This is an aerial view of the North end of the 26 mile long lake I call "My Lake". It is part of a river system that eventually flows into Hudsons Bay. A map search of likely locations for a cabin yielded a nearby lake as meeting my criterion of being true wilderness and with the prospects of staying that way because of no direct access from a road. My Canadian wilderness picture story begins in the summer of 1991 when we went exploring to find the location for my wilderness cabin.

May 22, 1991. Don secures the 15' sports canoe and 18' canoe to the trailer carrying the 15' Lund. Dewayne Niebur and Scott Bunker traveled north with Don in Dewayne's 4-Runner and Don's Sentry. Scott returned to Denver after 3 weeks in the Sentra to start his first job after college.

The drive to Canada goes thru Montana Big Sky country where many spectacular views can be found.

In La Ronge we stopped to get gas and Canadian bacon. Luckily we found a meat market but they had no bacon. The manager, Terry Helary, had been moose hunting in \"My Lake\" the prior Fall and told us about a 4-wheel drive trail to within 150 yards of \"My Lake\". He ended up giving us 18 pounds of bacon that he said he couldn\'t sell because he had it in the freezer all winter. (it was delicious) At the end of the trail we found this moose head. Don is the one on the right.

Several years later, Terry told Don how the moose head had gotten to the trailhead. While hunting in My Lake the fall of 1990, a hunter with Terry had found a moose skeleton on a rock shelf and had retrieved the rack, planning to take it home. After loading their trucks for the trip home, there was no room for the rack so it got left behind for me to find the next spring.

We "tailgate" camped near the main road and spent a day checking out the three possible ways of getting to water. A nearby lake was accessible from the main road but the portage from it into My Lake was very impractical. The river approach to My Lake went through a set of "killer" rapids which we walked and decided were totally impractical, so the 4-wheel road and 150 yard portage seemed the best way and exactly fit my criterion. We thought the last 1/4 mile of 4-wheel road was too bad to pull in the trailer with the 14" Lund so our first trip into My Lake was with the two canoes and portaging much of the 4-wheel road. The portage to My Lake on May 25, 1991 is here complete and the two canoes are ready to be loaded for the 20 mile crossing of My Lake and subsequent portage into the Target Lake.

This is Dewayne's view from his canoe of Don and Scott leading the way in the sports canoe and 3 HP. Dewayne had a 2HP mounted with a side bracket on his 18' canoe. We had passed through some rough water but now the lake was settling down a bit and we are about 4 miles from our first camp.

The water depth was unknown so Don used a depth finder to feel his way along. "My Lake" turned out to have less than the normal number of submerged rock piles to hinder navigation but that was not known at this time. Water depth varied from 4' to 70' with the first 10 miles nominally at 7'. Late in May the temperature was still "crisp".

Dewayne did most of the cooking and it was all done over a wood fire.  Don welded up a special 12” x 48” grille that allowed the use of long sticks for the fire and afforded room for 4 or 5 pots on the grille at any time.  With a “long” fire you can have different heat at different spots and Dewayne got quite good at regulating temperature of the wood fire.  Collection and storage of dry wood for cooking became part of the daily routine, especially after failure to do so resulted in trying to cook a meal with only wet wood.

Many pairs of eagles  were nesting in the “Target Lake”, a testimony to its remote character. We spent 3 weeks exploring the "Target Lake". The fishing was not spectacular and the archipelago that had attracted me to the "Target Lake" was in shallow water, were the fishing was poor and the shoreline covered with bushes and not with the typical rocky shore of the glacial shield variety. We moved our camp from there to a better island closer to the best fishing (Goose Egg Island) but the lake just didn't have the right "feel". While going in and out of "My Lake" to take Scott back to the car, we were impressed by the much better fishing above the first rapids in "My Lake", close to where we had camped the first night. We decided to abandon the "Target Lake" and concentrate on exploring "My Lake". Besides, those two portages were starting to make me realize that perhaps the "Target Lake" was a bit too remote. We set up a new camp on a small island about one mile from the rapids (and good fishing) and checked out various cabin locations around "My Lake".

Don and Dewayne drove to La Ronge and picked up Tom Kamp Sr. and Jr. at the airport where they had flown to in their twin engine Cessna for a week of fishing.

Tom Sr. enjoys holding a perfect cribbage hand of 29 while Don frowns.  The fishing continued excellent.

Dewayne's parents, Jay and Ruth came in for a week of camping and fishing.  We met them in La Ronge after returning the Kamp’s to the airport.

It started to rain as we left the landing with them and it rained steady for 5 days. The first night we all slept in my “4-man” tent.  As any camper knows, a “4-man” tent is about the right size for 2 people, so our first night on the island was a bit “cozy” to say the least.  After checking out many possibilities and alternatives we selected a cabin site on an island adjacent to where we were camped.  Several trees were cut down and wood cross section samples cut from the logs at 4’ increments to take home for analysis.

Dewayne stands near a camp structure we used to support a tarp overhead and limited counter top area. Dewayne and I spent some more time fishing and exploring "My Lake" after his folks left the island.  We made a detailed census of the tree size and quantity on the island selected for the cabin site.  During this census, Don had the occasion to try killing a grouse by throwing his hatchet.  Fortunately for the grouse, Don has never been an accurate thrower and managed only to hit a tree.

Don seems very happy in the wilderness.  Growing a summer beard became a habit for several years.  On the way home when getting gas in LaRonge, a small Indian boy was staring at Don’s long white beard.  Don confronted the boy with a question “I am Santa Claus and I want to know if you have been a good boy this year?”.  The startled lad nodded that he had been a good boy.  Don replied “Ho Ho Ho You will have a good Christmas this year”.  I hope he did.

A trip was made into the Target Lake to retrieve the table and benches we had left on “Goose Egg Island”.  Horizontal space is always at a premium in the wilderness.

Dewayne writes in his log   On the last day we went to the far north east end of the lake about 5 miles away, just to make sure we were not passing up a better location. Normally the “stub” end of a lake will be shallow and full of weeds and not very good walleye fishing. Bingo, love at first sight. We found a larger island with 100' of elevation, sand beach and 50' deep water out front. It just was "love at first sight", so we changed our cabin site choice and put up a red flag on the lot line for the conservation officer to hopefully approve for lease the next year.  All points on the lot line must be a minimum of 100 meters from the high water mark.  This requirement eliminates many smaller islands from being considered for lease.

A portage into another river system feeding into My Lake yielded a look at a moose feeding along the way plus this mother and baby loon.  As we approached too close, the mother dove under water.  The chick tried to follow suit but it was just too buoyant and just managed to submerge its head and make a lot of splashing with its little feet clawing at the water.  We quickly retreated and they swam off to the shelter of reeds.

The tranquility of evenings like this, raw wilderness, no people signs and excellent fishing convinced me that this was the spot. The conservation officer I had worked with for the last two years was killed in a floatplane crash two days after I had talked with him about submitting my lease application in September of 1991. My application was lost, resubmitted, then found and an administrative delay resulted. Saskatchewan was also re-thinking their lease program and doubling the lease fee, so after my lease was approved in May of 1992, it was held up until the re-pricing had been approved. This didn't delay any work in 1992, it just was a nuisance factor for most of the summer.

Sunsets are reddish when a forest fire as far away as 500 miles puts smoke in the atmosphere. The lake may fill with smoke from as much as 200 miles away. We have had large ash fall from fires 100 miles distant.  Sunsets in the wilderness seem so spectacular, is that “real” or is it just because we take the time to look??

During years of high solar activity the Auroras at this northern latitude are frequently spectacular.  On one of our first nights camping out this summer we were treated to the rare sight of a simultaneous full moon, dancing Auroras of multiple colors and a spectacular sunset.

Scott Bunker, Dewayne Niebur and Don Bunker left Boulder driving Don’s 1985 Sentra and Dewayne’s 1990 Toyota 4-Runner, pulling my 14 foot boat and trailer.  We had a 2HP Evinrude, 3HP Johnston and a new 1990 10HP Johnston motor.  Besides the 14’ Lund, we had an 18’ Grumman canoe plus a 15’ Grumman Sports Canoe.  The 18’ canoe was fitted with a side motor mount for the 2 HP motor. The Sports canoe has a small transom for the 3 HP motor and the 10 HP motor was for the 14’ Lund.

Driving through the night and kept awake by a steady supply of Mountain Dew, we made it to LaRonge in 20 hours.  Scott and Dewayne traded off driving the Toyota and Don drove alone in the Sentra.  After fueling the vehicles we went looking for a store or better yet a meat market to buy the only remaining supply item we needed, Canadian bacon.  Betty’s father had instilled in me the tradition of taking a slab of Canadian bacon out into the bush and so it remained a “must have”.  Driving only a short block to a stop sign, we looked right and there it was, our lucky day ,the Kitsaki meat processing plant, just what we were looking for.   It was a big disappointment to find they had no bacon for sale but the good news was that the boss, Terry Hilary had been moose hunting in Spalding Lake the prior Fall and was full of information.

Don got out his maps and Terry told us the location of a four-wheel trail back into Spalding Lake, bypassing the rapids that were on the river between the road and the Lake.  What a stroke of luck!!  He also spoke of a good camping spot with a sand beach close to the Wilson Rapids.  He said the fishing above the rapids was superb, just the kind of talk we wanted to hear.  After talking for a while more, Terry asked an employee if the 20 pound slab of bacon they had put in the locker the prior Fall was still there.  It was, and he insisted on giving it to us, sure it was still good but too old to take money for it.  Wow, these Canadians are a bunch of great guys and this was our lucky day!!  That bacon turned out to be some of the best bacon we ever had.

It was about five hours driving north on the gravel road.  The mining trucks coming south were going way too fast and seemed bent on running us off the road.  This was a hazard I had not counted on.  We spent a couple days camped at the Wathaman Bridge parking area, and explored various methods of getting into Spalding Lake.  First, we walked the 4-wheel drive road , checking out how bad it would be to travel.  There was one low spot that was full of water and it looked quite bad, but probably passable.

We took a canoe down the Wathaman River from the parking area along the main road and beached above the rapids about one mile down river on the east side.  We walked on the shore along the rapids, but found no portage trail.  The route was rough and not fit for portage, having several low wet spots, much under brush plus it was fairly long.  There were actually two sets if rapids, both being split in several channels.  None of this looked very friendly and the lower rapids looked to be a “killer” with large standing waves and many swirls and eddies.  The end of the rapids was not clearly visible but we had seen enough to know that it would stop almost anyone except an experienced canoeist and it made the 4-wheel road look very easy.

Next, we drove down to Bothwell Lake and found a narrow auto trail back into a nice camping spot and a good place to launch a boat.   After launching the sports canoe, we traveled northeast up the lake several miles to a bay where there was a low land saddle to the east where the map showed the probable route into Caldwell Lake.  The bay was full of weeds and flooded trees so it was difficult to find a dry landing spot in the bay. We ended up landing well right of the bay and skirted the shore back to the low saddle area and proceeded east up the saddle valley.  There had been a recent fire in the area (1980) and the new growth trees were packed so tight that it was difficult going and the party was frequently separated until someone gathered us back together with some whistling or shouting.  We reached the summit of the saddle in about one quarter mile and could barely make out a lake ahead of us.  We plunged back into the dense new growth and eventually came to the shore of Caldwell Lake.  It had been burned clean in 1980 and thus was surrounded by short new growth.  It looked quite stark and uninteresting.  The poor landing area and the lack of a decent portage trail caused us to lose any interest in pursuing this route into Spalding.  Besides, the maps showed a long stretch of river between Caldwell and Spalding, probably adding to the detriment of this route.  Later exploration confirmed that the river between Caldwell and Spalding is not portage friendly and not a practical route.

Now we focused all our attention to the 4-wheel route into Spalding.  The boat trailer and 14’ Lund were parked at the top of the ridge about one eight mile into the trail.  We didn’t know at the time that it was possible to get a trailer down that trail.  The plan was to get into Spalding Lake somehow, then travel the 19 miles to its outlet, portage around the Wilson Rapids and into Greenbush Lake, my selected target cabin site.

The 4-wheel road ended about 150 yards from the water of Spalding Lake and it necessitated that we portage our gear down the well-worn trail.  The trail wound through a thicket of older growth black spruce and crossed a small stream.  The stream was at flood and it overflowed onto the trail for a short cut to the bay.  Fortunately, someone had covered the stream with a 4’ x 8’ piece of plywood and it provided us with a serviceable bridge.  We portaged most of our gear down this muddy mess and piled it on the hillside adjacent to the water.  Dewayne took a picture of our gear piled helter-skelter and the area looks like it was hit by a tornado.

After loading the two canoes, Scott and I manned the Sports Canoe with it 3 HP motor, leading the way.  Dewayne followed in the 18’ canoe with the 2 HP side mounted. The nature of the 18’ canoe, especially with a heavy load and a side mounted motor makes it very “tipsy”, hence best manned by a singe person who doesn’t have to concern himself with a partner’s shifting weight.  I used a depth finder, not knowing the water depths or propensity for submerged rocks in this new body of water.  The first few miles are clearly more river than lake travel and the water depths could come up to 5’ fairly often, especially where you would imagine a submerged sand bar or rocky point to be.

As we progressed more into small lakes and then more open water, we encountered a head wind.  I was worried that Dewayne would try to keep in my track and have difficulty, shipping water or worse.  I slowed and was relived to see that Dewayne had also slowed and was quartering more to a lea area toward the right shore.  I now knew that his natural feel for the water and high intelligence was compensating for Dewayne’s lack of boating experience.  He was not going to blindly follow me and have a problem, no, he could be counted on to carefully assess the situation and pick an alternative that would be much safer than the disaster he could imagine.  This evaluation proved to be correct many times by subsequent events, Dewayne could be counted on to make good independent decisions.

Because of the wind direction, we traversed most to the 19 miles to Wilson Rapids on the right or south shoreline, weaving in and around the many points and islands.  When in doubt, I would travel to the low spot on the horizon in the general direction my map showed me to go and eventually the map features would be discernible and for a short while I would know exactly where we were.  After about 5 hours, we arrived at the bay above Wilson Rapids and looked for the sand beach campsite we had been told about by Terry Hillard in LaRonge.  The water level was high this spring and the beach was flooded so we were unable to find it, however we did find a nice shelf rock adjacent to a small sheltered cove area for our campsite. Lower water levels later showed that we missed the sandy beach by less than 100 yards.   It was about 8 PM, but due to the season and the high latitude, we knew we still had 3 hours of good light left to set up camp.

We spent a couple days in our camp there, exploring the area and resting from our long trip.  Wilson Rapids was actually two parallel rapids with the main rapids on the left or east side of an island with a much smaller rapids on the right side.  In later years of low water, the smaller rapids could be dry.  We found the fishing to be excellent above the small rapids, just as Terry had told us..  There was a well worn portage trail on the right side of the small rapids of about 400 yards in length.  At the end of this portage we found a small lake of about ½ mile in length.  We named it “Intrim Lake”.  Another large single rapids left the Intrim Lake and flowed into our destination, Greenbush Lake.  About 200 yards upstream from this lower rapids we discovered a faint, ¼ mile long portage trail that ended on the shores of Greenbush Lake.

In preparation for portaging into Greenbush Lake, we stashed much of our provisions on the island between the two rapids.  While exploring this island, we found a recently dead wolf curled up in a fetal position.  The following year we returned to that spot and retrieved the skeleton for display on the tripod entrance to my beach.

The portages into Greenbush Lake started to plant the seed in my mind that perhaps I had picked a lake a bit too remote.  As we portaged all our gear over these sometimes wet but always rough terrain portage trails, the problem of getting building supplies and gear into Greenbush came more clearly into focus.  I especially was trying to project myself 20 years into the future and imagine what it would be like to access a cabin on Greenbush Lake when I was 78 years old, in the physical condition of my fathering-law at that age.

As planned many months earlier we made our way to the west end of Greenbush to an interesting archipelago of islands that had been so attractive on my map search a year earlier.  We camped on a beautiful smallish island with a smooth flat rock that sloped down into the water and provided not only a convenient spot for beaching the canoes, but also a handy spot to collect clean water and to swim.  The Auroras were spectacular at night and we could only imagine how good the fishing was going to be.  Unfortunately, after fishing for several weeks on almost ever bit of the lake, the only consistent good fishing was located above the outlet, Scott Rapids, about seven miles east of our camp.  The water depth around our island camp was found to be fairly shallow and it was obvious that by mid-summer it would be choked with floating vegetation and the poor fishing would only get worse.   Further, the lake was very well named with most of the shoreline covered with dense green bushes.  I was looking for a lake with a more traditional glacial shield look, with a predominately rocky shoreline and an occasional beach.

Three weeks into our trip, we took Scott back to the landing so he could return to Denver for his first real job after college.  We drove a few miles south on the main gravel road to a small trail leading to a spot adjacent to Bothwell Lake where we had hidden the Sentra Scott was driving back to Colorado.  Goodbyes were said and Dewayne and I returned to the 4-wheel drive track.  On his way back to the USA, Scott thought he should shave and clean up a bit before crossing the border.  Unfortunately, the US border patrol thought he looked too tidy for having been 3 weeks in the wilderness and grilled him for a long time about the drugs they suspected he was smuggling into the US.  They finally allowed him to enter the US after an extensive search of the Sentra did not yield any countrband.

We portaged the 14’ Lund on our backs down the 4-wheel drive road and then the portage trail to the lake.  It was close to 3/8 of a mile and our shoulder muscles ached for several days after the effort.  Don later discovered it was possible to negotiate the 4-wheel track with a truck and boat trailer to the end of the 4-wheel track.

The 14’ Lund was used to get us to the Wilson rapids and then the sports canoe got us into Green Bush.  There we prepared to move camp from the west end of the lake to Goose Egg Island six miles to the east.  Next day we broke camp in preparation for the move.  Unfortunately, by the time we were all loaded up, the wind had stirred up whitecaps that prevented out venturing out on the lake.  Late in the afternoon the wind subsided just enough to allow us to reach our new island camp, even if it was over water too rough to safe travel.  Since we had broken up camp on our western island early that day and did not want to put it back up on the same island we had pushed the safety margin to the limit and fortunately, we didn’t pay a price beyond some wet gear.

After several hour of setting up our new camp and halfway through supper preparation at midnight, Don “ran out of gas” and collapsed asleep in the tent unconcerned about missing supper.  The next day while exploring this 200 yard diameter island for saplings to build camp, Don walked into a shady spot where the sphagnum moss was a foot thick and it looked to have never been touched by human kind.  I leaned against the bare wood of a large downed tree, taking in this serene scene and feeling honored to be the first human being to set foot there.  Then I saw it, a brand new salt shaker balanced upright on the downed tree, with not a drop of rust or even water inside, in spite of the recent rain.  The spell was broken but one could still not be struck by the quite beauty of the spot.

That day we again went fishing at the outlet to Greenbush Lake, above the Scott Rapids.  While anchored above the rapids, we observed a water spout about two feet thick and 30 feet tall.  It was only 40 yards away but did not look strong enough to be threatening.  There was only a gentle wind blowing up the rapids.  It lasted for about a minute and was to become the first of three similar sightings over the years.   The cause of these water spouts is quite unknown.

Finally we decided to move out of Greenbush and into Spalding Lake so we could explore that lake for a cabin site.  While moving our gear back into Spalding Lake, I stumbled during the portage along side Wilson Rapids.  I was on the transom end of the Sports canoe and came down hard on a rock with my knee cap, the start of a bursa problem that lasted several years.  Now I was really getting tired of the long portages and with the fishing so great above Wilson Rapids, the allure of Spalding Lake was intense.  This accident had confirmed the logic of abandoning Greenbush Lake as a cabin site.

Our new camp was out in Spalding Lake, behind the big island (now we call it Jay’s Island) guarding Wilson Rapids Bay next to the north shore.  It afforded good shelter from the wind, had a good landing rock  and it was only a mile to the “honey hole” that we visited regularly.  Most of the shoreline for several miles both up and down the lake were fished hard, but it was not easy to leave the “honey hole” for long.  Don decided that the fishing at the “honey hole” was more than enough good reason to warrant building a cabin some where close by.

We drove to LaRonge airport to pick up Tom Kamp SR and Jr. who had flown in on their twin engine Cessna. They camped and fished with us for a week and then we return them to LaRonge.  That same day Ruth and Jay Niebur arrive in LaRonge as we were eating lunch in the Kentucky Fried Chicken shop.  Jay drove up on the cement sidewalk outside our seated location in the shop and gave us quite a start.  We drove north with them, Jay going 60 to 70 on the gravel road in his big old station wagon with Don half scared to death.  Ruth and Dewayne fell far behind us in the Toyota.

After a fairly quick portage, the boat trip out to our island camp was in an ever-increasing rainstorm that would last 5 days.  It was too wet that first night on the island to set up another tent, so we all spent the night in my smallish four-man tent.  They were there about one week.

During their stay, we spent our time searching for a cabin site, fishing and conducted a tree survey.  One day we cut 8 of the larger trees we thought usable for cabin construction and then cut out a ½” cross section each 4 feet of length for further study at home.  A fishing boat made an unexpected visit to our island and we originally thought it might be a conservation officer.  We had a small pond full of fish we were collecting for the Nieburs to take home and we hustled to make sure we were within legal limits.  It turned out to be a gunsmith from Grand Junction who claimed to be the one who created the four-wheel road into the landing sometime in the late 1970’s.  He had a friend from Texas with him and they were on their way into Greenbush for some fishing.  We never saw them again.

Dewayne and I boated Jay and Ruth back to the landing  at the end of their week with us and then returned to our camp.  The island just north of Jay’s Island was finally decided on as the site for my cabin.  It was large enough, well hidden from the main water route and only one mile from the “honey hole”.  It did lack high ground and a great beach but it was very sheltered and had an acceptable rock shelf for a water front.

Dewayne and I considered that island as being representative of the other islands with good stands of timber.  In order to get a good idea of how much timber was around, we counted every large tree on that island, marking each with a pink ribbon so we would not count any twice or miss any trees.  The diameter of each was recorded so we could know the distribution of sizes.  In the process of this effort, we came upon a grouse and Don took aim with his hatchet.  That bird came within a feather of being our supper, causing us to think that getting a bird that way probably wasn’t too difficult.

A day before we were to leave for the summer, Don felt it necessary to travel to the far northeast end of the lake and check out the three islands there, just so we would not later feel we goofed by not doing so.  We had avoided that end of the lake based on the thought that it was probably shallow and not a fit place for a cabin just like we saw in Greenbush and consistent with my 40 years of Canada lake travel.   As we approached Dancing Loon Island, we were reading 50 feet of water and right in front of us was a lovely sheltered sandy cove, just what I had really been looking for all along!  It was love at first site!!  We quickly beached out boat and scrambled to the top of the island that looked to be about 100’ high.  What a fantastic view!  We marked off the perimeter of the lease site with bright pink ribbon.  All points of the perimeter had to be 100 meters from the high water mark of the lake and we got it as close to the beach as possible.

Dewayne spent some time in the water throwing out rocks that we would use to build the cabin piers, thus giving them a chance to be cleaned by the weather over the next 8 months.  Little did we realize how many more rocks would eventually be required for the cabin.  There was never any doubt that this was the best spot on the lake and we departed for Colorado on August 20, very happy with our summer of exploration.

The trip back to Boulder was uneventful except for blowing out the right front tire on the 4-runner just north of the border.  I was surprised how well the truck handled during the blowout and developed an appreciation for the Toyota 's excellent steering.  That Fall Don started the lease process.