to use these sheets.”
By the late 1940s, photogrammetry (the science of drawing maps from air photos) improved with the use of “electronic distance measuring devices” or EDMs, where aerial photography now employed overlapping traverse patterns. Maps surveyed between 1945 and 1962, according to the Association of Canadian Map Librarians and Archives in Ottawa, are generally considered “the most inaccurate.” This just happens to include maps covering the greater portion of the Canadian northland!
Today, the use of survey satellites measuring the “Doppler Shift” (change in frequency of sound, radio, or light waves) has improved map accuracy to within inches; that’s great for physical discrepancies, but without information revisions, any updates would not improve maps for the paddler headed for a non-existent portage.
In 1956, the Canadian military found it urgent to map out the Arctic regions because of the mounting threat of nuclear war which would effectively put northern Canada directly between the major powers. These hastily produced maps were very basic and lacked any detail. In 1967, the six-colour map was introduced for “southern Canada,” while the “Wilderness Line” demarked the use of black and white monochrome maps, thus making a clear distinction between settled and unsettled regions. Since the rate of development in the North is slow, revisions were not a priority and would take place every thirty years, unless, as in the case of Thunderhouse Falls, a major development is proposed. Urban maps would be revised every five years. EMR has recently changed their revision policy to every three years.
In 1994, I began my wild river survey research for the Province of Manitoba and Canada Parks, Heritage Rivers branch, which sponsored my first trip down the Seal River. Before any mapping expedition, I make an effort to obtain any current or archival published material and Canada Parks supplied what they had on public file. It wasn’t until I was on the river that I noticed the first quadrant of their map had been produced upside down and backwards. This map had been generated for national distribution, yet had a major error that nobody caught before it was printed and distributed. During this same year, my Missinaibi guidebook was released, correcting all topographic information. In the last fourteen years there have been no canoe-related deaths along the river, chiefly because the Ontario government finally took the initiative to erect proper signage, and supported a concise guidebook that made sure the public was informed.
Canada is a nation of wild rivers. The Missinaibi took the lives of thirty-four people over a seventeen-year period. Over the past three decades there may have been hundreds of deaths across Canada attributed to faulty maps and lack of “duty of care” by parks and provincial government administrations. These same bureaucracies have spent millions of tax dollars on advertising wild Canada and eco-adventure recreation, but almost nothing on accurate, field-truthed support material. Adventurers love to scan maps, longing to find precipitous gradient drops and wild rapids … it’s part of our addiction to rivers and wilderness. Selling maps is big business for EMR, peddling more than 630,000 maps each year. But even if the adventuring public is provided with the best information possible, there exists those who cannot “read” maps or interpret the information from a map to actual landscape visuals. In addition, there are those who put too much faith in topographic maps; in many instances the wilderness traveller relaxes into the gear threshold instead of learning the required hard skills. International adventurers coming to this country for a wilderness experience rely on the information provided, and trust that government tourism agencies have done their field work … in the least, provide the same calibre of maps that they can purchase in their own country. When they get here they are presented with a topographic chart produced half a century ago, maps intended for political reasons, to designate ownership, for military use and resource extraction … not for recreational travel along a wilderness trail.
EIGHT
GETTING LOST
We’re not lost. We’re locationally challenged.
— John M. Ford
I have to work hard to get turned around in the bush, or disoriented, and I’ve been in that situation on a few occasions, but I’ve never actually been lost. There have been times when I wasn’t quite sure of my exact location, usually while travelling in the Far North where the topography is often dead level. I once sailed down the coast of Hudson Bay in two canoes tied together, at night, with the use of a compass only; granted, full darkness was brief, but during that time the only indication of my location in relation to the shore was in the rocks I would run into while the tide was going out. It was unnerving, especially since polar bears like to hide behind boulders, and it was almost a relief to bounce off the odd rock with the assurance that the shore was less than a kilometre away. But there were moments of mild panic when at times we seemed to be straying off the course with no sight references to go by. Others had perished on the Bay doing what we were doing — the inimical coast and its deadly winds are unforgiving.
Wendigo is alive and well … and waiting.
Search Ends for Hiker Lost in B.C. Woods, September 3, 2008, CBC News
[The]RCMP has called off a search for a German hiker who vanished 40 days ago in the wilderness of northern B.C.
Boats, planes and helicopters scoured the area, and searchers did find evidence of his journey. His backpack was found on a sandbar in the Kechika River upstream from Terminus Mountain. A pouch containing his passport, map, and papers was found in a logjam on the Gataga River. “We’re assuming something happened to him and he lost his life,” RCMP Staff Sgt. Tom Roy said. “He either fell in the river or befell some other misfortune.”
The German hiker may not have been lost, but when you don’t show up at the appropriate time for a pickup, the red flag goes up. The authorities deem this person “missing” or lost. Solo adventurers assume one of the greatest risks while travelling in the wilderness. By travelling alone there is no other person available to come to the rescue should something go awry. Most people get lost while on their own. If a trail is not well-marked, either by footpath or by sign, it’s not difficult to lose your way if you don’t pay attention. Birdwatchers are particularly susceptible to straying off the path, getting lured deeper into the bush while trying to identify a species or peering too long through binoculars or camera lens. Hunters also fall victim to their own inexperience at orienteering and survival. Every year, hundreds of North Americans get lost, injured, or even die while hiking through remote sections of national or provincial parks and other wild areas. These incidents, all of them, are preventable.
Before the advent of cellphones, emergency locating beacons, global positioning systems, and satellite phones, travelling in the bush demanded more attention to detail and direction. Technology, again, with the availability of instant communication and wayfinding, has eliminated the need for basic orienteering skills — the reading of “sign” is no longer required. For today’s adventurer, the dependency on such gear is paramount, and like all the other outdoor clothing and accouterment, an outdoor enthusiast is judged by the quality and extent of his kit. It is now typical to find people in the outdoors fully loaded down with the latest and most expensive gear, but still lacking in woods etiquette and trail skills.
At the last rapid on the Seal River in northern Manitoba, Deaf Rapids — a rather vicious maelstrom of turbulent river dropping fifty vertical feet into ocean tidewater — I was forced to sit upstream with my group, waiting three hours for the tide to come in before attempting to run the rapids. Locating this particular nasty piece of whitewater is sometimes difficult because of the fog that rolls in from Hudson Bay and the endless approach rapids that lead up to it. And because of the abrupt pitch off into the ocean, there is no visible or even audible warning that the rapid is near. In a case such as this, the only tactical procedure is to follow the topographical map with birds-eye precision, counting down every turn or twist in the river, noting each braid as the river fans out in multiple channels, at the same time taking sight references as you manoeuvre through the whitewater.