Death of a Paddler -- June 2006

Pete Peloquin kept a lodge at Chiniguchi Lake just southwest of Temagami. When I was very young, on our trips involving The Sturgeon, we’d often loop through Chiniguchi. The water there was different: blue green, clear, beautiful. There were a few lakes like that; Sunnywater, Wolf and Chiniguchi were the best. Fishing and hunting lodges often had candy for sale. We liked to visit, anyway. Pete was one of those fellows we’d always look for. Stories about him jumped from one generation of canoers to the next. Even if we’d never met him, we’d heard about him; and then we’d try to get to know him when we finally did meet him. One of my buddies, Pete Woodward, brought his parents up for a week or so to stay at Peloquin’s lodge. They loved it. The quiet, the fishing, the family fellowship, Pete Peloquin himself — with all his lore of the woods — were things that Peter's father could well appreciate in his own — busy — life. In its way, Peloquin’s Lodge was one of those shrines to which humanity might repair to refresh itself on the things that are basic to the living of life. I don’t know if the Woodwards ever came back. They certainly talked about it years later when I buried their son. Peloquin’s Lodge had helped them appreciate the love of paddling in that young man’s life.

There already were roads into that region when I was a kid. But most of us — of my generation — could get to Chiniguchi only by canoe. That was in 1960’s. By the 70’s I was paddling to The Bay. And then the years went by. But Chiniguchi and Pete Peloquin have always remained fresh in my memory.

The Harricanaw River lies on the traditional route taken by various paddling groups from Temagami on their canoe trips to The Bay. In one season a group could set out from Temagami, cross Temiskaming, portage The Indian, paddle Kipawa and the chain of lakes to Grand Lac Victoria. There they would head north. (If they headed south, they soon would be on The Dumoine — and in a few days, back on The Ottawa.) But this time they would head north, cross the divide remarkably easily. And then they would be on waters flowing to The Bay. If they nudged to the east and north they could connect with the rivers and lakes south of The Rupert: Bell, Waswanipi, Broadback, Nottaway. If they got on to The Broadback, they could then cross over to The Rupert. Or, they could head through to Mistassini Lake which is drained BY The Rupert. From The Rupert they could then cross to The Eastmain (which is what I did, with Wabun’s Section A, in 1973.) Or, they could go out of the north end of Mistassini and connect with the Upper Eastmain. AND, they could keep heading north and a little east, and then they would get to Nichicun. That lake could connect them with the La Grande River route to Chisasibi (once upon a time, Fort George). Or, maybe they’d like to head further north for the Great Whale River, as Keewaydin has done more recently. Or they could continue north and east and arrive (eventually) at Ungava Bay. Yes, you can paddle from Granny Bay to Ungava Bay, if you have the mind, the time, and the food. But a (relatively) quick way to James Bay from Temagami was via The Harricanaw. And that was one of the early routes of the Temagami paddlers.

The natives of the Moose Factory area also know The Harricanaw. They have known it for generations. It’s a few days’ paddle from here to Hannah Bay into which The Harricanaw flows. We have records here at Moose Factory of folks born at Hannah Bay or on The Harricanaw. The Hudson’s Bay Company managed a satellite post there for several tears. It was the site of the Hannah Bay Massacre — one of the few instances of open hostilities between the races in the James Bay region. Later George Elson (who guided in BOTH Hubbard expeditions — husband’s and then widow’s) managed his own store or depot there. I was told that he died on the way back from Hannah Bay to Moose Factory. A storm came up on The Bay suddenly. The boat swamped. Everyone got through ok — except for George. He died on The Bay and was buried at Moose Factory in the Cemetery behind Old St. Thomas’ Church.

Families here have maintained goose hunting camps and trap lines for generations in and around Hannah Bay — and between here and Hannah Bay. Patrick, an Elder, tells me that the run from Hannah Bay to Moose Factory by dog sled is two days — “IF you feed the dogs.” With present day freighters and gas engines, the trip over the water is quite manageable. The choppers do the trip in minutes. For the most part the trip to Hannah Bay or to The Harricanaw is quite routine.

But there are tragedies. In September 1999 two freighters headed from Moose to Hannah Bay swamped. Eight people perished — several from the same family. Today, the memory is fresh. Memorials are installed on Big Stone Island — along with a large white wooden cross. Shrubs and firs are planted each year — as memorials and also to keep the soil stable. Each year since the accident, usually over Labor Day Weekend, there have been prayers, remembrances, and a feast on Big Stone Island.

Canoeists from Temagami have perished, as well, on The Harricanaw. There are two accidents that I know about: one years ago and another quite recently. Neither, as far as I know, had anything to do with any fault of the guide. Who knows how these things can happen? Some folks have suggested that the danger of the water was misunderstood or under appreciated. The locals around here, as well as elsewhere around The Bay, usually are very cautious around moving water. Often they just don’t understand — simply cannot fathom — what drives the canoeist’s passion for shooting rapids. Maybe they know something we haven’t yet learned. Maybe we have something they have forgotten. (The only time George Elson really chewed out Mina Hubbard was when she got too near the water.)

As best as I can get the gist of the present story, Derek and Zanna met in their teens, had been married about four years, and started this year in their mid-twenties. They loved to canoe together. They were experienced trippers. Derek listed out some rivers they had traversed — rivers that I had never heard of and which flow way to the north and west of here. I believe these folks to have been technically adept, young, strong, full of adventure, and smart. They had decided to take a canoe trip on The Harricanaw. I don’t know yet exactly how they approached The River or accessed it. They could have come in from the west, from Cochrane, on something like The Turgeon River. Or they could have taken one of the roads into northwestern Quebec and accessed The Harricanaw that way.

The papers stated that the accident happened on The Kattawagami. The Kattawagami joins The Harricanaw at the very end. And it can be approached from the west -- from Cochrane. However or wherever it happened, the accident occurred just before Hannah Bay.

I understood from Derek that they were on the second to last rapids before the final falls when the accident occurred. That was about eight days ago, as best as I can tell from Derek’s story. They swamped. Then the two of them got caught in an eddy. He thought he had pushed her out of the eddy — to safety. That’s the last he saw of her. He went unconscious. By his estimate he was out for 20 minutes. When he came to, he was on a rock. The current had stripped off his shoes and clothing. He could not find his wife — and love of his life — Zanna — anywhere. For a while he staggered along the shore looking for her. Nowhere to be found. Nothing. He did find the canoe. It had a paddle in it. He paddled and searched the shore. Bits of gear presented themselves — floating on the surface of The River. They had had a little dog with them on this trip. That, also, floated, lifeless, on The River. Still, no Zanna.

So, he went for help. Finished The River and entered Hannah Bay. From there he paddled along the shore about halfway to Moose Factory Island — as far as Big Stone Island. There he was discovered by a Moose Factory resident heading out to Hannah Bay. Of course, immediately that boat turned around and headed straight for The Hospital. The alarm was sounded, the OPP notified. This was six days after the accident and this last Friday afternoon (9 JUNE 2006).

On Saturday the search commenced: first by chopper; and then, if necessary, by ground search party. I don’t know if the guys on the ground ever got there. By afternoon Zanna had been discovered, and she was brought to the morgue at The Hospital. Derek identified the body and headed straight to Cochrane to meet up with his and her families. Those folks had headed to Cochrane as soon as they had heard the news.

As someone noted, “He will never be able to come back to Moose Factory.” Maybe that’s true. I hope not. Folks here know what happened — instinctively. It’s in their blood and in their history. And as I told him, “There but for the grace of God go I” — and countless others, who — filled with the spirit of adventure and curiosity — set out with only what they can carry on their backs. And it’s in that frame of reference — and only within that frame of reference — that you can SEE and know what’s real — about yourself and about each other and about the world in which you live.

And the paddlers understand that about themselves and about each other — although they can’t explain it very well. And it seems like shear madness to everyone else. And maybe it is.

But I’d do it all over again, if I could. And I hope Derek will, too. Meanwhile, Zanna rests with her grand daddy, Pete Peloquin, and the paddlers and others of adventurous spirit who have gone before her and him. May her spirit, as it sleeps in The Lord, remain fresh — and be there for the rest of us — when the time comes — that, again, we all may be one.

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There still are some details of the story to be worked out or verified. But these are my thoughts this Monday after Derek arrived last Friday at Moose Factory. This is a Journal. I want to get things written while they’re still fresh. My apologies for any errors or mis-statements.