Coppermine River | Paddle through history

There are strange noises outside the tent. Probably a ptarmigan. I have a dilemma. Staying comfortably in my sleeping bag or standing up to try to see this rather funny bird, a sort of big chicken with legs covered in feathers. I succumb to temptation, I watch. I can’t make out the ptarmigan, but I suddenly see a big white shape a few dozen meters from the camp…

The Coppermine River begins in the Northwest Territories, crosses Nunavut and empties into Coronation Gulf near the Inuit village of Kugluktuk. It is a popular destination for canoe camping because of its abundant wildlife, its landscapes which change from boreal forest to tundra and its very special place in the history of the country.

The Coppermine River was an important passageway, and a site of conflict, for First Nations and Inuit. In 1771, the British explorer Samuel Hearne was the first European to reach the Arctic Ocean by continental route following this great river. This expedition, however, was marked by a terrible massacre. Arriving near a waterfall, natives who accompanied Hearne murdered all the members of a sleeping Inuit camp: men, women, children. The place is now known as Bloody Falls.

Between 1819 and 1822, famous British explorer John Franklin led an expedition along the Coppermine River and Coronation Gulf, but due to poor planning, unreliable partners and simple bad luck, half of the members of the expedition die on the way.

As I’m looking for a slightly more serene experience, I’m joining a guided expedition organized by a Canadian company, Blackfeather. A seaplane drops us off on the edge of the river, in the middle of nowhere. We have about two weeks to descend the Coppermine for almost 400 kilometers to Kugluktuk. We set up camp for the night and the lead guide, Margaret, explains to us the various procedures to follow to ensure the well-being of everyone and the environment.

For example, she prepared a small bag that you have to bring when you go to the toilet (the toilet being any small discreet area far from the camp and the waterways). It contains a small shovel (to dig a hole), a roll of toilet paper, hydroalcoholic gel (to disinfect your hands), a can of pepper spray (in case a grizzly shows up at the wrong time) and a chaser -insects in aerosol (anyone who has had to take off their pants to go to the toilet in an undergrowth in spring understands the usefulness of this thing).

But since the summer was very dry in northwest Canada, biting insects are rare this year.

In the early morning, we break up camp, a process that we will perfect over the coming days and which will therefore take less time.

For the moment, the current is not very fast, which allows us to start the expedition peacefully. At this latitude, there are still trees, spruce trees that are not very large but very sturdy. Arctic terns fly around us, fishing eagles watch us from the tops of the spruce trees.

During the dinner break, we explore the beach: we see tracks of moose and wolves. There is life around us.

We have proof of this a few minutes after resuming the paddle. After a bend in the river, we see a musk ox near the bank, alone, imperial. He lets his photo be taken before retiring majestically.

The next day, a curious little caribou surprised us. We see him far downstream, on the beach with his mother, as we stop for a snack. When the lady caribou sees us, she quickly takes refuge in the thickets. But the young man hesitates to follow her. He gives in to curiosity and begins to gallop in our direction. He approaches, stops suddenly, says to himself that perhaps he hasn’t had the idea of ​​the century and turns around to return at full speed to his mother.

As the days go by, the current becomes stronger, rapids appear, first small, then more and more powerful. Sometimes you have to dock to observe the rapids and try to plan a route between obstacles. The canoe piloted by Margaret sets off first. The other canoes follow, like ducklings following their mother.

It was while turning around to give us directions that Margaret saw a moose behind us on the bank. How many animals observe us like this, discreetly, without our knowledge?

Brown bear, black flies and white wolf

The days are sometimes long. One afternoon we were so tired that we considered asking Margaret to stop for the night soon.

But then we see a young grizzly bear on the shore. Suddenly, we are ready to paddle several more kilometers before setting up camp.

The site we end up choosing isn’t ideal, there are a few black flies, but it’s still better than a brown bear.

It’s during the night that I see this famous white shape near the camp. We’re still far from the Arctic Ocean, it can’t be a polar bear. Maybe a mountain goat? I then realize that it is a big white wolf, which was probably chasing the ptarmigan and which stopped suddenly when it came upon our little tent village. He observes for a bit, then cautiously decides to withdraw.

How many great beasts roam our camp while we sleep the sleep of the righteous?

We resume our journey the next day. As the days go by, the spruce trees diminish in size, become rarer, then disappear. The temperature is getting colder. We are now in the tundra, a somewhat smoky tundra due to forest fires further south.

Everything is peaceful at Bloody Falls, nothing reminds us of the terrible massacre of 1771. The falls are so impressive that we decide to do a long portage to avoid them.

We eventually reach Kugluktuk and settle into the small local campground while waiting for our return flight. There’s no shortage of things to do, starting with a visit to the Visitor Center. For a small village of 1500 inhabitants, the building is impressive with a museum section and a local craft shop.

The Inuit are welcoming. Many parade through our camp to offer beautiful pieces of crafts: earrings, fur mittens, sculptures.

A lady leaves us a beautiful piece of caribou meat, like this, free of charge.

At 10 p.m., a shrill siren goes off. What is going on ? A disaster brewing? A tsunami, an earthquake?

No. The mermaid is simply meant to remind children that it is time to go to bed. North of the Arctic Circle, the sun sets late for much of the year and schoolchildren tend to forget to think about going to bed. The message applies to us too.

Visit the Blackfeather website (in English)