Welcome to the women’s issue. Or is it the woman’s issue? One thing it is not is the womens’ issue. That’s because even though there is an exception to punctuation rules which says the apostrophe is supposed to come after the final s of a pluralized possessive noun, “women” is an exception to that exception, because it is a plural that doesn’t end in an s. There is no such thing as a group of womens, despite public places being filled with washrooms for them.

This is how an editor makes a living. Most people just pick up a magazine and leaf through, looking for a good place to begin reading—the tip on where to hang a food pack comes to mind. Editors have to think about not hanging modifiers. How low can a preposition dangle before a bear can reach it anyway?

Careful readers of this magazine might be skeptical about claims of grammatical vigilance. I encourage sticklers (and I use that term with respect) to write and point out all the errors of usage and style in this issue. It would be a great way to welcome the new editor and instill a sense of high standards. You see, for this issue I’ve been concerned not just with apostrophes, but also with periods, the things that come at the end of a sentence. Or fragment. Or job. 

With two new small but squirming items to carry over the portage now I’ve decided to shake up my life a little. After five years of editing Canoeroots I’ll be leaving it to a new editor to steer through the February issue and beyond. 

Five years doesn’t sound like much perhaps. After all, it’s only twice as long as one of the canoe trips featured in this issue. But it was long enough to change at least one paddler’s perspective on the sport. When I started at Canoeroots I considered canoeing and isolation to be a natural fit. A canoe was something to take you away from other people. Now I know canoes are even better at bringing people together. The canoeing community is strong when it is connected. As the article on the weakening of the Navigable Waters Protection Act shows, that is important if the values we share and the wild spaces we enjoy will have any supporters.

So by all means, write and tally up all the sentences in this issue that start with a But or an And. Whatever you write, it is a pleasure to know that there are people at the other end of the presses who love canoeing like we do. And now that no one remembers how small the print size was in the Spring 2006 issue, reader emails are our favourite kind. Until I become editor of Friendly and Interesting People Monthly, I won’t expect to be in regular contact with such a great group of readers and enthusiasts.

Finally, I should thank publisher Scott MacGregor and, of course, Bill Gates. To MacGregor for starting Canoeroots and making my job possible; and to Gates, for refusing to add a Canadian dictionary to Microsoft Word’s spell check and making my job necessary. 

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

In 1980, Don Starkell and his son Dana embarked on what became the longest—and in another sense the largest—canoeing adventure ever. The two started from home in Winnipeg and finished in Belem, Brazil, a world-record-setting 19,603 kilometres later. 

Don’s book about the journey, Paddle to the Amazon, became an instant classic in paddling circles thanks to its tales of pirate attacks, near starvation, accusations of espionage and threats of execution.

Despite this, Starkell has remained largely out of the pantheon of better-known adventurers like Steve Fossett, Sir Edmund Hilary and Colin Angus.

Starkell might soon be getting more widespread credit, thanks to filmmaker Chris Forde and his soon-to-be-released documentary. Forde is hoping Starkell’s book publisher will let him borrow the same title for the film.

Forde interviewed the main cast of characters including Starkell’s other son Jeff, who abandoned the trip halfway through. The film, however, is more than a regurgitation of the book. 

As it turns out, when the project began the Starkells were re-tracing a section of the original trip. This excursion became the backbone of Forde’s documentary. 

“It gives the viewer the feeling that they’re going to go all the way down the Mississippi with them.” Forde explains.

In addition to this more recent footage, the film captures the dangers of the original route through some of the most politically unstable countries in the world. A particularly chilling moment occurs when Starkell talks about the dangers he expected to face on the trip.

“I had a list of things I thought would be hardest to endure,” says Starkell. “First off, I said weather, insects and water supplies. But as I got further in the trip—and it didn’t take very long—man went right to the top.” Starkell claims to have been shot at 14 times and at one point he and Dana were dragged into the jungle and almost killed.

Forde wanted to reveal the real motives behind this “family trip” that took 10 years to plan and two years to execute, but he had to question Starkell repeatedly.

“He offered all sorts of reasons why he did the trip: he got divorced, he wanted to do something with his kids and he wanted to inspire his kids,” Forde explains. “I sensed he would get close to the real reason and then veer off.”

“Finally, on the last day on the Mississippi, he told me. He wanted to test his limits. He wanted to know how far he could go before he actually died. This is what the trip was ultimately about to Don.”

Similarly, when Forde is asked about why he undertook the documentary he gives a reasonable answer about increasing awareness.

“This story should be a part of our culture, everybody should know about this. We have Terry Fox. Starkell should be right up there,” argues Forde.

When asked again however, he digs deeper. 

“I wanted to meet Don. I think more than anything I wanted to meet my hero.” 

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

A year before our first child was born we broke ground building our dream home. I was hell bent and determined to have the house finished before we moved in. I swore I wouldn’t be that guy with Tyvek siding and plywood floors. I’d have doors on my cupboards. There’d be trim on my windows. Every nail driven was one nail closer to sitting in our screened-in porch enjoying late sunset dinners. 

Today, four years after moving in, we have open studded ceilings, closet doors without knobs and there is a gap between the ceramic tile in the kitchen and the red pine flooring in the dining room. Yes, Cheerios, marbles and dead flies collect there. 

It would take me only a few hours to finish this job. A trip to Home Depot to buy the trim and a couple hours measuring, cutting, gluing and nailing everything into place. But it’s not going to happen. Today is June 26 and it’s National Canoe Day. We’re going to join paddlers from coast to coast to coast in canoe-related activities in waters of our own choosing. We’re spending our National Canoe Day paddling to a place my son calls Bunny Island.

Last week, June 13 to 21 was Bike Week in the United Kingdom. My daughter Kate just turned three years old and with her chocolate cupcakes came her first two-wheeler. As a former colony with the Queen still on our money, it seems the only right thing to do is ride our bicycles. 

National Fishing Week kicks off July 4. As the publisher of Kayak Angler, one of Canoeroots’ sister publications, it would be irresponsible for a guy like me to not take my kids fishing, besides “recreational fishing is a heritage activity that provides an opportunity for people of all ages and from all walks of life and cultural backgrounds to get outdoors and enjoy both the excitement and serenity of fishing.” Sold. Who should argue with the Canadian National Sportfishing Foundation and deprive their kids of true cultural experiences and their heritage.

In the United States they have National Camping Month and to celebrate we’ve lined up two family canoe camping trips down the Petawawa and Dumoine Rivers. At this rate, I can’t see me getting at the Cheerio gutter until early fall or maybe even winter—but then there’s National Jump in the Leaves Month and the entire alpine ski season to look forward to. 

The Outdoor Industry Association’s 2008 Outdoor Recreation Participation Report suggests that from 2006 to 2007, there was a 12 per cent decrease of participation in outdoor activities among American children ages 6 to 17 years of age. The same is probably true in Canada. 

When it comes to home renovations Bob the Builder says, “Can we fix it? Yes we can!” But first let’s tackle the more important project of reversing a potentially deadly trend and get kids outside. “Can we fix it? Yes we can!” Sometimes all it takes to get a job done is writing it on the calendar.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Unlike the hollow bones of most birds, much of a loon skeleton is solid. The added weight aids in diving but makes it difficult to get airborne. Loons must swim into the wind or run across the water to create enough lift for take-off.

The average airspeed velocity of a migrating loon is 120 kilometres per hour (much faster than an unladen swallow—African or European).

Loons can stay underwater for almost a minute and dive to depths of 80 metres.

Loons have four distinct calls: A laughing tremolo signals alarm or greeting; a haunting wail is used during night chorusing with a mate and social interactions. A one-note hoot aids in locating or checking on family members; and every male has a unique yodeling call that it uses to defend its territory. 

The loon has internal air sacs that help it float. When threatened, it can empty these sacs to sink its body like a submarine, leaving only the head visible as a periscope.

The loonie is rooted in classic Canadian scandal. In 1987, a voyageur canoe like that depicted on the old silver dollar was chosen to grace the new Canadian one-dollar coin. Somehow, the master dies were “lost” during transit from Ottawa to the Royal Canadian Mint in Winnipeg. To avoid possible counterfeiting, the familiar loon design was substituted at the last minute.

Although the loon’s maniacal laugh gave us the phrase “crazy as a loon,” the term “loony” has entirely separate origins. Since Roman times, a widely believed theory held that exposure to moonlight—especially that of a full moon—caused madness. Those unhinged by the moon’s influence were known as “lunatics” from luna, the Latin word for moon. Loony is simply a slang version. 

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.