Bowron Lake Canoe Circuit – Isaac River to Lanezi Lake

June evenings are long and the mornings are early in Northern BC. We woke with the sun and the birds and started what became our morning routine – Leroy making breakfast, me getting the kids up and out of the tent before packing up. I had slept a lot better, actually feeling refreshed when I climbed out of the tent.

All our food was packed in one dry bag, and we were eating off the top this morning – Lasagna for breakfast! We had packed some instant oatmeal packages, more as lightweight emergency food than anything, just in case we got socked in anywhere for a day or so. Even though the kids were convinced they didn’t like oatmeal, they didn’t feel like having Lasagna, so we got them to try the oatmeal that morning. Afterall, the packages are pretty well kid sized portions. What d’ya know? Turns out they became a new kid favourite in the mornings. All fed and packed up, we were back on the water at 8:45 for the short paddle to the portage around The Chute.

The crowded campsites from the night before were still crowded, but quiet. We tried not to wake the campers in tents and multiple hammocks strung between trees along the path as we carted up the canoe and got a few pictures of The Chute and the Isaac river in the morning light. The trail followed the ridge high on the east side of the river, before making its way back down towards the water. Here there was a clearly marked pull out on the river indicating the start of the mandatory portage around the unnavigable cascades.

With the water as high as it was on our trip, the Cascades were impressive. The deep blue-green water from the lake boiled and foamed to pale sea green and white over huge boulders completely hidden under the flow. It was obvious why the portage was mandatory. We stopped to take some pictures and video of the torrent before making our way along the slippery, spray soaked portage trail and down the bank to the put in on the river.

There is a short section of the Isaac river that all paddlers on the full Bowron Circuit must paddle. It takes paddlers around a couple of corners in the river and to the opposite bank for the portage around the 36 ft high Isaac falls. The guidebook I brought along on the trip describes this section as “one of the prettiest stretches of river” the authors have ever seen. It goes on to mention a current that is “fairly slow” and passes over “deep green pools” – complete with “remains of less fortunate canoes” at the bottom. As we came down the bank to the put in we watched the last of the three canoes we saw the night before launch between two large boulders and into the current swirling past on the other side. It didn’t look even close to “fairly slow”. This river made the Nechako river that we had practiced on back home, even at high water, look like a lake. I began to wonder if we had signed up for more than we bargained for.

The green canoe had paused in an eddy towards the flooded far shore before moving out of view around the corner to the left. We figured we should probably follow suit, at least then we could get a look at what was around the corner and might be able to see another eddy to hop into while looking for the portage pull out. With some trepidation, we got everything back in the canoe, pushed off, and squeaked out between the boulders ourselves.

The view from the eddy wasn’t very encouraging. After curving around a high bank on the left, the river charged between some rocks creating a V and standing wave train formation that strongly resembled The Chute that we had just portaged around. This time there was a pile of logs instead of a rocky shore on the far side, and the upcoming Isaac Falls to consider instead of the Cascades. So six in one, half dozen in the other. Except this time there was no available portage. There was a slightly smaller V on the right, with no standing waves, and we weighed our options from the eddy for a bit before making the decision to cut across to the bank, get out for a better look, and consult the guide book again.

The canoe safely jammed in the weedy shore and pulled up out of the current, we scrambled up the steep bank and picked our way to the corner where we could get a better view through the trees. The guidebook diagrams this section, describing it as a “small chute where the water channel narrows between large boulders” and warns paddlers to “watch for ripples between the boulders” which indicate a rock to the right of centre that appears at low water. Well, we were far from low water. You couldn’t even see the boulders, and the chute didn’t exactly look “small”.The portage take out was, apparently, just around the corner on the right, followed by logjams and an arrow pointing off the page labelled “Isaac Falls”. We determined the rock that appears at low water was making a second, smaller V on the inside bend and, because we didn’t know exactly how much water was flowing over it, decided the safest choice was to run the main V rather than risk getting overturned by hidden rocks. Then we would make a quick eddy entrance to the right to avoid most of the standing waves and try to hug the right hand shore till the pull out. We studied the paddling diagrams in the book, talked about moves we were each going to make and when, and thoroughly explained to the kids that Leroy and I would need to be able to communicate and they needed to be quiet on this bit.

Back in the canoe, we pushed out of the weeds and into the current, using small strokes to line ourselves up with the current and the chute. On my knees in the bow, I readied myself for the draw strokes I needed to pull the bow around to the right. The chute was faster than I had expected and the standing waves looked a lot more intimidating as we shot towards them. It was immediately obvious we were not going to miss all of them. I pulled hard on the right and, turning, we clipped the side of the first wave – scooping not an insignificant amount of water over the left hand bow. I was wet, Anna was wet, and water swilled around my knees. I kept pulling right, we cleared the chute successfully and entered the slower water close to the flooded shore. There, just ahead was the portage take out. We were filled with the kind of exhilaration that only comes after challenge, apprehension, and subsequent success. We had done it.

The shore of the take out here sloped steeply up to the portage trail. As we pulled up, most of the water slooshed to the back of the canoe – good thing we had decided that all the gear was going to go in drybags. With the roar of the nearby Isaac falls in our ears, we got the kids to help ferry gear to the top of the hill so we could turn the canoe over and empty it of water. That done, Leroy carried the canoe and I packed one of large dry bags to a flatter part of the trail where we could re-cart the canoe for the portage. As we set things down, a raven flew over and landed above us on a branch. The guidebook warns that, after seeing so many people and packs in the park over the years, these wily birds have learned to open zippers and steal food. While we didn’t have a lot of available zippers, I didn’t doubt he would be equally capable poking holes in some of our lighter drybags in his quest for snacks. We gave Anna the job of guarding the gear from the bird, while the rest of us went to collect the last of the gear from the shore. With the canoe recarted and reloaded, we continued the portage.

This portage is short, no more than half a kilometre. It follows the river above the falls, then hugs a steep bank on the right and heads sharply down to the banks of McLeary Lake. There is a campsite here, marked as a group site in the book, but changed to an individual spot with two tent pads since the book was printed. As we came down the steep path, we came up on the party of three canoes again, they had just returned from a short hike to view the falls and were getting ready to launch. We put our gear in the bear cache, left the canoe out of their way, and followed the trail back along the riverbank to the falls.

The trail was wet and slippery with spray from the falls, and the water boiled right along the bank – no shallows to catch you if you fell in. The kids walked between us, and as we neared the falls they got more specific instructions on where they were allowed to stand and how they were allowed to get there, generally delivered close to their faces so they could hear it above the thunder of the water. A lot of hand holding was in order. Leroy stepped out to get some video, then I got a chance for some photos. There was no rocky shore to stand on for a better vantage point, so I did my best to capture it with a frame of tree branches. The whole thing was white with foam and spray. There wouldn’t be much left of any canoe that went over those falls. Ready for some energy bars and trail mix, we headed back to the canoe and McLeary lake.

The current was still strong at the launch site – a reminder we still had 5km of river paddling to go – the water heading away and turning left around a corner ahead with a few sweepers before widening into the lake. McLeary lake is small, tucked into the towering peaks in the southeast corner of the circuit, and sees a lot of rain. The upper Cariboo river begins among these glaciers before being joined by the Isaac river and forming the southern stretch of the trip in a series of lakes and rivers. After a short but scenic paddle along the western shore of the lake we crossed a line from the dark, clear waters of the Isaac and entered the murky, brown-grey, pull of the Cariboo.

“Stick to the middle, look out for dead-heads and sweepers” they tell you at the orientation. The girls were asking what these were, getting ready to play look out for us. We explained how the current was faster along the outer edge of the corners and it could be difficult to avoid trees that had fallen over from the shore – “sweeping” everything off the top of the water – and how the murky water could hide obstacles just under the surface. As we rounded the corners, Leroy would sweep on one side of the canoe while I drew on the other to keep us pointed downstream and closer to the inside corners.

Large gravel bars started appearing along the banks and the river began to twist and turn as it leveled out in its eastward path towards Lanezi Lake. We came around one corner to find the guys from the three canoes ahead of us pulled out on a gravel bar. They called out, asking us to keep an eye out for a water bottle. Apparently they had overturned one canoe, and were trying to dry out and collect their things before moving on.

The channel widened, slowed, and became increasingly braided as the water snaked its way through the rough rocky delta towards the eastern shore of Lanezi. We saw the signs for the emergency phone that would have been the only connection to the outside world should anything have gone wrong 20 years ago. Having access to an satellite messenger in our GPS was a lot more reassuring. Leroy had put the route into the GPS before we left, with way points for our preferred campsites, so we generally had a good idea of where we were and how far we had yet to travel in a day. Suddenly, it started beeping.

Rather than try to navigate the bends and corners myself while Leroy figured out the GPS, we took a break on a gravel bar so he could suss it out. Anna used a stick to write on the shore – remembering how we had written our names in the sand on the far end of Kidprice lake three years prior. Alice tossed rocks and sticks into the current. I got some pictures, noticing the grey and wet looking clouds were coming our way from the peaks of the Cariboo mountains. The three canoe party drifted past, having got their gear back together, and asked if we had seen any moose. Finally, Leroy figured out that the GPS had determined we were “off course” – the winding of the river having changed its pattern through the gravel, something I imagine it does every year during spring freshet.

Back in the canoe we meandered our way through the braided channels towards the mouth of the lake. The guide book and the orientation both list the mouth of Lanezi lake as one of the more dangerous parts of the circuit. Winds here are primarily out of the west, building waves across the length of the 15 km lake to break on the shallow delta and produce some very challenging paddling in strong headwinds. With the high water, and our so far friendly tailwind, we had no issue beyond the approaching rain clouds. A few hundred yards onto the lake and the rain started – a passing shower perhaps. We considered pulling into Site 32 to get out the rain gear and suit up, but the three canoes were headed there already. There wasn’t much room to pull out and we figured the rain would be over by the time we finished. A peal of thunder changed that plan, and we turned back to try and wriggle our canoe in beside the other group’s three.

There is just one campsite on the north shore as you enter the lake, likely best used in cases of poor weather when there are no other options. Slightly swampy, it has a single, small tent pad built up with gravel in the trees – the only flat spot that was not squishy and muddy. With the 6 adults from the other party, plus our family of four, there wasn’t much room to stand without being in each other’s space. The rain picked up as we stood around in rain gear exchanging small talk and waiting for the weather to pass. They had come up from the States, one of them had the trip on their bucket list, planned this for a year, and had pulled along a couple buddies and their teenage sons.

Twenty minutes later the rain slackened and we were back on the water, leapfrogging each other until they peeled off at the Turner Creek group site. The rain finally quit entirely and the sun came out. Warm in their windproof onsies, both Anna and Alice had fallen asleep. Forgoing the shelter, we were headed to site 35 – lauded by the guidebook as having some of the best views on the circuit and only a few more kilometres down the lake. We could tell the view was going to be good. Mount Ishpa on the south side of the lake still had snow on its ragged, rocky north face and we were almost directly across from it. We pulled into Site 35 with a feeling of accomplishment – we’d done the rivers, the rain was done, dinner would be soon. The steep slope started nearly at the shore, and I spied a sign indicating the outhouse and bear cache were up the hill. Not seeing the tent pad, I wondered if the there was enough flat space up the hill to be hiding it. Then we saw it – washed up by the waves with the flotsam on the shore. The lake level was high enough that the wooden square had floated up from its place. There would be no camping here. Dinner would have to wait, again. And so we were back in the canoe and on to site #36.

In the end, it was a better site anyway – it had an even better view, and someone had fashioned a table from some flat stones and a stump. Landing the canoe presented some challenges as the shore was lined with large rocks with no where to beach the canoe. More wet feet. The facilities were again up the hill, and of the unique, unenclosed green plastic thrones one finds in unfrequented backcountry places. The tent pad was again small, and barely big enough for the tent itself, let alone the fly. Obviously this site wasn’t on most peoples list, and would be too small for any but a solo canoe.

We made the tent work by tying one corner to the wooden border and the fly to various roots and rocks. There were enough trees to get our tarp up over the tent in case of more rain, and another high branch to hang our water filter bag from. Dinner was served at the stone table – Mac and Cheese for the kids, Stroganoff for Leroy, and Lasagna for me – followed with hot drinks, a fire, and the spectacular view.

A shorter day was planned for tomorrow. We had the last of the Cariboo river to cover before taking a bit of a side trip to Unna lake – also recommended as a highlight in both the guidebook and by Parks staff.