BUTT END


SOMETIMES THE MASSES ARE


BETTER LEFT UNEDUCATED. PHOTO: JAMES SMEDLEY


The Shame of the Wilderness Pornographer


BY KEVIN CALLAN


I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED the northwest corner of Algon- quin Park could be so crowded. A line-up of 36 canoes cluttered the take-out for the portage into North Tea Lake. Thinking back, the route wasn’t


as busy when I first paddled it 12 years ago. Of course, that was before I wrote a guidebook that praised the scenic splendour of North Tea. Was it immodest to wonder if this mob was in some way my fault for having exposed and exploited the area? Had I truly become, as my friends have labelled it, a wilder- ness pornographer? Writing guidebooks can be


emotionally challenging. What starts as a way to promote and ultimately protect a wild area can lead to too many paddlers loving a place to death. I’ve had fellow canoeists shun


42 n C ANOE ROOT S spring 2007


me after writing up one of their se- cret spots; I’ve had cottage owners threaten to shoot me between the eyes if I ever write about their lake again; I’ve even witnessed a group of anglers burning one of my books which dared to wonder about the fishing on a particular lake. While I waited impatiently to


use the portage into North Tea, I thought maybe a good old-fash- ioned book burning might not be such a bad idea. However, as I was sinking into


despair, the page turned. As I moved forward in the queue, I no- ticed that in the canoe ahead of


us a mom and dad with two chil- dren had a copy of my guidebook on Algonquin Park. The youngest girl had it open to the chapter on North Tea Lake. I started to chat with the family


and learned it was their first inte- rior trip, a trip they had decided on after purchasing “some guy’s guidebook.” I was ecstatic. This family was all


the justification I needed to contin- ue promoting wilderness areas to anyone that was even semi-literate. Heck, the daughter even allowed me to go first on the portage be- cause I was loaded down with a


I skipped off, barely noticing the weight of the canoe, until a paddle blade to my crotch stopped me dead in my tracks


heavy pack and an 18-foot canoe. I skipped off, barely noticing the


weight of the canoe, until a paddle blade to my crotch stopped me dead in my tracks. A woman coming from the


other direction in a T-shirt that read “Damn the Dieticians” barged through, swinging her paddle— the only thing she was carry- ing—and swearing as she warned me to get out of her way. I wasn’t quick enough. I gasped in pain, shuffled off the


trail, and made a silent prayer that she had never so much as picked up one of my books.


Kevin Callan’s new guidebook about


Quetico Provincial Park, available to righteous trippers only, will be released this spring.


Canada’s most prolific guidebook author does a little SOUL SEARCHING


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  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60