If art is the expression of individual freedom, emotion and creativity, says FRANK WOLF, then the canoe trip must be its highest form
W
ading through my gear stash last spring, my eyes eventually settled on the protective case that contains my video camera.
As an outdoor filmmaker, I feel a certain obligation to bring the
camera along on any extended trip and attempt to craft a work of engaging cin- ema. Creating art from the wilderness experience is a Canadian tradition made internationally famous by emissaries like Emily Carr and Bill Mason. Inspired by these icons, I’ve done my small part through the medium of film by sharing stories set within the context of remote self-propelled expeditions. More often than not, I travel by canoe. This summer, the plan was for my
friend Todd McGowan and I to paddle through the deepest heart of Ontario’s Boreal forest via an 1,120-kilometer route that would span the length of Waba- kimi Provincial Park and then continue north, eventually ending at the mouth of the Winisk River on Hudson Bay. But this trip would have one important difference: for only the second year in about a decade, I said no to filming. Once committed to making a film, any situation on trip that is hard, beauti-
ful, interesting or relevant demands that I pull out the camera and start record- ing—an all-encompassing task that inevitably changes the personal experience within the journey. After making back-to-back documentaries, it was time to let my artistic outlet lie fallow and rejuvenate. This summer the canoe trip itself—not the filming of it—would be front and center.
• • • D
ay five of our journey is a scorcher with temperatures in the mid 30s (95°F) cooking the already tinder-dry Boreal. Ontario has literally been on fire
all summer with 500,000 hectares (1.25 million acres) of the northwest part of the province burnt or burning by the time we begin our journey in August. The smell of smoke in the air comes and goes depending on the wind and we’ve already been close to a few plumes rising from the shoreline forest. The best cure for fire, of course, is water and I dive out of the canoe every hour or so. There’s something severely satisfying—like scratching an itch— about launching yourself haphazardly and stark naked from a canoe into the depths of a warm, clear wilderness lake. It’s a spontaneous, immersive moment that seems to happen more often when I don’t have to pause and think, “Should I film this scene?” Rising from the depths of Brennan Lake, I claw myself back into the stern
PHOTO: FRANK WOLF
THE LANDSCAPE, LIKE A CANVAS, AWAITS THE REALIZATION OF OUR UNIQUE VISION.
of the canoe, comfortably cool and content. Todd is lying back on the pack behind the bow seat catching some rays. He is not much of a swimmer but is an awesome napper. We get back in our groove and cruise the calm waters until we reach a narrows where rock walls rise sharply on one side. Then I see it: a perfect overhanging cliff. I can’t paddle past it; I need to jump off of it.
40 SPRING 2012
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