Day 21

We had no idea what was around the corner from the campsite this morning. Bill thought of preparing the Tea Bisc for cinnamon rolls the night before – genius idea, so instead of a 3 hour ordeal, cinnamon rolls are one of the fastest meals possible. On the water by 9:40 we rounded the corner under dark skies with interspersed patches of blue. As we came about, the shorelines in front of us slid apart to reveal limestone crags of a completely different character from what we were used to. Giant limestone flower pot islands presented themselves with channels of whitewater between. As we paddled through, in awe of our surroundings, it began to grey over and drizzle a it. The rain only added to the enchantment. We felt like we were in The Never Ending Story, some of the island were grey humps, like the back of a giant tortoise, moss and short trees bristling only along the top. We stopped at the first one we reached and were blown away. We clambered around the sides, exploring tunnels into the rock. One side of the island was made up of perfectly whole imprints of shells, each the size of my palm. It looked like an expensive stone wall. Mackie and I scaled a crack up to the top to enjoy the view. We got back into our boats and continued. The dragging we expected became only fun sets, the river restricted y the strange rock into the channels, rather than being allowed to pan out over gravel and sand. The weather cleared and closed in repeatedly throughout the day. We passed rock formations of all kinds, brittle walls, giant pancaked slabs, layers bent into tortuous folds, all containing a universe of fossils from ancient ocean beds, and all untouched and pristine. We stopped at one island with a huge cave and I crawled to its end, 15 ft in. Each of the bows exchanged my headlamp and had a look. I did a little more free climbing up to the top and ended up about 20 ft up. It didn’t take much convincing to get me to jump in from there, the sun being out and all. The scenery here has become absolutely stunning. These flowerpot islands form micro canyons, each wall a unique world of art. We feel privileged to be some of the few to have seen it. The day has bee filled with highlights. Tom, Matt and I at lunch built a small tribute to this northern river; an inuksuk on a rocky bar in the middle of a panoramic section of river. I took shots (we named him inuk, meaning person in inuktitut) and I hope he lasts. Also, on a whim, we paddled up to a spot where a commonly high bank of the river seemed to have nothing on top of it. Having an urge to see a wide open space we pulled off, ran up, and discovered a vast burn site, populated with only moss ad dead tree trunks, needly grey spires pointing toward a stormy sky. The boys ran in all directions to wreak havoc toppling dead trees, and it was strange to see them from so far away, on such a flat plane, in what used to be a forest. We will be sad to leave scenes like this on the river.