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."

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.

Lilies, mergansers, and bears - oh my!

As we turned yet another corner in the sharply meandering River of Golden Dreams, I looked downstream to our next turn in what could be described as the top half of an "S" curve in the river. And there, about 25 yards away from us, sat a bear, just about to walk into the river.

"There's a bear!" I called out to the divine Ms. K., my paddling partner in the bow.

"Where?"

"Right ahead at 12 o'clock!"

"Oh -- holy shit...!"

"Backpaddle, hard!"

Bear encounters were the one thing the guide had not mentioned in our pre-trip safety talk.

We were essentially renting a canoe and shuttle service from Whistler Eco Tours, choosing to paddle independently on this "three-hour tour." The B.C. company offers guided trips on this river for individuals and groups, but with our experience, we felt we could handle it on our own, and go at our own pace. We could stop to take photos or videos if we wanted to, not have to wait for anyone else to catch up, and just enjoy the day without any chatter other than that from the birds and the wind whispering through the trees.

Ready to put-in at Alta Lake.

It's a popular trip, and it was a perfect day for it.

We took our time paddling north from our put-in on Alta Lake. We paddled across the glassy surface past swimmers, kayakers, canoeists and other boaters, surrounded by mountains on all the shores and under a sunny, blue sky. As I said, a perfect day for a paddle.

As we came to the end of the lake and the marshy outlet that would eventually connect with the River of Golden Dreams (that really is its name), a family of Canada geese swam in front and lost themselves in the reeds to our right.

We paddled leisurely through along the stream, which was thick with yellow water lilies, soaking up the sun, happy to not have to share the water with any other paddlers. Under a bridge, then we soon came upon the only portage we would face that day, a short carry around a fish weir.

The stream is very narrow and close at this point, and within a minute or two, we spied the junction of this stream with the river.

As the guide mentioned before we bid adieu at the lake, entering the river can be a little tricky if you're nor prepared, since you're moving perpendicular into a moving river from a still stream, with the current hitting you broadside.

We had no difficulty.

Then the fun began.

The river is not terribly fast - it's considered Class I - and not that deep; still, no one ever wants to swamp a canoe. It is fairly technical in that, it's narrow and there are numerous sharp turns, cut banks on which you can become grounded - and plenty of deadheads (partially submerged logs), sweepers and strainers that can cause issues for inexperienced paddlers. However, we managed to deal with anything that came our way with a minimum of fuss.

Time to get out and walk.

Although the river is slow and shallow, any moving water needs to be respected. Particularly on a river like this one, there is not much time where you can say, "Okay, let's stop paddling and rest for a while," like you can on a calm lake or pond.

That can present a few problems if you want to take photos, since by the time you get set to snap a pic, you've probably already floated past your subject. We saw an entire family of common mergansers standing on a bank that protruded out into the river. Paddling past it would require both of us paying attention to the task, so we pulled over to a bank that allowed us to sit relatively still. Too far away for good shots with an iPhone, though. C'est la vie. We enjoyed the experience.

Further on, we encountered another merganser. This one seemed to be eager to "lead" us, as it continued to swim downriver about 20 feet in front of the canoe. We dubbed the bird "our guide," cracking jokes about how we thought this was supposed to be a trip without a guide. After about 10 minutes, the bird swam off down into a small indent in the river and we continued on without it.

It was a few minutes after that we came around the curve of the river and saw we were pointed smack dab straight into a black bear that was preparing to bathe.

We backpaddled and grabbed onto some reeds, and as we reversed our direction, the bear climbed into the river and sat down with only its head above the water's surface. There was no place to really pull ashore here, at all. It was just a mater of waiting.

"There's our guide!" said Ms. K.

Thinking she meant from the tour company, with another canoe that had opted for a guided trip, I said (only half-kidding), "Good! Let him go first, that way the bear will get him!"

She turned around and gave me a funny look - and I realized it was the merganser.

Eventually the bear turned around, walked out of the water, back up the bank and into the bushes, and we were able to continue along, chatting about how that was a highlight of the trip and comparing notes as to how close we'd ever been to a bear in the woods. Ann had been closer, than me --- or so she thought.

We accidentally paddled past where we had planned to take out for picnic lunch, at Meadow Park, and crossed underneath a railway track and a bridge that held the Sea-to-Sky Highway.

Trip completed at Green Lake.

We were continuing to discuss our "bear encounters" when Ms. K. said, "There's something moving on the left bank...you can see the brush moving."

I should point out that at this point, the river is only 10-12 wide.

"Maybe we'll get to see a heron or some other bird," I said, thinking it was something small.

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, a big black snout peered out from behind the brush, looking right at us.

Another black bear. But one we could "reach out and touch" with our paddles if we didn't pass on the far side of the river.

I got us over there and there weren't any issues. But at one point, we were close enough we could have literally reached out and touched the bear with our paddles.

"Well, I guess that's as close as we've both been to a bear in the woods!" I said.

And that became the day's No. 1 highlight.

Within a few minutes, we reached Green Lake, paddled around a point and landed at Edgewater Lodge.

Like its counterpart, this lake was glassy and surrounded by mountains on all sides. As we rounded the point, another family of geese swam past. Geese must be the official greeters for canoeists on these lakes.

As we pulled the canoe up out of the water, I was reminded of that old saying, "A bad day paddling beats a good day working."

And a great day paddling beats just about everything.



The River of Golden Dreams: a great day trip full of fun and adventure.

Want to see more photos from the trip? Check out my photo album, Canoeing the River of Golden Dreams on my Facebook page.

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

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

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

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

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

1. Niagara Falls.

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

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

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

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

Victoria Falls, on the Zimbabwe size.

2. Victoria Falls (Africa)

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

3. North Ram River Falls (Alberta)

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

4. Cariboo Falls (B.C.)

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

5. Grand Falls (New Brunswick).

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

Grand Falls, New Brunswick

6. Ragged Falls (Ontario)

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

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

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

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

Plenty of gorgeous waterfalls - like Akaka - in Hawaii.

9. Akaka Falls (Hawaii).

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

10. Widgeon Falls (B.C.)

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

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

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

Not ALL denizens of the deep are 'river monsters'

I admit it, freely; I kind of like watching River Monsters, that TV program that's part fishing show/part adventure travel show/part biology documentary.


For those unfamiliar with the program, the host, Jeremy Wade, travels the world in search of monstrous river creatures that have killed or at least viciously attacked humans.


The most recent episode I watched involved him trying to track down a giant sting ray that had allegedly killed some people in the Parana River, the largest river in Argentina.


As I'm watching it, I'm thinking to myself (not for the first time, either) how much the writers and producers of these shows over-dramatize everything. I know, I know, it's good TV. Who wants to watch it, if it's boring? This program - essentially another outdoor fishing show - has come up with a unique new hook to lure viewers in (no pun intended, but hey, if it works...). But like other shows before it, (The Crocodile Hunter comes to mind) the actual dangers are often over exaggerated.


A bit gruesome looking? Perhaps.
Deadly dangerous? Not likely.


Now pay attention here, because this is important: I'm not about to say there is no risk involved in dealing with the creatures featured in the show. But life itself is full of risks, with no guarantees.


The fact is, yes, you can be injured, sometimes fatally, by a stingray, or a pirhana or many of the other denizens of the deep, whether they are freshwater or saltwater inhabitants. But there's probably a much better chance of getting killed in a car accident on a freeway in North America than being chewed to death by river monsters.


Think about it: Hundreds of tourists go out to Stingray City off Grand Cayman Island every day to snorkel with stingrays and feed them. I've been there, done that, got the ball cap. You don't very often hear about mishaps there. And if there was a high risk, they probably wouldn't do it.


There are other examples; I've enjoyed many experiences with wildife both in the water and on the land that prove the point further.


Another example of something I've done in the water that some people might consider dangerous: I've gone diving with sharks. (Got a hat and a T-shirt for that, too!)

That took place in a closed aquarium in the Maui Ocean Center in Hawaii. We were diving in about 25 feet of water, swimming around with several black tipped and white tipped reef sharks, a couple of hammerheads, and a baby tiger shark (only about six feet long). There were also a couple of large stingrays as well as a smaller spotted eagle ray that we actually took turns feeding. I didn't feel frightened or intimidated at all.

The biggest annoyance were the little fish that kept nipping my fingers every time I got some "chum" from the dive master to feed the ray, "Hihimanu." My fingers were covered with tiny cuts by the time we were done.

Now mind you, these are well-fed sharks, used to seeing divers; still, they are wild animals essentially, and not always predictable. And this particular dive took place about a week after Steve Irwin was killed by a bull ray while he was diving. (I should point out, he was always showboating a bit, taking what I often felt were some unnecessary risks just to get good footage for the TV program, so it's not surprising that's how he bought it). Besides, the ray that killed him in a freak accident was not among the species of rays that live in the Maui tank.


Where's that bat-spray?



Again, though, when all is said and done, it's all about risk management. The aquarium in Maui would not run programs like this if too many visitors were being eaten.

The next day, while diving in the ocean, I saw a gigantic sting ray about 20 feet away. Again, all I felt was a sense of awe and wonder. I never felt threatened or in danger.

So, enjoy the dramatic shows like River Monsters, shudder at the thought of blood and guts and gore and unseen monsters lurking in the waters below; but remember life is rarely as risky or dramatic as TV shows make it out to be - so don't let it stop you from enjoying adventures in the water, whether you're diving or snorkelling under the surface or paddling on top of it. For that matter, don't let fear stop you on land, either.

Just make sure that if you do dive in shark-infested waters, carry your shark-repellent bat-spray with you at all times ...


(Just kidding!)