F
orever clad in New Zealand-made Swazi clothing and under the brim of his ubiqui- tous Tilley hat, 50-year-old Mears exudes a boyish enthusiasm. “Bushcraft is a joy,”
he tells me multiple times—and he means it. His is a household name in the U.K., famous for
sharing the love of his craft on BBC shows such as Ray Mears’ Bushcraft and Ray Mears Goes Walk- about. When he’s not working on a television proj- ect, Mears runs wilderness skills courses through his school, Woodlore. “At its core, bushcraft is a love and understand-
ing of nature,” says Mears. “It’s a knowledge that enables you to travel safely, and to rely on nature to some extent for your safety and welfare.” It is not just rubbing two sticks together to make fire; it’s the familiarity with the resources your envi- ronment offers so you can live comfortably. Despite being thousands of kilometers from home, Mears is at ease in the Boreal forest.
Local flora and fauna are referred to fondly. His
knowledge of the landscape is intimate, whether he’s turning an alder branch into a toothbrush, or describing the uses of birch polypore—good for making a bandage and dried it settles the stomach, I learn. In conversation, Mears downplays his most
tabloid-worthy tales—assisting U.K. police in tracking killer Raoul Moat, and helping the wounded after a helicopter crash. But on the sub- ject of the wilderness, and especially canoe trip- ping, he opens up. “The canoe epitomizes bushcraft—it is knowl-
edge combined with natural resources that en- ables us to float on water. It’s a miracle really,” he says. Mears has made two birch bark canoes. “I don’t see canoeing as a sport, it’s a way of life, it’s something more. When you come to remote places, it has a cleansing effect spiritually.”
“At its core, bushcraft is a love and understanding of nature.”
Our bush flight entry into the park reveals 360 de- grees of near pristine wilderness. Jack pine, black spruce and water everywhere. We’re dropped at a remote fishing cabin under a blue sky and set off into the wind to find our first campsite with gear loaded into our four canoes. Despite volunteer efforts, Wabakimi remains
a mostly unserviced park. Its campsites and por- tages are unmarked and unmaintained. It’s not uncommon to reach a map-marked site or por- tage and find it strewn with blow down. We luck out today, however. After a speedy setup at our first site—I’m thrilled to be bunking
38 | Canoeroots
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