{"id":26086,"date":"2021-12-07T13:00:39","date_gmt":"2021-12-07T21:00:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/community.nrs.com\/?p=26086"},"modified":"2021-12-21T16:17:30","modified_gmt":"2021-12-22T00:17:30","slug":"an-early-warning-from-an-old-fish","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2021\/12\/07\/an-early-warning-from-an-old-fish\/","title":{"rendered":"An Early Warning from an Old Fish"},"content":{"rendered":"

We can hear a deep rumbling in the distance as we approach another blind corner in the river, so we point the bow of our 16-foot Prospector toward the thicket of willows half-submerged in the water and power hard. In the bow of the boat, Griffin closes his eyes as we crash through the bushes, grabbing onto branches until we slow to a stop on the waterline. The sound alone is enough for us to know that we won’t be running this rapid. On this trip, we blame our affinity for portaging on the fact that we\u2019re carrying an extra 50 pounds of scientific equipment. Our canoe is jammed full, but the little 16-foot boat is the biggest one we could fit on the Cessna Caravan on our flight in.<\/p>\n

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Each with a barrel on our back and no trail to follow, we set out on our first of three trips on this portage, pushing our way through the thick stands of willow, pine and spruce. In these parts of Northern Manitoba, on what is called the Hudson\u2019s Bay Lowlands, dry ground is rare. We walk on what feels like a magic carpet, with the moss and muskeg sinking beneath our every step. The water beneath the muskeg threatens to crest the tops of our rubber boots, and we curse when it finally does.<\/p>\n

I once heard a stat that more bloodsucking insects exist in the Hudson’s Bay Lowlands than any other part of North America, and though I cannot back that up with a reference, the thick clouds of biting black flies and mosquitos around us make me think I don\u2019t need to. The bugs cover our faces and ears, they\u2019re in our hair and eventually underneath our shirts and in our pants. We do our best to keep our cool, for it seems that these bloodsuckers like you best when your blood starts to boil.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s our fifth portage of the day, so by now we\u2019ve learned that carrying the canoe on your shoulders just isn’t possible in bush this thick. We resort instead to each taking an end and lifting\/dragging the boat through the trees and muskeg. Constantly wedged between young spruce, the bottom of the canoe rarely touches the ground.<\/p>\n