May 31 (2days on the Milk River)

At 8am, with piping hot Tim Horton’s coffees and the CD player thumping, we headed south on Hwy 4 for the town of Milk River. In back seat of Jennifer’s silver 002 Intrepid R/T the kids buried themselves under blankets snoozing and snacking on Timbits. We talked about how the flow was at 30m3/s this morning, which had dropped 8m3/s since yesterday. The Milk River is very susceptible to quick fluctuations in flow. In fact, in 1908 the river rose 12ft in 2 hrs and washed away the Writing-On-Stone blacksmith shop!

Trent and I dumped the girls (wives), kids, canoes’n gear by the river and headed for the egress point 30km down Hwy 501 to leave Trent’s car. Impatient with this shuttling, anticipating 2002 first overnighter on a river, I set the cruise on Jen’s 002R/T at 180kmh which was just slow enough to spot the Pronghorns running through the coulees and hoodoos.

Finally, we launched at 11am under overcast skies at 16*C. The river was running brown and it was impossible to see rocks under the water. Jennifer had much practice on reading the water to learn what lurked below, which was many rocks. A couple of corners past the Goldstream campground, we all had our heads cranked to river right eyeing a drowned cow, bloating on the shore. Well, the Enzsol’s canoe, autopilot must not have been working as they breeched on a half meter round rock. As the canoe filled with water and the fibreglass bent around the rock I could hear the sickening sound of cracking. Trent was quick to react as he bound into the river and started dragging the stern upstream while barking at Linda to get out and bail. While Linda was franticly bailing and Trent strained against the river they both failed to notice water was still pouring over the gunnel. By now we had eddied out however the river was too swift and deep for me to reach the trapped canoe so I went racing downstream along the bank to fetch their paddles, water bottles, before the disappeared around the next corner. Up to my chest in the next eddy I was surprised the water wasn’t colder. Upon my return the impaled Clipper was safely in our eddy and Trent was sucking back a beer. Linda looked sheepish and Justin (11yrs old) was struggling to contain his laughter. He finally broke loose as he exclaimed they should change the canoe from Clipper to Flipper. Stephanie added that we should call it "Dead Cow Rock". We all laughed. I discussed with Trent how impressed I was that his glass boat could concave that much without any real damage.

During lunch at Red Bluff, which marks the start of the water carved sandstone cliffs, we were surprised by a group in two rented Colemans beaching by ramming headfirst onto the shore where the male stern paddled leapt into the river to drag the canoe nose first up the bank. As his girlfriend, and gear were still firmly planted in the canoe it started roll and she flopped onto the beach. Trent and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. They came sprinting towards us stating the third canoe was tipped back upstream where the Red Creek meets on river right. But, before any of us could formulate a rescue they came floating by into the eddy. We mingled for a while then we departed to let them have the beautiful lunch spot to themselves.

By 5pm it was starting to spit a little and the girls were weary of peering into the murky waters for those pesky rocks. I was looking at the map trying to establish how much further to Poverty Rock where we planned to camp. Our canoes were two abreast as Trent and I were discussing something when we entered the Outcrop rapid which has a high sandstone wall on the left and the river makes a 180* turn to the right. In rush for paddles and positioning we made a most ungraceful run and fumbled into the eddy at the end of the switchback as we jammed and jarred into the eddy Trent’s empty "Dead Cow Rock" beer can flipped into the river and I almost flipped as I retrieved it. As we all floated in the eddy shaking our heads at how "novice" our actions were we realized there was a large blue raft just downstream with a huge film camera on tripod filming us! As we floated down and introduced ourselves we discovered they were from the Discovery Channel and were filming a documentary on the Milk River. We were so embarrassed by our behaviour we retreated, and hauled our gear to Poverty Rock to set up camp. An after note to this is when I watched the documentary, later that fall. Thankfully we ended up on the cutting room floor.

Poverty Rock has a large shelter that is closed in on three sides. Inside there are benches and two picnic tables. Just outside there is a large fire pit with wood. Milk River Raft Tours hauls in the firewood and generously let us burn it. They were the guides taking the Discovery Channel filmers. Although it was raining we hiked amongst the coulees and ridges. From up on the ridge you could see that the river once flowed wider around the rock but eventually broke through leaving a tower stranded in a dried up meander.

The next day the 20km paddle to Writing-on-Stone was uneventful and we didn’t hesitate, as it was raining and windy and quite chilly. The spray decks kept us warm inside while keeping the rain out. We took the self-guided tour through the park looking at the Petroglyphs and were disgusted how people have carved their names into the sand cliff often destroying these 250-500 year old messages left to us from the Shoshone people who first move to this region 700 years ago. Excavations show that people have visited this valley for 10,000 years. We reflected upon this as we effortlessly cruised home on the smooth four lane highway in our heated vehicle. We left the Milk River with a feeling of a magical and hidden place. The hoodoos peered down on us passing beneath them like native sentries. The Coulees and dry creek beds echoed with history, as the wind seems to make the walls whisper. We remarked how canoeing enables one to travel at a speed and position where they are entwined in nature’s motion, yet we leave trace of our passing. Thus, any canoeist who travels behind us experiences this untouched view leaving them with the same sense of discovery.