This is a Canoeroots Digital Extra Feature from the French River in Ontario, Canada. We spent 4 days with Black Feather enjoying this historic river, meeting families from all over the world and find out why they chose this river trip (and why you should too!).
Read more about family friendly river trips by clicking here.
For longtime Temagami canoe-tripper Brian Back, the prospect of a new provincial park encompassing Wolf Lake, a Windex-clear lake surrounded by a stark quartzite shoreline and a forest of old growth red pine, was “almost a no-brainer.”
Wolf Lake is the scenic highlight of a canoe route weaving in and out of Chiniguchi Waterway Provincial Park, a 9,368-hectare protected area of lakes and small rivers east of Sudbury, Ontario. A Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR) report in 1990 concluded that Wolf Lake “may be the largest remaining contiguous, old-growth red pine dominated forest in North America,” with trees up to 300 years old. Summer camps have fl ocked to the area for decades, along with throngs of recreational canoeists looking for an easy escape.
Despite all this, Wolf Lake isn’t protected. Things looked promising in 1999 when Ontario’s Living Legacy, a government attempt to complete the province’s network of protected areas, established the Chiniguchi park and pegged Wolf Lake as a Forest Reserve—-essentially a park-in-waiting designation that allows mining but outlaws forestry.
Wolf Lake was expected to roll into the waterway park when pre-existing mining leases expired. That’s why Back, the founder of Ottertooth.com, a northeastern Ontario canoe-tripping and environmental website, was shocked
last summer to learn that the MNR planned to revoke Wolf Lake’s Forest Reserve status to more actively promote mineral exploration and, by association, open the area to commercial logging.
Back suspects it was pressure from the mining industry that caused the MNR’s sudden about-face. Developers don’t like parcels of land in regulatory limbo, says Back. Forest Reserve status doesn’t impede exploration activities for Flag Resources, the Calgary-based junior mining company with leases surrounding Wolf Lake, but the uncertain land designation can spook the investors it needs to fund its work.
Regardless of Flag Resources’ 30 years of exploration in the area having turned up no tangible prospects, MNR offered to exchange 340 hectares surrounding Wolf Lake for 2,000 hectares of protected land to be tacked onto the Chiniguchi park elsewhere. According to Bob Olajos, the secretary of the Friends of Temagami conservation group, this is hardly a fair trade. “What we have at Wolf Lake cannot be replicated elsewhere,” he says.
Surging public outcry put the heat on the provincial government to revisit the issue. Last December, the Friends of Temagami and its sister organization, Toronto-based Earthroots, spearheaded a campaign that barraged the provincial legislature with over 1,000 faxes opposing the government’s plans to scrap the Wolf Lake Forest Reserve. In February, 17 conservation organizations and businesses, including Friends of Temagami, Earthroots, Paddle Canada, Camp Keewaydin and the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society, formed the Wolf Lake Coalition to push for its protection.
Minister of Natural Resources Michael Gravelle insists the province “struck a fair balance” when they decided to retain the Forest Reserve in March. Th is protects Wolf Lake from logging but keeps mining prospects alive.
“It’s the world’s largest old-growth red pine forest. Th at’s the hook,” says Olajos. “There’s a hole at Wolf Lake, right in the middle of this great forest. We want it protected.”
This story originally appeared on page 15 of the Early Summer issue of Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine. Read the entire issue here.
It was spring, 1975. I drove south with a handful of friends from Chicago to tackle the raging river that author and poet James Dickey had mythologized a few years earlier. We were among a huge wave of city slickers making a pilgrimage to north Georgia’s Chattooga River after seeing the disturbing and powerful movie, Deliverance.
Like many of our fellow adventureseekers, we had no idea what we were getting into.
Before the 1972 release of this AcademyAward-nominated film, only a small number of paddlers had explored the Chattooga’s remote, thickly wooded gorges. However, in 1974, due in large measure to its abrupt and unexpected fame, the Chattooga was designated a National Wild and Scenic River and boating use skyrocketed to roughly 21,000 float trips per year. Not surprisingly, a fair share of these giddy rivergoers were ill-informed and ill-prepared. During the year after Deliverance appeared in theaters, 31 people drowned while attempting to paddle the same stretch of river featured in the film.
“Hey, what happens if we flip this thing over?” —Bobby, Deliverance. Photo: Larry Rice.
We knew none of this as we camped peacefully along a manageable upper stretch of the Chattooga. The following morning we entered Section III—a 13‑mile run of class II–IV drops and ledges. We endured several capsizes and bruising swims, loaned wetsuit jackets to two other canoeists we found on the verge of hypothermia and helped evacuate a kayak party that had suffered a near drowning.
One of our canoes, my buddy’s prized 17-foot aluminum Grumman, never left the river. It remained wrapped like a shiny pretzel around a mid‑stream boulder between the vertical rock walls of the Narrows, a sobering reminder of our arrogance and ignorance.
Not even knowing it was there, we miraculously stayed upright through notorious Bull Sluice, a killer class IV, before reaching the take-out in the dark. Humbled, bloodied and chastised, our only consolation was that we had finished the trip in better shape than Burt and Jon.
Now, decades later, I hope I’ve learned at least a few things to help smooth those choppy waters. But this I confess: when I think of returning to the Chattooga, I can’t shake a little lingering dread.
Still, the remarkable thing about river tripping is also my inspiration for a sequel: no two runs are ever alike. Which means that one day I might be delivered down the Chattooga with a smile on my face instead of an arrow in my ego.
Buena Vista, Colorado-based Larry Rice runs rivers about 100 days each year. The next time he tackles Bull Sluice, he’ll be counting on skill, not luck.
This story originally appeared on page 8 of the Early Summer 2012 issue of Canoeroots & Family Camping Magazine. Read the entire issue here.
A review of the North Face Gold Kazoo Gear women’s three-season synthetic sleeping bag from Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine.
The Gold Kazoo is all about an impressive warmth-to-weight ratio—with a temperature rating around freezing thanks to its 650-fill Hungarian goose down, it weighs in at less than a full one-liter Nalgene. Both its ultra-lightweight rip stop nylon outer shell and nylon liner are extremely soft against your skin should you choose to peel back layers on a warm night. Panels of synthetic, anti-compression fill have been incorporated into the bag where your body typically contacts the ground—at the head, shoulders, hips and feet—improving wear and reducing heat loss. Paddlers should consider upgrading from the included compression stuff sack to something waterproof since the down fill won’t do its job if it gets wet.
30 °F (-1 °C); 2 lbs 1 oz (994 g); 17” x 6”; 650-fill Down
www.thenorthface.com | $230
This article originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping, Early Summer 2012. Download our freeiPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.
After dinner one particularly harsh evening early this spring, a group of friends and I were sitting around my kitchen table, pining for warm weather, ice out and the freedom to enjoy being outside again without having to think about the cold. Surrounded by half-empty bottles of wine and dirty dishes, we started talking about what gets us through unforgiving winters. Cross training. Skiing. Climbing. I usually advocate for getting outdoors but this time I moved the conversation inside. My go-to has always been to turn to a well-written adventure story.
Authors like Jon Krakauer, Jon Muir, Bill Bryson and Henry David Thoreau were discussed around the table. Something lit up inside each of us as we shared vivid memories of devouring the tales, many of our own misadventures inspired by the fantastic chronicles we’d read. The mark of a good book is a memorable storyline. The best book, it turns out, awakens memories of exactly where you were and what you felt while you read it. My earliest recollection of just such a true-to-life adventure was the story of Don and Dana Starkell.
I remember sitting cross-legged on the carpet of my fourth-grade classroom like it was yesterday. My teacher, Mrs. Hawes, read us the harrowing story of the father and son who paddled their canoe from Winnipeg, Manitoba, to Belem, Brazil.
I can’t remember whether the other kids in my class were as captivated as I was, but I do recall my own wonder at Paddle to the Amazon. I knew that this adventure story was diff erent from The Rescuers Down Under, The Never Ending Story or The Goonies. It wasn’t that the story is about canoeing, though I’m sure the book did contribute to my love of paddling. My nine-year-old mind was rapt by the fact that the book is about actual people and places.
The notion that real people could accomplish such a feat amazed me. These weren’t cartoon characters taking on bandits, jungles, sickness and outlaws; just a blue-collar father and son from the prairies. That’s why books like Paddle to the Amazon are so important. They plant seeds in young minds, teaching them that anything is possible and, perhaps more importantly, they remind adults that beyond ambition, you don’t need to be particularly extraordinary to take on a great challenge.
This year marks the 30th anniversary of the completion of the Starkell’s two-year, 12,810-mile trip. I picked up a second-hand copy of the book a couple of months ago and dove in. Twenty years after it was first read to me, it still conjures up a mix of giddiness and awe.
Don Starkell lost his battle with cancer in January, but his stories continue to stir reader emotions. And while few will fill his shoes in the paddling community, we are fortunate that there are intrepid adventurers out there who strive to share their stories with us, seeing us through long off-seasons and captivating the imaginations of impressionable fourth graders.
Michael Mechan is always looking for books that inspire, new and old alike. Send your adventure reading list to [email protected].
This story originally appeared on page 6 of the Early Summer 2012 issue of Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine. Read the entire issue here.
A review of the Kelty Designs Light Year Xp 20 W women’s three-season synthetic sleeping bag from Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine.
The Light year tapers gently to provide some of the warmth and weight savings of a mummy bag, without the constricted feel. It’s a women’s specific bag, shaped with less width at the shoulder and more room at the hip for even more comfort and efficiency. All that and a soft micro-fiber liner ensure a great night’s sleep, spring, summer and fall. The synthetic Climashield insulation stays warm even when it’s damp, making it ideal for tripping in any conditions. Details like the zippered chest pocket, sleeping pad security loops and included compression stuff sack add even more value to this well-priced bag.
20 °F (-7 °C); 3 lbs 4 oz (1474 g); 15” x 10”; Synthetic
www.kelty.com | $160
This article originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping, Early Summer 2012. Download our freeiPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.
“This is where my ashes are going,” says guide Al Pace as we eddy out of the Snake River where Milk Creek pours its white, silt-laden water into the icy green flow of the Snake. Looking around the incredible canyon, with green-, orange- and grey-streaked mountains stretching off in all directions, he adds, “I haven’t found a prettier place.”
We’re five days into a trip down the Yukon’s class III Snake River—a trip that takes us 12 days, covers 300 kilometers and drops 1,100 meters. I was totally unprepared for this trip; I had no idea it would be so beautiful. Other than that, the guides take care of everything.
My buddies hate traveling with guides. And I understand it. Between us, we have decades of outdoor experience, some of it pretty risky (stupid, actually), but we’ve survived to this point. So what’s the point of tripping with an outfitter?
Well, the logistics of a trip on the Snake are staggering: researching and planning the route; booking shuttles, flights and rentals; gathering satellite phone, stoves, fuel, food, bear bangers, tents and boats; humping it all to the Territories and then cramming it into a floatplane is a daunting endeavor. It’s an incredible thing not having to worry about any of it.
I arrived in Norman Wells, Northwest Territories, without paddles, lifejacket, first aid kit, maps or even a dry bag. Canoe North Adventures supplied the barrel; I shoved all my stuff in it and stepped aboard a Twin Otter bound for Duo Lakes in the Yukon.
The Peel River watershed is an absolute gem of the Canadian North. The Wind, Bonnet Plume and Snake rivers are legendary experiences for good reason. Each offers a unique whitewater adventure in a pristine and vast wilderness. We spot caribou, grizzlies and mountain goats and even inexperienced fly fishers amongst us are catching Arctic grayling.
As we settle down around a campfire, complete with lawn chairs for all, one of Pace’s regular clients steps out of her tent, dressed in a bright pink boa, red satin gloves and oversized earrings. She’s calling herself Madame Zoom, and passes around a Nalgene of Black Russian. As she begins to read Robert Service’s Cremation of Sam McGee, everyone hushes, listening attentively.
The moment is radiant with a sense of privilege and largesse that I have only found in Canada’s North. The snowcapped Mackenzie Mountains tower over us as we contemplate all that is the Yukon and how it is changing us. When she reaches the final stanza we all join in, raising our glasses to the wilderness, and shout, “There are strange things done in the midnight sun!”
www.fedmaps.com
Rivers of the Yukon, by Ken Madsen and Graham Wilson, Primrose Publications
Three Rivers, forwarded by Juri Peepre, Harbour Publishing
Canoe North Adventures, Norman Wells, NWT canoenorthadventures.com, 519-941-6654
Canadian River Expeditions, Whitehorse, Yukon nahanni.com, 867-668-3180
Black Feather, Seguin, Ontario blackfeather.com, 888-849-7668
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
“There’s a bear,” Amy Freeman whispered, pointing at the rocky shoreline. I scanned the Canadian Shield granite, hoping to see its hunched, black silhouette walking along the edge of the lake. It wasn’t until Amy and husband Dave’s Kevlar canoe clunked against a boulder at the portage that I spotted the bear. Unfazed by the sound, it poked its nose into the water and pushed around stones, looking for food before the long northern winter set in.
“I hope Fennell doesn’t see it,” said Amy. The Freeman’s 104-pound sled dog has accompanied them on the last 3,900 miles of a three-year, 11,700-mile journey across North America by canoe, kayak and dogsled. They call this trip the North American Odyssey.
I joined them in Voyageurs National Park in October 2011 for the last 20 days of the fourth stage of the expedition, which they hope to complete this year by paddling to Florida. Together, we would paddle to Lake Superior following the Minnesota-Ontario border through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA).
When we started portaging, the bear turned into the birch forest and ambled away over a ground covered with the season’s last fallen yellow leaves. According to the map, the campsite we wanted was on the opposite side of a peninsula in the exact direction that the bear headed.
By the time we paddled to the campsite, the low-hanging cumulus clouds covering the sky were turning pink with the setting sun. As Amy placed a foot on the sloping granite, I noticed the bear walking away from us.
“We can get another campsite if you want,” offered Dave. Too tired to paddle any more, I said no and we set up camp for the night. Following a routine that they developed over the last year and a half of travel, Amy set up their tent and rolled out their sleeping bags while Dave started cooking dinner.
The North American Odyssey is a Wilderness Classroom Organization (WCO) expedition. Dave founded WCO in 2001 with the simple idea of sharing his expeditions with classrooms online. Now based in a suburb of Chicago, the nonprofit’s mission is to introduce elementary and middle school students to exploration and wilderness travel, and use those themes to help improve their core academic skills and appreciation for the outdoors.
Each year, the Freemans travel to a remote corner of the globe, from the Amazon to the Arctic. Once there, they interact with over 65,000 students and 1,800 teachers through journal entries, videos, podcasts, field interviews, lesson plans and interactive polls sent via their laptops and satellite Internet connections.
During my time on the North American Odyssey, Dave initiated a poll allowing students to direct the expedition team’s activities. For this poll, the students decided between sending us to Ely’s International Wolf Center, the North American Bear Center or to learn about the 92,000-acre Pagami Creek forest fire burning in BWCA—incidentally in the way of our route to Superior.
Another WCO goal is to get kids to pursue more outdoor activities. According to the Outdoor Foundation’s 2011 Outdoor Recreation Participation Report, participation rates for kids ages six to 17 have steadily declined since 2006. In some age brackets, participation rates have dropped by as much as 16 percent. The report also reveals that 37 percent of kids who consider themselves outdoor participants get outside less than twice a month.
Further reinforcing the value of the WCO’s mission, the report states that the number one reason that kids do outdoor activities is because “outdoor activities are cool” and the number one reason they don’t do more is because of “time spent at school instead.” For these students, it’s hard to imagine anything cooler than a three-year outdoor expedition used by teachers to improve academic skills while the kids are in school.
Halfway across the BWCA a week later on a windy, damp day, we paddled south to Ely. The faint smell of smoke from the nearby Pagami Creek fire drifted through the air as my bow slammed into the trough of every wave. Water from the constant spray sloshed around the canoe’s bilge, soaking my rain pants.
By the time we landed in Ely, I was happy to stand next to a wood-burning stove trying to heat the October chill from my body while Dave and Amy sent out the week’s lesson plans. Dave checked the results of the poll; I had never been to the Wolf Center and Dave had never been to the Bear Center. We each hoped that the kids would vote for our pick. We were surprised to discover that 60 percent wanted us to find out more about the Pagami Creek fire.
The next couple of days were a blur of activity; we hitched a ride into the U.S. Forest Service incident command center to interview a backcountry ranger. Then we found ourselves helping pack three days worth of food for 32 hungry firefighters heading out into a remote campsite. We filmed everywhere we went to share it with WCO’s classroom followers. Then Dave and Amy spent an afternoon writing a lesson about the fire and editing video from Ely and a massive firestorm that they experienced on the Tazin River in the Northwest Territories earlier in the expedition.
One of the classrooms that voted for us to investigate the forest fire was Julie Doxstader’s third-grade class from Orion, Illinois, a rural town of 1,700 people. Doxstader has been following WCO since its inception 10 years ago. Her students conduct research and do writing projects based on Dave and Amy’s weekly journal entries.
Interested to see if I could measure whether WCO’s programs increase outdoor participation, I asked Doxstader if the program had caused her students to take any outdoor trips.
“I have a former student who is very involved in Scouting and camping, and is planning to study forestry in college,” she replied. “His parents have told me that he became interested in the wilderness in my third-grade classroom. Many high school students will still ask about Dave and the WCO when they see me, so I know it has left a lasting impression.”
Doxstader’s students were surprised when they watched the videos about the fires, especially the footage from the northern fire- storm. Illinois doesn’t experience forest fires, so it was a foreign topic. The student’s further research turned up information on how forests benefit from and regenerate after a fire.
“The WCO brings a wonderful global perspective to my students,” says Doxstader. “Over the years, they have learned about many cultures quite different from their own. For example, they have watched students in the Amazon paddle canoes to their floating school.”
Just after dark on my last night with the Freemans, the northern sky turned a dim green. As I retrieved my camera, the sky exploded into a dancing array of green and red northern lights. All three of us ran around the campsite trying to find the best view, and Dave and Amy laughed, cheered and clapped as the lights shimmered and changed colors and shapes.
The following morning, we tackled the Grand Portage, an 8.5-mile slog that runs from the BWCA to Lake Superior. I had portaged it before and remembered feeling spent. Preparing for the trek ahead felt daunting. Reversing declining outdoor participation among kids feels the same way. But, we have to start somewhere.
On the Grand Portage, Dave came up with a plan to single carry all our gear and take 10-minute rest breaks every 30 minutes. We reached Lake Superior after about five hours and dipped our canoes into the cold, clear water. His plan had worked.
“It is actually something we try to explain to the kids at our school assemblies,” says Amy. “You can accomplish big things by setting smaller goals, working your way up to a big goal,”
Just a few students followed Dave’s first trip. Now, the WCO reaches over 65,000 students with its message. With that kind of reach, I have to believe that the Freeman’s approach of breaking a monumental task into manageable parts works. If there’s any hope of getting more kids to spend more time outside, this seems like the right strategy. After all, it got us down the Grand Portage.
To follow Dave and Amy’s adventures and learn more about getting your school involved, visit wildernessclassroom.com.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.
Most of the time, I like people and consider myself a social person. On a canoe trip, however, I usually find it distasteful to run into other paddlers. This aversion to human interaction leads me to seek out remote areas where no one else goes.
Recently, I launched my new film The Happy Camper’s Wilderness Quest and one of the first questions from the media was, “What was the most inspiring thing that happened to you while filming and canoeing around the remote interior of Quetico Provincial Park?” Oddly, I blurted out, “Meeting people out there.”
What’s with that? My answer surprised me and mystified the journalist. I’m sure he was expecting me to offer some poetic views on solitude and seclusion. The film is called “Wilderness Quest” after all, and has all the standard scenes of loons, sunsets, nasty portages, bugs, scary thunderstorms, beautiful landscapes and moonlit paddles.
In retrospect, however, it really was the grab bag of paddlers I met out on the portages and campsites who motivated me the most. Sharing in the diverse reasons of why they love the wilderness is what made the project truly worthwhile.
Some of the more memorable characters included two stoner chicks who proudly showed off the biceps they had gained from portaging; an interior maintenance crew boss who expressed his appreciation of wilderness travel with quotes from Thoreau; and a minister from Germany—wearing a pair of Lederhosen—who recounted pure moments of spiritual Utopia. Then there was the slothful teenager conveying how he had his best nap ever while canoeing in Quetico; the deep-thinking philosopher who wished for the simpler life of being a tree or a bird; and the retired dentist who loathed seeing anyone while out on trip—especially a film crew!
The most inspiring interview was with a middle-aged couple whom we met after a very long day. The film crew was exhausted and needed a break, but I felt we should talk to the couple. So I offered to carry their canoe across the portage while producer Kip Spidell did the interview.
When I returned, everyone was in tears. The woman had shared the story of how she was a breast cancer survivor and how she and her husband made the decision to head out on a wilderness canoe trip in Quetico to re-evaluate their lives. To them, the trip was like starting on a clean page, a reminder of how temporary our time is and how we should be spending more of it in wilderness areas.
Like many people, I suffer from an inability to articulate the intrinsic well-being I feel from spending time in the wilderness. But the candor and comments of the Quetico paddlers gave voice to these feelings and spoke to anyone else who has ever spent quality time canoeing in wild places. For that, I’m glad I met so many people out there on my wilderness quest.
If you see Kevin Callan in the wilderness with a camera crew, don’t run away…he may carry your gear across your next portage.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Canoeroots’print and digital editions here.
Last summer, my five-year-old daughter Kate and I—and Rapid Media TV cameraman, Dan Caldwell—parachuted into a Black Feather Wilderness Programs’ Family French River trip. After 20 years of paddling, it was my first guided trip where I wasn’t the guide. And it was Kate’s first canoe trip with complete strangers.
We met the Black Feather guides and the other families at The Lodge at Pine Cove, 350 kilometers north of Toronto, or a four-hour drive from our home through Algonquin Park.
The historic French River is a 105-kilometer heritage waterway Provincial Park and designated Canadian Heritage River that was once a major fur trade route. The French winds its way from Lake Nipissing to Georgian Bay through a maze of channels and bays in a windswept pines landscape made famous by the Group of Seven.
We were there for four days. We’d packed only the items on Black Feather’s checklist. I didn’t know where we were going, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care. Somebody else was taking care of all that.
If you want to get out this summer but don’t have the time, skills, confidence or desire to pull it together yourself… call an outfitter now, show up and have the time of your lives. Here’s how and why.
My wife and I have this running joke, sort of. Whether we’re camping, biking or hiking I often (always, she says) tend to keep going, looking for the better campsite or lunch spot just around the corner. Black Feather has been to the French many times—not only did we eat, sleep and play at the nicest spots, they pointed out the river’s natural and cultural history along the way.
“Family trips have a much slower pace in terms of traveling, and the trips tend to be shorter than our regular trips,” says Quon, one of our guides whose two daughters are helping on the trip. In four days we traveled about as far as I’d normally paddle in a day. We base camped for two nights, allowing time for leisurely breakfasts, afternoon hikes, cliff jumping and blueberry picking. For Kate, and most of the other kids, the canoe gets us to the next campsite and the next playground; it isn’t yet an adventure in itself.
Marc, Nathalie and their son Ki joined this family canoe trip in the middle of a four-week holiday. The French River fell between eight days relaxing in Cape Cod and a week on a Wyoming dude ranch. Both international litigators based in Zurich, Switzerland, it was their first vacation in 10 years. “We came to Canada to do something we can’t do in Europe,” Marc told me, “At home everything is so close together.” After the Swiss family (not Robinson) dumped their canoe trying to make their way up a slot rapid below our Five Fingers Rapid campsite, Ki decided he’d paddle the rest of the rapids with Kate and I. This gave his mom and dad the freedom to try more challenging sections of whitewater. Ki told me he was more comfortable with us, but added in German, to his dad, “If we were skiing in the mountains I don’t think they could be trusted.”
At a set of rapids on the French, the guides discussed the route, the challenges and the consequences with the group. In the end, the kids enjoyed snacks and cheered on their parents from shore. Every boat made it through.
Kate’s favorite part of our French River trip, and the reason she wants to return, is the other kids. It was fun to watch them get to know one another, while we parents did the same. By the second day, we all knew one another well enough that group parenting rules were in effect. Running in the pack with Ki and Kate were Toronto-based seven-year-old Kiara and her cousins Milly and Archie visiting from West London. Kate came home with a cute British accent, telling her mummy that she has an invitation to visit Big Ben (whoever he is).
Not confident in your paddling or camping skills? Jumping on a guided trip gets you outdoors now. You’ll learn routes you can return to. On the French, Black Feather provided paddling instruction along the way. There was even an afternoon playing in a class II rapid. Pay attention and you can learn to plan a menu, cook blueberry pancakes on a griddle over a fire and Dutch-oven bake a chocolate cake. Helping in the kitchen is like apprenticing for your next trip, without the risk of being fired.
Who else but river guides would line the bottoms of their canoes with half a dozen one-by-six-inch planks of lumber? On our rest day, Carl, Simon and a motley crew of scallywags lashed together a pirate ship. After attacking the unsuspecting parents with squirt guns, they ran the small rapids out front of our campsite. It ended as you’d suspect, with each pirate taking a turn walking the plank.
With our Black Feather guides taking care of all the logistics like route planning, leadership decisions and meal preparation, Kate and I spent our time swimming, reading, fishing, playing and exploring. When I ask what she wants to do this summer she says without hesitation, “Go back to the French River.” Time and money well spent.
This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Canoeroots’print and digital editions here.
