“Get that canoe off the pavement,” the Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer bellowed from the window of his patrol car.

Panic set in. The camera crew about to film my triumphant portage across the grassy lawn of Ottawa’s Parliament Hill froze mid-step. We had no filming permit. We didn’t even ask permission prior to the shooting.

It was just a silly, spontaneous stunt—my Canadian flag-emblazoned canoe beneath the copper-spired towers of democracy and sovereignty; patriotism afoot—while we waited for better lighting to film an Ontario Tourism segment at the Rideau Canal.

The adrenaline that jolted through our bodies—urging us to fight or, more likely, flee to the inviolable freedom of the swift-flowing Ottawa River below—dissipated when we heard the officer chuckle. He suggested we put the canoe on the grass so it wouldn’t get scratched.

“So, is it okay if we film this scene?” the producer asked.

“Can’t see why not—it’s your grass,” came the good-natured reply.

The camera began to roll. A second and third officer appeared to wish us well with our project. A small crowd of tourists gathered, camera shutters clicking in the bright sunshine. Kids playing Frisbee on the grass and a gaggle of middle-aged women gathering for an early morning yoga class moved aside to give us more space.

Then a fourth officer—a supervisor— rolled up in a shiny cruiser. He demanded we remove ourselves from the area immediately. We apologized for filming without a permit, grovelling for forgiveness from this pillar of the law. The officer clarified, “You can stay and film all you want, but you can’t portage across Parliament Hill.”

Navigation

North America’s classic road trip routes boast some serious mileage. The famous Route 66 stretches for 2,451 miles from Chicago to Los Angeles and the TransCanada Highway connects the Pacific and Atlantic coasts over 8,030 kilometers of roadways. 

Reviewing online directions and road maps before you head out is a no-brainer. Folks that are familiar with your destination can also provide valuable info on the condition and location of elusive back roads and shuttle routes—details even a good map can’t provide.

“The greatest gift is a passion for reading,” wrote american literary critic, novelist and short story writer Elizabeth Hardwick. I think she was half right. The other half is a passion for the outdoors.

A paper produced almost 20 years ago by the University of Chicago on early childhood development and learning concluded that, “an infant’s brain structure is not genetically determined. Early experiences have a decisive impact on the architecture of a baby’s brain.”

This makes sense to me. I’m on the nurture side of the nurture-nature debate. I believe we are formed by life experiences.

There is plenty of other research that suggests the development of early literacy skills is critically linked to a child’s success in learning to read. Today, the benefit of reading to our children is drummed into us. Read to your kids, read to your kids, read to your kids. We get it from our parents, teachers and the media. Read. Read. Read.

“When we read to children, brain cells are turned on and new brain cells are formed, adding a bit more definition and complexity to the intricate circuitry that will remain in place for the rest of their lives,” says the university paper.

So if reading to our children is hardwiring them for life, I think we need to be more careful about what we’re reading. What’s happening in their little heads when we read them stories of huffing puffing wolves and thundering waterfalls?

We’re not born afraid of the woods. Mother Goose and Walt Disney scare us into being that way. and they do so without well-meaning parents thinking too much about it.

The comedian famous for one-liners Henny Youngman wrote, “When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading.”

When I realized I was reading to my children about the evils of being outside, I did two things. I took them outside to read. And when we couldn’t go outside, I started reading to them about the fun you can have outside.

The children’s books suggested on the following page are a wonderful start, but I also like to pull from my own library. Like, Tom Brown’s Field Guide to Nature Observation and Tracking. We read a little Tom Brown and then practice sneaking around, we build sticky forts and poke at animal scat. Cool.

Another family favorite is Mountaineering, The Freedom of the Hills. Out comes the storage bins full of my old lead climbing equipment. We set up complex anchors out of clothes pegs and turkey string. lego mini-figures with ice axes leapfrog the three pitches it takes to reach the summit of the sofa. At least one mini-figure is consequently evacuated from the back cushion by the search and rescue helicopter. Too bad, but it’s better the kids work the bugs out of their rope systems this way than on everest.

Mark Twain wrote, “the man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can’t read them.”

Good books for children, in my book, are ones about the wonders of the natural world and ones that inspire adventure, not instill fear. Good books are freedom of the hills and the rivers, even if you have to read them inside. 

This article first appeared in the Spring 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.