Enjoy the very challenge of the journey itself, with our canoes carrying the necessities and luxuries in life, to make things comfortable. Travel large distances passing through grand settings or remote locations, over open waters and journey down winding rivers. These are the techniques that get you where you need to go when paddles are no longer the best solution, saving time and effort or maybe your beloved boat. Lately, I’ve embraced a philosophy of “stepping out.” Sometimes that means harder runs, or tackling trickier expeditions like the Powell Pilgrimage. From the Mag (C&K Winter 2016): Sam Sutton blurs through the first of three cracks in the “Eyes of God” gorge of Kyrgyzstan’s Sary-Jaz River. A half a million shares, 75,387 Facebook likes, and tens of millions of views paints the picture: the snow kayaking footage from the ‘90s shot by ski filmmaker Warren Miller is as viral as it gets.
Film by Will Stauffer-Norris and NRS Films “You’ve got to believe in the power of the river to take care of itself. In my book, nothing on the planet matches self-propelled boats and water for the spectrum of gratifications; from thrills to serenity, and from awe to that delicious touch of terror.
Keeping his route a secret for a while, “I didn’t want anyone else to do my awesome route before me,” Marshall explains, he eventually let on to paddling buddies Winchell Delano and Steve Keaveny his intentions to paddle from Skagway, Alaska, to Hudson Bay, and asked them to join him. Along with the film, the goal of the trip is actually two-fold, Marshall says: To raise awareness of the importance of responsible recreation in conserving wilderness heritage, and to contribute to the broader paddling community through new trails. With a degree in English Literature under his belt, Marshall also plans to combine his passions for literature and wilderness canoeing by writing a book about the expedition that explores the evolving relationship between the wilderness and the human experience. Wemindji Eeyouch recognize that we are the children of the Creator, and we respect this relationship, and the duties it places upon us to maintain harmonious, happy and healthy relations among ourselves, with other people, and with all living things. On behalf of the people of Wemindji, I am pleased to welcome you to the official page of the Cree Nation of Wemindji. For years, our people have happily welcomed tourists and visitors into our community whether it is to host regional conferences, meetings or tournaments.

We invite you to browse through our website to learn about the rich culture of the people of Wemindji.
Our website will give you links to our local hotel, Maquatua Inn, our tourism office and a list of other local businesses and entities which are situated in Wemindji. Our annual Special Band Members meeting will take place on March 30 & 31, 2016 at the Community Hall auditorium.
As a congratulatory gift, Chief & Council gave 1 case of shells & a 100$ Sibi Gas gift card to Calvin Kakabat for the First Goose to be harvested in Wemindji this season. Offices of the Cree Nation of Wemindji will be closed on Friday, March 25 for Good Friday and on Monday, March 28 for Easter Monday. I’m on a commercial flight out of Cambridge Bay, a dusty Inuit settlement on Nunavut’s Victoria Island. Since coming off the trip, I’ve found it nearly impossible to dissociate the thoughts and emotionsbouncing around inside my head. Two days ago, shortly after leaving our final campsite behind in an aging de Havilland Beaver on floats, I was struck by the staggering distance we’d traveled since putting in on Black Lake, Saskatchewan, nearly nine weeks ago, overcoming unforeseen difficulties on an almost-daily basis: vast expanses of ice (we dragged the canoes), sand-clogged lakes (ditto), rapids too rocky to run (we portaged). But the physical struggles of the expedition—evidenced by our fresh scars and frostbitten toes (not to mention the 20-30 pounds we each lost)—paled in comparison to the mental fortitude required of us to coexist amicably while being pushed far past the limits of what any of us had previously endured. From the first portage—a three-miler on the second day with 150-pound packs—our individual flaws and idiosyncrasies were wholly exposed. My overwhelming sense of pride stems, I believe, from the knowledge that the six of us made it to the Arctic Ocean both bodily and morally intact, having helped each other along the way and having had a hell of a good time.
My friend Chris, with whom I’d shared an 18-foot Nova Craft canoe for the past two months, put it best. Used by the Native North America Indians, Polynesians and the Indians of the South America Amazon deltas to trade hunt and travel. Spend days rising to the challenge of weather and water, the nights pitched up enjoying the camaraderie of our excursion over outdoor food.

It didn’t happen, and many a canoeist was among those who scoffed at the Mayans and their silly doomsday predictions. But after only three hours of studying the topos, Marshall found what he was looking for: enough interconnecting, navigable waterways to allow him to paddle and portage 2,600 miles across Canada. Now with the help of Matt Harren, a budding documentary filmmaker, they plan to set out in a few weeks.
Wherever you find yourself in Wemindji, you will be greeted by friendly community members who always show great hospitality either by a simple smile in saying hello or an outstretched hand to welcome you with a traditional hand shake.
You'll find that our people are deeply connected with the roots of our ancestors and strive to keep our traditions alive by practise and passing on this knowledge to our children. My five best friends and I just completed a 1,000-mile, 58-day canoe expedition to the Arctic Ocean, and I’m desperately trying to get a grip on my feelings.
But as I distractedly finger a package of peanuts while half-reading a local newspaper, one feeling comes to the fore: pride.
And with no designated trip leader, decision-making was an often-strenuous exercise in compromise, patience, and humility. We succeeded not only in our stated goal of connecting the northern Dubawnt, Morse, and Armark rivers via a novel upstream passage into the Morse, but also in treating each other with respect and kindness even when we were cold, hungry and exhausted—and therefore least inclined to do so. The expedition cart is beefy from the stainless-steel axle to the 16” wheels worthy of a compact car, built for the most remote and rugged conditions – rocky shorelines, bumpy tundra, big loads.
We guarantee that you’ll feel right at home in Wemindji and we invite you to come visit our beautiful hometown. No kickstand makes loading the boat a little awkward, and loose parts are problematic if repeated assembly is in the cards.

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