Day 8

We woke up to thunder this morning, and the buggiest tent I’ve ever seen. We looked at each other, laughed, and basically rolled over, waiting for the storm to passed. We got up late, cooked our red river, and in a little false break in the weather, we set off to make progress with the hope of hitting Neskantaga, the first nations reserve that has a Northern grocery store where we hope to pick up some food. Lightning forced us to shore for 45 minutes and we set off again. Low pressure warned that the breaking clouds were temporary. Sure enough, 5k later, after we’d pulled off for lunch, thunder kept us on shore. We sat down to wait it out on shore and suddenly noticed black clouds sweeping toward us from the horizon. They were moving quickly, as though they had the intention of hitting us like a freight train. It’s always a little unsettling when you can see something that big, that far away, moving that quickly. We set to work on a tarp, watching the impending doom with sidelong glances as we worked. The storm approached, low grey clouds pulled by overhead, only 50 ft above. Downdrafts could be seen, along with quickly revolving, funnel-like shapes clearly made out between. The clouds rushed in, roiling and pulling in their wake freezing cold air and a violent wind. A wall of rain rushed across the lake and pelted our tarp like hail for 15 minutes. All we could do was laugh as Bill and I leaned into some poles we’d set up to keep the tarp up. I’ve never seen such an abrupt change in windspeed and temperature. After the squall subsided we paddled through tiny lakes. Low grey clouds pulled through and dusted uswith rain. Every potential campsite we inspected was covered in trash and shotgun shells, presumably from the First Nations residents that lived nearby. We are camped at one such site. We set to work on fire and dinner, and after a monumental peanut curry we are settled in and happy. As we talk in the tent we can see our breath swirling around us. The temperature has dropped so low. It’s still drizzling now, but the pressure is slowly rising – hopefully a good sign. Tomorrow is Sunday and we worry that the Northern will be closed. No problem, it’s not a necessity. Tomorrow we hit Lake Attawapiskat – and if we pull of a 35k crossing we’ll be well ahead in our schedule. Here’s hoping for warm weather.

Ps - these two pictures were taken about 20 minutes apart, from the same spot, notice the trees in common on the left horizon, one's just zoomed in. The weather has lost its marbles completely.