Backwoods travel – my first big adventure

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 10/08/2022 (1455 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

It’s been 25 years since my first big backwoods adventure. That month-long journey instilled in me the deep love for the wilderness that I carry today, while revealing to me just how resilient I can be. It also sparked my penchant for travel writing – resulting in my first byline in the Winnipeg Free Press back in 1997. Here is a shortened version of the feature-length story that started it all…

Upon hearing the word ‘vacation’, some might think of heading south to silky sands and rolling waves, elegant villas, and luxury cruisers. For myself and eight friends, our dream holiday involved heading north to rocky shorelines and rushing rapids, nylon tents, and rustic canoes.

We called ourselves the Prairie Paddlers, a name that would come to symbolize nine women from the flatlands of Manitoba journeying through rugged Canadian Shield. We set out one sunny morning in late July with ample gear and provisions, reliable maps, and a well-prepared plan. When you’re visiting Mother Nature, though, you can never be too sure of what’s in store. What we did know was that we had a place to get dropped off, a place to be picked up, 563 kilometres to travel, and 31 days to get there.

As we launched from a remote gravel road near Ear Falls, Ont., the sense of renewal and anticipation was immediate. Eager to trade in our hectic lives for a simpler existence, we paddled into the welcoming wild in search of adventure, spontaneity, and inspiration.

After only a few days of living in the great outdoors, life becomes uncomplicated. Suddenly the most important goals are to stay warm and dry, find a place to camp, cook dinner before the sun goes down, and make it into a tent before hordes of mosquitos start to swarm.

Seeing the world from the seat of a canoe is never predictable. Sometimes the breeze was at our backs, the river ran downstream, and we glided along easily with the flow. At other times the sky was black, the wind blew straight on, the water churned ferociously, and we fought to near-exhaustion for every meter.

Sometimes the only task at hand was to paddle upwards of 30 kilometres in one day across calm waterways. At other times, the task required traversing small streams with hardly any water at all, forcing an unfavourable and deafening drag-across-rocks situation. Or tackling portages with steep hills to climb and fallen heavy trees to move.

The most thrilling times were coming across rapids, scouting them, finding them passable, and going along for the ride! There were often wondrous sights to behold, too, like eagles soaring overhead, beavers treading upstream, or thousands of baby tadpoles changing into frogs before our eyes. And after settling into any given campsite for the night, there was always something captivating to watch on ‘TV’ – be it a beautiful blazing sunset, brilliant northern lights dancing overhead, or lightning storms flashing in the distance. It was in those moments that the sounds of silence spoke louder than anything else.

There were times when the task at hand seemed insurmountable, and we’d be pushed to our limits physically, mentally, or emotionally. We each had a personal breaking point, which could come unexpectedly while crossing a windy lake with white-capped waves clawing wildly at the canoe, on a portage when the legs refused to go on, or an endless river where one more set of raging rapids could not be endured. Tears flowed now and then out of frustration, fearful thoughts, or feelings of defeat.

If not for the encouragement and support received from each other, we may never have found the unwavering conviction that was needed to persevere. But together, we arrived to our pick-up spot on time, intact, and feeling proud to have made it. Relieved, too! After all, spending that entire month in the wilderness was unpredictable and uncertain. It was also empowering, enlightening, and truly inspiring.

And 25 years later, I’m reminded once again that it’s still something I’ll never forget.