October 2026

Paddling with Dysautonomia: Learning to Manage my Chronic Illness on a 1,300-mile Canoe Expedition 

Olivia portaging a canoe on day one of the Hudson Bay expedition, then on day 80, 1,292 miles later at York Factory.

On day 60 of my 80-day canoe expedition to the Arctic, I was racing against the inevitable shut-down of my body. I could hardly focus on the path in front of me as I hurried across a portage trail along the Hayes River in remote northern Manitoba. My vision was bright and blurry, my heart pounding in my chest, my knees felt like jelly, and my hearing kept going out–making it sound like I was underwater. Worried about startling a moose or a bear, I started talking to myself so I could scare off any nearby wildlife, but I was stuttering my words and could hardly speak. I had already completed this trail once, double-portaging with a 60-liter bear barrel and a 115-liter portage pack, and was desperately moving towards the landing to grab our final pieces of gear at our starting point.

My symptoms worsened in intensity, and I decided to stop pushing through this pre-passing out, or pre-syncope, episode. I laid down on the trail, kicking my legs up on a tree to force more blood back to my brain. I chugged my lemon-lime Gatorade–which was extra salted–and embraced the attacking mosquitoes. A year ago, I was one of the strongest portagers I knew–portages were even my favorite part of canoe trips. However, episodes like these had become a frequent struggle of mine in the months leading up to this expedition. It wasn’t until a month before I began this expedition that I had a name for what was happening to me–Dysautonomia.

October is Dysautonomia Awareness Month, and Dysautonomia is a term for Autonomic Nervous System dysfunction. This condition can cause symptoms like high heart rate, blood pressure fluctuations, blood pooling in the extremities, visual changes, fatigue, GI-issues, lightheadedness, dizziness, temperature regulation issues, light and noise sensitivity, brain fog, and even tremors. Dysautonomia also causes orthostatic and exercise intolerance–which means that standing and upright exercise can trigger or worsen symptoms.

I was four weeks out from my expedition when I learned about this, and any excitement I had over completing an 8.5-mile portage on day one was now replaced with fear.  My doctor advised me to wear compression garments, consume 3,000-10,000mg of sodium per day, and avoid triggers for my symptoms–like prolonged standing, hot temperatures, and intense physical exertion. Seeing as I’d likely encounter all of these factors and more each day, I knew I’d have to be proactive in my symptom management. I stole a pair of compression socks from my sister, came up with a plan for symptom management with my crew, and purchased roughly 200 LiquidIV packets–enough to get me through the first half of the expedition as I’d be drinking 4-5 electrolyte packets per day. 

A month later, on May 26, I stood at the shoreline of Lake Superior, staring into the peaceful abyss of the largest lake in the world. As I stood shoulder to shoulder with the three other people I would be travelling with for the next 80-days, I tried to reassure myself that completing this expedition was possible. I’d spent the past eight months in a constant struggle with my body, and one I always lost. A few minutes later, we waved bye to our friends and family, put our packs on, flipped up our canoes, and started portaging.

The 8.5-mile Grand Portage took us 12 hours. We had two packs weighing 115-pounds, two 65-pound canoes, and an extra 30-pound pack we would double portage with a canoe. Nothing was easy, and nothing was light. We would portage for 8-12 minutes at a time, then take an 8-20 minute break together. Each break we had, I would chug electrolytes, elevate my legs against a tree, and take a salt pill if I needed an extra boost. There were moments where I could only manage to take three steps at a time as I climbed uphill, away from Lake Superior. I had to crawl on my knees to cross creek beds with washed out bridges, and desperately cling onto branches for balance as I climbed over dead trees. Finally, at 9pm that evening as the sun was setting, I saw the promising white glimmer of the Pigeon River through the pine trees. 

As I sat in camp with my crew, eating mac n’ cheese at 11pm in the dark with the bugs, I realized I had completed something I thought was impossible. A week prior, I had almost passed out in the REI check-out line while trying to buy some new socks, and now I had just completed the longest portage of my life. I encountered many new challenges and symptoms throughout the remaining 79-days of the expedition, from painful blood-pooling, pre-syncope episodes on nearly every portage trail, and intense fatigue. However, this expedition showed me that I can still be strong, even though I have to adapt. I’m excited to pursue this new journey with a stronger body and mind than before, and can’t wait to push myself during our circumnavigation of Lake Superior this summer.