Our canoe trip to Killarney’s west side: at the intersection of art and nature

We scramble up a hill, through a thick forest, in search of a rock. In a sea of boulders, stones and pebbles of various sizes and forms, the mission may seem strange, not to mention futile. This, however, is no regular rock. Known as Carmichael’s Rock, of Franklin Carmichael fame, this particular chunk of Killarney’s signature quartzite was immortalized in a 1934 photo featuring the Group of Seven artist perched on a rocky cube against a magnificent backdrop of Grace Lake framed by La Cloche Mountains. Even though numerous Group of Seven aficionados have made this trip before us, there is no actual trail leading to it. With no directions, apart from a starting point the host at Widgawa Lodge showed us on the map and some stacked rocks along the way, we stumble along determined to find this piece of Canadian art history. Lots of sweat later, some blood, but luckily no tears, we finally arrive. The rock in front of us definitely looks like the one in the picture. But what’s even more telling is the view that opens up behind it. I can see what Carmichael meant by “a landscape … rich in inspiration … and full of inherent possibilities…”

Carmichael Rock above Grace Lake in Killarney Provincial ParkCarmichael’s Rock overlooking Grace Lake in Killarney Provincial Park Continue reading

Forest Bathing at Hockley Valley

For me, the forest has always been a magical place. Not a scary locale of many fairy-tales and horror films, but rather a trove of endless wonders. As a child I spent many summer days wandering through the woods behind my grandparents’ house, listening to the trees whisper to each other, their branches touching tenderly up above, their roots in a tight embrace breaking through the ground under my feet. What thoughts ran through their trunks, I wondered. What dreams nestled in their canopies?

forest in the spring at Hockley Valley Nature Reserve Continue reading

My giant microadventure: a winter hike at Sleeping Giant Provincial Park

I grip the handles of my seat as the plane leaves the tarmac of Thunder Bay International Airport. Not that I am afraid of flying; just prefer to remain on the ground. That little niggle at the pit of my stomach is forgotten as soon as the frozen expanse of Lake Superior comes into view. The white is interrupted by the dark blue waters, smooth and serene from up here. Glued to the window, I glimpse the head and chest of Sleeping Giant, just as majestic from the air as he is from the ground. The plane dives into the cloud before I manage to say good-bye.

Lake Superior and Sleeping Giant from the airplane window

Lake Superior and Sleeping Giant disappear under the cloud Continue reading

Escape into solitude or winter yurting at Windy Lake

There is often a moment at the end of a trip when the packing is done, I get whatever firewood we have left and start the fire. That’s my small attempt to soak up the last of the camping magic along with some smoke and to postpone the moment of returning to the world of glass and concrete. Don’t get me wrong: city life has its charms. Occasionally, though, the traffic, the noise, and, most importantly, constant presence of people becomes too much. That’s why moments like these are a necessity. An escape into solitude. An opportunity to recharge.

campfire Continue reading

Groundhog Day or another trip to Arrowhead

On February 2nd, in a true Groundhog Day tradition, we were back on the road heading to Arrowhead Provincial Park, again. In many ways it felt like a repeat of our last trip: it was late, it was snowing, and our cabin was a mirror image of the previous one, except for a table lamp, coat hooks and a different Group of Seven reproduction above the door. There was another big difference, of course. Our older son couldn’t join us so it was just the three of us.

Big Bend in Arrowhead Provincial Park in the winter

Big Bend decked in white
Continue reading

Glamping at Arrowhead or what’s the point of weekend getaways in the winter

“In winter we wait for spring, in spring we wait for summer. Always waiting for something,” says a woman standing next to me in the elevator. I can see her friend nodding vigorously, and I find myself agreeing as well. While I am committed to embracing whatever each season brings, some days it is easier said than done. Case in point: our recent trip to Arrowhead or rather the obstacles of getting there.

Arrowhead provincial park in the winter Continue reading