Run Whimbrel Run

One of the funnier shots I took yesterday at Crystal Cove State Park north of Laguna Beach, CA. This bird (a Whimbrel) is an example of the far reaching importance of the Boreal Forest. Whimbrels breed in open tundra and winter along the coast of the US and Mexico. Boreal Forest rivers and wetlands are important stopover points for many species of tundra nesters. I've seen many shorebirds during migration along rivers of the north.

It took 15 years, but I made it.

"River's End" 18"x 24" acrylic. From my campsite September 11, 2001. My canoe half unloaded before being put up for the night. This is a companion piece of sorts to the Sandhill Crane painting below (2 posts ago). It was done from a field painting I did on the scene while I tended to my dinner cooking on the fire. The scene is looking back upstream along the last of the Missinaibi River from Portage Island. Out of sight to the left is the Mattagami River. Portage Island is in the midst of the confluence of the two rivers. Downstream of the island according to cartographers is the Moose River. The next morning I dutifully shared a toast of whiskey with the river as I left the Missinaibi behind, 15 years and 3 months after my father and I had paddled the southern section of the river. I had decided to do the entire river then. It was a bit sad being there by myself, but being a personal goal, maybe appropriate to have reached it alone.

The Plan: Source to Salt

The last post was kind of heavy, and mostly canoe expeditions are great fun, so I wanted to move along with a new post....two in one day. This painting is "Devil's Cap Falls" August 30, 2001; 16"x 28" acrylic, on the Missinaibi River. The Missinaibi flows for 300 miles from a bit north and east of Lake Superior to its confluence with the Mattagami, where they form the Moose. The Moose flows for 50 miles to Moosonee (the largest town in Canada unconnected to civilization by road), and another 10 miles to James Bay. I had paddled the upper (southern -- it flows north) part of the river three times, variously with my father, brother and ex-wife. I had wanted to paddle the entire river for several years, but something always seemed to come up.

"Devil's Cap Falls" acrylic by Rob Mullen

Finally in the fall of 2000 I decided I was going come heck or high water; I wasn't getting any younger, though at 44 I was still reasonably strong and fit. The Missinaibi flows across remote country on the Canadian Shield to the small town of Mattice, Ontario where the northern spur of the Trans Canada Highway crosses. North of Mattice the real wilderness starts, with no access to humanity until the Cree village of Moose River, 170 miles away. 35 miles north of Mattice, the river dramatically plunges off the Shield onto the Hudson Bay Lowlands through Thunderhouse Gorge.

At the reception for Art of the Animal Kingdom in June of '01, fellow Vermont artist John Pitcher asked if he could come. He is a highly regarded painter but had little whitewater canoeing experience. However, he has extensive experience in wilderness travel and being a Vietnam combat veteran, I figured he'd be up to about anything. As you can see above, he can paint. That is a self portrait he did of a rapid he changed his mind on and let me run both boats.

I had planned on going alone and only had a solo canoe that was good for wilderness travel, so we needed another boat. I had paddled a Mad River Courier for years and Mad River Canoe Company was a local Vermont company (just bought out by Confluence Water Sports at about that time), so I called them up hoping for a discount on a demo or something. Got the President on the phone and he offered to give us two new canoes...GIVE! I was shocked. Mad River Canoe Company has sponsored me ever since.
"Change of Mind" acrylic by John Pitcher

John and I had a tough time with very low water which created numerous rocky rapids where normally the current was smooth, and made many of the known rapids difficult because of the narrow rocky passages such as in John's painting. We had a good time though and the river was beautiful even if rough going. We made it to Mattice in 9 days; 130 miles. In Mattice John decided to head home. He was having great difficulty with his hands going numb from the constant and difficult paddling....... a disconcerting malady for a painter. I tussled with my qualms about going on alone over beers in the local bar. After 3 bottles (or so) I decided to continue. It had been one thing to bravely talk of going solo at dinner parties and show receptions. Actually facing the prospect of being alone in a total wilderness for 170 miles was a different matter. But Mad River Canoe Co. was supporting the trip and I had gotten a magazine to promise a story of nationally known artists going from Source to Salt on a deep wilderness river to the Arctic Ocean. Somehow I didn't think it would bode well for continuing these trips (as I was already dreaming of) if both of us went home early. Some fool had to finish it.

Tragedy beauty and irony

I realized that after all my rambling on the initial posts here, that there was no artwork posted...some artist. Well, now that my good friend Carel is a "Blog of Note", I guess I'd better get my act in gear and figure out how to work this thing.

This piece is from the first of my wilderness art expeditions in 2001. I didn't paint it until 2003/2004 because of the date and associated emotional issues; it is the dawn of September 11, 2001. I was alone, 260 miles into my journey on the Missinaibi River to James Bay. This was my first sight of the sun in 5 days after unrelenting cold wind and rain that had included a brush with hypothermia and a near gale. To see the sun was ........ well just say I have an appreciation for how religions get started. In rushing down to the riverbank I nearly startled these Sandhill Cranes that were feeding by my canoe. In my isolated ignorance it was the best day of the trip. I found out what had happened in New York, Washington DC and Pennsylvania at the Cree Indian village of Moose River on the 13th. I have a brother who had just started his stint on the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Pentagon and a first cousin who had his office on the 103rd floor of the WTC. For a brief few seconds after the initial shock passed, I uncharitably wondered if this sort of thing was what the locals liked to tell unsuspecting canoeists who hadn't seen another human for many days or weeks. There was no way to contact anyone, so all I could do was wait for the train. Moose River is where the Ontario Northland RR crosses on its way to its terminus at Moosonee. It was only another 40 miles, but I needed to return home and all you need to do is flag down the northern trains anywhere in the bush. Back in Cochrane, Ontario I had gotten into such a state I didn't dare call home. I methodically loaded the canoe and my gear out of the boxcar and into my van which had been dutifully waiting in the parking lot for three weeks. Then sucked it up and girded myself for the call. The second my mother answered the phone I knew everyone was OK; there was no trace of grief in her voice. My brother had been in the Pentagon when it was struck, but on the opposite side of the building -- and it is huge. My cousin had had the more miraculous escape. Tragically no one made it out of his office; all his friends and co-workers died, but he had been called back home on his way to work that morning.

The "highlight" of my trip was horridly tarnished. The field paintings I'd done and the rolls of film sat for a long while. It finally started to dawn on me though, that along with the evil and suffering of that day, the world -- at least the natural world -- was still a profoundly beautiful place. That dawn, on that day, made for a greater contrast to emphasize the point. It also powerfully delineates an aspect of nature I seek on these expeditions and in my work; the "Wild". The non-human Earth that preceded us and will outlast us, and cares not a whit what we do or whether we are. We are of it, it is not of (or for) us. I made no reference to the date in the painting or its title; for me, that would have been exploitive and wrong. It is, however, a powerful part of the painting for me.

Getting Started....sort of

Shot of my good side on the George River, Nunivik. This is the runout of Helen Falls where we will end the 2006 expedition (we continued another 45 miles to Kangiqsualujjuaq on the recon trip). Helen Falls is over a mile long RV rapid (whitewater is graded RI - RVI) that requires a long portage. It is hard to follow at many points because of interweaving caribou trails. Taking a wrong turn with an 80 lbs canoe on your shoulders is irritating. The funniest part was one boat crew (who shall remain nameless) who lost their bright red canoe while looking for the trail.

I made my first posting last night and went on about how I had another blog on this site, but had lost it and ……… well, it was very witty writing (take my word for it, because I forgot it all). My only fleeting regret was that it was that my initial entry would be the last day of February and not March 1. Growing up in northern Vermont, I have a prejudice against both January and February. Winter was still somewhat novel in December, big quiet snowfalls, not too cold (usually) and of course there was Christmas; Santa, festive lights, carolers, community good cheer and all that. Then … January 1st. Calling it New Year’s Day didn’t help. I wasn’t a big drinker as a kid, so being hung over has nothing to do with this antipathy of mine. Just the mention of the word “January” makes my toes cold. It instantly conjures the image of hard blue sky, deep sub-zero temps, squeaky snow, the pain of the air hitting your face, chimney smoke going pencil straight into the cold clear sky and the depressing thought that it has only started; and we had to go back to school. February is admittedly somewhat better. Usually not as much horrific cold and more snow (I do love snowstorms), but everyone is getting a bit full of winter by the end of February. March, even though very much a winter month in the Vermont of my childhood, was a friendlier one, bringing with it some hints of the end. Some warm(ish – I’ve discovered since leaving the State that 25 degrees F is not generally considered warm in most parts of the country) weather, typically lots of snow and April was next.

Anyway all that is to say I would have preferred my first post to have waited two minutes until March 1st, but I’d hit the Post button precipitously and it was done.

Well, if you care to, you can possibly imagine my surprise this morning, when curious to see how many hundreds of people had read over my entry I logged on and found two surprising things…..three actually.

First: I found the missing blog that I’d written about losing.

Second: I found another “missing” blog I’d forgotten I set up.

Third: It took three tries and help from a friend to find my new blogsite and then I discovered that my “1st Post” hadn’t posted at all (sort of squeezed two in there, but I thought four surprises would be a bit much for one morning).

Fourth: Well, OK four; no one had logged on to see my literary spewings.

So now I’m back to the beginning again. So far this blogging seems a pretty fun waste of time, but then so was Minesweeper, but I just deleted it from my computer (103 at expert..sorry to boast…had one far sub 100 score literally stepped on by the cat and ruined with 27 bombs left after 47 seconds….but I digress).

On to more interesting things or at least stuff with more substance. Actually I have a lot of work to do today and being self-employed, I actually have to do it all, so very briefly; this blog will chiefly deal with wilderness art adventure and conservation issues (believe it or not). Currently I have an expedition going to the George River in far northern Quebec; Nunavik, which is Quebec north of 52 degrees Latitude and is administered by First Nation Innu and Inuit. I went up there with a recon crew this past September and we had a grand time. We’re going back with the full crew this September. Now I’m deep in the really fun part; fund raising……right. Hey, it’s fun when it works. For now I’ll stick in a few shots from the trips (do one every year) and get to work.

Northern Lights above camp on the George River August 31, 2005. The Aurora was one of the key highlights of the trip, with stunning shows on probably 9 of our 14 nights in the bush.








Mama bear on the George River. She had two cubs with her and posed until we left. Very curious with no aggression. She had likely never seen people before. We saw bears every day, though this was the closest and most cooperative bear of the trip.

One of the most fun parts of the trip and why I have to do fundraising. One of two DeHavillands we used into the bush. This is a single Otter; the other was a DeHavilland Beaver.