Day 15. Wed. July 27 (57°16’16” N, 74°46’49” W)

On which our protagonist avoids deception.

9PM 57°27’07” N, 74°23’52” W

Good day, borderline great day, perhaps the best so far.

I set out early in an upbeat mood, as today was a paddle through islands, one of my favorite kinds of geography. And I had terrific conditions, which meant I was able to get into a paddling rhythm and enjoy the splendid scenery. The Iles Simialuit are often tall and dramatically imposing. Simply choosing routes between them and watching their rock faces pass by was repeatedly inspiring. I take trips like this to revel in these sorts of views, and Minto has them everywhere.

At one point between islands, the water grew shallow and took on the turquoise hue I remember from certain beaches in the Caribbean. The sun was unhindered and a few water plants surrounded me. Putting my hand in the water, it was unexpectedly warm. For a mad moment I felt like I was three thousand miles to the south. I lingered a bit before paddling out of this tiny tropical bubble.

Past the Iles Simialuit lies Baie Deception, which is aptly named. By this point you have been paddling in a more or less unbroken path to the ENE for days, and the bay lies straight ahead in the same direction. From the map, it’s clear that you need to swing northward, but if the weather is decent you won’t want to. The bay tempts you with stunning hills rising all around. It would be easy to just keep going in the same direction you have been, to paddle right toward them, to get closer. Even as I turned north, I kept looking, hearing their silent siren call in my brain. At least the landform that forces your course change rivals the bay in physical beauty and name: Presqu’Ile Uivvaq. I still don’t know what Uivvaq means. It’s notable that most map feature names up here combine French with Inuktitut.

By the time you pass the peninsula, the map suggests you are on the Leaf River, but the water says differently. It’s narrow like a river would be, but it’s as still as the rest of Minto. There will be no hint of current for many miles.

There are a few signs of humanity, though. After rounding Presque’ Ile Uivvaq and resuming a course to the ENE, I spotted something up ahead that was as bright red as my kayak. An hour later, I was close enough to see it was part of an old fishing camp, thoroughly demolished by bears. It looks to be an attempt at a business that failed. Too bad, really; it’s a fantastic spot with plenty of inviting flat space and a fine small-boat harbor. I got out to stretch and have a quick look around, but there wasn’t much to see. I left. I avoid places that bears have frequented. They might come back at the wrong moment.

Narrow though the channel is, this is perhaps my favorite part of the lake. The banks are rocky and fairly steep, and though good campsites seem infrequent down near the water, climbing up a ways offers chances to pitch a tent and look out on the canyon that stretches off in both directions. The fine weather is contributing to my mood: Clearer skies in the morning, giving way to blockish clouds in the afternoon, just as Herb Pohl described on one of his trips to what was not yet Tursujuq Park in his day. It's been dry for a few days and I have been slathering my face with sunscreen since I left the cabins.

All this grandeur. I am inspired, but I am still having trouble relaxing enough to completely enjoy it.

I am now more than two weeks into the trip, and I’m days behind schedule. I am also nervous about my food resupply, which I have arranged with Louis, the proprietor of the Leaf River Lodge, a fly-in fishing camp on the river. It’s the one place along my route I can expect to find people. He offered to take a small bag of freeze-dried meals to the Lodge if I mailed it to him in advance.

My original plan had been to mail my food box to him as I passed through Ottawa. However, just before I crossed the border on Saturday morning, I discovered that Canadian post offices were closed. After a moment of panic, I found a way to mail it from upstate New York before I crossed. It still should have had plenty of time to get to him, based on his own travel plans, but I didn’t hear from him before I paddled out of Umiujaq. Maybe it had arrived later, or he didn’t confirm receiving it in time, or…

It's nerve-wracking. I have more than 350 km to go. I’m not even on the river yet. The plan was to fly back from Tasiujaq on Wednesday a week from today, with Friday as my backup. This is taking so long I may not even be able to make a Monday flight, let alone Friday. And I have nine days of food left. I am beginning to realize the real situation here: I have to finish the river before my supplies run out.

Enough worrying. Need to sleep … and get up and crank tomorrow.