BACK ROADS BILL: Other perspectives on the Wapusk Trail

The accomplishment of driving the Wapusk Trail has come and gone. The task was to drive the longest seasonal back road in the world.

It’s 752 kilometres (467 mi) in length, one way. There are no services out there, no road reports, no signs, no gravel – a snow-packed and dragged narrow winter road, often windswept, traversing the frozen muskeg with snowbanks as the guardrails.

Done.

We had no trip sponsors; we were just a couple of aging Canadian guys wandering and kind of wondering.

There’s limited information about this remote roadway but others have done the same by other modes of transportation.

It was a long way to go, and a review of Part One and Part Two will reference the “why” of considering a trip from patriotic and geographical points of view. The stories are read like a travelogue.

This winter access is located in northeast Manitoba beginning at a small community called Gillam on the Nelson River, and then it finds its way through three remote Cree communities, first, Shamattawa, Manitoba on the Hayes River through to Ontario’s two more northern communities of Fort Severn (Wasaho First Nation – Severn River) through Ontario’s largest provincial park (almost five times the size of PEI) - Polar Bear Provincial Park and then to Peawunuck (Wunusk First Nation) on the Winisk River. For about two months it is a lifeline to remote communities isolated with only air access.

Here is the map. It identifies the necessary travel distances from the debarkation of the trek through to the destination/beginning – you end up driving the Wapusk Trail twice as it is a linear voyage. This road course weaves in and out of the tree line, so huge frozen wetland types and small stunted black spruce trees are the landscape scene norm.

So, on to the others who have done the same with different motivations.

Fat tire bikes

I have a fat tire trike bike, but I can’t imagine riding it from Peawunuk, Ontario through to Gillam, Manitoba. After learning of the adventures of Buck Miller, Eric Batty and Ryan Atkins, I can appreciate it.

Five years ago in March, Buck Miller and two other comrades decided to tackle the Guinness Book of Records-Wapusk Trail. They flew into Peawunuck with their bikes and camping equipment.

“Exactly three days before Canada went into COVID-19 lockdown, myself and two expedition teammates, Eric Batty and Ryan Atkins, were in a tiny airport boarding a small twin prop plane in Timmins, and heading for Peawanuck First Nation on the coast of the enormous Hudson’s Bay.”

"This expedition was a serious undertaking. There’s so little information available online about the route that we pulled it together almost blind," Buck said. "The road had just opened before we flew into Peawanuck eight days earlier. These communities aren’t used to sharing info about the route because it’s used so little by outsiders. No one asks about the Wapusk Trail."

What were their motivations?

Buck explained, “While I was living in Moosonee, from 2010-2015, I had heard about the Wapusk Trail and it immediately intrigued me.

“I know northern Ontario very well, having been born in Smooth Rock Falls and raised in Kapuskasing and Nipigon, and all of my interests are outdoors. My dad also worked in the coastal communities along James Bay, including the former community of Winisk before it was flooded and relocated, so I heard tales of his time in the north my whole childhood. After the success of the James Bay Descent (650 km from Attawapiskat to Smooth Rock Falls in the winter of 2019, we looked to the Wapusk Trail for our next expedition.”

You have to think about the polar bears, the following from their travelogue.

“We rolled out from town slowly to get used to the heavy bikes and had some fun riding the super rolling terrain where in only a few feet of each other we would all be on different lines. We set up camp quickly, but all debated on the bear fence. In the end, we decided to set it up. We slept well, considering this was our first trip as a team without a stove in our tent.”

Then, on the second night out, things got a little more intense.

“Morning of day two, we smashed oats and coffee to start the day. We pushed off at 9 a.m., and 800m down the road, we saw fresh bear tracks. So we kept the gun a little more accessible and didn’t debate the hassle of setting up the bear fence each night.”

Brian and I did not have to contend with the wind so much in the SUV. It was a different story on bicycles.

“…by mid-morning the winds picked up. Through the vast swamps, the wind would just cut us in half, and each of us would just focus on the tree line ahead, hoping to get there as fast as we could. But because of drifting, there were times when we could not discern the way forward.”

Further down the road for the trio.

“We started day six in a new time zone and our coldest morning yet at -41 on a trucker’s console. We wanted to make short work of the day ahead. We got weather updates from a kind trucker and saw a familiar face on the winter road from Fort Severn who told us of an outback camp on the bank of a river about 60 miles ahead, closer to our only other community on this route, Shamattawa First Nation. The very community we were raising 10k for.”

They eventually raised 12k for True North Aid, a charity dedicated to providing practical humanitarian support to Indigenous communities in northern Canada.

And what were the takeaways from five years back? It had taken them eight days of travel.

“What mattered to me most are actually political and environmental. 99.9 per cent of Canadians don't know what life is like in a remote access reserve, hundreds and hundreds of kilometres by air only, to the nearest town or city with everyday services that southerners use daily.

“The Hudson Bay lowlands are a spectacular place in our environment. It's the last place in Ontario where animals are truly wild. A rare woodland caribou can walk within feet of you, ptarmigan flock in the hundreds, flying over vast tracts of actually untouched wilderness, some animals don't know to be afraid as there's so little population density."

He has respect for the geography encountered.

“I believe the watersheds of James and Hudson Bay should be protected to the fullest extent possible,” he said. “To ensure the Cree people continue to have access to the land that they have never given up and so the Woodland Caribou's already reduced range shrinks no more.

“Ontario's large polar bear population has to be protected. It takes a visit to this place to truly understand the vastness of our sensitive northern environment. Perhaps it's only a dream, with the Ring of Fire sitting like a diamond in the palm of earth’s hand waiting to be developed by big city capitalists that will swear up and down it's going to be the best possible thing for the Cree people who live there.”

I always like to ask other adventurers about their emotions, their reflections and their attachment to the land in their life's relationships.

“Like a fool, when I was old enough to defy my parents and not worry about repercussions, I got a tattoo of the elements: wind, earth, fire and water. I was a globe-trotting professional cyclist back then, pining to be returned to my homeland of Northern Ontario.

“My parents raised us on moose meat. We had a trap camp on an island in a lake northeast of Abitibi Canyon where we spent our summers. My daughter was born in Moose Factory. I love the north and its people. I continually dream up new places to go in all seasons, by all means of travel, human-powered or otherwise. I would say northern Ontario is single-handedly my life’s greatest inspiration.”

Back Roads Bill can relate.

See the YouTube video of their accomplishment.

Buck has been keeping busy with similar adventures.

In the summer of 2020, they teamed up with Redbull and Cannondale Bicycles to ride the Trans Taiga road in northern Quebec along the famous LG 1-2-3-4 hydro stations.

“We flew in to the end of the road, took our bikes and rode and camped our way back to the James Bay Highway. That was incredible.” Here’s the trek.

Last winter, they failed at an attempt to ski the length of James Bay after a series of blunders made them turn around. They will be attempting it again next year.

“Next week, I'm leaving Moosonee by snowmobile and trying to get to an abandoned HBC post called Lake River. What makes this post so unique is it's one of very few storefronts still standing.”

He’s back and made it.

Motorcycle mania

Then there is Oliver Solaro, known as “Brokentooth - Canada’s Ice Road Biker" in social media circles. He is famous for his winter treks on a motorcycle.

He made it, after two attempts, on his “Agatha” named (Kawasaki KLR) bike, and back with some challenges.

“Including the return leg of the Wapusk Trail, I covered a total of 8,000 km in two weeks leaving from Owen Sound while enjoying temps of +5 to -34C with pelting rain, stinging hail and drifting snow.”

“In 2013, my first attempt at the Wapusk Trail kicked my naive little ass. I made it as far as Fort Severn before turning back because of a frozen cornea, six frost-bitten digits, blown suspension parts, seized brakes, seven flats, a stitched leg and just plain and simple, ran out of vacation time.

“It wasn't until a couple years later that I rode to Attawapiskat and heaved the old girl onto a mail run flight to Peawanuck before pulling off the first motorcycle run down the full length of the Wapusk. Those lessons made it possible to consider the next few thousand kilometres on Manitoba/Ontario's vast winter road network as something of a known entity.”

The idea of running a motorcycle down the world's longest winter road started off as a whim that morphed very quickly into a passion.

“Glossing over the images of these nutty little sojourns, it's easy to forget the many, many moments of ignorance and denial that could have ended so badly, but somehow just always seemed to work themselves out. It's a pretty dumbass construct to think you can always get away with it based on luck but...here we are.”

He seeks tranquility.

“Perhaps that’s just it. Not so much the idea of how far I can go, but rather—given our collective need for digital tethers and incessant communication—a need to be alone for a bit with all those little voices in my rattled cranium. In a weird, hard-to-explain existential sense: a need to become the moving definition of remote.”

Brokentooth noticed the undulations and probably appreciated them more than Back Roads Bill.

“The undulating trail was a fun way for me to break up the monotony. My pre-arthritis years included motocross racing and a minor stuntman career, which only served to embolden Arctic cowboy proclivities.”

“Not to mention what will happen to my cardiovascular system in a few years after consuming eight full pounds of bacon and butter in four days.”

Like those who see the Wapusk Trail as a challenge, we default to the reality of those who live there.

“But these little problems are insignificant compared to what the First Nations people face every day in much of the North’s more remote communities. Here, the crushing weight of substance abuse, poverty and suicide mingle with glorious, proud spirits who somehow manage to coax beauty, art and magic from the very air around them.”

Would he do it again?

“Hell yes…In a heartbeat! What’s my plan? Well, mix equal parts ignorance with denial, hope and a Pollyanna-ish belief that it’ll all work out. Pour into a full-face helmet and shake well until all notion of control over life’s direction is quelled. In other words, roll with it!”

You get a real feel from the handlebars about the physical nature of the winter road here - GoPro footage and a broken cell phone.

Final comment on climate change.

“I have seen firsthand and up close the changes our winter roads network is experiencing from a multitude of forces. I genuinely worry about how these critical lifelines will look in another 10-15 years.”

George and reality

George Kakekaspan was our Cree guide when, during COVID-19, we embarked from Fort Severn to reach the most northern point of land in Ontario, a border shared with Nunavut and Manitoba.

We saw many polar bears that time.

The Wapusk Trail has been in existence since 1994 and he probably knows the vagaries of travelling this distance more than most, and not for an adventure.

He is a tall man with large, gentle hands and has lived in Wasaho First Nation since birth. He is a residential school survivor of the notorious St. Anne’s in Fort Albany.

He knows the land and lives off it not by choice because Indigenous people in communities like Wasaho First Nation have to. Having diesel-generated power and potable water are recent developments within his lifetime

He is a Canadian Ranger and former Chief of the First Nation. He is the father of five children, and his wife, Dora, holds a master’s degree in education and works in the school system.

The road is a lifeline for the community, it allows them to reach Thompson and Winnipeg for personal shopping trips for big-sized items, like appliances, and long-term bulk food orders. It is time to have your vehicle serviced, but not just a few blocks away.

“I took mine to Winnipeg repairs and got a full load of cleaning supplies, toilet paper, groceries, meats, and pop for my grandkids.”

Pop in the community is $5.19 per can. George sent along a photo on Messenger this week.

Larger loads – like prefabricated houses on trailers - only the semis can bring. New and used half-tons come up on flatbeds.

He shared his thoughts on the variability of the road.

“When there’s lots of snow and a temporary road closure, you could have a convoy of semis backed up at the Gillam end of the road. Last year on March 31 there were 27, four trying to get out.”

He said this year there has been less snowfall, “But still there were six trucks stuck for a day 60 km west of Severn.”

For the road’s construction?

“You can’t build early as muskeg/bog/ice has to freeze enough.” This is why climate change is a concern. “And then when there is early snow cover without cold, it makes it more challenging.”

This was borne out by the many maintenance vehicles left stuck in the muskeg along the way. (See the photos from Part II.)

He said NW prevailing winds and winds can easily take out the road. There are no trees, no wind break.

“Any major storm blizzard always blocks the road. Maintenance can take up to a week if it is really bad when there’s lots of snow.”

We experienced this when, during our return trip, a storm came through, and the Wapusk Trail was closed for a couple of days.

“We use the road until we no longer can drive it, with only pickups. Often, as the melt starts, it only has a mud base, and we only drive it at night when it is firm enough," George said.

Very soon, it will be posted as ‘Use at your own risk,’ and it will not be maintained. He said if a transport truck comes in when the road is closed, their insurance rises and so does the cost of transport.

What about the road’s undulations when you’re driving the road, George? He wryly says, “It keeps me awake.”

Sidekick

Brian Emblin is a recently retired mechanical engineer from Timmins and has been on many adventures with Back Roads Bill and is often referred to as “we” in the submitted Village Media stories.

He is dependable.

I share with Brian the curiosity of finding more about the natural and cultural heritage of Northern Ontario.

From the Part Two story. “It is dark and snowing on day three at 6:31 a.m. Central Time. We’ve already driven 2,486 km (1,544 mi.) and now, departing from Gillam for the ultimate of back roads travel…maybe.

“There’s no turning back now. It took us two very long days just to get to the beginning of this adventure.”

Brian’s reflections. “I enjoyed meeting the people, not only the Wasaho residents like George and Moses but the newcomers be it at Peawanuk or even en route. It makes you want to ask them ‘why are you here, what led you to be here,’ i.e. the inn keeper in Gillam, the gas station attendant south of Thompson, the medical person from Montreal in Peawanuk.

“The driving part on the winter road is interesting…very lonely, as in we did not see much traffic, I felt much more at ease once we did see a vehicle and knowing that if we did get into trouble someone would eventually come along.”

Of the undulations.

“I cannot believe semi-trucks can actually navigate the humps and bumps and make it.”

During our three days on the Wapusk Trail we saw a total of 14 long-haul trucks and six half tons, and all those abandoned vehicles.

He said of the planning.

“We had very good weather to travel, any wind at all would have made visibility poor and drifts would have made the possibility of getting stuck greater BUT we did bring almost everything you could bring to make it safer, shovels, sleeping bags, extra gas, axe, matches, food, everything except the proverbial kitchen sink.”

Billism, Risk Planning 101. “If you fail to plan – you will plan to fail.”

If you read Part One and Part Two this is one of those Canuck statements from Brian. “It gives a certain level of admiration for the people who live in these remote communities.”

This was the longest time we spent together confined to a vehicle. At trip’s end, the dashboard app reported we logged 103.57 hours within the emerald Hyundai Palisade, 6381 km (3964.97 mi.) and 10L/100km, crossing back and forth a shared provincial border and time zone, that was during seven-plus days with continuous daily/night movement.