Great Slave Lake Trip Promises a New Kind of Adventure

By Sammi Armacost

Imagine that you’ve been walking upriver for the past ten days. You’ve been pulling your boat from shores of mud, rock, brush or ice—sometimes no shore at all. You’ve become so attuned to your immediate surroundings that you’ve developed a kind of tunnel vision.

It’s hard to imagine your route in its entirety anymore, let alone the ocean of a lake sprawled out only a few miles away. You’re immersed in the moment, focused on maneuvering around each rock, rapid or strainer.

6 North of 60 members Maddie Stoehr and Emily Spangler take a break during an evening paddle on Great Bear Lake in 2017. (Lindsay Wiebold)

“I had no idea what to expect from the experience of spending three weeks on a single body of water. If anything, I guessed that by the end of 250 miles of shoreline, we would be ready to get back to the exhilaration of whitewater. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. ”

You can’t recall how many turns remain before you reach the long-awaited headwaters. That’s when you look up and see it. You see where the runway of water you’ve been pushing against meets its source, an expanse that stretches as far as your eyes can see.

This was the moment before the six women of the 6 North of 60 Arctic expedition, including myself, reached Great Bear Lake. In my journal that day, I wrote:

Great Bear Lake enveloped us immediately—in a solemn and mystical wonder as well as under a beautiful canopy of rain clouds.... The vastness of water, the legends it inspires, the people it sustains puts a pressure on your heart that is hard to capture into words. As we paddled across to [the community of] Deline, the sky let down a light drizzle and washed away nature’s colors that we had grown so accustomed to seeing on shore. The greens and blues gave way to a sheen of silver that blended the horizon to the skies.... You couldn’t tell if in the distance you were looking at clouds or mountains...only the silhouette of seagulls and loons breaking through the reflection...

I had no idea what to expect from the experience of spending three weeks on a single body of water. If anything, I guessed that by the end of 250 miles of shoreline, we would be ready to get back to the exhilaration of whitewater.

But I couldn’t have been more wrong. The giddiness I felt on that first day on the lake was a feeling that returned every day, whether brought on by vivid sunsets, brewing storms or my trip mates’ joyful belly laughs.

Great Bear Lake had so much character, and it tested ours. It was here that our patience and our pride were pushed: When the winds persisted, would we try our luck and paddle into the rolling waves? Would we sulk in boredom on shore? In an instant, Great Bear’s temperament would change, and thus it posed countless opportunities for us to practice making these kinds of decisions—together.

The lessons I learned on this lake are ones that I will carry with me forever. Great Bear Lake gave me a place to play again. She reminded me to follow my curious urges to explore. She taught me how to adapt to her unpredictable conditions, how to find peace of mind even when giving up control. They say it takes about three weeks to form a habit, but in the three weeks we spent on Great Bear, we formed a relationship with the lake.

Marissa Sieck and Sammi Armacost on Great Bear. (Lindsay Wiebold)

“Great Bear Lake gave me a place to play again. She reminded me to follow my curious urges to explore. She taught me how to adapt to her unpredictable conditions, how to find peace of mind even when giving up control.”

When we parted ways with “Mama GBL,” as we liked to call her, we knew that someday we would make our way back to her turf. Our 2017 Arctic trip was not just for ourselves, but an ode to what Ogichi Daa Kwe had made possible for us—and what we wanted to make possible for Ogichi in return. It was a chance to explore new areas of Canada and bring home a treasure chest of maps, logs, connections, stories and inspiration.

This summer, we will be putting those resources to use when we take six high school-age LDACs to Great Bear’s southern sister: Great Slave Lake—a first for Ogichi. We will spend two weeks paddling from the docks of Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories to Old Fort Reliance, a bay more than 200 miles away in the East Arm of Great Slave Lake.

The lake is renowned for her dramatic red cliffs, fjord-like islands, world-class fishing and sprawling subarctic shield, but it is our hope that the LDACs take away more than just the beautiful scenery. We hope the trip will be a chance for them to build their own kind of relationship with Great Slave, like the one we forged with Great Bear.

I will be leading the trip with Marissa Sieck, another member of the 6 North of 60 expedition, and we expect the LDACs to be leading right alongside us. We will facilitate the process of making critical decisions and practicing risk management, including new safety precautions necessary on such a large body of water.

As the girls move up the ranks of Ogichi’s wilderness tripping program, we want to foster growth and leadership at every step along the way. We want to equip them with experiences and skills that will serve them in the backcountry and front. I have no doubt that Great Slave Lake will deliver.

This article was originally published in the Spring 2020 issue of Songs of the Paddle.