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Preserving Wilderness Canoeing
By: Richard Munn

Are we wilderness paddlers, or are we ostriches? Sometimes I wonder.

As wilderness canoeists, we are passionate about our chosen activity. Each spring, before the ice is fully gone from our lakes and rivers, we begin our preparations. We sand and varnish our paddles, and apply a coat of oil to the wood gunwales of our canoes. We check the rain flys of our tents for leaks, and fire up our stoves to make sure they are working properly. We unroll the topographic maps that will lead us to some new, magic place; or we make plans to revisit areas so familiar that they have become like old friends. We daydream a lot.

And when all this is done, we smile as we put our canoes into the water and begin another season of exploring Canada’s wilderness areas by canoe.

As we paddle these routes, we often notice the encroachment of "civilization." We see signs of logging and mining. We see new bridges crossing our rivers. We portage around dams that were not present in earlier years. We find rows of aluminum fishing boats turned over at the entrances and exits of portage trails. We struggle through multiple portages into remote lakes, only to find all-terrain vehicles parked along the shoreline.

Those of us who appreciate solitude and wild areas cope with this development by travelling farther afield to do our paddling. As the onward march of development catches us, we travel even further. But what happens when we have been forced to the very limits of our wilderness areas, and we still hear the heavy foot of development a few short steps behind us? There will be no areas more distant that we can retreat to.  At that time, it will be too late to correct this situation.

Bill Mason eloquently described this by comparing wilderness travel to sitting on an ice floe. As the edges of the ice floe are chipped away or melt, the area becomes irreversibly smaller. What is lost can never be regained. The analogy is sobering but accurate.

We are losing our canoe routes.

It seems unfathomable that Canada, the birthplace of the canoe, known for its wild lands and pristine wilderness could be losing this part of its history and culture. Yet it is indeed happening.

I can hear the question already "...but a canoe route is a geographical feature - how can it be lost?"  There are actually many ways that this can happen.
  • A canoe route can be lost to over-use, where it becomes so busy that it begins to feel like an urban street rather than a remote waterway. Will our canoe routes become like the Grand Canyon, where rafting companies place boats into the water at scheduled ten-minute intervals?
      
  • A canoe route can be lost to under-use. Routes that are seldom used become vague memories over time. Documentation is lost, campsites become overgrown and portages return to nature. Even the task of finding anecdotal information becomes difficult, as our old paddlers retire and take their knowledge with them.
       
  • A canoe route can be lost to development. Most of us head into the wild areas of our country to escape buildings, industry, noise, motorized traffic and at times, other people. Development is an intrusive force that strips away the wild nature of these areas.

Is the death of wilderness canoeing inevitable? Can anything be done to stop this process? I believe it can.

Those who currently act as advocates for our wilderness areas have an overlapping, but not identical focus as we wilderness canoeists. They may care deeply about preserving flora, fauna and the land itself; but their focus is not the same as that of the canoeist. We too share a common concern about our plants, animals and wilderness landscape, but we have issues that are related only to wilderness canoeing. To address those issues satisfactorily, we need a voice that belongs to us. We need an organization with the technical expertise, financing, human resources and credibility to act on our behalf.

There are many individuals and groups who have undertaken parts of this task, and done very good work. They have had some positive results. Yet they work in isolation - small groups battling large interests in an uphill battle to preserve our canoeing heritage. We are fighting (and even winning) some battles, but we are losing the war. It is time to draw these individuals and groups together and speak with a united, cohesive voice.

The task is large, but not impossible. It will involve:

  • Inviting both groups and individuals who care about wilderness canoeing to join together to pool their resources and skills so that we can present a strong, common front to those who are the ultimate decision makers in determining the fate of our wilderness canoeing areas.
     
  • Performing the necessary research to ensure that our arguments are based on fact and science rather than fear and emotion.
     
  • Documenting all canoe routes in the country, and putting that data into a format that can be included in the appropriate government’s land use planning databases. We will have to somehow convince those in power that canoe routes, like endangered species or sensitive landscapes, are a resource worthy of protection in their own right.
     

The job is intimidating in scope, but absolutely necessary. Better to have given the task our best effort than to have thrown up our hands in despair. Ten, or twenty, or fifty years from now, I would rather be known as one who acted rather than one who complained. I believe that wilderness paddlers are by their very nature strong, resourceful people and that they will join together in undertaking this initiative.

What do we need? If you are an individual that shares this concern, consider joining us in this initiative. If you are a member of a paddling club or organization, encourage that body to sign on as a partner in this venture. Strength in numbers is a clichéd but valid principle.

We can work together to solve this problem, or we can ignore it and bury our heads in the sand. When future generations look back to evaluate our success as stewards of this most precious resource, what will they remember us as, wilderness paddlers ... or ostriches?

Richard Munn

  


 

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