Wilderness Canoeing - Why do it?
My wife and I get a variety of reactions from friends who hear that we are spending another week of our scarce vacation time traveling into some new patch of untracked wilderness. Some are puzzled: why would anyone voluntarily withdraw themselves from all the advantages of civilization to sleep on the ground among the bugs and snakes, without air conditioning, without television, depending on human muscle power for all transportation, and with no one to talk to? Some other people seem to intuitively understand the reasons we do it, and often envy our "skill", "courage" or whatever, without realizing that the required abilities are easily acquired by almost anyone.
We no longer even try to explain our reasons to the first type of friends, although once in a while we will loan them a book by some eloquent wilderness writer with a philosophical bent. The second group is more numerous, and somewhat puzzling. These folks seem very interested in all the details of our experiences, yet have not tried it themselves. It always surprises me to note that a Wilderness electronic mail distribution list which I set up many years ago as a convenience for a small community of local Xerox backpackers and canoeists grew over a few years to 238 people with members at Xerox sites all over the United States and even a few from overseas. Most of these members never had a personal wilderness experience, yet continued to receive, and presumably read, the flow of messages about leaky tents, trail food, good or bad canoeing streams, and occasional adventures. I occasionally devote a bit of missionary zeal toward trying to convert such folks from spectators to participants.
Our preferred mode of transportation into wilderness areas is a canoe. Paddling a high performance canoe is an enjoyable and satisfying end in itself, as well as a practical means of transportation. It is also an easily learned skill, with good books and instructional clinics readily available. Canoeing can probably be enjoyed across a wider range of abilities than any other "transportation-oriented" sport. A good canoe can slide through the water silently and effortlessly, for peaceful contemplation or nature-watching. Yet at the marathon racing level, an almost identical canoe is used by competitors who burn as much energy and train as carefully as marathon runners or cyclists.
We've also used sailboats to explore reefs and uninhabited islands in the Carribean but that's another kind of wilderness and a story for another day.
It is possible to find something close to a wilderness environment, even within a large city, by canoeing along the waterways. In Rochester, NY, for example, the Genesee River, the Barge Canal and Irondequoit Creek all have sections which, viewed from the water, seem wild and uninhabited and are home to a profusion of wildlife. We have often taken our canoe to one of these nearby spots after work for a pleasant evening of relaxation and/or exercise.
For real wilderness, one has to travel for at least a few hours. By wilderness, I mean areas which show no (or almost no) signs of the presence of man - no traffic noises, no cigarette butts, no fences, etc.
The wilderness experience also tends to imply some element of self-sufficiency, requiring that one be at least a few hours and perhaps a few days away from the normal support services of civilization. It is hard to realize just how much we depend on, and assume the presence of these support services until they are missing for a substantial period. We took our two children on their first extended wilderness trip when they were eight and 10 years old. After nine days of freeze-dried food in the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota, they became obsessed with the idea of a Big Mac, frequently discussing the likelihood of seeing golden arches just around the next bend of the stream, and speculating about whether MacDonald's could make money with a helicopter-based fast food service..
Our favorite patch of real wilderness has become Killarney Provincial Park in Ontario. Although the park is of modest size (about 200 square miles), its terrain has great variety and its interconnected network of dozens of lakes and streams is ideal for travel by canoe. Pink and white quartzite cliffs rise out of deep, crystal clear blue lakes, providing a uniquely beautiful setting. In numerous places, cliffs drop directly into very deep water, so you can safely choose diving platforms which will test your courage. Every lake seems to have its resident pair of loons. Beavers are extremely active - to the point where it is dangerous to trust the maps. On several occasions, we found that new dams had created extensive lakes or swamps where we expected to find trails. Herons are common. Moose are returning to the park after a long absence, and are becoming common in the northern sections.
When in Killarney, we often spend portions of several days bushwhacking to the summits of the low mountains. (Bushwhacking means traveling through the forests where no trails exist, using basic map and compass skills). The terrain is jumbled and interesting, with sheer cliffs rising unexpectedly out of dense forest, and sparkling streams draining tiny alpine lakes. You can challenge the cliffs head-on or explore for gentler passages through large cracks and eroded ravines. At the top, you find windswept open areas of lichens, mosses, grasses and berry heaths, alternating with stunted groves of oak, birch, spruce, pine and maple. It is easy to find impressive overlooks of the surrounding lakes and spectacular views of the Georgian Bay islands to the west and south.
The rock terraces provide perfect conditions for blueberries. From late July through September one can usually pick quarts of berries with minimal effort. Our standard breakfast is blueberry cornmeal pancakes, about 50% berries.
The central part of the park has numerous lakes connected by small streams and portages that are typically a few hundred yards long. The shorelines are convoluted, and islands are frequent, providing some shelter from wind and waves. This makes it a good place for beginners to start - small children and heavy equipment are easily managed. The northern part of the park is more remote. For example Three Narrows Lake is reached by a very steep one mile portage up from Georgian Bay, or a less steep two mile portage further east.
One of our favorite campsites is on a 25 yard wide ridge between Three Narrows Lake and a small unnamed lake 20 feet above it, connected by a nice little waterfall. When stopping here, we always reserve half a day to hike up a stream for lunch and a swim at Quartzite Lake - a beautiful little high altitude lake surrounded by steep quartzite cliffs.
Further north are additional chains of lakes, including Nellie Lake which has 90 foot visibility through the water. This area is isolated by numerous portages, requiring at least two miles of walking, as well as lifting or dragging over an uncountable number of beaver dams. Through this part of the park, portage trails are little used and somewhat overgrown. Campsites, if they exist at all, show little sign of use. With lightweight equipment, it is practical to get into this area in two days of travel.
A good part of the enjoyment of such trips is in the advance planning required. We have spent many cold winter evenings poring over topographic maps and trip reports of other people, planning our next expedition.