, running side by side, and playing
hide-and-go seek, brought squeals and laughter from the young children in the
audience.
At
2030 we loaded into IWC vehicles and headed out into the wild south of the town
to practice our wolf calls. We attended a presentation 30 minutes earlier on
how wolves’ communicate. This fascinating program was presented by the
Assistant Curator at the IWC. He taught us the various forms of wolf vocal
communication. These are howl, bark, whimper, and clicking or snapping of the
teeth. In addition, he stated there are many forms of non-verbal communication.
(Photo
courtesy of naturfotographen-forum.de [https://naturfotographen-forum.de])
According to the IWC, “wolves use body language to convey the rules of the pack. A wolf pack
is very organized. Rule number one says that the pack is made up of leaders and
followers. The pack leaders are the male and female parent - usually the father
and mother of the other pack members. They are likely to be the oldest,
largest, strongest and most intelligent wolves in the pack. They are known as
the alpha wolves and are usually the only members of the pack to produce pups.
“Any wolf can become an alpha. However, to do so, it must
find an unoccupied territory and a member of the opposite sex with which to
mate. Or, more rarely, it moves into a pack with a missing alpha and takes its
place, or perhaps kills another alpha and usurps its mate.
“The alpha male and female are
dominant, or in charge of the pack. To communicate dominance, the alphas carry
their tails high and stand tall. Less dominant wolves exhibit submissive
behavior by holding their tails down and often lower their bodies while pawing
at the higher ranking wolves.
“There are
two levels of submissive behavior: active and passive. Active submission is a contact
activity in which signs of inferiority are evident such as crouching, muzzle
licking and tail tucking. The behaviors typical of active submission are first
used by pups to elicit regurgitation in adults. These behaviors are retained
into adulthood by subordinate wolves, where they function as a gesture of
intimacy and the acceptance of the differentiation of the roles of the wolves
that are involved.
“Passive
submission is shown when a subordinate wolf lays on its side or back, thus
exposing the vulnerable ventral side of its chest and abdomen to the more
dominant wolf. The subordinate wolf may also abduct its rear leg to allow for
anogenital inspection by the dominant wolf. If two wolves have a disagreement,
they may show their teeth and growl at each other. Both wolves try to look as
fierce as they can. Usually the less dominant wolf, the subordinate one, gives
up before a fight begins. To show that it accepts the other wolf's authority,
it rolls over on its back. Reactions to this behavior may range from tolerance
(the dominant wolf standing over the submissive wolf) to mortal attack,
particularly in the case of a trespassing alien wolf. Following the dominance
rules usually keeps the wolves in a pack from fighting among themselves and
hurting each other.
“Wolves
convey much with their bodies. If they are angry, they may stick their ears
straight up and bare their teeth. A wolf that is suspicious pulls its ears back
and squints. Fear is often shown by flattening the ears against the head. A
wolf that wants to play will dance and bow playfully.
“Wolves have
a very good sense of smell, about 100 times greater than humans. They use this
sense for communication in a variety of ways. Wolves mark their territories
with urine and scats, a behavior called scent-marking. When wolves from outside
of the pack smell these scents, they know that an area is already occupied. It
is likely that pack members can recognize the identity of a pack-mate by its
urine, which is useful when entering a new territory or when pack-members
become separated. Dominant animals may scent mark through urination every two
minutes. When they do so they raise a leg, this dominant posture utilizes
multiple forms of communication and is called a "Raised Leg
Urination" or RLU.
“Wolves will
also use urine to scent mark food caches that have been exhausted. By marking
an empty cache, the animal is not wasting time digging for food that isn't
there.
“Wolves use their sense of smell to communicate through
chemical messages. These chemical messages between members of the same species
are known as "pheromones." Sources of pheromones in wolves include
glands on the toes, tail, eyes, anus, genitalia and skin. For example, a male
is able to identify a female in estrus by compounds (pheromones) present in her
urine and copulation will only be attempted during this time.
“Of
course, their sense of smell also tells them when food or enemies are near.”
- Excerpted from “Basic Wolf Information – Communication” - www.wolf.org/wolves/learn/basic/biology/communication (accessed March 1,
2003)
Our
group wasn’t successful finding a wolf pack in the wild that would match our
feeble attempts to mimic our howls! However, upon our return to the IWC at
2200, our group launched into howls, setting the 5 captured wolves into a din
of howling madness lasting for almost 5 minutes. Their mournful wail was really
impressive!
As
Terri and I walk into the lobby, we note the thermometer has the outside
temperature at – 4 degrees F. The Artic Clipper is pushing through. Not to
worry, after our trip to Wintergreen Outfitters, we now have, hopefully, the
gear to handle it!
Sunday,
March 2, 2003 – The alarm sounds at 0730. We are greeted by a bright
and glorious sunrise over the frozen lake. Our Retreat House is so warm and
cozy this morning. The outside temperature is – 13 degrees F. according to the
thermometer hanging on the ledge to the living room picture window. Whoa boy, that’s cold! As we drink our coffee
and tea, downing a bit of breakfast (instant oatmeal), we keep our minds
occupied on the task of packing our gear. We have a bit of gear rearranging to
do on account of the artic clothing we picked up at the outfitters.
Checking out at noon we head over to the
IWC for a National Geographic presentation titled “Living with Wolves”. This film follows the introduction of the wolf
into Yellowstone National Park. It covers a pack (7 wolves to be exact)
delivered to the park from in 1992. The wolves
originated in the Canadian Artic. The wildlife biologist overseeing the
transfer played a key role in ensuring the intricate methods used successfully
accomplished the task.
National Geographic did its usual
excellent job of filming. The film spans 7 years covering the wolves’
activities until the death of its alpha-female and the re-emergence of the
previously deposed beta-female as the alpha-female of the original pack.
The film ends and Terri and I head for
the Wintergreen Lodge to begin our epic 7 day advanced dog sled adventure into
the wild and frozen Canadian Boundary Waters.
We arrive at the lodge in about 20
minutes. It is the base and home of Paul
Shurke and his family. It is also home to many Canadian Inuit Sled dogs. We
meet two of our fellow adventurers. Phil Hage, from St. Paul, MN, Bill Wright,
from Ann Arbor, MI and our guide Joe Bodewes from Hazelhurst, WI. Paul Shurke
strolls through the kitchen as Terri and I lug our gear through the warm and
cozy cedar-paneled living room. “You must be the McClure’s from Virginia,
welcome!” Paul intones as he warmly shakes our hand. His warm smile and soft
demeanor immediately endears us to him. Paul immediately asks if we have felt
sole liners for our Sorrel Artic boots. “Nope, that’s something we don’t have”,
Terri reports. “No problem, I’ll cut you
both a set” Paul says as he heads to the kitchen.
As Paul heads into the kitchen, Joe
Bodewes bounces out with a big plate of finger foods and welcomes us. On the
couch warming his feet by the fire is our third trip participant. He introduces himself as Joe from Chicago. We
never learned his last name. He warmly offers us his right hand in
introduction.
Before dinner we try on our
cross-country skis for fit and also to check out our ability. Not embarrassing
myself, I am confident the time spent on the skis will go well.
We settle in after a fine meal of pasta,
beef, salad, peas, broccoli, fresh bread, juices and water. We review our gear
requirements and discuss our trip plans.
Joe points to the map and outlines the travel itinerary. Monday we drop
in and start at Crane Lake. The evening
camp will locate at Lilac Lake. Tuesday will take us to 27 Isle. After we set camp at 27 Isle, we’ll snow-shoe
across the Canadian Border and visit an Ojibwa Indian village. Wednesday will
have us travel to Coleman Island. On the way, we’ll check out some ancient
petroglyphs. Thursday’s trek will take us to Curtain Falls. Friday we’ll slide
into Beartrap Lake and have a layover through Saturday. Saturday will be a day
of adventure hiking to some more petroglyphs and other sites. Sunday will have
the group travel to Nel’s Lake. This will be our pick-up point.
Joe taps the right-hand map spread out before
the group and jolts me out of deep thought.
Wondering how Terri and I will
handle the extreme temperatures, I’m thinking we’re embarking on an epic quest
of survival. Looking back, I wasn’t
wrong.
Monday,
March 3, 2003 – Our day starts early with the alarm sounding at 0600. We
bound out of warm bed. As we slip into our first layer I check the outside
temperature reading – 5 degrees F. Joe, whipping up our breakfast of hot
cereal, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, coffee, juice and fruit seems to
be in great spirits.
After breakfast, we’re in high hustle.
We’re arranging our gear and heading over to the runs to feed the two dog-sled
teams that will take us deep into the wilds of the boundary waters wilderness
area. Terri and I are assigned the Blue Sled. Our team is made up of lead dog
Marina. The rest of the team is Hershey, Dusty, Copper, Bubba, and Maukwa.
These dogs are Canadian Inuit Sled dogs. Big and powerful, they are born to
pull heavy loads. They are the “freighters”, not the sleek breed of sled dog
used in racing. The feeding goes well and we’re heading out with our gear to
load the sleds before loading them onto the trailer attached to a Ford F-150
truck. We will be riding in a Chevy Suburban.
(Photo
courtesy of Canadian Museum of Inuit Art [http://museumofinuitartblog.wordpress.com])
At last, the group is ready to climb
into the Suburban (minus our boots) and head into Ely. It appears we are on a mission. It is a
tradition among the native Ojibwa for its Chief to receive from visitors
certain items. They are cloth, silver, tobacco, and a pipe with which to smoke
it. Paul Shurke has everything but a pipe. So we are looking for an
establishment that sells pipes that we can purchase for our presentation to the
Elders on Tuesday night. Believe it or not, after an hour of running store-to-
store, we can’t find any place that sells pipes in Ely, MN. We give up and head
northwest out of Ely for a 90 minute drive to our drop point at Crane Lake. The
day is cold and overcast with blowing snow. The wind, a factor I failed to
consider, adds another worry to the chill equation as we depart the gas station
after filling up and purchasing two bags of chocolate candy to give the Ojibwa
Elders to distribute to the children of the village.
We
arrive at frozen Crane Lake with the wind whipping the falling snow out of the
north. We pile out of the suburban, stretch our legs and unload the sleds. The
dog teams are let out of their individual carriers and staked in advance of
being hitched. Paul and Joe quickly run
the men through the “hitching procedure” as Terri makes sandwiches for
everyone. I’m trying to memorize, not only the steps to the process, but each
of our dog’s name as well. I don’t think it will take too long as each dog seems
to have a unique, identifiable personality.
Joe Bodewes, on cross-country ski, is in
the lead. Paul Shurke is next in line gliding smoothly across the 4 to 6 inches
of fresh snow blanketing the frozen waters of Crane Lake. Terri and I are next
in line working the red sled. Bill Wright is next in line cross-country skiing.
Bill Hage and Chicago Jon are bringing up the rear with the blue sled. The dog
team for the blue sled is lead dog Scooter assisted by Poncho. Swing dogs are
Goofy and Patches. The irrepressible Moki and Lupus are the wheel dogs. As a side note, Lupus is Dusty’s brother and
Dusty is Copper’s Dad
Terri and I are beginning to appreciate
our Canadian Inuit dog team. In the lead position we have Marina and Hershey.
Next, in the swing position, we have Dusty and Copper. In the wheel position we have the powerful Bubba
and Maukwa. The sled, weighing in at
close to 500 pounds, has Terri on the right rudder and I’m guiding the left
rudder. We’re applying pressure to the rudders with our foot. We’re using a
sledding technique whereby Terri’s left arm is crossed over my right arm. Our
arms are resting on the sled-bar. This assists in balancing the rear of the
sled. Ever mindfull of assisting the dog-team, we step off the rudder and push frequently.
If we need to head the team a little to the right, I put a bit of pressure on
the left rudder. If we need to manuerver right, Terri puts ressure on the left
rudder. When applying foot pressure on the rudder we also pull the sled-bar right
or left depending on the direction we need to go.
Paul and Joe are blazing through the snow
covering frozen Crane Lake. The group is falling into a steady rhythm at about
5 to 6 MPH. With the landscape passing by, Terri remarks on how serene and
peaceful it appears to be. The boundary waters area is some of the most
pristine country in North America. A July or August canoe trip would be just
the ticket for a top-notch summer vacation. Some of the world’s best fishing is
in the frozen lakes we’re passing over.
We are not having to use our recently
learned commands as Marina is making sure we stay on the trail. It’s a good
thing, too, as I have not memorized them to any degree. They are simple
commands. “Gee”, with a hard G, means go right. “Haw” means go left. “Hike”
means go. “Easy” tells the dogs to steady-up. “On-by” tells the dog team to
pass an obstruction or another sled. “Whoa” means stop. It is important to note
that we do not have to issue the “hike” command to our team. All they want to
do is pull-pull-pull. These inuit dogs are “Born to Pull.” Even when we stop,
even for a very short time, the dog team barks and howls, biting at the gain
line eager to get back to pulling the sled. This brings to mind the very first
rule Paul Shurke gave us during our orientation: “Never, ever let go of your
sled.” “The sled must be secure with the dog team stationary before you let go
of the sled”, Paul reminds us.
We find when stopped, if the dog team
feels we are waiting to long to start running again, they snap and bite each
other to the point of fighting. This is part of the Canadian Inuit Sled dog’s
makeup. Genevieve Montcombroux writes, “Just
as in the wolf pack, the Inuit dog is pack oriented, with a boss dog at the
head. Just as in the wolf pack, Inuit dogs have an alpha male and alpha female.
Below them each dog takes his or her place, the ranking achieved by fighting.
The Inuit dog fights with little provocation until the pack hierarchy is
eastablished…” - – Genevieve
Montcombroux, “The Canadian Inuit Dog”. Mushing-The
Magazine of Dog Powered Adventure, online edition, March 1, 2010, www.mushing.com/articles (accessed October 27, 2013). Stopping
for lunch is the exception. When the food bags come out of the sled, the dog
teams lay down for some well-deserved rest.
We’re on the move after a break for lunch.
The sun is behind the grey cloud cover.
The afternoon is passing quickly. Terri and I are running with our dog
team in a happy rhythm. I’m staying relatively warm. The poly-pro base layer is doing its job,
wicking moisture away from my skin into the next layer. I am wondering what
happens when stopped for a significant period of time. Will the sweat freeze in
the outer layer?
Our course turns south-easterly and
around 3:30 pm we’re portaging over a land connection. This is very hard work
as the saws and axes have come out of the sled. We’re bushwhacking a route to
frozen Lilac Lake, our campsite for the night. After 45 minutes, we load the
tools into the sleds and mush onto Lilac Lake. I’m wet with sweat, worry about
only bringing 4 layers of poly-pro. It’s
so cold that I’m fretting the poly-pro I’m currently wearing will never dry
out.
Dusk is settling in as Paul, Joe and the
rest of the expedition arrive at a cove nestled nicely into a wooded area of
Lilac Lake. “This is the campsite for the night!” Paul announces. We start a
process that will take place each evening of our trip. We un-hitch the dog
teams and secure them to the tie-lines. We then head out to gather firewood.
Bending over a downed branch sawing away I look up and see Paul waving. He shouts “Farewell!” and starts
cross-country skiing back to Crane Lake.
As darkness is descending, I mutter to myself, “What an Adventurer!” In
about 20 minutes the group drags in a bunch of downed firewood. It’s readily
apparent Joe Bodewes is the “master of the fire”, as he has one blazing away
with our dinner on the flame.
After dinner we help Joe feed the dog
teams. Each dog has a unique bark when it comes to their feeding ritual. To me, that’s what it is. Their excitement
over feeding is like a flame igniting the entire pack in a wave of howls and
barks. We are approaching each dog individually, full feed bowl in hand, in
such a way to lay it right under their neck line. This prevents the next dog
tied up from infringing on the feeding dog’s five feet of space at the neck
line. We also are careful to make sure the feed bowl does not get knock out of
our hands.
After feeding time, I find myself
sitting with the group at the fire, trying to stay warm. Joe has a big pot of water
boiling. He has us fill our insulated water bottle full along with some powered
tang and immediately run the bottle over to the tent and put it in our
Department of Defense Arctic sleeping bags. Returning to the warmth of the
fire, Joe advises us to drink the entire bottle upon waking in the morning.
Every morning, after waking up, this is to be our most important daily ritual.
In addition to
sleeping in my poly-pro base layer, I also used my North Face 700 down filled
Parka as an added layer inside the wiggy-bag.
I open my eyes and see the inside tent
walls are coated with frozen condensation.
The condensation is frozen, hanging like stalactites in a dark cavern.
Shuffling out of our wiggy bags is causing a mini snowstorm with the frozen
breath falling from the roof of the tent. Wow, it is so cold. Everything we
have is frozen solid, including the toothpaste. It is a chore to go out and
relieve ourselves. This is a chore we’ll
have to perfect, and quickly!
There is much we have to do to prepare
for our second day of mushing, build the fire up, get breakfast ready, break
down the tent, feed the dog teams, eat breakfast, wash the dishes, and load the
sleds. Then we have to harness the teams and attach them to the gain
lines. This is a procedure needing to be
conducted with certain agility. Guiding the Inuit dogs to the gain line
requires a firm hand. The Inuit’s
propensity for fighting requires spacing between the dogs. This will allow the
operation to go smoothly. Once a dog is
harnessed and attached he/she will general lie down in the snow. However, as
the last dog is attached, the team will jump up and start howling, eager to get
going. All of our early morning activity is taking place in a temperature
hovering at – 20 degrees F.
I’m discovering you move much slower
when the temperature is – 20 degrees F. Even with wool glove liners and plunge
mitts, working with the brass clamps and metal zippers takes its toll on the
hands and fingers as you must use your fingers to manipulate the brass gain
line clamps and zippers to the tent and sleeping bags. This means the plunge
mitts come off. This could spell problems for me down the road. It’s only
Tuesday and my hands are suffering already.
As the day progresses, Terri and I stick
with the sled as Bill told us at breakfast he would rather cross-country ski as
much as possible. The original plan was for participants to rotate from sled to
ski. This is working out well. Terri and I are very comfortable with our dog
team. Marina is so smart. She is so adapt at leading the team. It is apparent why she is the lead dog. We’ve
had to give very few commands so far.
The morning clouds have given way to
blue sky. The sun is casting a golden glow to the frozen lake. The wind is blowing briskly at the moment
bringing a glow to Terri’s cheeks. The sled’s runners are crunching through the
snow, throwing out powder from the rear of the sled. A quick check of the
thermometer attached to the sled’s tarp shows the temperature at a warm 5 degrees
F. I look back and observe Chicago Jon
cross-country skiing and Phil handling the Blue sled following Chicago Joe. Our
tour leader, Joe Bodewes is 50 meters ahead of Terri and me cutting the trail. We stop for a quick
lunch on a rocky point. The dog teams
immediately curl up on the snow for a brief rest. Cloud cover moves in and the temperature
drops to zero. I’m getting quite chilled so I’m thankful when we call out to
the dog team to “hike-up”. It’s a
pleasure to get the blood pumping again warming up the body. Glancing at Terri,
I’m amazed to see she is not having the slightest issue with the cold. She is
made for this type of weather!
About 1400, Chicago Jon gets on the blue
sled and Phil takes to the cross-country skis. After about 20 minutes of
mushing, Chicago Jon appears to have some sort of issue with the sled and goes
back to the skis. Terri and I are having a great time with our dog sled team.
We notice when the dog team feels we’re slacking off helping them with pushing
the sled, they turn their heads back and give us a stare that says, “Come on
folks, give us a little help here!” And conversely, when we praise them, the
dogs kick to higher gear.
It’s around 1600 and Joe Bodewes motions
back to us that we have arrived at the camping spot on 27 Isle. We set camp following Monday’s routine. The
dog teams settle in quickly after their feeding. Marina, sweet girl that she is, tries to
knock the bowl out of my hand before I could get it placed in front of
her. Luckily, I’m quicker! The tent
poles are a problem for me. I can’t feel my fingers to engage the parts of the
aluminum pole. I may be getting frost
bite. It is definitely getting colder. The sun is almost completely set as
Joe’s fire starts to blaze away. Bill
and Chicago Joe have brought a large cache of downed wood to the fire pit.
After a bite of food our group prepares
to cross-country ski over to the Ojibwa Village across the Canadian
border. We will be visiting the Chief of
the Clan, having dinner at her house. We
really are looking forward to the respite from the cold. This Arctic Clipper seems to be
intensifying. The wind is picking up
making the chill factor somewhat tough to bear.
As we shove off from camp, I notice the stars are thick. The wind is at our back and I’m cold as I have
ever been. I dread the trip back as the
wind will most likely be in our face.
During the trip over, my thoughts are
occupied by what to expect upon our arrival at the Chief’s house. Not knowing
much about Canada’s first people, I memorized a map of the demographics of the
various tribes and present it below. In
addition to the map, I present a history of the Northern Ojibwa:
“Northern Ojibwa
“The Northern Ojibwa can be divided in two groups
corresponding to dialect. The Northern Ojibwa who speak the Severn dialect
frequently refer to themselves as Cree and reside in the Ontario communities of
Big Trout Lake, Caribou Lake, Sandy Lake, Bearskin Lake, Deer Lake, Trout Lake,
Sachio Lake, Kingfisher Lake, and Wunnumin. Immediately south of the Severn
speakers are Northern Ojibwa who speak the northwestern Ojibwa dialect. They live at Osnaburg, Lac Seul (mixed with
Saulteaux), Cat Lake, and Martin Falls, Ontario. The Northern Ojibwa living in
the northern parts of Ontario and Manitoba also reside in mixed communities
with Cree and are often designated Oji-Cree. Many Northern Ojibwa, especially
Severn speakers, speak Cree and English, although Cree is the choice for
liturgical purposes. At Lac Seul, for example, which is located on the northern
boundary between the Northern Ojibwa and the Saulteaux, less than 50 percent
speak English, while at Cat Lake less than 10 percent speak English. Although
no figures are available for Severn speakers, the Severn dialect continues to
be used in the home, but, for many, English has become the language of
business.
“Historically, the Northern Ojibwa were organized in
units, called bands by traders that were larger than the nuclear family.
Although leaders had little formal authority, they were recognized for their
shamanic powers, hunting ability, and skills in bargaining with traders. During
the summer the Northern Ojibwa congregated in large groups along lake shores to
fish. In the fall, they broke into small hunting groups to move inland to their
hunting ranges. Northern Ojibwa bands were composed of hunting groups, which
wintered together and were closely related. Band sizes varied between 50 and
150, and larger regional groups came together when the weather was good.
Beginning in 1780, the Northern Ojibwa were intensively involved in a
competitive regional fur trade.
“The Northern Ojibwa shared common Algonquian Subarctic
religious beliefs, including personal vision quests and proper respect for
animals. Shamans played an important intermediary role in the shaking-tent and
the wahbeno, which involved mystical communications through fire. Although
Methodist missionaries reached as far as the Albany River basin in 1844,
missionary efforts intensified between 1880 and 1920 when Anglican missionaries
began work among the Northern Ojibwa at Weagamow Lake (Round Lake, Ontario). As
Anglican missions expanded to other locations, Cree and mixed bloods were
converted and a number were ordained to serve the spiritual needs of the
Northern Ojibwa in the Severn River. Many were forced by circumstance to
mission stations to supplement their trapping, and communities formed around
fur-trade posts such as Lac Seul.
“In the twentieth century, although the Northern Ojibwa
economy was based primarily on fish and big game, irregular game cycles and
aggressive fur-trade polices implemented by governments, including punitive
conservation measures and restrictions on steel traps, contributed to a shift
to fish and hare; hunting groups were eventually reduced in size to that of the
nuclear family. Major land cessions by treaty were made among the Northern
Ojibwa in 1905, and further cessions in 1929–30 (Treaty 9) forced many Northern
Ojibwa to move closer to village sites to collect treaty payments and
participate in Christian services. Today, the Northern Ojibwa are part of the
Nishnawbe-Aski Nation, which represents Cree, Ojibwa, and Oji-Cree members of
Treaty 9 and Ontario members of Treaty 5.”
Published on Multicultural
Canada (http://www.multiculturalcanada.ca) Home > Northern Ojibwa accessed
November 1, 2013)
Our group finally reaches the home of the
Ojibwa Chief and we are warmly welcomed.
The warmth of her nice ranch-style home is wonderful with the enticing
smell of wild rice on the boil in the kitchen.
We remove our gear and settle down to introductions and the presentation
of gifts. The gifts are warmly received.
Except, I’m afraid to say, the smoking pipe that we couldn’t find for sell in
Ely, MN. This gaff doesn’t appear to be a problem, as we propose to send one to
her upon our return back from our adventure.
As our group is finishing a delicious
meal of wild rice, greens, and chicken, the Chief’s daughter and her husband
arrive. Her daughter is the Chief of Police for the community. We are warmly received. Terri and I quietly
comment to each other if we need to present a passport (which we didn’t bring)
in as much as we crossed the border into Canada by snowshoe. I’m happy to
report the subject never came up.
Two subjects that we’re discussing
concern horse breeding and terrorism. Concerning terrorism, two of the village
elders present mentioned their ancestors were on the receiving end of one of
the first acts of terrorism ever recorded. Late in the 1700’s their ancestors
were traded wool blankets contaminated with the small-pox virus from trappers.
This nearly wiped out the clan. The Chief also discussed their town’s attempt
to breed Quarter horses. She indicates all are diligently working for success.
I must admit feeling a bit ashamed
during the discussion on terrorism. What could I say, being a white-man sitting
in a first people’s home knowing that my ancestors were possibly involved in a
war to wipe out their ancestors? It is humbling, indeed.
The evening progresses so fast, we now
have to get back to camp. Piling on our gear, saying our good-byes, we thank
all for their wonderful hospitality.
With our cross-country skis anchored to our feet and headlamps on
bright, we dash into the bitter cold head wind for a 2.5 mile trip back to
camp. I note the time is 2130. The going is tough. Terri and I try to follow Joe Bodewes, who is
on a blistering pace. If we lose Joe, we’re afraid we lose our way back. Thankfully,
we hang on and find camp. We build a raging fire, boil water for our thermos,
check the dog lines and finally climb into our wiggy-bags for a little rest.
Wednesday,
March 5, 2003 – *It’s 0300. Both hands feel as if
thousands of hot needles are piecing them.
They’re in bad shape. The temperature is – 25 degrees F. The wind is
howling. I can’t use my hand to
write. This will be my last journal
entry for a while. I hope I can get a little more sleep. (*note – I suffered nerve damage to both hands due to the severe cold of
the Artic Clipper. I didn’t get the feeling back into my hands until the
following August.)
We break camp after a hot breakfast of
oatmeal, fruit and tea. The dogs relished their food and are anxious to get on
with pulling sleds. We’re quickly learning the ropes to breaking and setting up
camp and how to work as a team to coordinate our efforts to maximize time and
efficiency. One task that I have not achieved success with is how to defecate
in the bitterly cold weather without freezing my butt off. It is so cold my
urine seems to freeze before it hits the ground! The temperature a day break
has risen to – 25 degrees F. When I expose my bare bottom to the cold, my cheeks
get frosted fast. It’s a morning routine that needs to be quick!
We’re heading to Coleman Island
today. On this route we’ll stop and
investigate ancient petroglyph writings on a stone wall that the ancient first
people left centuries ago. The sun is
out, blue sky plentiful and Marina is doing a great job leading the rest of the
dog team over Trout Lake.
As our group bounds around a small
Island, Chicago Jon motions to Joe Bodewes to stop. It appears that the
intensity of the cold has claimed our first member. Jon is giving up. He says he has had enough. He is walking over
to the Ojibwa Indian village we visited last night. He will call for a helicopter to come get
him. As I remember a conversation we had
on the 1st day, he told us this was his 2nd advanced
dog-sled trip with Paul Shurke’s Wintergreen Tours. We’re sad to see him leave
the group.
We’re
now down to our guide, Joe Bodewes, Bill, Phil, Terri and me. Joe directs me to
take over the Blue Sled leaving Terri with Marina on the Red Sled. This is our first time solo mushing! Scooter
is an accommodating lead dog. He’s in
full control of the team.
As we maneuver to the
northwest, we come to a rocky outcrop. Joe has the group queue up and points
out the petroglyphs. They consist of many figures represented in the first
people’s culture at the time. Many look similar to the following petroglyph’s
shown on what is called Newspaper Rock located in the Painted Desert of Arizona.
It’s
fascinating to envision the first peoples inscribing these petroglyphs on the face
of the stone. Are the artists in canoes
or are they sledding over the frozen like us? How ancient are the inscriptions?
What do they represent? We pondered these questions while eating some lunch.
We
finally pull into our Wednesday night camp on the northeast corner of Coleman
Island. I’m pleased with the performance of the dog team. Scooter’s leadership, along with Poncho, has
put me in a confident mood that we will have a successful run to the end of our
adventure on Sunday at Nell Lake. He has full control of the “Blue Team” as does
Marina with the “Red Team”.
We run for
firewood immediately after posting the dogs.
We need to get the fire going so we can get supper “on-the-boil” as soon
as possible. The group is hungry following a full day of skiing and mushing (as
are the dogs!) Phil, Bill and I tend to the dog’s feeding while Joe prepares
the evening’s feast. Terri tends to
erecting our tent and setting the wiggly bags into it. The sun is low in the
western sky, casting long shadows through the pine trees lining the island shore.
While mixing each of the dog’s gruel, comprised of a high caloric beef fat and high
protein dog food pellets mixed with boiling water, I chance to glance at each
of the Canadian Inuit Dog’s position on the tie line. It’s interesting. Each
dog seems to have a routine to settling into their individual space (the 5 foot
perimeter that is their own area for the night.) For example, Goofy paws at the
snow then turns counter-clockwise for several rotations before settling into
the snow. Patches, on the other hand, sniffs and nuzzles the snow before
settling down. Each dog uses its tail to cover and protect the face in the
extreme cold.
In no time at
all, we are all settled around the camp fire eating a hot meal of pasta
primavera, fruit and hot cider as the sun falls and darkness rolls over the
frozen landscape. We all engage in conversation covering many topics…all but
politics and religion! This is good! Nothing tears down camaraderie faster than
engaging in discussion of these two topics.
We find out that Joe Bodewes worked at Dr. Foster’s. This is the Pet Doctor’s group responsible
the Dr. Foster’s pet products catalog. As we continue into the evening, it is
apparent the temperature is falling. I
glance at my watch. It reads 1930 hours. Looking at the thermometer, it reads –
25 degrees F. I fill my thermos bottle with tang and boiling
water then head to the warmth of the wiggy bag.
Thursday, March 6, 2003 – Again,
my hands wake me up at 0300 Thursday morning. The pain is unbearable. Thousands
of hot needles feel as if they are buried in every centimeter of the skin
surface on both hands. I’ve got to push
through this pain and try to get some sleep. Thursday’s run to Curtain Falls
will be tough enough without having to deal with a hand problem. I look over at
Terri deep into the wiggy bag. She has
an inch of frozen condensation covering the hood cinched tight around her head.
I raise my head and chest above my hands. This seems to help reduce the pain a
bit.
Finally, the
faint early light of dawn begins its westward trek over the frozen land. I
check for blue sky. The sky is grey. Oh boy! Another cold, cold wakeup call! We
gather up our courage and bounce into our base-layer clothing, quickly dressing
for the adventure of the day. It is so cold
this morning (-30 degrees F.); so cold that a spare lantern bulb Phil Hage was
carrying in a pocket of his parka exploded with a loud “BANG”, causing the
group to jump. All the toilet articles we brought on the trip, from toothpaste
to nasal spray, are frozen. I’ve learned anything you want to stay thawed you
have to stuff where the sun doesn’t shine.
Thursday’s temps stayed around + 5
degrees F. during the daylight hours. At 1630, we pitch camp.
It is nestled in a cove. Finding firewood is tough.
It appears this is a regular stopping point. Not much to be found around our
location. So we fan out to a wider perimeter to retrieve what we can. As I’m
collecting firewood to drag back to camp, I draft a haiku poem in my head:
Smoke
from a chimney
Bitter
wind moves it-
A
chilled heart is warmed.
I make a mental note to put this verse
to paper, if, and when, my hands come back to life.
Our group is soon sitting by the fire
pit, plates full of steaming rice and beans. The dog teams are burrowed down in
the snow secured to the tie line, their feeding complete. Suddenly, the dogs
erupt in savage fury, howling as they jump and pull against the tie line. As we
point our head lamps in the direction of the eruption, we view the reflection
of several pairs of green eyes. “Coyotes”, Joe says. We head over to the dogs
and settle them down. The intruders have left the scene. We head back over to the
warmth of the fire.
I’m struck by the intense quiet of the
night. Our group seems to be in a like mood around the fire, mesmerized by the
flames. We look up and see the green pulsating
glow of the aurora borealis lighting up the northern sky. What an awesome sight! This definitely is
worth braving the cold. Soon, though, the call of a warm wiggy-bag beckons me. I head to the tent, dreading the pain to
come. My hands are a mess. Sleep will be
hard to come by. As I zip up the wiggy-bag, I give thanks for the warmth the
insulated thermos is providing. I say a prayer asking for a pleasant and
restful sleep. My prayer being answered I drift off, not hearing Terri arrive
sometime later.
Friday,
March 7, 2003 - Today’s journey has the group mushing to Bear Trap
Lake. This is our lay-over point through Saturday. There are some water falls at
this location we plan to ski to. However, to get to our Bear Trap Lake camp, Joe
informs us, we will have to portage over and through some tough terrain. The weather has cleared. The bright sunshine is a welcomed addition to
the day. We’re all upbeat, even the dog
teams. As bright as the sun appears, the
temps are still hovering around 5 degrees F.
After about 3 hours, we hit the location
where we will have to portage our sleds. With each sled weighing in at close to
500 pounds, this will warrant some work.
Looking at the terrain, the saws and axes come out and the bushwhacking
begins. As cold as it is, I still work up a sweat, a lot of sweat. This is a problem for me as I’m sure my
poly-pro base-layer will, most likely freeze during the remainder of the trip
to our Bear Trap Lake camp. I only have two sets of dry, first layer poly-pro
left to use for the remainder of the trip. The previous days used poly-pro are
frozen solid in my duffel bag.
Our camp will serve as a lay-over point
through Saturday night. I’m hoping we’ll find dry wood to be plentiful and not
so green. I’m anxious to get to our location as a deep chill is coming on
strong. Thankfully, by early afternoon
we arrive at our camp location. Terri and I quickly erect our tent.
We’re on to the task of gathering
firewood. It is plentiful and not to green.
That’s Joe and Phil in the background of the camp picture getting the
fire started. Once the fire gets going, Terri, Phil and Bill decide to take
advantage of the 3 hours of remaining daylight snowshoe over to the water fall.
Terri at the Falls
Saturday, March 8, 2003 - After another
fitful night, the dawn breaks bright and super cold. Today is a layover day. I
hang on to my North Face parka and tug the hood to the wiggy-bag harder around
my head. I don’t want to get up. As bad as I have to urinate, I just want to
relish in the warmth. But with my bladder about to burst I give in and ramble
out of the bag into some dry, warm clothing and head out to the woods. Soon the
rest of the group is up and about and the day gets underway. The fire is soon blazing. The gruel is in the pan. I’m at the tie lines
feeding the dog teams. The sky is blue,
the air super crisp. The temperature is a balmy – 20 degrees F. Today promises
to be a day of discovery!
Terri and I spend the
day snowshoeing around the area. The
falls are interesting in that, as cold as the temperatures are, the water is
flowing strong through the chutes, cascading over the funnels of ice lining the
banks.
We also spend time with the dog teams
inspecting their paws, cleaning out any impacted ice and snow. We inspect their
harnesses for any damage or severe wear. The sleds also are inspected. The runners are looked at closely for any
abnormalities. They look good. One note about the sleds; they’re a lot lighter
than when we started! This is in our favor as tomorrow’s trip to Nel’s Lake
involves a portage over land. Hopefully, this will prove to be a light
exercise. I’m somewhat wounded at
present with numb hands.
Sunrise over Bear
Trap Lake Camp
Sunday,
March 9, 2003 – We’re on our way to the pick-up point on Nel’s
Lake. This is the last day mushing. It’s bitter sweet. This trip has forged good
friendships, team spirit and a sense of accomplishment.
Terri and I are on the Blue sled with
Scooter in the lead. Phil Hage is solo
on the Red Sled with Marina in the lead. Joe Bodewes is route finding 50 yards
ahead. Bill Wright is cross-country
skiing bringing up the rear.
The day alternates between sun and
clouds. It is super cold that’s for
sure. I’m wearing my last dry layer of
poly-pro hoping our portage goes well and I can work the sled without too much
sweating. Once the work is over, the wet poly-pro chills to the bone, even with
the outer layers. Hypothermia is constantly on my mind.
We take a break for lunch, the sun
shines down on us and I’m hopeful for a little increase in temperature. The
dogs seem to enjoy the break as they lay down in the snow.
Soon we’re off and running again,
heading to a portage crossing. The
portage goes smoothly, but as usual, I sweat my butt off. In addition, the sun
disappears and the temperature drops.
Even with working the sled I’m cold, cold, cold. No feeling in my hands, I’m thankful Scooter
is such a good leader. He needs no help
in navigating the team through the narrow single track through which we’re
presently traveling.
Joe calls “Halt” to allow Bill to catch up. We gather momentarily in an igloo left behind
by some ice fishermen. I’m shivering so
hard Phil Hage puts my hands under his
armpits and joe gives me some hand warmers.
Thankfully, Bill arrives and we’re on our way again.
It’s early afternoon, and Joe casually
mentions he’s having trouble locating the route to Nel’s Lake and we might have
to stay out another night. I tell him,
“Joe, one more night out here and I’m a dead man!” He looks at me and smiles; I
think he must be pulling my leg!
We’re making good time, even with the
increase in snow pack. Phil has the Blue team working to cut the snow. This is a big help to Scooter and the Red
team. I’m sure Bill Wright appreciates
the cut snow as well.
We come to what appears to be several logging roads twisting
down to the edge of the frozen lake. Joe heads over to them. We follow. This,
Joe allows, is the last portage. Soon we’ll find Nel’s Lake, hopefully!
This is where Terri’s and my trip got
really exciting. Two miles into
navigating over land, we were in position to descend through a narrow
tree-lined single track and come out onto Nel’s Lake. Joe and Phil had already made the descent.
Terri and I halt to allow Bill Wright to catch up. Remember the one rule in Dog-sledding? Right,
do not let go of your sled! Well, in
coming to a stop, I step off the rudder and Terri, standing on a rudder, gets
pitched off the rear when the dogs take off.
I immediately take off in a sprint trying to catch them. Falling down, I get up; sprinting even faster
praying the sled doesn’t splinter against the trees lining the single-track
path. Luckily, don’t ask me how, I catch
the sled just as the team busts through the brush leading to Joe and Phil
waiting for us on Nel’s Lake. The move was so smooth they didn’t even notice
anything was amiss. Amazing! Terri and Bill meander on to our location as
casual conversationalists. Soon we
arrive at the pickup point. Paul Shurke
and some staff members have located the trailers and trucks in such a way as to
minimize the loading effort.
We’re heading back to Wintergreen Lodge!
Our trip is over! A warm bed, hot food and a steaming shower await us!
Monday, March 10,
2003 –
Trip celebration at
Wintergreen Lodge
Left to right: Bill Wright, Phil Hage,
Reid and Terri McClure, Paul Shurke (behind Terri)
and Joe Bodewes.
************************************************************************************
