u/Trick_Syllabub_180

This was not the kind of week you can plan for.

My exposure to a contaminated environment finally caught up with me, and it hit hard. I was forced to abandon the river and seek immediate medical attention. Severe dehydration, combined with some sort of virus, had left me dangerously weak. To make matters worse, my water supply had become contaminated, meaning I had no choice but to keep moving despite how sick I was becoming.

There was a hospital in Virden, Manitoba, and getting there was going to be a challenge—but I had no alternative. Staying on the riverbank could have cost me my life. Even the walk to the Trans-Canada Highway felt overwhelming in my condition.

The medical team in Virden quickly got me on antibiotics and gave me the care I desperately needed. A huge thank you to everyone there.

Realistically, it was going to take at least four days to get back on my feet. I made the difficult decision to rent a car and portage the remaining 100 kilometres to Winnipeg. Thankfully, I had a friend there who offered me a couch for a couple of days while I recovered. Even then, the virus had completely drained me, and I knew I couldn't afford to lose any more time.

Five days later, still feeling the effects but determined to continue, I finally put the canoe back in the water and resumed the journey.

Some weeks test your endurance. This one tested my ability to adapt, make difficult decisions, and simply keep going.

It was one of the toughest weeks yet—everything that could go wrong did. Sweat, mud banks and a merciless sun blurred the line between stubbornness and folly. I convinced myself I could muscle the boat faster and skirt the oxbows; the result was predictably catastrophic.

I snapped my Kevlar paddle—no surprise, I’d been using it for tasks no paddle was meant to survive. I jury‑rigged a repair, but it never regained its edge.

Impatience got the better of me in high winds. Foolishly, I raised the sail. A rogue wave and a sudden gust tipped the boat, and with it went my drone and cell phone. Stranded at a desert resort, I seethed and stewed, cursing every ill-timed choice.

Then, as if the gods had flipped a switch, a brilliant day arrived and lifted the mood. A few more pushes downstream and we met the Assiniboine—where this chapter finally closes.

Lake Diefenbaker — I miss it already. Out there, you could look around. There was something to see. But this stretch? Two banks, endless and flat, pressing in from either side. Miles of it. It wears on you.
The water levels are low, and the river has made me pay for it — slow going, grinding miles. Still, I managed to steal a few days of real lake time through this section. Then the rain came in. Days of it. Not exactly glamorous.
But then — this. I crossed paths with a group of young paddlers with a wild mission: cross all of Canada by canoe. And they've chosen a route that makes mine look like a warm-up. Longer, harder, more unforgiving. Go check them out — canadabycanoe.com — because what they're doing deserves your attention.
As for me? I'm roughly four days out from the Assiniboine River. More water means more speed — at least, that's the hope.
The sun has been relentless. A real killer out here on the open water. And speaking of killers — wood ticks. Doesn't matter how careful you are. Doesn't matter how thorough the check. They find you.

Been editing a bit in the evenings on my iPad. Thing works great, but it's a bit of a power hog, though. I had a great first couple of days on the Qu'Appelle River with a good tailwind and great camping. After I got past Buffalo Pound, things took a turn for the worse. They were still holding back a lot of water. Mining and agriculture were holding on to their fair share, leaving the river pretty low. I finally made it to Lumsden, Saskatchewan, and took a couple of days off for repairs and rest.