BUTT END
The devil wears plaid. PHOTO: KEVIN CALLAN
Sympathy for the Devil M
WHAT’S PUZZLING IS THE NATURE OF THEIR GAME » BY KEVIN CALLAN
y father always told me never to judge a book by its cover. Well, that’s not exactly
what he said. My dad was a professional boxer and he actually said you shouldn’t judge a fighter by the colour of his trunks. But you get the picture. I was reminded of his wisdom last week.
Some tripmates and I were finishing up a re- mote route through Ontario’s Penokean Hills region. It’s a network of aqua blue lakes and clear streams north of Lake Huron’s North Channel that’s alive with feisty trout. It was a perfect trip, one that was to come to a tidy end when we reached the fishing lodge where we had scheduled a bush plane to pick us up. Poor weather made that impossible the first day, then the second, then the third. When rain changed to snow, we began looking for an alternate means of escape. That’s when the guides at the lodge, Chris Moose and Peter Roberts, suggested they drive us out by ATV. Imagine, a bunch of snobby canoeists
being rescued by ATV, the devil’s own bush buggy, the arch nemesis of canoeing. ATVs emit more greenhouse gases then any car on the road, their noise pollution ranks down
46 SUMMER/FALL 2009
there with personal watercraft and car alarms and those complaints are nothing compared to the way they tear up the ground while breaking down the barriers that keep remote areas remote. The problem was, we all had jobs and fami-
lies to get back to and waiting for another cou- ple of days until the snow disappeared didn’t seem to be an option. So we took deep breaths and two-stepped over to the four-strokes for a ride back to civilization.
when rain changed to snow, we began
looking for an alternate means of escape.
It wasn’t a pleasant trip. The so-called trail
was 28 bone-jiggling kilometres long. Three hours later it ended at a river we had to ferry across before Moose could hitchhike down a dirt road to pick up his truck, a 1991 Ford with no working tail lights, tires that were balder than Bruce Willis and a stereo that had to be
hit twice on the left and three times on the right before it would pump out a mix of Cul- ture Club and Pet Shop Boys. Arduous as the effort was, it worked. We got
back to our own vehicle and made the seven- hour drive back to our jobs and families. Moral of the story? Yes, ATVs can be a men-
ace to wilderness areas. But so can canoeists trying to squeeze in wilderness adventures be- tween strictly scheduled bush plane flights. It’s not the way you enter the wilderness but how you interact with it while you’re there that’s important. That’s another thing my father tried to teach me. Don’t look upon wilderness trips as something to squeeze in between appoint- ments you aren’t prepared to miss. We got to know the drivers of the malevo-
lent machines during our joyless ride out to civilization. It was obvious that both guides loved the Penokean Hills region and would be dedicated to preserving it long after we had left. Moose and Roberts aren’t jockeying for the devil; they are the boxers who wear camo trunks and end up knocking down their arro- gant opponent in the first round. KEVIN CALLAN still doesn’t like personal watercraft.
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48