Should we revive the bygone travel tradition of postcards?

Postcards from pals.

I was going through some boxes, sorting through some old photographs the other day, reminders of what photography was like in the pre-digital days.

While sifting through the piles of old prints, I stumbled upon some items I'd almost forgotten I had. I found postcards sent to me from vacationing friends during my elementary school days. One was from Jamaica, with a picture of a map of the island on the front. Another showed a man dressed in a native costume in front of a tepee from Keswick, Ontario.

Digging further, I found postcards my mom sent me from Hawaii, Florida, Arizona, Colombia, and several other places from around the Western Hemisphere.

I also discovered several unused postcards purchased during my very first trip to Algonquin Park in Ontario. We used to buy them to be sure to have some really good print images to go along with the ones we shot with our Kodak Instamatics and Duaflex's because back then, the odds of getting a good shot of deer or a bear with those kinds of cameras were slim-to-none. In fact, I remember when starting out on our very first hike, my dad told me, "Now if you see a bear, don't stop to take its picture!"

So I have postcards of bears, deer, wolves, skunks, and raccoons from Algonquin.

Not only had I forgotten about those postcards, I'd almost forgotten that postcards existed, period. I mean, the last time I sent postcards from anywhere was from Africa back in the 90's.

In this age of Skype and I-M, Google Talk and Face Time, texting and email, postcards seem like a quaint reminder of yesteryear, something vacationers used to use to share their trip with their loved ones.

From what I can ascertain, the production of postcards began, at least in North America, in the mid-19th century, about the same time the science of photography took off and transportation advances made postal service more reliable.

As leisure time increased, the postcard industry took off. Pretty soon, any gift shop at any kind of tourist facility sold them. They became a regular part of any travel routine that lasted more than a few days. Some would go into photo albums, as even today deltiology - the collection of postcards - is quite a popular hobby.

Others would end up in the mail. People took address books with them when they travelled so they could send a quick note back to their friends and families via the postal service. Kind of a pre-Internet version of Twitter or Instagram.

Unlike the Internet though, and depending on how long one vacationed, the postcards often arrived to their desired destination after you'd already returned home. Rather than annoy people though, that became part of a running joke.

Postcards for a collection.

Once the Internet arrived, and I started travelling professionally, I stopped taking vacation snapshots and I certainly didn't have time to send postcards. I basically stopped being aware of them. They might be there at the counter as I was paying for pack of gum or a bottle of water, but I wouldn't even notice them.

I only know they still exist, because someone actually gave me a postcard this past June. It was kind of a cool idea: a fellow travel blogger, Fabiano Maciel, ironically enough, purchased postcards for all the participants in a travel blogging press trip in Ontario, writing little notes on the back of each card.

I thought that was a really nice gesture, and it really speaks to what postcards are all about.

Reading those written thoughts from the past from childhood friends on the back of the postcards I'd re-discovered instantly transported me back to those days. They brought back many warm memories, those short notes freezing those moments in time. They wielded a power that no email or text message could ever hope to invoke. Does anyone save emails or text messages? Very, very rarely I would wager - and then the emails have to be printed out.

On the other hand, I'd saved those postcards, those messages and images from the past because they meant something to me emotionally. The images actually didn't mean much, but the messages certainly did.

Especially the cards from my mom, since she passed away several years ago.

Saved postcards are like instant time machines that depend on no technology, whisking us back in time - something no electronic tweet or post can do a decade down the road.

So maybe the next time you go on holidays, buy a postcard or two, send it to the people you care about.

You might be giving them a time machine of their own, one they ride some day in the future and recall the warm memories of your relationship.

Age doesn't have to stop you - but may require some adjustments

The old phrase, "We are experiencing technical difficulties, please do not adjust your sets," was definitely a

Nothing beats a wilderness canoe trip.

familiar one to those who watched any television prior to the age of cable, satellite and high resolution digital TV.

Although cable companies still do experience technical issues, it doesn't seem to carry the same impact it did when there were only a few stations available to watch in any given city or area.

However, the phrase takes on a different meaning when it refers to the human body.

Although it varies in degree from person to person, we all experience "technical difficulties" with our bodies as they age. And although we would rather resist it, we do have to make adjustments.

This was borne home to me last month when a planned canoe trip had to be aborted because of a flare-up of an old knee injury, an event that reared its ugly head right out of the blue at a very bad time.

As part of the 2015 Travel Media Association of Canada conference in Peterborough, Ontario, I'd signed up to participate in one of the pre-tours they offer attendees. Titled, "The Rugged Routes of the Kawarthas," it would see us paddle and portage into one of the newer wilderness parks in Ontario, for three days.

I'd already sustained a wrist injury the first week of May, slipping in a boat in Mexico, but was bound and determined not to let it stop me from participating. It was not broken, just very badly bent (ha-ha), but with a brace and some ibuprofen, I was ready to tough it out, it was just a sprain. After all, I'd developed some bad tendinitis in my left forearm on the second day of a four-day kayak trip in the Everglades, and that didn't stop me...

But you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men.

A week before I was supposed to leave for Ontario, I was warming up in a local pool during a deep water aqua fit class. This is my main form of regular exercise, it works the muscles and joints and provides a good aerobic workout as well - and with little or no stress on the joints. Supposedly.

Well, there I was, just doing a slow bicycling motion I've done hundreds of times, and I felt something go "Snick!" in my left knee. I ignored it and did the class. The knee has already been surgically repaired once after two dislocated patellas; I also hyper-extended it badly playing softball years after that. So it was not exactly in primo condition.

By the next day, it was swollen and I had trouble walking. There went any exercise for the next few days. I got my RMT to work on it a bit - but it's a joint, so hard to do anything with it, given its history. I tried all kinds of lineaments, and analgesics and oils, applying them two to three times a day, icing it twice a day...and there was a bit of improvement, but it was still a bit tight, a bit swollen, and a bit weak. I planned to go canoeing all the same.

However, the day I was supposed to head out to Kawarthas Highland Provincial Park, it was pouring rain. That would mean the portage routes would be slick - and deadly for someone with a wonky knee, even if it was supported by a brace. Because the park's wilderness interior is accessible only by canoe or plane, any accident would probably mean a medical evacuation by air. So, at the last minute, I thought discretion would be the better part of valour in this instance, especially since my ability to travel would affect the others taking this trip.

I felt devastated. I'd been looking forward to this trip for a year. Not just for the trip itself, but the writing and photography opportunities that it would present for me.

Carving my own paddle at the Canoe Museum was great;

paddling would have been greater.

I was able to replace the trip with a three-day paddle-carving experience in the Canadian Canoe Museum. It was a very enjoyable three days, the museum is a wonderful place, I wish I could have spent more time there, actually.

But it was not the same as a wilderness paddle trip.

It had been five years since I had done an overnight extended paddling trip in the wilderness and my soul thrives on those kinds of experiences.

After the devastation came the depression. I envisioned a future with no overnight paddling trips. If my knee gave out in something easy like aqua fit, could I ever risk doing an extended wilderness canoe trip again? If I couldn't do deep water aqua fit - one of the least joint-stressful exercises - what would I do for exercise?

Because of the busy schedule facing me over the next several weeks, I did not have time to ponder that question too much. But when I returned home finally, the thoughts returned with me.

Paddling along a lake at sunset: food for my soul.

The thought of never going on an overnight paddling trip again scared me. I've enjoyed such wonderful experiences on these trips, most of the truly memorable moments of my life have been on these trips. But if my body is breaking down, and makes it dangerous to myself and others to continue doing those trips, it becomes difficult to enjoy those kinds of experiences. The frustrating aspect of all this is the fact that I DO try to exercise regularly, and engage in non-stressful exercises like aqua fit, yoga, some light weight work with bands. But even those seem to present problems, these days.

So after some soul-searching on the matter, I thought, "Well, would there be a way to do these without the stress of something like a portage?"

Obviously, there is always the sea kayaking option, trips where there are no portages involved. But that doesn't allow me to experience some of the inland beauty of nature I so enjoy, having grown up paddling in places like Haliburton and Algonquin Park.

I looked at a map of Kawarthas Park and almost immediately experienced an "Aha!" moment.

There were routes that one could take that would not involve many portages, at all. And some would involve only short portages, not 1200 metre hikes with canoes and gear on one's back.

Another approach also came to me: I associate canoe trips as trips done on a complete circuit, trips where you travel and camp at a different spot every night, eventually winding up back where you start. Those involve hauling all your gear down a portage trail. But what if I paddled/portaged for one day only, to a spot far enough away to be off the beaten track, and then just set up a base camp there, and explored other lakes on day trips, where the only thing I'd need to portage would be a canoe and lunch?

That could certainly work.

While I wish I could still hump down a mile-long portage with a canoe on my back, put it down, then race back to grab the packs at the other end and do it again, given my body's age and mileage factors, that's just not realistic. Yeah, I can exercise (if I can find a way not to hurt myself exercising!) but I do that now. Even with regular exercise, I won't be entering any canoehead races any time, soon. Others my age may be able to do that, but it's not in my future. I have to accept that. And that is not giving up; there is a difference between just giving up and making adjustments according to circumstances.

Views like this from a wilderness campsite
are what make canoe tripping so appealing.

I can still have a full life for my last few decades on this planet. In other words, with a few tweaks, by making a few adjustments, I could still enjoy the wilderness by canoe.

So, my 60-year-old body is presenting me with "technical difficulties." And if I want to continue to enjoy what I enjoy, I just have to "adjust my set."

Adjusting for technical difficulties is what living life is really all about. And the ultimate acceptance of that is incredibly freeing.

Now with the "technical difficulties" out of the way, I just have to make sure I can avoid having to use the "emergency broadcasting system."

Happy Canada Day! Some great Canadian ideas for travellers

You can hike or canoe to Grey Owl's cabin in Saskatchewan.

So you want to experience an iconic Canadian moment, eh?

Well, if you're planning a trip to Canada, here are some of the really great experiences you should set your sights on if you're planning a trip to Canada.

I do admit a bit of bias, since I love getting outdoors and experiencing nature. Most of these are all experiences I've enjoyed myself and I've tried to include all parts of the country. It was really tough keeping it to 10, but I had to stop somewhere, or I'd be still be writing.

1. Paddle a canoe in Algonquin Provincial Park. For me, paddling in this park is the ultimate experience, although not everyone likes to "rough it." But even doing it just once should bring immense rewards. Gliding past scenery immortalized by artist Tom Thomson, you can see otters playing in a creek, herons winging overhead, raccoons and deer sauntering along the shore; you'll here the wild and iconic sound of a loon. There are plenty of ways to do it. You can rent canoes and do your own trip and supply your own meals; you can get the folks at the Portage Store to outfit you; you can even hire a guiding service if you're a neophyte wilderness paddler. If an overnight trip is too much, just take a canoe out for a few hours. Lodges like Killarney provide free canoes for their guests.

2. Take in an NHL game between the Toronto Maple Leafs and Montreal Canadiens. While the Leafs have been pretty bad lately, there's still something about the atmosphere in the arena when these two decades-old rivals meet. Despite the Leafs' recent woes, they are still #2 in total Stanley Cup wins - second only to Montreal. Plan well in advance, or be prepared to pay exorbitant scalpers' prices in either Toronto or Montreal. If you just can't get tickets, then take in a CFL game. It's a bit different from the NFL experience and much more affordable in any of the league's nine cities.

Be sure to paddle a canoe in Algonquin. 

You might even have time to fish.

3. Go polar bear or beluga whale watching in Manitoba. This is still on my "to-do" list. The province is world-renowned for getting visitors up close to the big white bruins in "bear-buggies." At certain times of the year (summer) it's possible to see bears from Zodiacs in the Churchill area. As for Belugas ... you can see them from rafts, or even snorkel alongside them.

4. Visit Grey Owl's cabin in Prince Albert National Park. A man ahead of his time in terms of espousing a conservation ethic, the man portrayed by Pierce Brosnan in the 1999 film worked as a warden in this central Saskatchewan park and his cabin on Lake Ajawaan is still there. You can hike in all the way, or you can combine a visit as part of a canoe trip in the park's back country. There are great wildlife and bird watching opportunities here.

You can get poutine burgers in Vancouver,
but for the best poutine, try Quebec.

5. Eat something Canadian. You want poutine? You can get it just about anywhere, but if you want the best, get it in Quebec, since this combination of French fries, cheese curds, and gravy originated in that province. What about butter tarts? There's actually butter tart trails and tours in Ontario. If you're in Ottawa, be sure to sample a beaver tail (it's a pastry, not an actual rodent appendage.) Ottawa also has a poutine-fest, if you can't get to Quebec.

6. Spend some time among the dinosaurs. Alberta's badlands offer a couple of great places to look into the past. Dinosaur Provincial Park, near Brooks, is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Guided hikes take you into places where you can see fossils. It also is home to the field station for the Royal Tyrell Museum. The museum proper is near Drumheller. The scenery in both places is spectacular, especially if you don't really associate deserts and hoodoos with Canada.

7. Hike to the Lake Agnes Teahouse. This sits above gorgeous Lake Louise, Alberta. Spend an afternoon hiking up the switchbacks of this trail and enjoy incredible views of the lake, then enjoy homemade soup, sandwiches, and cookies before heading back down to the trailhead.

It's hard to beat the beauty of a badlands sunset.

8. Visit Spirit Island. Sitting halfway down Jasper National Park's Maligne Lake, this spot may be one of the most photographed places in Canada. Tour boats take visitors down to this spot. You can also paddle there in a canoe or kayak, as there are a pair of backcountry campsites on the lake, halfway down and at the end of the lake.

9. Raft the Fraser River. Roaring through Hell's Gate on a motorized whitewater raft was one of my bucket list items I crossed off very early when I moved out west several years ago. I liked it so much, I did it again, three years later. After shooting through the rapids, take time to ride the gondola across the river which will give you a birds' eye view of what you've been through.

10. Go puffin-watching in Cape Breton. This Nova Scotia island offers much for visitors to enjoy, but if you like birds and wildlife, you won't want to miss out on the opportunity to see these cute-looking birds that look something like a cross between a penguin and a parrot. This is another one on my "to-do" list, which I hope to check off next year.

Niagara Falls: slowly I turned ... and other great waterfall memories

John Muir wrote, "As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing."

There is definitely something magic about waterfalls - although usually if you're close to one, you'll be hard-pressed to hear birds or wind sing over the roar of the falls.

I've been extremely blessed in having seen waterfalls all over the world, some great gigantic falls of world renown, others very small but equally special natural places.

Here, in no particular order, are my top 10 favourite waterfalls, along with the memories and moments associated with each one.

1. Niagara Falls.

Almost anyone who grew up watching the Three Stooges will remember the lines: "Niagara Falls - slowly I turned...step by step, inch by inch..." (If you don't, just search for it on YouTube).

I've been to Niagara Falls four times, three of those when I was 14 or younger. My first and last trips were the most memorable and meaningful to me, although all four had good memories.

The first one involved my very first road trip; I was seven, and my dad took a week off work so we could go to the falls, then spend a few days across the river in New York state. I still cherish that trip, I can still remember many details about it.

The last trip there I took in 2002, and during the trip, I visited the Niagara Falls Aviary. The falls were there, but they were secondary to my day spent with the free-flying birds.

Victoria Falls, on the Zimbabwe size.

2. Victoria Falls (Africa)

In visiting these spectacular falls, like Niagara Falls, I saw them from two different countries, as well: Zambia and Zimbabwe. They are spectacular; but what I most remember was the adventure I enjoyed below the falls, whitewater rafting through 20+ rapids on the Zambezi River. Just about drowned in a class 5 whirlpool, but I lived to tell the tale - and a great tale it is, especially when someone captures it on video!

3. North Ram River Falls (Alberta)

I spent my first summer vacation as an Alberta resident exploring the central Rockies near Rocky Mountain House on horseback, in 1985. These falls presented one of the many scenic vistas during the three-day trip. We did not get really close to them; but watching them from horseback was pretty cool.

4. Cariboo Falls (B.C.)

These falls can only be accessed on foot, and only as a short hike from one of the lakes on the Bowron Lake canoe circuit. This was memorable, as it was the first canoe trip I ever took with Ann Kidston, the first summer we dated, in 1989. We survived and still paddle together today.

5. Grand Falls (New Brunswick).

The largest falls east of Niagara. That pretty much sums it up. If you follow the trail along the one side of the river below the falls, you will see some incredible vistas along the gorge.

Grand Falls, New Brunswick

6. Ragged Falls (Ontario)

Lots of memories associated with these falls, which are right outside Algonquin Park, just a short drive from the west entrance. Years ago on my very first canoe trip that did not involve an older adult supervising, me and a buddy decided to sleep up on top of the falls, under the stars. You are not really supposed to do that, but it was late when we got there, we decided it would be just as easy to sleep there, rather than getting back in the car, driving into the park and trying to find a campsite (that we were only going to use for sleep) in the dark. It was incredible, hearing the falls on either side of the rock we slept on, watching all the stars above. Very special.

7/8. Two different sets of falls in Belize.

Neither of these falls had names - but they are memorable for a couple of reasons. The first one was in the Cockscomb Basin Jaguar Sanctuary. It was our first jungle waterfall. And while we did not see any jaguars, we could hear parrots and other birds squawking while we slogged down the jungle trail to a small waterfall and pool which we all eagerly dove into, to help cool us down.

The second one was bigger, and was in the pine savanna forest of Belize; we had to ride horses to get there. It was also cool and refreshing, after our ride. We also had lunch there, prepared by our Mayan guides.

Plenty of gorgeous waterfalls - like Akaka - in Hawaii.

9. Akaka Falls (Hawaii).

It is in Hawaii. It is gorgeous, the first (of many, I hope) waterfalls I will see there. What more needs to be said?

10. Widgeon Falls (B.C.)

This also involved paddling: we canoed through Widgeon Slough from Grant Narrows on the Pitt River, an hour east of Vancouver. 

We camped overnight at the recreation area campsite, then hiked up to the falls the next morning, then returned home that day. Great trip!

Other honourable mentions: Athabasca Falls (Jasper), an unnamed waterfall in Ecuador, Sheep River Falls in Alberta, Elk Falls near Campbell River, B.C. Alexander Falls, south of Whistler, B.C. and Bijoux Falls along Highway 97 in B.C. 

Early travels full of fond memories

June is always a very difficult month for me. My father's birthday was today, June 4. Father's Day is also in June.

It just so happened, by father passed away on the eve of Father's Day, 1992.

So you can probably understand why June is not really one of my favorite months.

For that matter, the whole April-May-June quarter kind of sucks, from where I sit.

Mother's Day is in May. My mother's birthday was April 3. I put her to rest on April 5, 2007.

Suffice to say, I'm always glad when we roll into July.

So what's this doing in a travel blog, you may ask?

Well, like many people, my first memories of travel involve traveling with my family. As an only child, that meant jumping in the car and driving somewhere with my mom and dad, or sometimes, just with my dad.

Dad and I did a bit of travelling together, just the two of us, as I was growing up. Just us guys, hangin' out. It was pretty cool, actually.

My very first "road trip" took place when I was seven years old: my dad and I drove from Newmarket, Ontario to Niagara Falls. I remember anticipating the trip for weeks before school ended. Then, the second week of July, we were off.

I distinctly remember looking forward to not just seeing the falls, but also looking forward to eating a hot dog by the falls - which I did. I've eaten many, many gourmet meals over the years, but none more memorable than that one. Eating a hot dog (with mustard and relish), standing by the railing looking at the falls with my dad, the memory will never fade.

To quote that old beer commercial, "It doesn't get much better than this."

Our road trip took us across the border into New York state and into Grand Island. Why there? Because my dad was taking me to Fantasy Island.

I'm not talking about the one populated by Mr. Roarke and his sidekick Tatoo, but rather an amusement park with a decidedly western theme, rides, the whole deal.

In the early 1960s, a Saturday morning TV show on the Buffalo NBC affiliate featured hosts and a studio located at Fantasy Island. The hosts were dressed as cowboys, and they always plugged Fantasy Island in between the cartoons they showed. 

Three-year-old Cowboy John, ready for action.

Like most six- and seven-year-old boys, I loved the idea of being a cowboy. My dad decided that summer was a good time for a father-son bonding experience (although no one labeled it like that back then) and we made our plans.

I loved it.

I got to spend time with my dad, went for a Mississippi paddle wheeler ride, visited an old "saloon," went for a stage coach ride with real horses (I kept hoping bandits would try to rob us like the brochures said they sometimes did - so I could save the day like Ralphie in A Christmas Story - but they never showed). The day was capped off with a live shootout in the western town streets.

I remember much more about the trip: about teasing my dad when he had more spaghetti spots on his shirt than I did, following dinner in an Italian restaurant...drawing superhero pictures on paper in our motel room...just hanging out with my dad. It was just so cool.

Over the next several summers, our family travels took us to places like Expo '67 in Montreal, Old Fort Henry in Kingston, Ontario, Upper Canada Village near Morrisburg, Ontario, a cool cottage trip to Lake Huron and visits to relatives in Detroit.

However, we didn't do another multi-day father-son trip for another five years, when my involvement in the Boy Scouts of Canada, coupled with three summers attending Camp Richildaca, motivated me to convince my dad to go camping with me.

He eventually acquiesced, and camping then formed the basis for many of our family holiday travels for years to come, at least until I became a teen-ager and just didn't hang around with adults any more.

Dad adjusts the tent flaps,
first camping trip, June 1968.

My most memorable camping trip with him took place the first summer we camped, in the summer of 1968, when we spent a week in Algonquin Provincial Park. I camped, hiked and paddled there many more times throughout the years, but that first trip was special.

During that trip, he taught me how to play poker, at our campsite picnic table, using match sticks as chips.

We hiked, we played catch, we went swimming in the lake, roasted marshmallows over a campfire at night ... if it sounds like pretty idyllic stuff, that's because it was.

What I really remember is my dad being sick the second half of the week, but he wanted to stick it out for me as much as he could, so I'd have a good trip, a good memory.

I think it meant a lot to him, because he never got to spend much time alone, doing things with his dad. He was trying to give me what he had missed growing up. So despite his cold, he sucked it up and slept in a tent for the entire week.

After I went off to college, my parents divorced, my dad eventually remarried. However, they both began to travel internationally much more as I finished university and became more of an independent adult, with my own life and my own travels to plan.

My dad visited places like Florida, Greece, Turkey; my mom journeyed to Florida, Hawaii, the Caribbean, Colombia, Venezuela, Brazil.

So you can see I came by my love of travel, my wanderlust, quite naturally.



Sitting at the top of Victoria Falls,
Zambia, Africa, 1993.



I never did get to travel internationally with either parent, which in some ways, is very sad. They were both still alive when I began to travel outside North America. My dad lived to see me take only one international trip, though. A year after I adventured in Belize for two weeks, he passed away.

His legacy for me became part of an amazing trip I took in Africa a year after his passing, as I used most of my inheritance to pay for a six-week odyssey through six African countries.

So even in his passing, even though he was gone, in a sense, he was still travelling with me.

And he still is.

Happy Travels, Dad.