World Wetlands Day: time to save a duck, a gator, your drinking water...

Another busy day at Reifel.

"When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most impenetrable and to the citizen, most dismal, swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place, a sanctum sanctorum…"
- Henry David Thoreau

Today is World Wetlands Day. (Yeah, it's Groundhog Day too - but he already gets enough publicity.)

In case you're not quite sure what a wetland is, according to the US EPA, it is: "... areas where water covers the soil, or is present either at or near the surface of the soil all year or for varying periods of time during the year, including during the growing season."

Still not sure about the value of wetlands? Well, they:

• act as natural sponges
• filter pollutants, helping provide clean drinking water
• absorb rainfall, reducing floods and droughts
• reduce the speed and height of storm surges
• provide food and habitat for huge variety of birds and wildlife
• provide a lace for recreation and reflection

I've visited a number of wetlands around North America. Three of my favourites are located in three very different environments.

REIFEL SANCTUARY

One of my favourite places to hang out near my Vancouver home is the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary just outside Ladner, B.C. It's part of a coastal wetland jutting onto the ocean in places, and just a half-hour's drive from the Vancouver International Airport. There you'll find yourself in a wetland paradise full of ducks, geese, cranes, and herons - not to mention songbirds like red-winged blackbirds or raptors like bald eagles or marsh hawks (a.k.a. northern harriers).

 

Black crowned night heron.

 

 I won't go into too much detail about the sanctuary itself, its history and its functions; that can all be gleaned from the sanctuary website .
I will say that although it is a stopping place for birds migrating north and south in the spring and fall, respectively - an avian "motel" of sorts - it is also a year-round home for many other birds.
 

Reifel is one of those rare spots you can visit again and again, and never tire of going there. It's a special place where you can get close to nature without having to drive too far from your front step, if you live in the Greater Vancouver area. 

 

The experiences there are pretty much the same every time, but for me, there's always one gem of an experience I have that's a bit different each time, something that sets that visit apart from others.  

 

Once I saw a great blue heron fly across a pond and alight on a log right in front of me. It then proceeded to spend several minutes grooming itself while I shot videos and images of the bird.
 

Another time, I was able to watch and record a pair of sandhill cranes strolling along the edge of the marsh. You won't see these large, rare and beautiful birds every time you go to Reifel, but I have seen them on more than one occasion.

 

 

A blue heron grooms at Reifel.

 

I saw my first  black-crowned night heron there; also, my first northern shoveller, my first bufflehead, my first...well, you get the idea.

 

It's a great place to take kids, too, and get them to experience and enjoy nature.

OAK HAMMOCK MARSH

Oak Hammock is a prairie wetland located, in southern Manitoba near Winnipeg. I spent a day there several years ago and I was amazed at the variety and diversity of bird life there. Of course, it helped that I was paddling; there’s no better way to see birds – especially wetland species – than from a canoe.

 

The Coot family.

A total of  296 different bird species have been recorded there. While I certainly did not approach that number, I was not disappointed. Just minutes into our journey, we spotted an American coot with babies. 

During my day's paddle, I spied gulls, terns, blackbirds, and several other species. 

 

The highlight came as we paddled quietly toward a small island covered with American white pelicans. 

 

When we came too close for their comfort, it was as if someone pressed a button - they took off en masse, a white cloud of flapping feathers rising up into the sky.

 

OKEFENOKEE NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE

Just north of the Florida panhandle in southern Georgia, in the middle of a wild, wet southern wilderness, sits this gem locals call simply, "The Swamp." 

I once spent three days canoeing and camping in this wonderful reserve with Okefenokee Adventures, the go-to adventure tour operator for the area. Our guide was very knowledgeable about the natural and cultural history of the area.

Like the other two spots described above, it's a great place for birds. While there exploring it, I saw a sandhill crane, several egrets and a green heron.

You'll see plenty of gators in "The Swamp."

Because it's so not as close to an urban centre as the other two, it boasts a far wider variety of wildlife in including deer, black bears and its iconic reptile: the American alligator.

I saw many of them, and a few deer, but no bears.
 
It's a wonderful place for a naturalist to hang out, and like Oak Hammock, it's only accessible by canoe. 

The point to all this? 

Without wetlands, none of these creatures would have homes. And surely that's reason enough to be concerned and to practice wetland conservation by supporting groups that focus on conserving wetlands, where it's a big national organization like Ducks Unlimited or a smaller local group like the Reifel Sanctuary or the Burns Bog Conservation Society. 

Then go out and enjoy a wetland.

Autumn: how do I love thee...?

... let me count the ways.

I've often mentioned that September and October are my favorite months of the year. Fall is definitely my favourite season. But why is that? 

Fall paddling along the Rideau.

As October comes to a close, here are some of the reasons for loving this season, from an outdoors/travel perspective.

1. I love the fall colours. Granted, we don't get them in B.C. like I did growing up back east in Ontario or going to university in New Brunswick, but we get a bit of colour. 

Of course, if you want to experience those colours, that's a great reason to visit a place like Lanark County, Ontario and enjoy some of the wonderful experiences just waiting for you - and while you're enjoying them, you can take in the fall beauty.

2. Usually until the last week or so, the days are still warm, but not too warm - and the nights are wonderfully cool.

3. It's cool enough to use the fireplaces in any building in which you're ensconced.

4. It's still warm enough to go canoeing or kayaking comfortably. (Mind you, is it ever too cold? I once did a three-day canoe trip in north central Saskatchewan in October, with bits of snow falling the first day!)

Paddling into the fall.

5. While it's still warm, all the bugs are gone, for the most part.

6. Kids are back in school, so it's not as busy at recreational areas like parks, pools, lakes, etc., at least not during the week.

7. There are no goofy holidays that have emotional meanings attached to them (Christmas, Easter), causing family around the country to pressure you to "spend quality time" with them, even if it costs an arm and a leg to fly there.

8. Although it's warm, it's probably cool enough to justify "adding a nip" of something to your coffee or hot chocolate to give it extra warmth.

Trumpeter swans winging their way south.

9. It's an amazing time of the year for watching migrations of wild birds. Some spectacular displays of birds like snow geese are there for the watching.

The best place to see these flights of fowl is at a nearby bird sanctuary, like George C. Reifel in Ladner, B.C. or Cape Tourmente, near Quebec City. 

Check your area, you're sure to find not too far away.


10. Did I mention the colours?

What are some of your favourite reasons to love travel and the outdoors in the fall?

Island magic never seems to disappoint

How much fruit can an orangutan eat?

So I'm headed off to Vancouver Island for a short
two-day trip today (Thursday) in the Comox area. I hope to see some seals, whales, maybe a dolphin or two, and definitely some sea-going birds (no sea parrots - a.k.a., puffins - on this trip though!) with Vancouver Island Marine Tours and Adventures.

It's certainly not my first trip to the island, and certainly won't be my last.

Thinking about it got me thinking about all the incredible island destinations I've visited. Of course, I just got back from one last week, and I'm wondering why it took me so long to visit Cape Breton Island. Nova Scotia hospitality always seems to shine, and that trip was no exception.

While I've been to many of the "must-do" islands, I've also been to some less renowned islands. But it doesn't seem to matter which category of island I'm on, as they always seem to produce a magical trip with memorable experiences.

So, without further ado, here's my Top List of Island Experiences I've enjoyed through the years, in no particular order.

1. Borneo: hanging out with primates. During a trip to the Malaysian part of the island, I visited not one, but two orangutan sanctuaries, facilities set up to act as a halfway house for re-introducing captive primates back to the wild.

Then I also saw not one, but two completely wild orangutans while cruising up and down the Kinabatangan River on wildlife safaris. While on the island, I also had the chance to see proboscis monkeys along that river as well as at Bako National Park.

2. Hawaii: swimming with sharks, diving with dolphins. In a two week trip to Hawaii, I was able to climb into the shark tank at the Maui Ocean Center and scuba dive with sharks, rays, and some other fish for about an hour. Really cool experience.

Then a week later on the Big Island, I went on an excursion out onto the Pacific Ocean and snorkeled with a pod of wild spinner dolphins. Equally cool.


Let's go hang out with the sharks.

3. Belize: cay-hopping and snorkeling. While this is not an island country, there are plenty of cays along its coast, and my first international trip of any kind (outside of Canada or the USA) involved a five-day paddle out to the barrier reef, camping on various cays along the way. It was also my first time kayaking (I'd been only a canoeist prior to that) and my first time snorkeling. Still one of my best snorkeling experiences anywhere.

Spotted this happy-looking parrot on the Mastic Trail.

4. Cayman Islands: parrot-spotting in the rainforests. There is plenty to do in the water in the Caymans, but also plenty of cool stuff to do on land, especially if you like birds. I got to see a flock of Grand Cayman parrots on the main island's Mastic Trail, then saw a few mated pairs of the very rare Cayman Brac parrots in the forests of the island those birds are named after.

5. Cape Breton Island: puffin tour. There is much more to do on Cape Breton than eating lobster (although it is scrumptious!) One of the main highlights of my tour there was being able to see puffins on Bird Island, with Donelda's Puffin Tours. There were plenty of other birds to see there, as well, but seeing puffins really made my trip.

6. Canary Islands: seeing the rarest of all parrots. During attendance at the 2006 Loro Parque International Parrot Convention, I had the opportunity to tour the private aviary and saw several pairs of Spix's macaws. Up until recently, they were extinct in the wild, and Loro Parque is working to make sure they don't disappear completely. For those unfamiliar, this the species that inspired the Disney movie, Rio.

7. Quadra Island: canoeing the ocean. A small island off the east coast of Vancouver Island near Campbell River, I've visited this island twice. During my visits, I had a chance to canoe in and around Heriot Bay, spotting eagles on the island where we lunched and plenty of seals on the rocks nearby. Oh, and plenty of jellyfish (the kind you want to avoid) floating around on the ocean.

Sunset in the Ten Thousand Islands.

8. Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park, Florida: kayaking in the 'Glades. This series of mangrove islands on the southwest Florida coast are not what most people picture when they think of the Everglades. Located on the Gulf of Mexico, it was more like cay-hopping in Belize, than swamp paddling (which I've also done.) What did we see? What didn't we see, would be more appropriate. We saw ospreys battling overhead, dolphins swimming under our kayaks, sea turtles, egrets, herons, raccoons. Great trip.

9. Vancouver Island: falconer for a day. One of my favourite experiences on Vancouver Island was spent learning about falconry with Pacific Northwest Raptors. And it was all hands-on, working with the birds, experience. We got to walk with them, then fly them, just a wonderful way to spend a day.

10. Joe Island, Joe Lake, Algonquin Provincial Park, Ontario: canoeing. Another of the "lesser-known" islands (unless you happen to be a regular park paddler) it marked either the start or finish of many a multi-day canoe trip in the park. It created many fond memories that I still treasure - including the time we awoke to find a raccoon unzipping our tent door because it smelled food inside the tent! Glad it wasn't a bear...

Of course, there are some honourable mentions that didn't quite crack the Top 10:

• Spirit Island in Maligne Lake, Jasper National Park, Canada (you can't actually camp there or even land on the island, but it's an inconic Canadian image)
• Grand Manan Island, New Brunswick (kayaking and hiking adventures)
• numerous other unnamed islands in Algonquin Provincial Park

So...what are some of YOUR favourite island experiences? Please let us know in the comments.

Solitude among the woods and waters of Nova Scotia

Splash! 

Morning mist on Mersey River.

There it was again. We had no idea what was making the noise 30 metres from our campsite, and we were not entirely certain we wanted to find out.

"It's probably a bear hunting for frogs," I said, hunkering down deeper in my sleeping bag.

"Bears don't eat frogs!" my companion replied from deep in her own sleeping bag.

"Do too!"

"Do not! Might be a moose, though."

"This isn't moose habitat! It's probably a bear … "

As it turned out, we were both right - sort of.  Later research revealed that black bears do indeed eat frogs. However, it was not a hungry bear on the prowl for the delicacy of frogs' legs. It turned out to be a bird - probably an osprey - diving for fish in Channel Lake's waters.

Channel Lake is part of a chain of waterways in the northwest corner of Kejimkujik National Park. Located in south-central NovaScotia, "Keji" is the only national park in the Maritimes completely surrounded by land, although there is a seaside adjunct apart from the park's main body. 

This 403-square kilometre island of wilderness is home to more than 100 species of birds; mammals such as deer, porcupine, moose - and yes, bear; and a variety of tree species, including oak, maple, hemlock, spruce and pine.

Sunset on Channel Lake

One of the best ways to experience the park is by canoe, on routes north or south of the large lake that gives the park its name. We paddled north of Kejimkujik for five days - partially following the route paddled by Albert Bigelow Paine in his book, The Tent Dwellers - through Big Dam Lake, Frozen Ocean Lake and Channel Lake before paddling back onto the main lake.

Because we paddled the park in early August - peak holiday season - we were surprised that three days passed without sight of another human. 

The first people we did see were two park rangers, performing routine backcountry campsite maintenance.

That's not to say we were lonely. 

Prickly Porky on the move

Porcupines, barred owls, deer and chipmunks visited our campsites. 

Paddling down the quiet waters of Still Brook, LittleRiver and West River, we encountered herons, a painted turtle, frogs, a mother loon and her baby, and a merganser family.

The unexpected solitude was a true gift. 

On our last night on the big lake, a lone loon swam past our Moose Island campsite, wailing her trademark cry, as if to say,"Farewell!" from the wilderness, eliciting a prayer of thanks from my own mouth.

(This story was originally published in the Summer 2001 edition of Ski Canada's Outdoor Guide.)

Post script: There's much more to the park than canoeing. It's also a national historic site, as this video shows.

The magic of rivers transports us across space and time - but can we keep the magic alive?

Ecuador's Rio Shiripuno: one of many magical
rivers I've journeyed upon.

In the book Wind in the Willows, author Kenneth Grahame wrote, "There’s nothing… absolutely nothing… half so much worth doing as simply messing around in boats."


As someone who has been paddling for more than 50 years now, I can't disagree with that.

People often ask me if I prefer river trips to canoe circuits involving a chain of lakes and ponds. They are quite different types of trips, although they both involve water. The former involves starting at one point and finishing at another; the latter, travelling in a circle and returning to your original starting point.

They both have their good points, but the one thing that differentiates a river trip is the fact that it's an exciting journey that potentially sees you never return to where you begin from. That's not always the case, because you may end up shuttling back to your original starting point - but then again, you may not. On circuit trips you can often go either direction, clockwise or counterclockwise. Paddling in either direction can be l-i-t-t-l-e bit harder on a river unless you're on a really slow moving river. Paddling upstream - unless you're a salmon looking to spawn - is a lot of work and not the most pleasant kind of activity to engage in. 

Time to get wet again, on the Zambezi River!
(Photo by Zambezi Video Productions.)

Because of that, there is a magic to rivers, something you feel even if you don't paddle on one. When I was in high school, I used to walk past a river - the Holland River coming out of Fairy Lake in Newmarket - and there was always something about walking past that spot, especially during the spring runoff, that set my imagination to working. There is a timelessness to rivers, which is why they have the power to transport us across space and time. 

Often when you're paddling down a river in a canoe or kayak, you're paddling through history, because thousands of others have probably paddled there, most likely for several centuries. Many times when I canoe - and this is one of the aspects of all canoeing that really appeals to me - I like to imagine I'm a voyageur of old, heading into the wilderness for the Northwest Company, engaged in the fur trade of the late 18th and early 19th centuries across the wilds of Canada. 

My first canoe trips as a youth took me through areas in Ontario that were probably used by the voyageurs, although most of the paddling I did then was on lakes, ponds and very slow rivers.

Rollin' down the river - the Chao Phraya River in Thailand, that is

Since then I've gone on to paddle or travel on many rivers:

• I've canoed on the Athabasca, Red Deer, Bow, and Freeman Rivers in Alberta; 
• kayaked the Harrison River in B.C., and whitewater rafted on the Kicking Horse, Thompson and Fraser Rivers in that province; 
• kayaked among the gators on Florida's Econ River; 
• rafted the mighty Zambezi in Africa among the crocs; 
• kayaked the Rio Shiripuno in Ecuador where we saw wild parrots and harpy eagles;
• been taken up Borneo's Kinabatangan River to see wild orangutans and Thailand's River Kwai (yes, THAT river) by motorized canoes on a cultural/historical adventure; and,
• travelled by rice barge along Thailand's Chao Phraya River, another journey through history.

Because I have always loved being out in nature, on rivers and streams - and for that matter ponds and lakes - I developed an interest in conservation at a very early age. When I was 12, I decided to study forestry in university, to help conserve our natural resources. I started down that path but got sidetracked by a strong interest in journalism and broadcasting. 

One of the locals paddles a dugout canoe
on Borneo's Kinabatangan River.

However, my concern about the importance of conservation of our rivers is just as strong - if not stronger - than it was all those years ago. We ALL should be concerned. Water from rivers gives us life. Without it, life can be extremely difficult. It not only supplies water to drink but habitat for the fish we eat, as well as other animals that depend on the water and fish that live there to survive. 

That's why it's important to recognize and perhaps even attend a local event or two during World Rivers Day, which this year falls on Sunday, Sept. 27. 

There are several events going on at different venues in British Columbia to celebrate B.C. Rivers Day. For example, the city of Burnaby will host an event at the Burnaby Village Museum; the Fraser River Discovery Centre will host its annual Riverfest event, starting Thursday, Sept. 24 and running through until Saturday the 26th.

There are many other events all over the province, the country and the world, too numerous to list all of them here. But a quick search online should provide you with details about local events. Many involve music, conservation and nature displays, some paddle-oriented activities, and plenty of other stuff for families to enjoy - and learn about how we call can help keep our rivers healthy.

I started off with a quote, and I'll finish with one, by environmentalist and author David Brower.

"We must begin thinking like a river if we are to leave a legacy of beauty and life for future generations."

Time to pack it up and move on

G.I. Joe, G.I. Joe, hiking fool from head to toe...
Never actually got this pack.

If you spend anytime travelling - even if your biggest adventure involves a trip to a museum -
chances are, you've probably used a backpack of some kind.

Many of us have owned and used many different sizes and styles of backpacks over the years.

If you spend much time in the out of doors, you might be what consider to be a back pack expert.

I wouldn't call myself an expert, I feel a bit uncomfortable accepting that kind of term. I do know what works for me, and I can say what good and bad experiences I've had throughout the decades.

But thinking back to all the backpacks I've used over the years also brings back memories of the trips I've taken with them. And those memories are all pretty fond ones.

I first desired a backpack - or knapsack as we called it then - when I first went to Camp Richildaca near Kettleby, Ontario. We were going on a nature hike, and I wanted a pack to carry my lunch in, along with any other supplies I might need (which really weren't much, since it was only a two or three hour hiking adventure.)

I didn't get one that first summer. But the following summer I did, although not without some grief from my dad.

We'd visited relatives in Detroit for a week before I went to camp that year and spent one day getting a toy for me. My dad knew I wanted a knapsack for camp, and in the toy store, you could get an official "G.I. Joe knapsack and (plastic) entrenching shovel," it was part of the line of life-sized toys that complemented the popular boys' soldier-doll. (PC people like to call it "action figure," but hey, we knew it was a doll. Our answer to girls' Barbie. And he could kick Ken's ass. But I digress).

Anyway, he urged me to get that, but I chose the toy M-1 carbine instead (Hey, why get a knapsack when I can get another gun for my growing arsenal, eh?).

So, when I went to camp, at the end of the first week, I was bugging my dad for a knapsack. Even had one picked out that I liked. It was green, had "Trailblazer" written on the back. But my dad said, "You should have gotten the GI Joe pack!"

My official Boy Scout backpack.

It took a bit of cajoling, but eventually I got my pack. Looking back, it wasn't much, didn't even fasten with buckles, just a tie like a shoelace. But I loved it.

It did me up until the time I was ready to go to scout camp.

Then it was time to move up to a better model. And again I had a bit of a tussle with my dad over this issue. He thought to go to camp it would be much better if I just had some kind of big duffel bag, kind of like a hockey bag for all my clothing and gear.

But my dad was not that much of an outdoorsman; I knew there were going to be overnight canoe trips and overnight backpacking trips at this camp, and a duffel bag was not going to be very good for hauling gear through  the woods on my back, so again I cajoled him and eventually got the pack I wanted.

It was a gray knapsack, an "official" Scouts Canada pack purchased at the local Jack Fraser store (the official supplier of Scouts Canada back then) It did not have any kind of frame with it, it was really more of a larger day pack rather than a multi-day pack, but it had one mean compartment, two side pockets, and a smaller outside pocket on the back ... it was just exactly what I wanted and it worked great on the canoe trip - my very first overnight canoe trip, to Drag Lake in the Haliburton Highlands! - and then on my very first overnight backpacking camping trip as well.

That particular backpack did me for several more years until I hit 18 and was planning my very first "no-adults" overnight canoe trip in Algonquin Park.

Now this was a big thing for me, because every other canoe trip I never been on was supervised by someone older - a scoutmaster, a junior forest ranger foreman - so this was a special rite of passage trip.

Time for a Taymor!
Mine was blue not red, but same style.

I had my eye on a backpacking frame in Canadian Tire where I worked that summer. It was really cool, because it was essentially red with a white flap to cover everything - and it had a red maple leaf in the middle ... essentially it was a giant Canadian flag.

I bought it, and I loved that pack, using that for the next several years. For a few years, I stopped taking overnight camping trips just because I was in university and was often working and didn't have time to plan or carry out such trips.

Eventually I graduated moved out west and when it was time for me to go on a new outdoor adventure, it was time for a new backpack because the "flag-pack" had seen better days, it was 16 years old and hadn't been in any shape to take out west.

So off I went to my neighborhood sporting goods store and got a Taymor pack. My first trip with that was a three-day solo backpacking trip in Jasper National Park, to Jacques Lake.  It did me for several more trips after that, canoeing the Bowron Lake circuit twice, and on some other camping trips. But as with all backpacks, when your travel style changes, often your pack has to change as well.

For my first international trip to Belize - a two-week trip that involved sea-kayaking, hiking, horseback riding, caving, and all kinds of great outdoor stuff - I needed a suitcase. But I also needed some kind of small day pack.

A friend of mine lent me a catalog from Mountain Equipment Co-op, which I'd never heard of at that point in time. But they had something which was perfect: a very rugged cross between a suitcase and a duffel bag but which also had a smaller day pack that fastened to the main bag with straps and became part of the whole unit.

The suitcase itself could be turned into a backpack for longer trips as it had an internal pack frame. The detachable day pack was great, because it could carry food, a change of clothes, a camera, water bottle, and any number of things you might need to access when you're kayaking in the Caribbean or hiking through the Central American jungle.

Still use my MEC pack today, 25 years later.

This one is lasted a long time - in fact, I still use it today for some travel, which means it's pretty darn durable.  Since I bought it 1991,that means I've had it for almost 25 years in it still works. Yeah, here it comes... "They don't make much stuff like that any more."

Once I started doing freelance photography, which involved a lot of hiking in the mountains and other outdoor areas in and around Calgary and southern Alberta, I needed something sturdy and functional in which to carry my camera gear, since I wasn't using just a point-and-shoot any more.

So I bought a LowePro in 2000.

It's still my favourite backpack for carrying camera gear. It's been vary durable, although I have had replaced the zippers on the one I currently use on a couple of occasion . But it's 15 years old, so it doesn't owe me anything.

It's helped me photograph parrots in the Caribbean, orangutans in Malaysia, temples in Thailand and the vista of Machu Picchu in Peru.

Let's see, did I bring my cards?

Everybody who knows me knows I love to paddle and when you're canoeing or kayaking it's always nice to have something to keep you clothing and gear dry.

I used to just pack the frames and backpacks into the canoe, but there was no guarantee, they would stay dry unless we put a tarp over them. And once we started kayaking, well, you can't fit a pack frame into a kayak storage compartment.

So we evolved to dry bags. They're very handy for paddling, even canoeing, if you don't have any long portages, but they are meant more for kayaking than canoeing. Some come with straps and some bags even have an apparatus that turns them into backpacks.

However they do not become the kind of backpacks you would take with you on a camping trip into the mountains.

Guaranteed to keep stuff dry.

I think back fondly to all the backpacks I've used...As we go forward in life, we of course have to make room in our lives by letting go of certain things, we can't keep every single thing (although sometimes I wish we could.)

But I get wistful every now and then when I think back to all those first trips I took - my first nature hike, first overnight canoe trip, first overnight camping trip, first overnight canoe trip planned on my own, and my first international trip. Most of the backpacks I took on most of those trips are long gone.

Some wore out, some were donated ... but they're all so old, they've probably all bitten the dust, I doubt if any of them are even around, never mind in use any more.

Although today's modern day, super light, multi-purpose materials may make lighter and more waterproof and more functional backpacks, there's no taking the place of the memories associated with those old packs.

R.I.P., old backpack friends.



Some tips on choosing a backpack.

Here are my quintessential seasonal trips - what are yours?

Winter, spring, summer, or fall -
when's your favourite season to travel?

A few weeks ago on my regular Wednesday photo survey on my Bear Lair Communications Facebook page, I asked readers what was their favourite season of the year to travel in.

That got me to thinking … Perhaps I should share the quintessential experiences I've enjoyed while traveling in each of the seasons.

Now I should say there are a couple qualifiers in this. First of all, if you forget about traveling, autumn is my favourite season of the year, period. I love the fall colours and everything else about the autumn - but that doesn't mean that I would travel to a destination just have a "seasonal" fall experience - although there are some really nice places to go in North America for that.

And if I had my choice, I would pretty much always spend any cold months travelling to warm, tropical or semi-tropical destinations so I could paddle and watch birds and other wildlife in comfort. But because some of the places I've loved to travel to don't really experience four seasons like we do in North America, I'm going to restrict this particular article to places where you can experience a real distinct season. No trips to Thailand in winter, no sojourns to Antarctica or Australia during our summer.

In other words, it's places I've travelled to in North America. Here we go.

SPRING: Ah, spring...when a young man's heart turns to ... baseball. Well, some young men's hearts. The rest turn to ... birding.

The snow geese have returned!

Spring is the time when hundreds of flocks of migratory birds make their way north from their wintering grounds, to build nests, mate, and raise new birds. There are many places to see the flocks migrating, but one of my favourite places is the Cape Tourmente National Wildlife Area in Quebec, just east of Quebec City.

I had a chance a few years ago to experience the annual snow geese migration, and loved it. It's a great place to spot other birds and wildlife, as well. While you're there, be sure to visit the Ste Anne de Beaupre Basilica, Montmorency Falls, and Canyon Ste Anne.

SUMMER: This is a tough one. There are so many amazing places to go, experiences to enjoy in the summer, all over North America. I guess if pushed to pick one destination above all the others, I'd go with Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario. I've visited there many times since the late 1960s, it's still one of my favourite places to go in the entire world.

The park offers something for everyone, from hardcore wilderness lovers to fishing fanatics, from campers to those who prefer to enjoy the outdoors from a cozy lodge. You can canoe, hike, fish, camp, go for scenic flights in a bush plane, tour the park logging museum and visitor centre, go bird- or wildlife-watching, participate in a wolf howl, enjoy some excellent art displays (or even learn to paint like Tom Thomson!). If camping isn't your thing, three excellent lodges service the park: Killarney Lodge, Bartlett Lodge, and Arowhon Pines Lodge.

It's tough to beat a misty morning on Algonquin's Lake of Two Rivers.

FALL: It seems like I'm falling back on Ontario again, but there's a reason for that: If you want to see autumn in all its splendour, Ontario - along with Quebec and the Maritimes - is the place to be.

This is just a very small hint of Ontario's autumn colours.

While autumns on the prairies have their moments, and B.C. falls are often like extended summers, the rich palette of colours created by the oaks, maples, birches, and other deciduous trees of Eastern Canada, the mix of reds and browns and yellows, cannot be rivalled.

I discovered this years ago, when I went on a family Thanksgiving weekend getaway to Deer Lodge in the Haliburton Highlands. At 14, I was really too young to appreciate for very long - I was a teen-ager stuck with adults, and upset I couldn't watch a CFL football game between Ottawa and Montreal - but looking back at some of the slides my dad took reminds me of how gorgeous early October is in the east. Ditto, when you drive through New Brunswick or Nova Scotia in mid-autumn.

Again, Algonquin is a great place to be in autumn; so is Gatineau Park in Canada's national capital region, just over the border into Quebec, outside of Ottawa. I've only been there in winter, but if photos are any indication, it is probably THE place to be, come October. (Just be ready for lots of traffic...)

WINTER: As previously mentioned, given my druthers, I'd ruther go someplace warm in the winter where I can paddle or watch birds and not have to put on five layers of clothing.  However that's not really winter is it?

The trouble is, I'm not a skier, not a snowmobiler, I don't really snowshoe very much (although I've done all three) and it's really hard to paddle a canoe or kayak in the winter. But if you want to have an iconic winter travel experience, you have to try dog sledding.

Mushing through the mountains!
(Photo courtesy of Snowy Owl Sled Dogs)

I've had the opportunity to enjoy it in northern B.C. as well as in K-Country - specifically, the Spray Lakes, in Alberta.  Snowy Owl Sled Dog Tours run some wonderful programs in the provincial park that incorporate different elements of winter experiences into their packages.

You can do half day trips, day trips, overnight trips and experience some Aboriginal culture as part of those trips.

There really is nothing quite like the silence of the Rocky Mountains, as as you mush along the trail at high speed, being pulled by a trained dog team... all you hear is the sound of the dogs' feet crisply pattering over the snow and the rush of the wind in your own ears as you glide over the frozen white carpet.

Well, there you have my personal favourites for travel in the various seasons. What are yours?

Five of Canada's Best Kept Secrets

Entering Winnipeg's French Quarter.

I started the month with a blog post about cool stuff to do in Canada. Now I'll finish the month with another Canadian-themed topic. If you're not from Canada, some of these might surprise you. And a few might surprise you even if you are from Canada.

1. Calgary: not just another word for “Cowtown.” While the Calgary Stampede is second to none when it comes to rodeos, the southern Alberta city offers more than just cowboy culture - it is also home to some top-notch, world-class museums. Leading the way is the Glenbow Museum, a museum, art gallery, library and archives all rolled into one facility. Military history buffs will certainly enjoy the Museum of the Regiments or the Naval Museum of Alberta. If you’re into aviation and aerospace, check out the Aero Space Museum of Calgary. Calgary also honors firefighters with its Firefighters Museum.

2. Quebec is not the only place in Canada to experience French-Canadian culture. The city of Winnipeg, Manitoba can also provide plenty of authentic Franco flavor. Winnipegcontains western Canada’s largest French-Canadian population. A visit to St. Boniface - a section of the city often referred to as the “French Quarter” - might lead you to think you’ve been airlifted and dropped into some place other than Western Canada. The area’s biggest annual celebration reflects this heritage: the 10-day Festival du Voyageur held every February, highlights Canada’s fur trade era with entertaining shows, delicious traditional food and numerous exhibits.

3. Saskatchewan is not just flat land and wheat fields. Head into the northern half of the prairie province, and you’ll find yourself in some of the best fishing and canoeing country in North America. (Sigurd Olson certainly thought so, or he wouldn’t have spent weeks paddling the province’s wilderness, then written The Lonely Land.) One of the province’s gems is Prince Albert National Park, the final home for Grey Owl, portrayed by Pierce Brosnan in the 1999 film of the same name. The park offers excellent canoe routes as well as hiking and mountain biking trails. In the winter, outdoor enthusiasts trade in their paddles and bikes for cross-country skis and snowshoes.

Grey Owl's cabin in Saskatchewan.

4. Vancouver: think “Little India” – not just Chinatown. The west coast city is world-renowned for the incredible diversity of Asian cultures. Its Chinatown is Canada’s largest and best known; however, the Little India section is often overlooked. 

While the East Indian influence is everywhere in the city, the culture’s most concentrated gathering lies along a five-block section of Main Street, centered around 49th Avenue. 

A daytime stroll provides a potpourri of colourful sights, sounds and smells. Women of all ages often sport colorful saris. The strains of Hindi music blare from the many shops along the street. The aromas of curry constantly waft through the air to tantalize you as you pass some of the area’s eateries.

5. Edmonton: City of Festivals. Often referred to as “City of Champions” (a reference to the glory days of the NHL’s Oilers and CFL’s Eskimos), the Alberta capital could easily be called the “City of Festivals.” Its International Fringe Theatre Festival attracts artists and patrons from across Canada and around the world, including the U.S., Europe and Asia. Other summer festivals include international jazz and folk music festivals, a dragon boat festival and Klondike Days. In the spring, visitors can be entertained at the Northern Alberta International Children’s Festival. The Canadian Finals Rodeo rides into town every November. Winter celebrations include the Festival of Trees, a Yuletide event; and the Canadian Birkebeiner Ski Festival, the largest classical North American Nordic ski festival.

Things are really hopping at K-Days in Edmonton. (Time lapse by Jesse Nash)

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."