Our Bay trip began at the end of a road - a gravel road on which we had been for hours - near a big yellow sign that said "FIN" or end in French. It was slightly odd to be beginning our 35-day adventure at the 'end', but we loaded our canoes onto Lac Albanel, bid adieu to Nibby and Jim, and pushed off.

We were dropped off about 150km north of Jason's section. As you have heard, they did the entire Rupert. We were heading north to travel on some different - and smaller - rivers that eventually would take us to the Rupert right above the Gorge on Day 20 or so. Like Jason's section, however, our first challenge was to get to and cross Lac Mistassini, but at a more northern section of the lake.

Challenges are abound on Bay trips. The main difference between a Bay trip and other Wabun trips is that the challenges are just a bit greater. Our trip this summer was full of these challenges, and the first - getting to and across Mistassini - turned out to be a difficult one.

While planning our trip, McKenzie and I thought it would take 2 days to get to and across Mistassini - in actuality it took 8 days. The thin blue line connecting Albanel and Mistassini on the maps seemed to be a logical and benign route. But upon inspection in person, this thin blue line was a raging multiple mile gorge that was impassable. We knew that the water was high, but not this high! Only a quick glance of this "gorge" made McKenzie and me realize that we needed to find a new route.

So we paddled up Albanel about 30 kilometers - enjoying our only tailwind of the summer - and then paddle back down - enjoying our first of many headwinds of the summer - looking for an alternate route. We eventually plotted and bushed a three day route through small creeks and ponds, and we finally reached Mistassini on day 6. Crossing it would take another two days because of strong winds and massive rollers which seem to be the prevailing weather condition of that huge lake.

Speaking of challenges, McKenzie and I have always faced one on all of the trips we've led together. Nibby may have introduced us as the "dynamic duo" on June 26, but in the early morning we are everything short of dynamic. Most staff probably begin their mornings with a cordial and obligatory "good morning." We begin our mornings, usually about 30-60 minutes after we have ignored the alarm, with "how do you feel about a rest day?" to which the response is always an enthusiastic and affirmative groan. Reality soon sets in, though, and we begrudgingly begin to roll.

This summer, though, we had a plan to fool Father Time. Because I possessed the only timepiece in the entire section, we decided to create a new time zone appropriately called "Ben and Mack time." It was one hour ahead of eastern daylight time and put the sunrise at 6am instead of 5am. This way when we got up at either 6, 6:30 or 7, we could still believe that we were hardcore because in the "real world" it was only 5, 5:30 or 6.

So back to Mistassini - the wind dies and it's clear sailing, right? Here comes our next challenge which nearly altered our summer plans - forest fires. Mistassini looks like two long fingers going north and south. The fingers are around 200 kilometers long and 10km wide. While crossing the second finger we soon realized that we were engulfed in smoke. It was so thick that we were breathing through bandanas and had perhaps 100 meters of visibility. Our lack of visibility forced us to totally rely on our compass and GPS (yeah, we cheated) to get to the other side. Though we safely made it, a navigational error could have led us in the wrong direction for hours if not days.

Once we had finished the crossing, the smoke, which was getting worse, became our main concern. We were intending on heading north up the Wabissinane River, and it looked as though the smoke was coming from that direction. McKenzie and I considered heading south down Mistassini and taking Jason's route, but the smoke seemed to be coming from there, too. We were in a tough spot; we had no idea about which way to go to be safe.

In the midst of our dilemma, though, help came in the form of some native fishing guides who, in am amazing stroke of luck, had driven their outboards to our exact location at the mouth of the Wabissinane. They told us that fires were everywhere and that it was especially intense to the south of us where Jason was. This information convinced us to head north but also made us worry and wonder about the wellbeing of the other section.

It took us three days of northern travel to get out of the smoke. The second day was the worse - at about 5:30pm the smoke and ash in the air blocked out the sun. It was like a brown out - literally. The campfire's flames were intensely white as if someone had taken all of the yellow out. We had to eat and make bannock with our headlamps hours before sunset. We figured the apocalypse had occurred.

After paddling up the Wabissinane and taking a height of land portage, we came to Lac Baudeau, a major highlight of the trip. Lac Baudeau is a long and narrow lake hedged by the Tichegami Mountains. The mountains rise 1500 feet from the side of the lake - simply beautiful. Not many Wabun sections have been able to paddle through such terrain, and the majesty of the mountains almost allowed us to forget the stiff headwind and frosty temperatures.

Lac Baudeau is in the East Main watershed, and we took the Tichegami River down to East Main River. The Tichegami River is a decent-sized river that flows in and out of the northern tip of Lac Baudeau. We were on the river for a few days, and there were many good rapids in which we could hone our whitewater skills for the Rupert.

The confluence with the East Main brought us to the first big river our trip. The East Main used to be a popular river for Bay trippers, but today hydroelectric dams have tamed it. Our experience on it - only one full day - was also tame. The only neat thing we ran into was an incredibly long and wide sand bar on which we had foot races and wrestling matches. (We are boys after all!)

At this point in the trip, we started to head back to the Rupert. We paddled down Lac de la Marée, which, being dam-controlled, was incredibly low, and after some creek work and portages, we were back in the Rupert watershed on a river that canoe trippers call the Moon River.

The Moon got its name because of its beautiful and unusual landscape. It is a very rocky environment. The river was lined with tall cliffs and high hills, and nearly all of our campsites were on terrific granite terraces dotted with jack pine and beds of comfortable sphagnum on which to pitch our tents. We had our first rest day on the Moon, and we used the time to climb a small mountain which gave us some incredible panoramic views of the area. As we neared the end of the river, we found a great 30' cliff for jumping. We also saw an enormous bull caribou while on the Moon. It had antlers that must have been six feet wide. We wondered how it ran through the woods without getting caught on every tree. It was ridiculous - you could hang sheets out to dry on its rack.

The confluence with the Rupert was a big deal for us because it was the ultimate goal of our trip and the last part of it. However, the size and power of it left us speechless. As we snuck up the left shore of the first major rapid, all of us - and I mean all - were mesmerized by the enormous stacks, deep cellars and amazing suction of the river. After we portaged we walked back simply to admire the power of the river for a good half hour. We realized that the next 12 days would be fraught with challenges, awe and excitement.

The Rupert is a very impressive river. Unlike the wide rivers on the west side of the Bay, the Rupert's power is concentrated in narrow and deep granite channels. According to sign at Oatmeal Falls (where a road crossed the river), the Rupert would fill an Olympic size swimming pool in two seconds or 1,800 in one hour. Needless to say, the Rupert grabs your attention and demands your respect when you're traveling down it in 1/2-inch thick plastic canoes.

Traveling down the Rupert was an amazing experience. We were able to shoot some rapids, and shooting rapids on the Rupert is special considering its size. We'd usually shoot the sides of the rapids avoiding the big stuff. It was exhilarating, especially when we'd look at the foolishly large hydraulics we'd be avoiding in the center by shooting down the side. We had to portage around many falls and huge rapids, but as we'd walk by these and hear their power, we would fully appreciate having our canoes on our heads.

Although nearly all of our experiences on the Rupert deserve attention in this log, I will only mention a few. The Gorge and the second part of the Fours are notable because all of the Rupert's flow is concentrated between granite walls only thirty yards apart. I wish I could describe them appropriately with words, but I really can't. You need to see them to fully understand them. The standing waves are probably 15-feet high, and the cellars, where all of the water crashes together, are tortuous cauldrons of thunderous fury. Their beauty is terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

Another notable experience we had on Rupert was meeting and camping with Lars Monsen or "Lars from Norway" as he called himself. Lars was traveling from the coast of Alaska to the Labrador Coast by foot, canoe and sled. His only companions were five dogs, who on this part of his journey - canoeing up the Rupert to Mistassini - followed him on the shoreline. Lars' expedition began in April of 2000, and he hoped to reach Labrador by late fall of this year. He told us some incredible stories of his trip by the campfire, stories which any one of us in our section will remember forever and would be glad to repeat if asked.

The Rupert River ends at Waskaganish in Rupert Bay on James Bay. Waskaganish is a reserve of about 2000 people, and we were able to stay at the home of Roy Hester, with whom Wabun has a strong relationship. Our overnight stay in Waskaganish gave us the opportunity to go out into the Bay on motorboats. The wide expanse of the ocean was incredible, and it was a fitting end of our summer's journey.

Our trip could be remembered by the portages, lakes, rapids and rivers, but the most important and impressive aspect of our summer was our section. This group of canoe trippers made the summer as great and successful as it was. Like last year's section, all of the camp chores were done on a volunteer basis from day one, and never was there a pot left uncleaned or a billet left unchopped. The long portages, the cold days, the persistent headwinds and the driving rain were never accompanied with complaining - these guys just powered through. And the respect - the respect of the environment, the respect of the river, the respect of each other - was always deep and unwavering. This group of trippers, with their 46 years of experience, made the summer what it was and will always be - unforgettably amazing.

So we've reached that big and yellow "fin" sign again - the end of our trip, our log, and our summer. That yellow sign we saw at the beginning of our trip was perhaps appropriate after all for it was the beginning of a few ends. For one, many of the boys in our section will be ending long and impressive camper-careers when they leave Garden Island today. And secondly, it could be the end of canoe tripping on the magnificent Rupert. The plans to dam it and reduce it to 20% or less of its current size seem firmly in place.

I'll end our log with the usual introduction of our section, but before I do, I need to praise the other half - or perhaps three quarters - of this section's staff. This is my 5th summer with McKenzie - a half decade - and what an incredible time it's been. Like last year, I would not have done this trip without him, and he was more than invaluable to me during the past six weeks, just like he has been the past five summers. McKenzie, I don't know how to thank you enough for the knowledge, experience and companionship you've shared with me over all these years.