We call it “the look.” Half revulsion and half pity, it crosses the faces of our middle-aged friends when they learn that my partner and I, two Calgary city slickers, spent our past two Canada Days on backcountry canoe trips in the realm of our iconic moose, loons and beavers.
“No spa, no hot tub, no bison carpaccio?” friends ask. Afraid not. It's remote, rough and raw, we confess. But we don't tell them that on these trips we also indulge in luxuries like hot stone treatments (lying on a piece of sun-baked three-billion-year-old granite), aromatherapy (breathing the scent of pine and wood smoke) and revitalizing hydration therapy (a sunset swim in the warm waters of an untouched lake).
With a guide to help them through rapids, over jogjams and down rock faces on their 76-kilometre, five-day paddle through northern Ontario rivers and lakes, the author and his partner gained a new sense of confidence – and returned for more.
Scott Green knows about nature's full-service spa. He runs Green Adventures, a Kenora, Ont., company that has a lock on local guided vacations by canoe and kayak. Unlike other “adventure” tours, Green's aren't padded with amenities like solar showers or champagne at sunset. He lets nature do the pampering.
In the Lake-of-the-Woods region, Green Adventures offers something different from the hundreds of fishing lodges that have kept the local economy afloat for generations. Though the number of lodges is declining, many still cater exclusively to the hook-and-bullet fraternity who come to view their wildlife from inside a bass boat stocked with cold Budweiser.
Seven years ago, Green saw an opportunity and began marketing affordable hands-on holidays for those who want a human-powered excursion into the forests, water and wildlife that extend for hundreds of kilometres in all directions.
For us, he planned a five-day, 76-kilometre paddle along the Confusion and Sturgeon rivers, about 200 kilometres north of Kenora. We would canoe and Green would kayak through five lakes and three placid rivers long known by the Ojibwa and rediscovered about 350 years ago by voyageurs.
The magic began when our truck reached the “put in” point beside Confusion River. As if placed there by central casting, a massive moose was on location, its head underwater as it fed about 200 metres away. Into the 17-foot aluminum canoe we went, along with our dry bags, and into Green's hands went our fate. We began paddling quietly, gliding past lily pads and serenaded by a symphony of birdsong. The moose lifted its head and looked at us. Its sheer bulk was impressive, but so was the sound made by the torrent of water running off its rack. I swear it was enough to run a hydro generator. It made for the shore, its powerful chest creating a wake that would have swamped us had it turned our way, and strode into the forest.
Over the next five hours and eight kilometres, we encountered four more moose and the limit of our personal comfort zones. We negotiated rapids, logjams, rocks and rarely-used portage routes. We waded chest-deep in a river to push our canoe past a troublesome patch of whitewater. We unloaded and loaded our boats several times, once using a rope to lower them down a 20-foot rock face. We experienced fear, giddiness and pride. And we owed it all to our thirst for an unequivocal outdoor experience, and to this man who kept us safe while we quenched it. At our camp that night on Roger Lake, we reflected on this while Green fed us vegetable stir-fry, apple pie and tea.
