Paul Kiefner's 1983 Magpie River Expedition

Chronicles of Paul Kiefner – 1983 Magpie River Whitewater Expedition – Province of Quebec, Canada West Branch of the Magpie River Whitewater Kayaking Expedition Province of Quebec, Canada August 1983 Written by Paul Kiefner December 2013 Page 1 – Revision A Chronicles of Paul Kiefner – 1983 Magpie River Whitewater Expedition – Province of Quebec, Canada Forty Eight Degrees North Latitude Unrelenting in its pursuit of sea level the Magpie River plunges off the Labrador Plateau on its race through the Canadian Boreal Wilderness until it finally empties its history and rage into the Saint Lawrence River. Thirty years have passed since our expedition kayaked the West Branch of the Magpie River - a very challenging wilderness adventure trip fraught with mishaps. It’s a miracle no one died. None of us ever went back. The experience changed me forever. I cannot speak for the others. While recently browsing online information about the Magpie I came across a trip report in Canadian Canoe Routes about four guys who kayaked the river in 2000. John Arnett, a kayaker on our expedition, read the article and offered the following comment. Submitted by: John T. Arnett Seven of us did the west branch in August 1983. The best description of this river came to us from a Canadian Canoe club -- "Only those whose level of kayaking expertise has reached the level of Nobility should attempt the West Branch of the Magpie". After 36 years of kayaking, the West Branch of the Magpie has to be the stand out. John T. Arnett Laramie, Wyoming Most people will never see this river. Few will kayak it. It is simply too remote and dangerous and requires too much planning and time. Commercial rafting companies now run trips on the river, but that was hardly the experience we desired. At the time, we were one of only a few self-supported groups who had run the Magpie. Commercial rafting on the Magpie was nonexistent then. Occasionally, I wonder why I never chronicled this trip, but I believe people do things only when they are truly ready. While in Ottawa this summer, a memory sparked my desire to record the experience for once and for all. There are many things I have forgotten, but this trip is not one of them. Some of the precise details may be missing or inaccurate, but this will not change my indelible impressions of this trip or alter my ability to communicate them. Back then, the Magpie was considered one of North America’s Top Ten Extreme Whitewater Rivers, breathtaking in complexity and scope and highly respected for its dangerous character. In our grand delusion, Charlie Duffy and I excitedly put together an expedition to run this river. We had paddled the classic West Virginia Whitewater Rivers including the Gauley, Cheat, Tygart, Blackwater, New, and Big Sandy, and many others. We were at the apex of our skills and confidence. Yet it proved insignificant considering what the Magpie had in store. Charlie’s mindset was that this trip would be a “Piece of Cake”. My mindset was more of apprehension, although I was excited about paddling a true wilderness river. I would have given anything for a “Piece of Cake” on this trip being that I was constantly hungry. As the planning progressed, so did the formation of our group of seven, all of whom took the bait so carefully prepared with embellishments of enthusiasm. There were five kayakers: Paul Kiefner, Charlie Duffy and Greg Kalmbach from Maryland and Mark Kiefner and John Arnett from Wyoming. Our raft support consisted of Page 2 – Revision A Chronicles of Paul Kiefner – 1983 Magpie River Whitewater Expedition – Province of Quebec, Canada Vietnam Bruce from out west as the sole oarsman and Dr. Hubert Yockey as the chief logistician and rapid scout. Bruce rowed the raft while Dr.Yockey reconnoitered and hung on for dear life as the raft careened off massive boulders like a pinball while the river dropped off the Labrador Plateau into whitewater oblivion. This trip had all the ingredients of a recipe for disaster. Divergent personalities, an overloaded raft, post-traumatic stress syndrome, a marijuana addict, ancient cooking methods, too much beer, too little food and a variety of unexpected problems that would have paralyzed weaker personalities. No one died on this trip, but some should have been killed. There are only two pictures in this chronicle. All remaining images are on Kodak slides which were not digitized. The words will transport you. Use your imagination. Dr. Yockey helped Charlie and I plan this trip. Dr. Yockey was probably more excited that either myself or Charlie and also basked in the glow of euphoric delusion. Ah! The Grandeur! The Rapids! The Boreal Forest! The Camaraderie! Dr. Yockey had a lot of experience planning and running whitewater wilderness trips in Northern Quebec with the Explorer Scouts in the Hudson Bay watershed. He was instrumental in the detailed organization so critical to our borderline success achieved only through the grace of god who so kindly spared our lives. Fortunately, we had moderate water levels. Even so, it was a miracle no one was injured on this trip. I would not want to run the Magpie in high water due to the exponential risk increase. The river was not the sole unknown or concern. My brother, Mark, advertised for a raft guide and hired a Vietnam Veteran, who, unknown to Mark at the time, essentially hated humanity. An acute misanthrope, Bruce Vietnam made a point of setting up his tent a hundred yards from our tents. You can imagine Bruce’s reaction after his raft got wrapped around a car-sized rock during the early hours of the first-day descent. Behaviorally, think of Christopher Walken in The Deer Hunter. If we had been carrying guns, someone surely would have been killed on this trip. The Classic Pipe Dream plan was to cover 120 miles of river in 12 days. Charlie and I argued about this but somehow decided on the longer trip versus my proposed 60 mile trip. The first part of the longer version would be a 60 mile, hair-raising descent of the boulder and waterfall strewn West Branch followed by the 30 mile section of Lac Magpie then through the lake outlet into the big water of the main river for the remaining 30 mile descent down to the Saint Lawrence River. This 120 mile trip is what Charlie insisted was going to be a “Piece of Cake”. Dr. Yockey had a twelve passenger van which we used for the 24 hour drive to Sept Iles, Quebec. We loaded it at his house in Belair, Maryland, and piled in for the thousand mile drive to Sept Isles. French for "Seven Islands", Sept Iles is a city in the Côte-Nord region of eastern Quebec, Canada. It is among the northernmost locales with a paved connection to the rest of Quebec's road network. In Sept Iles we chartered two float planes through Air Brousse to fly us north into a small lake near the headwaters of the West Branch. The pilots flew the DeHavilland Otter and Beaver above the main river so we could see what we were in for, but rapids seen from 1000 feet look different than when your kayak is being swallowed and smashed by them. Page 3 – Revision A Chronicles of Paul Kiefner – 1983 Magpie River Whitewater Expedition – Province of Quebec, Canada After landing on the lake we loaded the raft and got into our kayaks. The lake outlet into the West Branch was not far and soon we were riding the smooth tongue of water into the main river. Rapid number one had a single narrow channel with a big boulder in the middle with a large volume of water pouring over it creating a deep hydraulic depression. There was only one way through – down the middle. Eyeballing it from above, I thought it very nasty, especially for the start of the trip. Paddling into it, I immediately flipped and rolled. Now calibrated, I was never completely at ease after this. Heavy with provisions the eighteen-foot oar-powered raft was hard for Bruce to maneuver quickly around boulders due to the steep drops and fast current. Even with Dr. Yockey yelling directions and pointing Bruce’s reaction time and the raft’s responsivity were too slow. In no time the raft was pinned against a car-size rock and was held fast by the current. The bottom of the raft was against the rock and water was pouring into the raft compartments. It took all of us working feverishly to deflate the raft chambers and peel the raft off the rock. For anyone who watches reality television this is your wakeup call. The metal tubing of the raft’s rowing frame was bent but we were able to straighten it sufficiently. This incident pissed off Bruce and fueled the start of his psycho-erratic downward spiral. Twitching mentally like lethal injection. Kayak materials and design at the time were crude compared to today’s many advanced lightweight custom designs. We paddled heavy plastic rotary molded Perception Mirage kayaks which did the job but were not as light or maneuverable, a major advantage paddling complex rapids. In the overall context of this extremely dangerous trip this was the least of our problems. Somewhere along the way a recommendation was made to Bruce that he rope-tether his oars to the raft frame. This would prevent the oars from going into the river if Bruce lost control in a heavy rapid. Bruce wanted nothing to do with this idea which proved to be a critical error in judgment.

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