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Photographing the Milky Way at Nistowiak Falls, one of Saskatchewan’s tallest and most iconic waterfalls, had been a long-time dream of mine. So when the opportunity finally arose to go with Tourism Saskatchewan, I jumped at it. As I began planning the trip to capture this once-in-a-lifetime shot, it became clear that this shoot would be anything but straightforward. From navigating challenging waterways and unpredictable weather to reaching a vantage point that had never been reached, this adventure would test me at every turn. What started as an exciting photography opportunity quickly became a journey of perseverance, teamwork, and discovery in Saskatchewan’s great north.
As I explored Google Earth and PlanIt Pro, I realized the Milky Way core would be visible over Nistowiak Falls only from the east side of the falls. From the more accessible west side, where Jim’s Camp is located, the Milky Way would be hidden behind the ravine wall. Satellite imagery and drone footage suggested a possible outcropping on the east side that could offer a vantage point. However, there were no existing photos from that side, and it was clear that few, if any, ventured across the top of the falls.
Unlike southern Saskatchewan, where travel is by road, the main highway in the north is the Churchill River, and the vehicle is a boat. That seemed simple enough—just hire a guide with a motorboat, take a quick hike to the falls, grab the shot, and toast to success. However, the only way to the east side of Nistowiak Falls is across the top of the waterfall, through rock-infested, fast-moving water and the only vessel that could make it safely: a canoe. Unfortunately, the last time I paddled a canoe was as a child, and a 30-kilometre round trip that included navigating Stanley Rapids was well beyond my abilities.
The third challenge was timing. Unlike the south, northern Saskatchewan summers aren’t ideal for night photography. The sun doesn’t dip low enough for the sky to become fully dark, making the Milky Way unviewable. That left two windows: early spring or late fall. In early spring, the waterways are likely still frozen or unsafe due to melting ice, and the Milky Way isn’t ideally positioned over Nistowiak Falls. Late fall was the better option, but it came with its risks. The normally warm Churchill River drops to near-freezing temperatures by late September, significantly increasing the risk of hypothermia in the case of a capsize. The weather could also be unpredictable. Historical temperatures in Missinipe, Saskatchewan (the starting point of this adventure), showed overnight lows ranging from 5°C at the warmest to -13°C at the coldest over the past decade. Additionally, as the trip happens at the end of the tourist season, backcountry tenting/wild camping was the only accommodation left to us. I wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of freezing nights in a small tent.
Reading all this, you might wonder why I even went. It was outside my comfort zone, might not have been possible, and required immense effort for a single photograph. So why do it? Adventure. The most powerful images are often tied to meaningful experiences. People don’t typically frame their backyard snapshots; they display images that connect them to memories and places they’ve experienced—or, in this case, the journey to get there. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t relish the opportunity to see northern Saskatchewan for the first time, photograph Nistowiak Falls, and capture an image that nobody else has ever done.
After some discussion, we hired Churchill River Canoe Outfitters (CRCO) to guide us. Their expertise and knowledge of the area would be invaluable. Little did I know just how crucial they would be.
Fast-forward to the end of September. My wife and I had just returned from a 3-day backcountry trip in Kootenay National Park when Matt, videographer for Tourism Saskatchewan, picked me up to begin this adventure. Our first day took us to Saskatoon, where we picked up another Tourism Saskatchewan videographer, Mitch, before heading to Lac La Ronge Provincial Park in northern Saskatchewan. The forecast for the week called for cold temperatures, wind, and clouds—not ideal for night photography in canoes and tents. Despite this, we decided to make the best of it.
That night at Wadin Bay, I got my first real look at northern Saskatchewan. The fall colours were peaking, and the rugged beauty of the lakes, dotted with islands, was breathtaking. We caught a spectacular sunset, made even more dramatic by a passing rainstorm. I captured my first image of the trip and, later that night, took some quick Milky Way shots to act as backups in case other nights were clouded over. Then it was back to the warmth of our hotel room to prepare mentally for the days ahead.
On Tuesday morning, we drove up to Missinipe to meet with Martin, the owner of CRCO, and make a plan for the week. Martin introduced us to Clint Austin, our guide and my paddle partner for the trip. We came into that meeting expecting to head out to Nistowiak Falls on our first day, capture the image that first night (or stay an extra night if needed), and paddle back to Stanley Mission. Martin quickly realigned our expectations with reality. The weather dictates what you can and can’t do in northern Saskatchewan. The forecast was for wind gusts of 55 Km/h out of the West on Wednesday which killed our plan. Paddling against a bit of wind is difficult, paddling against a wind like that would be impossible. If we decided to go out to Nistowiak Falls to photograph the Milky Way that day, we would be stuck at the falls until Friday (when the wind calmed down). We needed to decide if we wanted to camp at Nistowiak Falls for three days or shift our plans elsewhere. After some discussion, we decided to paddle out to Nistowiak Falls Thursday morning with the wind at our backs, returning early Friday morning. This also happened to be when the cloud forecast was most favourable.
The change of plan meant I would also get to cross the Holy Trinity Anglican Church (Saskatchewan’s oldest building) off my bucket list. The short paddle to the church Tuesday morning was an eye-opener. My poor paddling technique left my muscles burning, and I began to doubt my ability to handle the longer journey ahead. But as soon as camp was set up on the island home to the church, my focus shifted to the beauty around me. The aspen forest around us was golden, with warm sunlight filtering through the clouds, and the Holy Trinity Church standing tall along the shoreline. We spent the evening photographing the church and surrounding shoreline. Cloud cover dashed our hopes of capturing the Milky Way, but we improvised with light painting techniques.
After barely sleeping in my frost-covered tent, we enjoyed some breakfast that Clint prepared (the food provided by CRCO was delicious) and packed up our canoes to get back across the water before the wind peaked. As we left the shelter of the shoreline, I realized I was once again ill-prepared for the paddle. Clint yelled encouragement (or perhaps playful mockery) as I struggled to paddle against the wind. Thankfully, his skill got us across safely and we began planning for the next day.
In this planning session, Clint shared some surprising news. He (and Martin vouched for this) talked to many guides and some locals in that area about getting to the east side and found that it hadn’t been done before. Not only was this image one-of-a-kind, but the view of Nistowiak Falls from that side was one that, perhaps, nobody had seen before. My excitement about the prospect of being one of the few with a never-before-seen view of one of Saskatchewan’s icons was quickly dashed when he began to talk about some of the challenges in navigating the water and some of the rapids and fast water we needed to make it through.
Thursday morning, under freezing conditions and a mix of sleet and snow, we set out on our 15-kilometre paddle to Nistowiak Falls. A couple of kilometres in Clint stopped us and took the time to teach me some essential strokes for canoeing in the bow, and corrected my poor paddling form. I’m grateful for his guidance because, from that point on, navigating the canoe became noticeably easier. The trip there was still not without its challenges. Navigating the portage at Little Stanley Rapids and the huge swell on Drake Lake were the most memorable. When we made it to Jim’s Camp (closed for the season), I was beat and ready for a break.
Unfortunately, no breaks were coming – we needed to portage our gear ½ kilometre to the top of Nistowiak Falls. After several trips and getting camp set up, I finally got to go down and take my first look at Nistowiak Falls. They were breathtaking—so much so that it felt like I had been transported out of Saskatchewan. The scene resembled something from the Canadian Rockies, where waterfalls are often framed by towering peaks, yet here I was in the supposedly “flat and boring” province of Saskatchewan. There wasn’t much time for admiring; the job was only half done. Our next task was navigating our way across the top of the falls while laying down some glow sticks on some of the rocks so we could paddle our way back to camp in the dark. The trip across was nerve-wracking but successful, again proving how valuable Clint was to making this happen.
Once on the other side, the challenge became finding the right vantage point for the photograph. This was uncharted territory with no trail to guide us, so bushwhacking was our only option. I mentally noted a couple of taller pine trees close to the spot I thought we might be able to photograph from and began to break the trail. Clint and Matt followed behind, marking the new trail with glowsticks and flag tape so we could find our way back out in the dark. After a few false starts and wrong turns, I finally found a spot through the trees that looked down on the ledge we needed to get to. We were close but the last dozen meters required some serious bushwacking through the wall of vegetation on the ravine edge. Once through that, I needed to tie off to a sturdy tree, get my harness on and slowly drop myself onto the wet ledge that would serve as my photographic home for the evening. As soon as my feet landed on that ledge, I let out an excited yell. The view was everything I had hoped for and more. From this elevated vantage point, Nistowiak Falls was magnificent. While the West side offers a beautiful perspective, it feels more like rapids than a true waterfall. From the East, the falls reveal their full grandeur, and I was in absolute awe.
As sunset approached, the clouds that had lingered all week began to break apart. The sun burst through, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and reds—a promising sign for the night ahead. As we waited for nightfall, the clearing in the South became larger and larger until the bank of clouds had completely moved off to the North and left the sky clear, save for a few stragglers. After days of doubt about whether this would be possible, everything was falling into place. I double-checked the Milky Way alignment using PlanIt Pro and was thrilled to confirm it was exactly as I had envisioned.
During the blue hour, I captured a few images of the foreground while we waited for the stars to fully emerge. As twilight gave way to night, the Milky Way began to reveal itself, arching directly over Nistowiak Falls. It was a perfect alignment. I photographed the Milky Way over Nistowiak Falls from my precarious ledge before moving to a safer spot along the shoreline to get a few exposures of the Milky Way using my star tracker to maximize the detail in the core. By the time we finished, the stress of paddling back in the dark alongside the roaring waterfall felt insignificant. We returned to camp with smiling faces, proud of what we had accomplished.
The next morning greeted us with sub-zero temperatures and another extraordinary scene. Steam rose from the water, and frost covered every surface, creating a magical, otherworldly atmosphere. I couldn’t resist capturing a few final sunrise images before we packed up. We then portaged everything to the bottom of the falls and paddled our way back to Stanley Mission on a beautiful Friday morning.
The return paddle was calm and reflective. The Churchill River that had seemed so daunting now felt inviting. Drake Lake’s smooth waters and the gentle flow of the Churchill River gave us time to take in the rugged beauty of northern Saskatchewan. The vibrant autumn colours still lit up the shoreline and islands that dotted the lakes, offering a fitting goodbye to a place that had challenged me in many ways but also delivered an incredible experience.
As we reached Stanley Mission and loaded the vehicle, a sense of accomplishment and thankfulness set in. We had tackled a tough, seemingly impossible goal and were successful. The envisioned image—a view of Nistowiak Falls under the Milky Way—was now a reality. But more than the image itself, the journey to get there is what will stay with me. The effort, teamwork, faith, and determination are what make this a powerful image and one of the greatest I’ve ever captured
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