“The ice pack was in places an ice sheet, a solid 6+ inches of ice,” Sam Crowley says of an Easter weekend paddle to Lake Superior’s Presque Isle Rocks. For more amazing ice paddling images, visit Crowley’s Sea Kayak Specialists Facebook page.
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When as many as 30,000 Canadian lakes and rivers were removed from protected status late in 2012, paddlers on both sides of the border were up in arms.
The 130-year-old Navigable Waters Protection Act was rebranded in November last year in favor of the more industry-friendly Navigable Protection Act, which now protects a mere 97 lakes, 62 rivers and three oceans throughout Canada’s almost four million square miles.
Did your favorite paddling destination make the cut? Given the numbers, it’s unlikely. Popular canoe tripping areas that have been removed from the protection of the Act include Lady Evelyn Lake in Ontario’s famed Temagami area, New Brunswick’s salmon-rich and canoe-poling friendly Miramichi River, the Northwest Territories’ famed Slave River, and Quebec’s classic tripping river, the Dumoine. The province of Newfoundland and Labrador and northern territories Nunavut and the Yukon have just one protected river a piece, so don’t expect to find your favorite paddling routes protected there.
“Waterways are less protected today than they were a year ago,” says John Bennett, executive director of the Sierra Club Canada. “If you paddle in Canada you should be concerned—your favorite destination, if there happens to be natural resources upstream, can now be exploited with much less scrutiny than before.”
The original Navigable Waters Protection Act prevented construction that could interfere with the navigation of any body of water in Canada—navigable was considered anything you could paddle in a canoe so pretty much every waterway received protection. The purpose of the act was to prevent dams and bridges from springing up without the government’s knowledge but it also became very strong environmental protection.
In late February, documents obtained through the Access to Information Act suggested that these changes might have occurred at the suggestion of big business. The Canadian Energy Pipeline Association (CEPA) met with senior officials in the fall of 2011, urging them to streamline environmental assessments and also make “new regulations under (the) Navigable Waters Protection Act” according to a CEPA slide presentation.
The Canadian government maintains that changes to the Act were made to reduce red tape for municipalities and cottagers seeking federal approval for small projects, and waterways lacking status will be protected by other laws as well as provinces and municipalities.
Bennett takes issue with that. “The Navigable Waters Protection Act was the trigger that brought the federal government into proposals that would effect a lake or river. They’ve effectively taken themselves out of environmental protection and given it to other jurisdictions.”
According to Bennett, “federal government has the ability to properly assess, monitor and enforce environmental laws. You can’t evenly enforce municipal and provincial laws across the country.
“The smaller the jurisdiction, the more susceptible it is to industry pressure,” he adds.
This story first appeared in Rapid Media’s March Paddling This Month online magazine.
A review of the MSR Whisperlite International stove from Adventure Kayak magazine.
Some things are built to last. They are items that stand out in a world where products are built for fashion, not longevity. Think of the venerable Toyota truck, or the MSR Whisperlite International stove.
Built by Cascade Designs, under their Mountain Safety Research (MSR) brand, the Whisperlite International has been helping outdoor enthusiasts cook for nearly two decades. A minor evolution from the Whisperlite stove, the International was designed with a slightly larger fuel line, and came with a second fuel jet, allowing it to burn not just white gas – the fuel used in the regular Whisperlite – but also auto gas, kerosene and jet fuel.
Using white gas, MSR says the stove will boil one litre of water in 3.5 minutes, while taking almost a minute longer when burning Kerosene. It’s worth noting that such numbers will vary based on ambient temperature, elevation, cleanliness of the stove and the pressure inside the fuel bottle.
Since being released, the stove has undergone one major set of changes…
To read the full review, as featured in the March issue of our new monthly magazine, Paddling This Month, click here.
$99 USD (without fuel bottle)
Weight – 15.6 oz (441g)
Michael Morrow loves his brain. Yours, too. That’s why the former creative designer at Nike has built Nutcase helmets from an unknown start-up to a leading designer of lids for bicycling, skateboarding, water and snow sports.
Heading out to a Civil War football game between Oregon and Oregon State in 2000 and looking for something to symbolize the impending doom of the “Oregon Ducks,” Morrow grabbed an old black sport helmet, a handful of 4-inch screws and some rubber duckies. His creation—dead-eye duckies impaled on spikes atop the helmet—got such a rave reaction from game fans that a light bulb went off.
No stranger to understanding consumer demand for lifestyle sports and high design aesthetics, Morrow quickly realized a gap in the market: hip, funky helmets that helped their wearers express themselves… as rad, not dorky. The rest, as they say, is history. Nutcase encourages adventure sports participants of all stripes to “love their brains” and “make your mother happy…wear a helmet.” Brain buckets for water sports are available in over a dozen funky colors and designs, from Mellow Swirl and Purple Pedals to Shark Attack and Coast Guard.
Watch for a Nutcase review in the gear pages of Adventure Kayak’s May issue.
April Fool’s Day brought snow flurries and bone-chilling winds to the offices of Adventure Kayak, driving editor Virginia Marshall to seek her paddling fix in a pile of fresh demo gear. Watch for the reviews in the May issue of Adventure Kayak!
Want to see your photo here? Send to [email protected] with subject line Daily Photo.
So this is what adventure looks like.
A storm raged overhead as I sheltered under my overturned canoe on the shore of the Yukon’s Lake Laberge. Watching lightning stab down at the surrounding hills in the gloom, I shivered.
Only three days into a five-week solo canoe trip down the Yukon River and I was already at the mercy of the elements, gusts of wind sending sheets of rain to pound against the hull. Against the howling wind, I clung to the gunwales of my only means of return to civilization.
I’m not the first to have come to the Yukon River for a taste of adventure. In 1898, news of a massive gold strike in the Klondike Valley swept the world and some 30,000 men raced to Canada’s Yukon Territory. Doctors called the fever “klondicitis.” After hiking heavy packs over the dangerous Chilkoot and White Pass to the headwaters of the Yukon River, prospectors built rafts and boats to float, pole and paddle their way to collect certain fortune. Gold lay thick in the creek beds, it was said. For most, the dream proved elusive.
Hearing the story as a boy, klondicitis hit me hard. I never shook off its romantic beckoning. Each summer I escaped my government job in the nation’s capital to paddle remote areas, but still the Klondike haunted me. And that’s how I found myself lying under my canoe, waiting for the storm to pass.
My river journey began in Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon, with warnings. In full flood, the Yukon River was carrying up to 40 percent more water volume than past years. Entire trees were caught up in the floodwaters, making for dangerous paddling companions. Often considered one of the more accessible northern rivers because it’s reachable by road and has few rapids, the Yukon River during the summer of 2012 was a whole different beast.
My heavily-laden 17-foot Nova Craft set off into strong current from a quiet eddy in town. My goal was to trace the gold rush to the Klondike Valley, then paddle to the Arctic Circle, 1,300 kilometers away. Paddling away from Whitehorse, almost immediately I was immersed in wilderness. That first night I set up my tent within sight of rotting paddlewheeler wharf pilings on the “marge of Lake Laberge,” a place made famous by Robert Service’s 1907 poem The Cremation of Sam McGee.
Lake Laberge is a widening of the river north of Whitehorse, 54 kilometres long and a dangerous and unpredictable lake for any canoeist. More than a few Klondike paddlewheelers, a popular means for traveling the river in the 19th century, rest on the bottom, victims of sudden storms, high winds and waves, which can whip up in minutes.
Chased all morning and afternoon by a storm, I was caught 30 kilometers down the lake. Already pitching and rolling when a grey wave swept over my stern, I headed for the nearby shore. And that’s where I stayed, sheltered under my canoe and then huddled in my tent, for two wet days.
Released from the clutches of the storm, I had my sights set on a ghost town at the northern reach of Lake Laberge. Eight hours of hard paddling found me, exhausted, setting up my tent beside a lonesome paddlewheeler, its ribs protruding from the gravel like a prehistoric skeleton. Close by, the remains of a telegraph station slowly composted into history. Klondike miners didn’t go north as pioneers to settle the land. Interested only in striking it rich, most left within a year of their arrival, pushed south by the hard winter and disillusioned with the promise of gold. Their log cabins illustrate the hard lives they led: dirt floors, windows improvised from whiskey bottles or tanned moose hides and a solitary stove to keep the cold at bay. Most of these ghost towns have disappeared into the black spruce forests, but their bones are still there for those who look.
Hootalinqua, where the Yukon meets the Teslin River, is a beautiful ghost town. Its name means “running against the mountains” in reference to the fast and narrow section I’d just paddled. A North-West Mounted Police post, telegraph station, solitary trapper’s cabin and log store are all that remain. A narrow path, guarded only by swarms of mosquitoes, leads through the forest to a rocky lookout. Nearby, the paddlewheeler Evelyn still stands upright—though tilting—on supports where dockside workers abandoned her 100 years ago. Deep in the wilderness, ravens and hummingbirds perch on her sagging bow and stern.
Constant vigilance is a necessity for any wilderness paddler. From its headwaters in British Columbia, the Yukon River carves a circuitous 3,100-kilometer path through the wilderness to the Bering Sea, making it the 10th longest river in the world. Moose, caribou, wolverine, bear and eagles are often more common than people along its banks. With a year-round frigid water temperature, hypothermia is a serious concern. Rapids, whirlpools and sweepers pose navigational challenges. In its flood conditions, logjams forced furious paddling to find a clear and safe path and submerged logs were a constant danger; getting rammed by one would certainly have capsized me.
The challenges of Canada’s north attract adventurers from around the world. More than 300,000 people visit the Yukon each year, says tourism spokesperson Jim Kemshead. One in five of those are adventure enthusiasts. “The Yukon has a landmass the same size as California but whereas California has a population of 38 million, the Yukon is populated with 36,000 people. This makes for great expanses of pristine wilderness.”
At Carmacks, a small riverside town named after one of the original Klondike gold miners, I met a German couple kayaking from Whitehorse to Eagle, Alaska, with their young son and husky dog. A wolf had stalked their husky at Selwyn, a remote ghost town, they told me. Englishman, Eddy Hely, was another freedom-loving paddler traveling downriver. At 32 years old, Hely travels the world seeking adventures, working when money supplies run dry. It’s not an uncommon story for travelers along the Yukon.
Three weeks in, I arrived at Dawson City, nestled deep in the Klondike Valley at the confluence of the Yukon and Klondike rivers. I resupplied and took a few days off. I spent a day on a palaeontology dig organized by Dr. Grant Zazula of the Yukon government who researches the prehistoric animals, including mammoths, scimitar cats, camels and nine-foot-long beavers, that roamed the area before the last ice age. I uncovered a 30,000-year-old buffalo horn and jawbone, complete with several teeth.
Most paddlers end their trip at Dawson, which retains its frontier, gold-rush feel. Called the Paris of the North when its population ballooned to 40,000 in 1898, today little over a thousand people call it home year-round. Its dirt-packed streets, old-fashioned street-side facades and employees dressed in period costume are at odds with the bustling RVs and tourists. Though only 4,000 men struck gold in the Klondike during its hey-day, today a handful of hardened prospectors still try their luck in the rivers nearby.
If Dawson was the heart of the Klondike Gold Rush, then the Yukon River was the artery that fed it. Few prospectors followed the river past Dawson; fewer still to Fort Yukon, my final destination. Saying goodbye to Dawson and my Klondike quest, I took to the river. Warned of a wild ride ahead, anticipation spiked as I nosed the canoe into the strong current. Due to the flood conditions, I’d been clocking speeds up to 18 kilometers per hour and couldn’t imagine going faster.
With the river unrolling before me—endless kilometers of spectacular mountain beauty—it was easy to see how the area captured the imagination of so many artists—writers Jack London, Robert Service and Pierre Burton, most famously. Signs of the gold rush dried up as skeletons of paddlewheelers disappeared from the shore. Past the granite marker at the Yukon-Alaskan border and several hard paddling days from the Arctic Circle, the river enters a vast swampland of islands called Yukon Flats, a major North American breeding ground for cranes, geese and ducks. The shoreline flattened, swallowing all recognizable landforms. Because the river tears down these islands and gravel bars as quickly as it builds them, my GPS was of no help. Lost in a 230-square-kilometer area of the braided river, at least I could be sure that as long as I was on the river, I was inching closer to the Bering Sea. With an ample reserve of food, I was far from panicked. Before turning in that night, a pair of sand-hill cranes silently drifted past my campsite in the gathering dusk. Then a pair of wolves howled in the distance. Bliss.
The following day, after covering almost 1,300 kilometers, I hauled my canoe out of the current at the Alaskan village of Fort Yukon perched just above the Arctic Circle. This was the finish line. After five weeks of paddling the Yukon River in flood conditions—taking more than 133,100 paddle strokes—my case of klondicitis is worse than ever. But unlike the prospectors before me, I know I’ll be back.
Essentials for paddling the Yukon River
When to Go
Travel mid-June to take advantage of the daylight hours and experience the most of the midnight sun. On the summer solstice, June 21, travelers and locals alike meet on top of the Dome, a massive hill overlooking the river and Dawson City, to watch the sun dip below the mountains and rise again only a couple hours later. Or, paddle in July and time your arrival with the Dawson City Music Festival, a truly unique, grassroots event with world-class music (dcmf.com). August sees cooler temperatures, shorter days and fewer bugs.
Where to Paddle
Most long-distance paddlers on the Yukon River start in Whitehorse and take out 460 miles and two weeks later in Dawson City. Shorten your trip by half by starting or ending in the town of Carmacks. Alternately, shorten your trip but not your route by participating in the Yukon River Quest, the world’s longest annual canoe and kayak race that spans the full distance from Whitehorse to Dawson City but takes place over five days—winners regularly cross the finish line in under 42 hours. yukonriverquest.com.
Weather Concerns
“If you don’t like the weather, wait an hour” is a common saying in the Yukon. It’s unpredictable at best. Though temperatures can spike to 30 degrees Celsius and higher during summer months, a daily temperature of 18 degrees Celsius is average during the summer, dropping close to zero at night. Snow along the Yukon River is possible at any time of year.
Don’t Forget
This wilderness journey takes place in the heart of grizzly bear country. Bear spray and an emergency communications device are musts. Don’t forget an eye mask to ensure you get some sleep.
Outfitters and Guided Tours
Up North Adventures | upnorthadventures.com
Kanoe People | kanoepeople.com
Sea to Sky Expeditions | seatoskyexpeditions.com
Pathways Canada | canoe-yukon.com
Cabin Fever Adventures | cabinfeveradventures.com
Allen Macartney is an experienced wilderness paddler, writer and photographer. His expedition was sponsored by the Royal Canadian Geographical Society.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2013 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
From Alabama to Alaska, Tahoe to Potomac, we have an adventure for everyone. Whether you’re a weekend warrior or intrepid adventurer, these 13 amazing outings won’t let you down. Take on mountains, bayou, tundra and tropics, paddle in hand, discovering some of the best canoeing in North America.
New York
The Adirondacks have a rich history of pack canoes—the small boats used to explore the endless lakes and rivers of northern New York. St. Regis is the only designated canoeing zone in the entire state. There are 75 marked tent sites and three lean-tos along the shores of its 58 interior lakes, with access limited to human-powered watercraft. Alternatively, stay at one of the many historical inns and lodges that served as hotspots for big-city vacationers around the turn of the 20th century. dec.ny.gov/lands/70572.html
British Columbia
Named after a gold rush pioneer and located in the Cariboo Mountains of central B.C.’s Rockies, the Bowron is known around the world for its paddling. Take six to 10 days to paddle the 116-kilometer loop through everything from swifts to large lakewater. Less intrepid adventurers can stay at one of the local resorts or the in-park car camping facility and day-use area. Reserve a spot—only 50 people are allowed on the circuit daily, ensuring a quiet getaway. env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/bowron_lk
Maine
Paddle among the lush conifers and majestic hardwoods of the northeast in this remote wilderness waterway enjoyed by the likes of Henry David Thoreau. With Mount Katahdin in the distance to the south, 92 miles of waterway stretches north, with the protected area reaching almost to the Canadian border. The diversity of this section of the 740-mile Northern Forest Canoe Trail is its greatest asset. Swampy forests, swift currents and ancient volcanic rock support an array of plant and animal species. mainerec.com/allabook.asp
Florida
Tropical hardwood hammocks, exotic birdwatching, alligator spotting and meandering mangroves make the Everglades a bucket-list-worthy paddling paradise. Move from freshwater streams to brackish bays to salty coastal flats. Camp on a floating site. Swim with dolphins and manatees. Save this trip for the winter months when mosquitoes are manageable and stiflingly muggy summer days are months away. nps.gov/ever
Alaska
Brazen trippers can get the full northern experience without risking whitewater in this 1.3-millon-acre park, located about 150 miles south of Anchorage. Fish for rainbow trout and spot grizzly, moose and bald eagles. Try the Swan Lake Route, covering 60 miles and 30 lakes, linked by short portages. The more challenging and isolated Swanson River Canoe Route travels 80 miles through some 40 lakes and rivers, providing an even better shot at viewing elusive wildlife. fws.gov/refuge/Kenai
Minnesota
Hundreds of years ago, lakes and rivers were the only highways and the area now known as Voyageurs National Park was at the heart of the transportation network that kept the fur trade alive. Today, the area remains accessible only by boat—there are no roads in the park. It’s free to camp at the park’s backcountry sites and with 84,000 acres of water, 655 miles of shoreline and over 500 islands, there’s a lifetime of exploration to be done. nps.gov/voya/index.html
Ontario
You’ll find some of the province’s highest ridgelines and oldest forests in this swath of quintessential canoe country. Lady Evelyn-Smoothwater Provincial Park is at the heart of the Temagami wilderness. Over 4,700 kilometers of canoe routes have been identified in the region—equal to the distance between New York and Los Angeles. Regional First Nations know the thousand-year-old network of portages, trails and waterways as Nastawgan. ottertooth.com/temagami.htm
Nevada and California
Tahoe isn’t just for getting pampered after a windfall in Reno. The Lake Tahoe Water Trail is a 72-mile route around the shoreline of the Jewel of the Sierra. Snow-capped mountains serve as a surreal backdrop for Tahoe’s azure-blue waters. The circuit has been divided up into seven different day trips which can be combined for multi-day options, with overnighting opportunities at any of the 11 campgrounds around the lakeshore. laketahoewatertrail.org
Montana
Float some of the most picturesque grasslands, white cliffs and badlands in all of Montana. Following the paddle strokes of the Lewis and Clark expedition, the class I section of the river moves at about 3.5 miles per hour, allowing even the most relaxed paddlers to cover 15 to 20 miles a day. Inside the Upper Missouri River Breaks National Monument, there are no motels or service stations, keeping crowds at bay and offering a true wilderness experience. blm.gov/mt/st/en/fo/umrbnm.html
Yukon
Looking for a once-in-a-lifetime northern mountain river experience? Learn to negotiate chutes, bends and currents on this novice-to-intermediate whitewater trip. The Wind is turquoise, wide, shallow and gravelly as it braids its way to its confluence with the mighty Peel River. You’ll need to book an outfitter to help arrange shuttles, boat rentals, and float plane logistics for a 10- to 14-day expedition. Side hikes through the Rackla Range offer incredible vistas and excellent mountain wildlife sighting opportunities. upnorthadventures.com; blackfeather.com
Oregon
The Willamette River Water Trail was established to provide the public with access points to the river valley, lined by wildflowers, gravel bars and grassy beaches. Set up a shuttle and take a day trip between well-marked launch points or stay overnight at one
of the dozens of campsites that dot the trail, stretching from north of Portland to south of Eugene. willamettewatertrail.org
Alabama
A part of the second largest river delta in the U.S., Alabama’s Bartram Canoe Trail takes paddlers through moss-laden cypress-tupelo swamps that can only be found in the deep south. The delta is home to more than 50 rare and endangered plants and animals, but perhaps the most unique part of this trail are its floating campsites. Accessible only by boat, paddlers can spend days exploring creeks and lakes without ever stepping on dry land. outdooralabama.com/outdoor-adventures/bartram
West Virginia, Maryland, Virginia and D.C.
This trail traverses three states and the U.S. capitol. Start at Jennings Randolph Lake in West Virginia and paddle all the way to Chesapeake Bay in Virginia, or choose a smaller section of the 350-mile waterway, like the secluded Paw Paw Bends section or the exhilarating whitewater of the middle section through Harpers Ferry. Spend a night in a historic lockhouse, combine paddling with pedaling or visit a winery en route. nps.gov/pohe
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2013 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
Before having children, my wife and I spent just about every weekend exploring lakes and rivers by boat or canoe. Simply satisfying our angling habit had been demanding enough, but launching onto the stormy seas of parenthood created the sort of change and challenge that really rocked the boat. Thirteen-hour days on the water were suddenly no longer an option.
Even so, a young family doesn’t mean your rods and reels have to collect dust in the garage. Instil a passion for fishing in your young children and be rewarded with fun family excursions for years to come. Our girls are now in their mid-teens with infinitely more important distractions than fishing, but we still manage to spend time together on the water catching fish and having fun. As a parent, you can’t ask for much more than that. Create a life-long passion for fishing and nurture your angler from the cradle to the boat with these hard-earned pearls of advice.
Armed with a properly fitted PFD, a child is never too young to get out on the water. “I was about two years old when I started fishing with my dad,” says Gord Ellis, an outdoor writer, fisherman and father of two. “My boys were barely walking when they’d join us in the boat.” Ellis adds that they didn’t do much fishing at first, but being on the water became second nature to them and they get excited for each and every fishing trip now.
A small spinning reel and three-foot rod is a great starter unit. Stay away from commercial kids-specific rod and reel combos that are more flash than function, can be frustrating to use and prone to breaking. Hand-me-down spinning reels paired with ice fishing rods were a solution for my girls. Like me, you’ll learn the hard way that pre-schoolers often simply let go of their fishing rods when they’re distracted. During the early stages of rod wielding, tying a string from the boat to the rod is a wise precaution. Ellis notes that his kids had a better experience with higher-quality gear and recognized quality early on. “By age six the boys started eyeing up my best jigging rods,” he says. Not until you’re older, Junior!
Like most adults, I was reluctant to let my daughters choose their own lures because I felt more qualified to select a presentation that would help them catch fish. I was quickly cured of this conceit when my three-year-old insisted on hooking her jig with the strangest looking soft plastic bait in my tackle box. While my wife and I used live minnows, my daughter worked a monstrosity called a “twin tailed skirted grub.” After she caught three walleye to our zero, I vowed never to doubt my daughters’ angling instincts. I still make general suggestions but I open my tackle box and let my girls choose their own lures. Often, I’m surprised and enlightened as to what works.
Children like catching fish more than fishing so go for the sure thing whenever possible. While hard-core anglers enjoy the search, youngsters are much happier casting off a point or into a pool at the base of rapids and experiencing instant gratification. Appreciating the subtleties of finding fish in challenging waters comes later.
Weather often doesn’t cooperate and an uncomfortable kid will not be receptive to the joys of angling. On the flipside, kids are surprisingly ambivalent to foul weather when they’re prepared for it. First on the list for angler Jamie Robinson is warm clothing and quality raingear for his son and daughter.
“Thinking back, I’m surprised at some of the miserable weather we’ve been out in,” he says adding that when the kids are warm and dry there’s no complaining. Living in Northern Ontario, Robinson errs on the side of caution for his excursions, packing hats, mittens and warm jackets even in summer. “It’s nothing to see us in July in snow suits in the boat,” he jokes.
Even at the best fishing spots the bite is not always on and “I’m bored” can become an unpleasant soundtrack for the day. Robinson always brings snacks and books to occupy his kids during slow periods in the boat but draws the line at video games and electronics—kids get enough of that at home. It’s easier to keep excitable children entertained while fishing from shore than within the cramped quarters of a canoe as more distractions are at hand. For my girls, hot weather equals swimming, even if the fish are biting. Often, I’m pleasantly surprised that the walleye continue to bite in spite of the shrieking and thrashing limbs.
While it’s tempting for parents to do everything ourselves, when kids assist with the duties that surround the trip they have an investment in the outing. As pre-schoolers, my daughters would pack their own snacks and help catch minnows and leeches for bait. Their experience has evolved to the point that my oldest can now back the boat and trailer into the water for me and my youngest can clean and fillet fish. Not only has involving them made them feel like an integral part of the adventure, but now they’re confident, capable and a big help.
With the whole family on board, a small craft can get cramped and hectic. The one-child-to-one-parent dynamic provides a great learning environment for kids and more time with a line in the water for parents. Young anglers love the undivided attention and mom or dad will have fewer snags and tangles to deal with. One-on-one provides the perfect opportunity to teach essentials like safe casting practices. Hint: Kids should always announce their casts.
Don’t let children push you around with early requests to leave but learn to recognise when your child has had enough. Better to have a shortened day on the water than imprint a bad experience. Whenever we couldn’t convince our daughters that boating and fishing was the most fun they could be having, we would head to shore, consistent with our pledge never to force fishing.
While nurturing young anglers takes adaptation and even sacrifice, for parents who love angling and the outdoors, the investment is worthwhile, to be repaid with years of rewarding family adventures.
An avid angler and camper, James Smedley’s life revolves around the outdoors. He has earned more than 30 U.S. and Canadian national awards for writing and photography.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2013 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
There are two ways to clean fish: de-scaled and gutted—bones left in—or filleted—boneless.
Option one is simple. You’ll want to be in an area that can get dirty, as scales will fly in every direction. Hold the fish by its head and use a scaler or knife to remove all the scales. Start by putting the edge of the tool near the tail and scrape towards the head.
Once all the scales have been removed, insert a fillet knife into the anus and slice open the belly up to the base of the head. Then make a cut just behind the gill plate down toward the first incision. If you prefer, you can remove the head completely. Next, spread the body open, scoop out all the innards and spray the cavity out with water. The fish is now ready to be cooked.
If you’re not fond of bones or skin, the second option does the trick. First, wipe the cutting surface and fish down with paper towels to lower the risk of slippage. Make sure your fillet knife is super sharp and then insert it just behind the top of the fish’s skull. You should be able to feel where the skull ends and the body starts. Cut only as deep as the ribcage.
Slide the knife toward the tail, keeping it parallel to the midline of the body and up against the backbone. Avoid puncturing the abdominal cavity where the entrails are encased. Once the blade is past the anus, push the knife all the way through the fish’s belly. Slide the blade the rest of the way to the tail.
Create another incision behind the gill plate toward the top of the head where the initial cut was made. Raise the flap of meat and cut along the curvature of the ribs and abdominal cavity. The meat should peel back until only the skin attaches it. At this point you can simply cut through the skin and detach the fillet.
Finally, separate the meat from the skin. With the scale side down, use a sawing motion as you slide the knife along the full length of the fillet where the flesh meets the skin. Depending on the type of skin, you can start at the tail and hold on to the skin with one hand as you cut away from you with the other. If the skin is too thin and breaks easily, hold the fillet down with one hand and start cutting at the thicker end of the fillet.
Repeat on the other side of the fish. Wash the fillets and pat them dry.
When enjoying the beauty of harvesting a meal in canoe country, remember that fish remnants attract animals. It’s best to prepare your catch away from your campsite. Bon appétit!
Rob Choi is a pro angler from Richmond, Virginia, who finds nothing more satisfying than catching fish from a paddlecraft.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2013 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
When Phil Brown set out on a two-day canoe trip in the heart of the Adirondacks in 2009, he thought it might make a good story. What he got instead was a three-year legal battle that ultimately upheld the public’s right to make that journey by boat, even though it cuts through private property.
The decision, issued by a state judge at the end of February, sheds a little light on the murky topic of waterway navigability in the United States. If the ruling stands, other paddlers in New York may be emboldened to challenge routes marked as private, and landowners may think twice before blocking access.
Brown is editor of the Adirondack Explorer, a magazine that covers the environment and recreation in New York’s six-million-acre Adirondack Park. As part of a route between Little Tupper Lake and Lake Lila in the state’s Whitney Wilderness, Brown paddled along a remote stretch including three smaller waterways.
The owners of the land intersected by those waterways had hung no trespassing signs and cables to deter paddlers. Brown could have taken a mile-long detour across state-owned land to avoid those waters, but didn’t.
“I had done my research and had come to the conclusion that this waterway was likely navigable and therefore open to the public,” says Brown, who wrote an article called Testing the Legal Waters based on his trip.
When the landowners sued him for trespass they contended that the waterway—big enough for a canoe or kayak but little else—was too small for commercial use, an historic method of determining navigability in the United States.
Brown disagreed with that assessment. So did New York officials, who joined Brown in the case. Justice Richard T. Aulisi agreed: “Practical utility for travel or transport,” he wrote, are valid measures of navigability. And making that ruling on such a small waterway makes it clear that recreation rights apply to even the smallest craft.
Technically, Aulisi’s ruling applies only to the waterway involved in the case, as navigability is determined on a case-by-case basis. But other courts may look to Aulisi’s decision as a guide if future cases are filed, says John Caffry, Brown’s lawyer.
Attorney Neil Woodworth says the ruling is good news for paddlers across the state. If the ruling stands, “a fair number of paddlers will begin to try waterways where there had been posted signs and barbed wire,” he adds.
While state officials celebrated the ruling as a victory for the public’s right to access natural resources, they urged paddlers to be cautious. “The case does not mean that every waterway in the Adirondacks is now open to paddlers, nor does it mean that no trespassing signs on waterways can now be routinely ignored,” a spokeswoman for the state’s Department of Environmental Conservation wrote in an email.
Paddling into no man’s land. | Feature photo: Susan Bibeau/Adirondack Explorer
