Campfire magic connects us

A campfire always seems to be the perfect way to end a day spent in the outdoors. 

Nothing like a good campfire to warm the hands - and the soul.

Gathering around a campfire for stories and songs, conversation and reflection, follows an old tradition that started eons ago in the days when campfires provided much more than a place for a social gathering. 

At one time in humankind's history, they were needed in order to cook, to stay warm and to keep predators at bay. The evening fire was the focal point for a gathering of the clan or tribe and developed into a social event as a secondary function.

As man evolved over the centuries, the need for such fires became less and less crucial, and in the final months of the 20th century, it is largely symbolic. It is still a gathering place, but it takes its place along side other social facilitators such as the office water cooler, the local pub, the neighborhood coffee shop, the church picnic and countless other commonplace gathering places. Like the evening fire, they all serve to bring people together and provide opportunity to socialize.

There is one main difference, though. One thing separates the fire from all the others.

All the rest are man-made functions. A fire, is, at its heart, a natural element. Man does not create it, although man can produce conditions under which this element can spring into life.

It is that elemental aspect, that magical difference about an evening fire, whether it is a fire in a hearth shared by two old friends or a roaring bonfire that brings together a whole group of people from different backgrounds and beliefs, that makes it so special.

Can't beat campfire-roasted marshmallows.

Who has not sat in front of a fire in the woods at night, listening to the cry of the loon, the howl of the wolf, the whistle of the whippoorwill and not felt that primeval shiver, followed by a primeval comfort to be found only in the light and heat emanating from the campfire? That shiver, that comfort, they serve to remind us that we are human. And while we have created a whole world of facilities and institutions to separate us from Mother Nature, we are still part of Her, not above Her. As much as we may like to think it, we are not invincible, not immune to Nature's whims.

The evening campfire restores to us that part of our humanity that we have forgotten, or at least, neglected. It gives us back the magic we have distanced ourselves from with our overrated technology. It helps us touch the souls of our ancestors in a way that no faded photographs or crumbling gravestones can.

Sometimes, a desire for a campfire is so great,

even a propane-fuelled fire works.

If you take time to stop talking and quiet the voices in your head, if you listen - really listen! - to the crackle of the flames, the sound of your breath, the pulse of the blood in your veins, you may feel a million years of mankind's souls touching with your own, however briefly.

Treasure it, revel in it, soak it up like a thirsty coyote laps up the water in a desert oasis. It is pure magic; not the kind provided by flashy video showman or sly-handed carnival hucksters, but the real magic of the Universal mind. It is the collective soul of humanity connecting with your own being, connecting you with Eternity.

It is usually a fleeting moment, this connection. But in that moment, we can attain the most profound peace we are liable to experience on this planet, even in this second decade of our still-new third millennium.

Does one ever tire of a campfire?

All too soon, all too easily, we lose that connection. The crackle and pop of the fire stirs us from our reverie, bringing us back to the present moment, back to the physical reality of our being. But we need fret not; for it is always there, always waiting for us in the flames of a campfire, in the whisper of the wind through the trees, or in the billion stars that shine down upon us, winking at us, as if to tell us they know something of the Universal mind that we do not.

They wink, but there is no secret, really; it is always there, waiting for us to reach out and connect. 

We simply need to remember to take time to acknowledge it, and it will come to us. The fire of the stars, or the fire from our camp hearth, it is all the same: the light is the key that connects us, gives us the power to reach back to what we were, and what we, in essence, still are.

It is also a source of profound but simple wisdom, wisdom with a message. We need to heed its message; because just as the fire dies if not properly tended, our world will die, if not properly tended. We can choose to let the earth expire. Or we can choose to be proper caretakers, and ensure that it does not. The choice is ours to make, but if we find that connection, it is an easy one to make.

We simply have to choose life over death.                                                    

Peterborough well worth the wait

Little Lake in Peterborough's Millenium Park.

When I was a kid growing up in Newmarket, Ontario, I never spent any time in or around Peterborough. My relationship with the city consisted of turning on CHEX-TV to watch a hockey game not on the regular CBC stations or a football game that was blacked out in the immediate Toronto area.

Peterborough was always that place that I was in a hurry to get through or past or around to get to Algonquin Provincial Park and later, Outlet Beach (now Sandbanks) Provincial Park.

My dad and I almost stayed at a fishing marina outside Peterborough one summer trip, but neither of us was much of a fisherman, it wasn't really set up for camping (although there was a place to pitch a tent) so I voted to go to Algonquin instead and off we went.

Learning to carve a canoe paddle with Russ Parker.

Later on, it was that place that Roger Neilson coached (the OHL's Petes) before beginning his NHL career in Toronto with the Maple Leafs. (A street in Peterborough is named after the late icon).

Of course, all of that was before a group of far-sighted individuals established the Canadian Canoe Museum. It also pre-dated the establishment of many of the great provincial parks like Kawarthas Highlands and Petroglyphs Provicinal Parks in the area.

And it was probably before the local dining scene, craft beer industry, wide diversity of independent coffee shops and many of the other aspects of current life that made Peterborough the thriving but very liveable community it is today.

I'm now finally getting the chance to explore the area and everything it has to offer.

Brewmaster Doug Warren serves up some craft beer.

So far, I've spent two days carving a canoe paddle at the canoe museum, followed by a paddle across Little Lake (which boasts its own huge fountain in the middle of the lake). I also enjoyed several fine meals and sampled some of the craft beers mentioned above.

I expect that to continue over the next few days with another visit to the canoe museum (yeah, I'm a canoehead!) a possible river cruise along the Trent River, and more fine dining (Peterborough actually has more restaurants per capita than Toronto).

So in many ways, I'm getting the best of Peterborough, arguably a better experience than I might have had all those years ago as a youngster.

I can certainly appreciate these kinds of enjoyments better than I would have back then.

So from my perspective, I waited until just the perfect time.

Good things really do come to those who wait...

View of the river from the balcony of my hotel room at Best Western Otonabbee Inn.

Brave New Worlds await traditional writers, bloggers alike

Getting ready for the editors' panel.

Even those who don't spend much time online or persuing the various forms of traditional or social media are probably aware of the revolution that's been taking place in the publishing industry for the last decade or two.

First came the internet, and with it, websites, e-zines or online zines and web-logs, a.k.a. "blogs."

Then came the era of social media: YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest - the list is a l-o-n-g one.

It's an era we're still in, barely into, really - and it's still evolving. However, although social media has certainly grabbed a large portion of the media landscape, traditional media is not dead yet, despite rumours to the contrary.

In fact, to paraphrase the immortal words of Mark Twain, "Rumours of its demise are greatly exaggerated."

That became very apparent at the 2015 B.C. Assocation of Travel Writers symposium that took place in Vancouver's Century Plaza Hotel, on April 18, 2015.

The theme of the event was "Ecotourism: Tread Softly, Write with Impact."

It could just have easily been "Traditional Meets New Age Travel Media."

That's because the symposium organizers did a very good job of blending elements of the old with elements of the new in putting together the day's program.

Photographer David Smith provided great ideas
to help us improve our travel photography.

Nowhere was this more evident than on the editorial panel. The panel featured two editors from the more traditional elements of published travel writing - Allen Cox from Northwest Travel and Life and Kirsten Rodenhizer from Westworld Alberta magazines - and a third from the online travel website, Matador in the person of Jett Britnell.

The keynote speaker, Vancouver author Jack Christie, provided a very informative and entertaining address.

He also provided living proof that you can still write books about travel - and write them very successfully.

So as you can see, there are still many ways to be published in hard-copy, although online publishing does offer a nice alternative.

Now, before you start to think this is just an old-school guy, extolling the virtues of an older type of travel publishing...

The organizers also incorporated a Twitter contest into the day's events, so people were tweeting away furiously on smartphones and laptops about what they were hearing from the presenters. At the end of the day, the top three tweeters were presented with prizes.

(I'm not modest, so I have no trouble telling you I placed second, and won a great prize from Cycle City Tours - their Grand Tour - which I look forward to enjoying later this summer).

As always at these events, there was a 

simple but sumptuous luncheon prepared.

The organization is also holding a contest for bloggers who attended the event, one that involves writing a post about the event.

Of much greater note, however, is the fact that the BCATW recently made a huge move in terms of its membership criteria.

The event also offered a chance to connect
with friends met through social media...

It became the second Canadian-based travel media organization to open up membership to bloggers in the past year (the Travel Media Association of Canada, a national organization, also recently opened that up for membership).

While some bloggers may feel this is long overdue by such associations, and others may feel, "Meh? What's the big deal?" in the big picture, it is huge, and should not be dismissed lightly.

We really are at a crossroads in terms of media and how it is published and how it is used. Magazines that would never have thought of publishing online versions of articles already published in hard copy are now routine doing that. They are also finding new ways to include online articles into the mix that would perhaps not have made it into the hard-copy magazines.

For writers, while this is great news for those publications that do this, it can still be a bit of a Catch-22. Not many travel magazines offer this alternative of hard-copy vs. web. And while this atmosphere certainly provides more opportunities to be published, most of the straight online sites do not pay anywhere near as well as most of even the lower-paying hard-copy publications.

...as well as a chance to make new connections.

In terms of monetization, the blogging model for travel writers is completely different from that of the traditional freelance travel writing model. While writers don't have to wait for an editor to purchase a story, it can take a long time and require much patience - and often, more than a little luck - to earn much from a blog, whether you're writing about paddling in Ecuador, diving in Maui, parrot-watching in the Caribbean or just camping in B.C.

So the challenges are there, as they always have been for those of us who earn a living as self-employed writers, photographers, and more recently, videographers.

It really is a Brave New World of travel publishing. Foward-thinking organizations - like the BCATW - that want to grow and thrive realize this, and we saw this in action, Saturday.

Really, the only action for all of us travel writers who value what we do, is to recognize the obstacles, embrace the challenge, and plow on, furiously typing, snapping and posting to bring the world out there back to our readers.

Sometimes, bad situations can be good ones in disguise

Like anything else in life, paddling can impart lessons.

Kayaking in sight of the Alaskan coast.

One of the toughest lessons many of us have to learn - certainly, I've found it to be - is that what may seem like a bad situation may actually turn out to be quite good.

Or at least do some good, where you wouldn't expect it to.

I've experienced many significant  examples of this in my life. But none probably more so than when I got hypothermia in Alaska.

It quite possibly saved my life; at the very least, it resulted in a series of actions and incidents that might not otherwise have played out the way they did.

It was August, 2004. I was in Wrangell, Alaska, preparing to start a week-long kayak tour down the coast with a brand new company. The tour consisted of a guide and several other travel writers invited to go on this first-run trip to sort of test it out for the company, and help promote it by writing about it for various publications.

The day before the tour began, we went down to a quiet bay in front of the town to practise in-water re-entry to a kayak so we would be prepared in the event we capsized one in the water during our trip.

Now this can be a tricky manoeuvre if you have no previous experience attempting it. Although I had exited and entered a kayak while in the ocean before, that did not involve tipping it, first. It was also in the warm waters of the Caribbean as opposed to the fairly frigid waters in the Gulf of Alaska, a section of the North Pacific Ocean off the coast of Alaska.

Because we weren't going anywhere and we thought it would be a routine kind of operation, we didn't wear wet suits as we would be on the trip.

Bad move.

I was having a devil of a time trying to climb back into the kayak after righting it following my "capsize."

The guide came over to steady it and encourage me. That's when he realized things were starting to go south.

I think I heard him say, "Grab my boat and hang on."

I ended up back on shore, shivering uncontrollably. I couldn't get warm, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Back at the B'n'B we were staying at, I was having a hard time talking, moving, focusing, and I was still cold while eating lunch.

I remember the guide saying, "When I saw your eyes roll back into your head, I knew you were in trouble, I knew we had to get you out of the water."

Someone said my lips looked blue.

So off they trundled me to the local hospital.

Turns out, I was hypothermic. They ran a series of tests, said I'd be okay, but the doctor said there was no way he could let me go on a five-day kayak tour given my condition.

So my trip ended before it began.

Immature bald eagle on the Pacific coast.

However, the doctor said something else.

He said there were some odd readings with respect to my heart, something he could not definitely determine the nature of, with the equipment available at the small town facility.

He advised strongly to go to my family doctor back in Vancouver and get a better diagnosis done.

I did that, and was a bit floored by the result.

After performing all the proper scans at  St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver, my doctor told me I had a bicuspid aortic valve in my heart. It was a genetic condition I'd been born with, and eventually I would need surgery to correct it, probably within 10 years. In the meantime, I had to be sure to take antibiotics for any dental procedure to prevent the very-dangerous potential infection from getting onto the valve.

Armed with that knowledge, when I started experiencing odd symptoms continually in 2012, they performed an electro-cardiogram and based on the results, told me I needed to have open-heart surgery as quickly as possible.

That happened almost eight years to the day I got the news about my heart condition.

By November, I'd had surgery. By the following June, I was well enough to have re-scheduled shoulder surgery to repair a torn labrum. With some good rehab, I was back paddling by mid-August.

What brought this to mind recently was a video I saw on the Paddling.net Facebook feed, dealing with the topic of hypothermia and paddling. You can see the video below.

So - I am NOT for a second suggesting hypothermia is a good thing, it's a serious issue and one all wilderness travellers should be prepared to recognize and deal with. Do NOT take this as a suggestion to go out and get hypothermic to see what health issues you might have. (I feel I have to state this here, on the off-chance someone who's a Darwin Award candidate reads this and misinterprets the message.)

I began this post with the thought that bad things can produce good results, that from something bad, there can always spring some good. However, while we're experiencing the bad, it can often be a real challenge to keep that in mind; let's face it, it's tough to see the sunshine if you're stuck at the bottom of a deep mud-bog, trying to claw your way out.

But eventually you will, and you'll once again see the sunshine, you'll find the good from out of the bad.

So if you start to feel a sense of despair, or depression, or you're discouraged, try to find something that's happened in your life like my hypothermia, then remember how, even though it was a really crappy experience at the time, it morphed into something that brought some real good into your life.


Some tips about hypothermia.

Beware of these dastardly denizens while camping in provincial parks

The sounds of nature and the outdoors are unmatched in their beauty – and they also cannot compete against the raucous sounds of man-made noise.

Earlier this summer, I spent two days camping in nearby Golden Ears Provincial Park, just about an hour’s drive east from Vancouver.

Let me say we’re very fortunate to have such a beautiful park, such natural beauty and wilderness so close to one of Canada’s largest three cities. I thoroughly enjoyed hiking on its trails, canoeing on Alouette Lake, just getting out-of-doors, away from the city.

Let's go camping! Just watch out for weird species...

Unfortunately, some people cannot bear to leave the city behind. And some choose to ignore rules that are implemented for everyone’s safety and comfort.

Rather than rail against humanity in general, I thought it would be interesting to identify the types of odd and often contrary beings one sees when visiting provincial parks like Golden Ears.

If you see any of these weird and inconsiderate species, avoid them if at all possible (and if possible, report them to a park ranger).

Caninus releasus. These creatures let their dogs run loose, off-leash, without any care for the rules. In just about every national and provincial park, dogs are supposed to be leashed. This is for the protection of the park, and the creatures that live there. It’s also for protection of dogs and their people. Dogs can hurt the smaller animals like birds and small mammals that live in the park. And if they happen to disturb a bear, it could cause dire consequences for the dog, even for the human, and unfortunately, often the ultimate demise of the bear. 

Although It’s very clearly spelled out on signs, online, and in park literature, when I was hiking on two different trails and even in the campsite areas, there were far more dogs off-leash than on. Too many of these C. releasus types think they have control of their dog with their voices – but they don’t!! It may only take a second or two for disaster to occur, before a dog responds to its owner’s voice (and often they are out of sight on a trail). I for one, don’t feel comfortable walking on a trail where a big Rottweiler or similar dog is running free.

Cyclistes ignoramusi. Like the C. releasus creatures, these types feel free to ignore signs that say “NO CYCLING ON THIS TRAIL.” There are specific trails for cyclists in the park, yet members of this particular specie choose to blatantly ignore such postings and cycle merrily down the path that is obviously NOT supposed to be used for cycling. Wonder how they’d feel if I rode a motorcycle down their city cycling paths?

These are the ONLY kinds of dogs that should be off-leash in a provincial park.

Flamus controllus. With all the dry weather and recent fires in B.C., not just this summer, but in past summers, you’d think people would be a little careful about campfires – particularly when there is a ban on in the park. Yet while hiking on one of the trails, I smelled wood smoke from a fire burning somewhere nearby, which tells me a member of the F. controllus species was in the area. 

A sub-species of this animal is F. controllus gassy-goofus; this sub-species brings portable gas-powered “fireplaces” to the great north woods to enjoy its cozy glow at night – which is allowed. However, they turn it up higher than allowed by park rules, turning it down low when they know a ranger is patrolling the area, then turning it back up when the coast is clear.

Loudus inconsideratus. This species demonstrates a variety of behaviours, but they’re all consistent in two respects: they are loud and they don’t care if they bother others in surrounding campsites. Sometimes it’s a loud radio (why go to the woods to escape the city – then blare your music?), other times its loud talking well after midnight, sometimes it’s just banging around, doing stuff that makes noise louder than necessary that prevents others from sleeping or just enjoying the quiet of the outdoors.

Pinheaded powerboatians. These are the types that zoom up and down a lake in their powerboats, creating wakes with no regard for people in canoes or kayaks and the potential danger created by the unstable movement of their craft due to the unexpected waves from the motorboats. Their motors also sound annoying.

Despite signs indicating "No cycling,"
we encountered cyclists on this trail.

Clueless camerus shutterbuggus. You’re trying to line up a shot of a rare animal or bird, you patiently, quietly, and slowly approach it, trying to get the best angle and not frighten it away, sitting, waiting for that perfect moment when you can press the shutter to capture an image … then this species – hailing from the city and with no clue as to how to approach wildlife – stomps right over toward the subject on a direct line, and invariably in front of your camera trying to get a shot, scaring the critter away before you can get your shot. 

They’re characterized by their use of a camera phone or cheap point-and-shoot and loud, colourful clothing that brands them as being from the city as well as brand new to any kind of nature photography. 

They are often also accompanied by one or more Screaming spoiledrottenoids, smaller versions of themselves who also do everything they can to ruin the shot and the moment.

REMEMBER: If you do see any of these weird species, try your best not to shoot them, stab them, or otherwise kill them, because unfortunately, they are never in season.

Although it sure would be nice if they did declare even one weekend to be open-season on any of these annoying animals…

There is magic in kids' camps

This time of year - the mid-way point of the two-month summer school break - I almost always find myself reminiscing about summers past, and in particular, going to camp as a kid.

You may be wondering, well, fine - but what does that have to do with travel?

In my case, plenty. 

In fact, it would not be too big a stretch to say going to camp as a kid is one of the key factors that propelled me into a career of travel writing.

Bear in mind, much of the travel I write about involves getting out-of-doors, into nature, seeking adventure - and often doing so by canoe or kayak or occasionally, whitewater raft. There is also often a conservation angle or aspect to it. There is good reason for that...

It really all does go back to that first summer at Camp Richildaca in southern Ontario, where I learned to paddle a canoe on a small pond on the day camp's property.

Richildaca Canoe Pond (Photo by Alexandra Heilbron)

Of such things, careers are made...

I also learned the sport of archery, rode my first horse, went on my first nature hike, cooked my first meal over an open fire and slept in a tent for the first time at Richildaca.

Oh, yeah - I learned to swim there, too - kind of an important skill to develop if you plan on spending a lot of time paddling on lakes, rivers and oceans around the world.

Yes, it would be not to big a stretch to say the two-week periods I spent there over three successive summers made a big impact on who and what I became as an adult. Ditto, the successive two camp periods I spent at the Haliburton Scout Reserve.

Without the love of the outdoors, that desire to hike and paddle and seek adventure in the wilderness, I just might be another old sports writer (I did it for 15 years before turning to travel writing), or, worse still - (shudder!) a history teacher.

Chow time! at Haliburton Scout Reserve

Nothing wrong with history teachers, by the way - I'd probably make a good one - but my interest in elementary school North American colonial history (and its associated adventure) combined with my love of the outdoors really did send me down a path that involved a fairly l-o-n-g detour into the University of New Brunswick's Bachelor of Science Forestry program, the eventual earning of a business degree - and a career in radio and print sports journalism for 15 years. 

My move into journalism really is the result of some encouragement from a first-year friend at UNB, Dan Arsenault, someone I'm still friends with today. He coaxed me into joining CHSR, the campus radio station. I did; eventually I also began writing for the Brunswickan, UNB's student newspaper.

Even going to UNB, the launching pad for my journalism career, was actually another case of Richildaca synchronicity: when I worked as a junior forest ranger in Gogama, Ontario during the summer of 1973, the head foreman recommended UNB as a good place to go for forestry if I didn't want to stay in Ontario.

Paddling on Azure Lake, as a junior forest ranger

The entire time I worked as a sports journalist, I still loved camping, canoeing, getting out-of-doors. Eventually, my sense of adventure took me paddling in Belize (where I encountered my first wild parrots!), and it was not long after that I started down the path of becoming a travel writer.

I don't know that any of that would have gone quite that way if I hadn't gone to Camp Richildaca when I was eight years old, and picked up a canoe paddle for the very first time.

I had no clue then that I was essentially beginning to paddle down a path that would make me one of those fortunate souls who gets to "work" by wandering the world in search of stories to write and photos to take. My inclinations and career have taken me to Africa, South America, the Caribbean, Malaysia, Thailand, Hawaii, the Canary Islands...

Zipping down Thailand's River Kwai in a canoe

Richildaca is gone now, the original owners passed away. New ownership and management have developed a new camp on the same site, the Kettleby Valley Camp, and it continues to offer outdoor experiences for children and young teens, helping them develop new skills and interests, helping them make new memories.

So if you're thinking about sending your kids to camp, and you're not quite sure whether to do it or not, why not just let the kids decide? Let them try it, at least for one summer. If they don't like it, they won't want a repeat.

Even if it does not lead to a career, chances are, they'll build some pretty good memories.

And, really there's no telling where that experience may lead them in life...

Enjoying the great outdoors ... comfortably

I never thought I'd be thinking this - never mind putting it in writing - but as I've passed the 50-year-mark in my life, I actually think I would prefer sleeping in something other than a tent while enjoying overnight outdoor adventures.

There. I've said it.

But although I'd prefer to sleep on something softer than the ground and with washroom facilities that I DON'T have to step outside to use, I'm not quite ready to go all "hotel-chic" yet.

While I have certainly enjoyed glamping, the destinations that offer this option can be pricey - certainly pricier than pitching a tent and cooking over a campfire in a provincial park (although even that is getting more expensive, these days).

There area other alternatives to camping and glamping, though.

Canoeing Quiniscoe Lake

For example: if you want to spend time hiking in Cathedral Provincial Park in the British Columbia interior, you can choose to camp there, as the park provides both vehicle access and walk-in campsites.

Or, you can stay in cabins at Cathedral Lakes Lodge.

The lodge is rustic - we're not talking five-star accommodation, here - but it provides quick and easy access to several trails in the park and even an opportunity to do some canoeing on the lake.

It also provides simple but hearty home-baked fare for hungry hikers staying there. The staff can also help you plan your hikes. And at the end of the day, you can enjoy a soak in the hot tub in the main lodge, relaxing and soothing your muscles after a day of trekking up and down mountain trails.

(Take note, if you stay there, they do shut down the power generators at night, so if you require something like a CPAP machine, you'll have to bring a battery pack or make special arrangements with the staff to leave your room "on" at night, which they will do for you.)

The lodge itself provides transportation to and from a pick-up point 20 minutes from the town of Keremeos. The road is steep and rough enough you will not want to take your own vehicle from the Ashnola River to the lodge. In other words, "Don't make a fuss, leave the driving to us!" is a good catch-phrase to follow.

As for the hiking itself...

Cozy time!

You can choose from trails that offer a variety of distances and difficulties, taking you to some incredible alpine viewpoints of lakes, forests and mountains.

You can also encounter a variety of wildlife; while staying there for three days, we saw several pikas, squirrels, some mule deer and many different birds, including Canada jays (whiskey jacks), woodpeckers and birds of prey like eagles.

Glacier Lake

The trails are all well-marked, so there's very little chance of getting lost. However, you are very high in the mountains, so be prepared all kinds of weather. 

We visited there in September, and alternately experienced rain, snow and warm sunshine on successive days. But the views were certainly worth braving the elements...

Regardless of what your hiking level or experience is, you'll certainly appreciate being able to wind up your day, curled up by a roaring fireplace in the evening without having to chop the wood or start the fire yourself.

That's especially enjoyable at Cathedral Lakes Lodge, as there are no televisions or telephones there to distract from the experience!

And then there is that bed you're climbing into, instead of a sleeping on a camp cot or an air mattress....

They came, they saw, they paddled

MEC Paddlefest 2011 has come and gone, and if I could do anything differently, I think I would have tried to get there earlier. 


Paddlefest 2011: a celebration of paddling.



That's because there was just so much to do, and not enough time to do it in. That's on me, of course; I didn't allow enough time.

Note to self: get there before noon next time...

 As soon as we arrived, it was off to yoga for paddlers, an hour of stretching and breathing exercises guaranteed to get you limbered up for stretching.

That was barely done, and then it was time to climb into a voyageur canoe, and paddle out into the waters of English Bay with David Wooldridge of Ridge Wilderness Adventures.



Dave Woolridge solos a voyageur canoe.



We paddled, we laughed, we got wet - in other words we had fun.

That mini-journey completed, we were off to see a demonstration of backwoods cooking, put on by Ryan Masson of Silva Bay Kayak Adventures. He showed us how to cook some very tasty coconut shrimp on a griddle on a Coleman stove. It came served up with some tomato-peach-cilantro salsa. Yummy! He also baked up some foccacia beer bread - also on an outdoor stove.

No time to spend too much of the day eating, though ...

Back to the water. Time for some stand-up paddling lessons with Coreena Fletcher of SUP Vancouver.

Coreena Fletcher makes it look easy on a stand-up paddleboard,

as she provides pointers to novice SUP participants.

It's harder than it looks, especially when it's a bit breezy, and a bit choppy. Lots of skill, good balance and core strength are required to participate in this type of paddling. I don't know if I'm ready to give up sitting in a kayak or kneeling in a canoe to take up this activity...but it's becoming hugely popular in the paddling world. There's even a magazine or two devoted strictly to the sport of standup paddling.

A 90-minute kayaking course for those new to the sport followed that, although with 20 years of experience sea kayaking in places like Belize, the Florida Everglades, Grand Cayman Island, the Bay of Fundy N.B. and Desolation Sound B.C., I opted to pass on that one. I watched a bit of it, as Georgia Campbell of Ecomarine put the newbie paddlers through their paces.

Georgia Campbell of Ecomarine Kayak Centre
teaches an intro kayaking course.


I did get a chance to check out some of the gear MEC had on display, including mini-dry bags for equipment like iPhones. Unfortunately, they're made for iPhones without the protective rubber casing, so I'm hoping next year, the company will come out with a product that will be a bit bigger.

I'm always fumbling for my iPhone to take pictures and videos while paddling, but it's awkward and time consuming. Having a quick-and-easy protector for it would certainly make things easier.

Other than taking time to chat with a few of the exhibitors like CPAWS and enter a few draws for some trips and a brand new kayak, that was the day. It was gone before I could blink, and I didn't quite find time to do everything I would have liked to.

Next year, I'm going to set my alarm for 7 a.m. instead of 8 ... 

(For additional images from Paddlefest 2011, check out my photo album on Facebook at http://on.fb.me/qCjXhZ )