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."

Things NOT experienced while travelling - and not sure I want to...

The only dolphin swim I'd consider:
snorkeling around  wild ones in the ocean.

It seems everybody has a "bucket list" of travel destinations or experiences these days.

Well, this is my "reverse" bucket list. It's a list of all the things I have NOT done while travelling - and I'm actually quite happy to keep it that way.

Whether for reasons of hygiene, fear, safety, ethics, or concern for the environment, these are experiences I'd not include on a bucket list of things to do, nor would I probably ever add them.

1. Fish foot massage in Thailand. I had the opportunity to experience this, had I really wanted to, when I visited Thailand. But the thought of sticking my feet into waters where countless others had done so, in order to have fish nibble at my feet, chewing any dead skin off, really does not appeal to me. I'll stick to reflexology, Thai, or aromatherapy massages, thank you.

2. Bungee jumping. Had the chance to do this on the bridge that spans the Zambezi River gorge between Zambia and Zimbabwe. I decided to take my chances whitewater rafting (I did almost drown, but that's another story). I hate heights. Terrified of them. Plus, with my history of lower back injuries and issues, bungee jumping anywhere would just not be safe.

3. Dolphin swims. I should clarify this. I have done snorkeling with dolphins - wild spinner dolphins in the Pacific Ocean, off the coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. No contact is allowed, and respect is the watchword. This experience is similar to watching gorillas in central Africa. What I will not do is the dolphin swims sponsored by hotels in places like Mexico, Hawaii, etc. These dolphins are captive dolphins, kept safe from human infectious diseases through the use of anti-biotics. You get in a pool and can touch them, play with them, etc. Not for me, thanks.

4. Climbing. Anything. Again, I don't like heights. I don't intend to take up rock-climbing anytime soon. Or ice-climbing. I won't even consider a trip up Mount Kilimanjaro, which does not involve any technical climbing skills. However, it does require a fitness level that is probably beyond my reach at this point in my life. Besides, there are other experiences I'd rather in Africa that involve paddling as opposed to "ped-ling."

5. Zip Lining. See Numbers 2 and 4, above. Don't like heights. Back issues. Safety concerns. 'Nuff said. I have done the TreeTrek in Whistler offered by ZipTrek Ecotours. That was enough of a stretch for me, given my acrophobia.

Treetrek, yes; ziptrek, no thanks.

6. Whitewater kayaking. Whoa - I bet that brought you up, fast. You're probably thinking, "What the hey...?" After all, this blog post is partially about paddling, right?  But while I've done plenty of whitewater rafting (as a guide once said, "all thrill, no skill"), plenty of kayak touring, and lots of canoeing, I have ZERO experience with whitewater kayaking. Complicating the issue is the fact I've had shoulder issues the past several years; although I can paddle flatwater, some moving water and on the ocean, the strong, quick moves necessary to survive Class IV whitewater rapids in a kayak are beyond me. Still love watching it, though.

7. Parasailing. If you'd read the list above, you probably have no trouble figuring this one out.

8. Sky diving. Do I really need to explain?

9. Eating stuff that's TOO weird. I have eaten some weird stuff. But even I draw the line at what I consider to be really gross stuff like balut, sheep's brains, raw seal blubber - and any kind of botanicals (see, ayahuasca) that are going to mess with my brain's synapses. Anything weirder than the stuff described in a previous blog post, I'll leave for Andrew Zimmern.

10. Downhill skiing. Bad knees. Bad back. No experience at all in this activity. Probably not something I want to try to add to my list of travel experiences at this point in my life. I'll go cross-country skiing or hang back at the apres-ski in the hot tub, thank you.

Riding down Thailand's Chao Phraya River on a rice barge: 

one of the items scratched off my travel bucket list.

Now, even though I won't be doing anything list above, I'm still left with lots of things on my to-do bucket list.

So - what's on your anti-bucket list?

Shooting the clays, shooting the rapids in Laurel Highlands

The title probably makes this sound kind of like an "earth-water" sort of thing, and I guess it is that. But you wouldn't get mud by mixing water with the types of clays I refer to here.

By "shooting clays," I'm referring to the popular activity of "sporting clays."

I had the opportunity to do both in Pennsylvania's Laurel Highlands earlier this week, while a guest of the Seven Springs Mountain Resort.

For those unfamiliar with "sporting clays," try to imagine what it would be like if you combined trap/skeet shooting with golf.

Jamie Ross takes aim under the watchful eye of
NSCA instructor Paul Ankney.

Sporting clays involves using a shotgun to shoot clay "birds" (discs) launched from various locations, at various angles.

What makes this a bit different from skeet or trap shooting is the fact that participants move around from station to station on a set course, via a golf cart, and record how many birds they hit each round. The total gives you your score. (You can find a more detailed explanation of skeet-vs.-trap shooting here.)

I've fired a shotgun only a few times in my life, back when I tried a bit of skeet shooting at a buddy's farm when I was still in high school. I've fired a rifle a few times, even gone hunting occasionally, and I've fired pistols on a target range. Most of my shooting experience is actually in archery, as I was a member of the New Totem Archery Club for a few years when I lived in Fort St. John, B.C.

Bows and arrows are much different from shotguns, though.

Our group of four got some quick instruction from Paul Ankney, an NSCA Level II shooting instructor, then off we went.

After finishing the course, I can tell you I'm glad I don't have to hunt for my dinner every day. There might be a few days when I go hungry.

I was surprised I was actually able to hit one. In my only other previous attempt mentioned above, I'd hit the first one then missed everything else. This time, in our first round of six (two birds launched three times), I hit one of them. Then I hit two the next time. However, I was inconsistent, sometimes hitting only one, other times two, but never more than two out of six birds.

While I certainly didn't shame myself, I didn't get a really high score, either. In fact, I hit less than 50 per cent of the targets offered. But it was a really nice day to spend in the outdoors, I enjoyed some good camaraderie and I had a lot of fun trying a new sport.

TRADING EARTH FOR WATER

Guide Brett Lesnick readies our raft.

The following day, I was more in my element, as I was shooting rapids - something I've done many times - in a whitewater rafting excursion in Ohiopyle State Park with Laurel Highlands River Tours.

We would spend about three hours playing among the class III and IV rapids of the Lower Youghiogheny River.

It was the first time I'd faced whitewater since undergoing shoulder surgery for a labral tear last summer. I'd paddled a few hours on flat water, but this would be a more telling test.

The shoulder did fine. And I had a real blast.

Our guide, Brett Lesnick, made some funny quips (as all good rafting guides do) and made sure we had fun, but with a mind to safety first.

We blasted through several rapids, getting very wet - but if you're not getting wet on a rafting trip, you're just trying hard enough.

We didn't spend the entire time paddling through whitewater; we made a side trip off the river to take a short hike to Cucumber Falls, a smaller version of the 20-foot high Ohiopyle Falls that we put-in just below, to start our day.

When we not hiking or running rapids, we learned about the cultural and natural history of the area and spotted several species of birds - including numerous mergansers, a pair of kingfishers, a pie-billed grebe and a turkey vulture that I'm sure would loved to have seen us pile up on some rocks. Sorry Mr. Vulture - you'll have to eat somewhere else!

Cucumber Falls: a side trips along the way.

After we got off the Yough, a hot lunch awaited us in the park, followed by a quick tour of some of the other highlights of the Ohiopyle, and then a final farewell to the river.

The experiences were very different - but either way, land or water, they were both a good day's shooting.

Everyone's idea of adventure differs

One of Helen Keller's most famous quotes states, "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all."

While I agree with that whole heartedly, it does have to be balanced with the knowledge that each one of us has a slightly different idea about what constitutes "adventure." And in this day and age of  "adventure travel" there are even different levels of adventure: soft adventure, hard adventure.

As a travel writer, I often have to categorize what I write for potential editors or tourism boards who may want to help me promote their destination/product. Sometimes I am just given the option of "adventure" as a category; other times, I have to select "soft adventure" and/or "hard adventure."

So just what is the difference?

It often depends on the individual.

Jungle camping: soft or hard adventure?

I "googled" the term "soft adventure" and one website came up with this description: "Soft adventure. The sort of experience that goes beyond the typical tourist itinerary. There is no great physical challenge involved here."

On the Fodor's site it was described thus: "Soft adventure means different things to different people. We define it as any activity that balances mild physical activity with a lot of down time."

As for "hard adventure" ...

The Association of Travel Marketing Executives define it as "including such things as backpacking across rugged terrain, whitewater rafting or kayaking,  hot air ballooning, rock climbing or mountain climbing, off-road biking or mountain biking, hang-gliding, para sailing or windsurfing, parachuting or sky diving, skateboarding or snowboarding, roller hockey, bungee jumping, spelunking or cave exploring, snorkeling or scuba diving and survival games (e.g. paint ball)."

Wow. I didn't realize I was so adventurous. I've done seven of those activities, and never really thought about them as being "hard adventure." I mean, I'm not Indiana Jones; hell, I'm not even the dog. ("You're named after the dog???")


While canoeing per se, was not on the "hard adventure" list,
if you're this close to wild gators, it might not be "soft."



I personally didn't realize I had a different perception than most when it came to soft vs. hard adventure until a few years ago. I was interviewing a resort executive while working on a story about resorts for Western Hotelier magazine. We discussed soft adventure, and I used the example of a five-day kayak trip I'd taken in the Ecuadorian Amazon as "soft adventure."


"Whoa!" he practically shouted. "That's not soft adventure!"

But that depends on what your background is.

From my perspective, it's "soft" because while we were in a remote area, camping in tents along a jungle river each night, we had guides; we did no cooking or meal planning, all our meals were prepared; we did no navigating. We just paddled and hiked through the jungle.



Whitewater rafting: on the "hard" list. I guess it is -
I certainly had a scare falling into a Class V rapid on this trip.



Keep in mind, I've been planning my own overnight canoe trips since 1974; to me, if I have to plan my meals, plan my route, do my own cooking, chop my own firewood, use a map to figure out where I'm going - all without guides - that starts to resemble hard adventure.

If I'm doing a first descent of a river or hiking through previously unexplored jungle or climbing a mountain like Everest or K2 or Kilimanjaro, even - that's what I call real hardcore adventure.

I should point out, I've never done either. But from my perspective, that's what I would need to do in order to really feel I was participating in hard adventure.

But that's just me. We all have our own world view.

So I guess this is as much about perspective as it is adventure. One man's hardcore is another man's soft adventure.

Or as Friedrich Nietzsche put it, "You have your way, I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way and the only way, it does not exist."

So don't think about it or try to categorize it: just go have an adventure.