Return to the Peel Journal - Day 5
- David McGuffin
- Jul 21, 2018
- 2 min read
July 21, 2018 Day 5.
Graham getting water as a face watches down from the sedimentary rock.
Camped on the banks of Royal Creek. A rainy night and morning are giving way to blue sky. It’s about 14c. I’m looking across the Wind River at a giant wall of sedimentary rock.
To my right and south, the triangular peak of Mount Royal pokes into the clouds.
Mt. Royal peak on the left.
It reminds me and Graham of Mt. Kenya, from our time living in Nairobi. In his memoir of the Klondike gold rush, prospector George Mitchell described Mt. Royal as “a freak of nature. A gigantic pyramid of a mountain…It was such a peculiar shape…we all compared it to a Quebec Cathedral spire.”
Today after one last hike we’ll sadly leave the main mountain range behind us and descend into Arctic plains and likely more mosquitoes! Up until now I haven’t had to wear my mosquito netting at all, which is a pleasant surprise.
An entry from Charles Camsell’s 1905 survey report captures the journey we have ahead of us:
“On leaving the mountains the river emerges onto a rolling country of foothills, afterwards changing to a perfectly level wooded plateau...(here) the stream quickly expands to a width of almost a mile and for 3 miles the water spreads all over in numerous channels... large sheets of ice were yet remaining on the bars, and on these several caribou were seen.”
Woodland Caribou runs alongside us on the Upper Wind River.
Which reminds me, we saw our first caribou yesterday. A large, magnificent male with an impressive rack of antlers. He bolted across the river, up the opposite bank, looking down at us in profile as we paddled on downstream. If we scared him, three guys quietly paddling by, you can imagine the impact of a large mining operation in the region.
Paddling out of the mountains. Arctic circle ahead!
Still no sign of grizzlies. Lots of moose tracks but no moose either. And we’re heading into country where Dall sheep and peregrine falcons are often spotted. The falcons can apparently dive at 300 km an hour!
And here's one truth about wilderness travel: on day five of this trip, I don’t think I smell bad, but I almost certainly smell bad.
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