Mountain Life – Blue Mountains - Summer 2025 by Mountain Life Media

BLUE MOUNTAINS

Photography by Blake Jorgenson

Stable and comfortable across any terrain, Talon/Tempest is designed to adapt to every move. Available in a range of volumes, this iconic series is your trusted partner for every adventure.

Over 400 km of singletrack.

Vallee Bras-Du-Nord

Sentiers du Moulin

Mont-Sainte-Anne

Massif de Charlevoix

Photo: Laurent Bilodeau

INSPIRATION

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UPFRONT

P. 15 Shredding Manitoulin

P. 17 Deanna Posey wins at CrossFit Games

P. 19 A Green Economy Hub

FEATURE

P. 20 Tackling the Great Northern Bikepacking Route

DEPARTMENTS

P. 27 ARTIST PROFILE: Rod Prouse

P. 30 FRESH AIR: Slowing Down in the Gulf Islands

P. 33 NATURE: Canoeing for Caribou

P. 36

BIOPHILIAC: The Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark

P. 41 WHEEL WELL: The Inaugural Highlands Enduro

P. 45 TRAVEL: Overlanding Vancouver Island

P. 48 COMMUNITY: Georgian Bay Spirit Co.

P. 51 MOUNTAIN HOME: The Longhouse, Redefined

P. 61 THE BETA

P. 70 GALLERY

P. 80 BACK PAGE: Paddling Time

ON THIS PAGE A bird’s eye view of Goose Neck Bay. SCOTT PARENT ON THE COVER Jared Nelson throwing for the crux fingerlock on Ontario’s largest roof crack, Monument, 5.12d. SHAWN ROBERTSON

Mountain Life Blue Mountains operates within and shares stories primarily set upon the traditional lands and treaty territory of the Anishinabek Nation. We acknowledge and celebrate the past, present and future People of the Three Fires, known as the Ojibway (Chippewas), Odawa and Potawatomi Nations, who lead us in stewarding these lands and waters, and we honour their knowledge and cultural ties to this region.

PUBLISHERS

Glen Harris glen@mountainlifemedia.ca

Jon Burak jon@mountainlifemedia.ca

Todd Lawson todd@mountainlifemedia.ca

EDITOR

Kristin Schnelten kristin@mountainlifemedia.ca

CREATIVE & PRODUCTION DIRECTOR, DESIGNER

Amélie Légaré amelie@mountainlifemedia.ca

WEB EDITOR

Ned Morgan ned@mountainlifemedia.ca

CONTRIBUTING EDITORS

Allison Kennedy Davies allison@mountainlifemedia.ca

Colin Field colin@mountainlifemedia.ca

Scott Parent scott@mountainlifemedia.ca

DIRECTOR OF MARKETING, DIGITAL & SOCIAL

Noémie-Capucine Quessy noemie@mountainlifemedia.ca

FINANCIAL CONTROLLER

Krista Currie krista@mountainlifemedia.ca

DISTRIBUTION

Brendan Thompson brendan@mountainlifemedia.ca

CONTRIBUTORS

Leslie Anthony, Feet Banks, Jessica Carnochan, Ryan Carter, Melanie Chambers, Sarah Chisholm, Geoff Coombs, Matt Cote, Dave Coulson, Alain Denis, Taj Field, Kath Fudurich, Noa Hawthorn Harris, Dean Heliotis, Dustin Johnston-Jewell, Jenna Kitchings, Paulo LaBerge, Benny Marr, Ethan Meleg, Conor Mihell, Carl Michener, Fisher Monahan, Luis Moreira, Ryan Osman, Michael Overbeck, Nadia Pestrak, Heather Plewes-LaBerge, Lisa Pottier, Shawn Robertson, Que Rock, Nicola Ross, Richard Roth, Dan Rubinstein, Nicholas Spooner-Rodie, William Tam, Tom Thwaits, Leslie Timms, Scott Turnbull, Kyle Wicks, Jody Wilson.

SALES & MARKETING

Glen Harris glen@mountainlifemedia.ca 705 441 6334

Bob Koven bobby@mountainlifemedia.ca 416 721 9940

Stephanie Martinek steph@mountainlifemedia.ca 705 441 3684

Mike Strimas mike@mountainlifemedia.ca 416 779 7908

Andy Lansdale andy@mountainlifemedia.ca 705 446 6450

OUR COMMITMENT TO THE ENVIRONMENT

Mountain Life is printed on paper that is Forest Stewardship Council ® (FSC ®) certified. The Forest Stewardship Council® is an international nongovernmental organization that promotes environmentally appropriate, socially beneficial, and economically viable management of the world’s forests. Mountain Life is also PrintReleaf certified. It measures our paper consumption and calculates the forest impact. Our paper footprint is automatically reforested at planting sites in Canada.

Perpetual Motion

The springtime transformation of tiny maple buds to full-leaf canopy is dramatic here on the edge of the bay. It seems to happen overnight—although of course it doesn’t. Before the forest explodes, there are whispers of warning: Trout lilies emerge through the matted, decayed leaves, and wild leeks blanket the floor as far as the eye can see.

I find the reawakening jarring. Every year, without fail, I’m caught by surprise at the sharp contrast between our winter and summer lives. The first sweltering day in May finds us on the sidewalk, chatting with neighbours, stepping into the quiet street to lean through the window of a friend’s stopped car. Our shuttered and isolated winter lives are full again, alive with the company of our community.

Last spring, as front-yard conversations drifted to adventures, we inevitably landed on a recurring topic: “Have you seen those Trip Longer people?” “Ya, I’ve been following them since they were in Fernie!” “Me, too! I found their account when they dodged that tornado on the Prairies!”

Indeed these two adventurers, sharing their daily updates on social media at @trip.longer, were headlining our collective screens and minds. Pedalling their gravel bikes across the continent via rail trails, singletrack and dirt lanes from the Pacific to the Atlantic, Ali Becker and Mat Leblanc were the inaugural riders of the Great Northern Bikepacking Route, and the videos and images they posted along the way created one of the most wholesome feeds this side of baby panda reels.

Ali and Mat shared behind-the-scenes info and minute details for would-be bikepackers and the simply curious: checklists for packing, tips on gear, a never-ending display of the thousands of calories they managed to pack in each day. But mostly they documented their

journey. From crumbling snowpack in the Rockies through endless canola fields, we saw so much of this country through them—at a pace that encouraged us to slow down and take in every second.

But it may be the kindness of strangers and new friends along the route that kept us so rapt. Followers offered their backyards and guest beds, they welcomed Ali and Mat on the edge of town with meals and encouraging cheers, they shared local tips and secrets, connected the would-be stranded bikers with friends of friends who had just the bike part they needed.

There was something about their story that begged you to be a part of it, encouraged you to share your knowledge, your time, your world-famous cookies.

Part of what drew me to Ali and Mat’s experience was their embodiment of what it means to be a Mountain Lifer. It’s about adventure, about exploring and protecting our home. Creating and embracing community, sharing inspiring stories and endless stoke. Encouraging friends to step past the sidewalk and into the forest, find a new trail, support an upstart local business, lace up for the annual charity run.

Stories and community. It’s what it’s all about.

The Trip Longer plot recently experienced a twist: With a positive, forward-looking post, Ali and Mat announced they were parting ways, choosing to follow their own paths toward new adventures. With indomitable smiles, their post expressed an appreciation for their time together and shared hopes for one another’s future. Their example is a lesson in coping graciously with change—that jarring and often unsettling beast that, with support and encouragement, can in the end be embraceable. Just like (I’m pretty sure, but have you tried it?) baby pandas. – Kristin Schnelten

Ali and Mat, taking the leap. Dyer’s Bay. KRISTIN SCHNELTEN

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Shredding Manitoulin

Flow trails, big views and a fresh start for mountain biking on the island

There’s a new bike park in the works on Manitoulin Island, and while it won’t be massive, it’s a big deal for the region. The project is spearheaded by the Manitoulin Island Cycling Advocates (MICA), a non-profit that’s spent years lobbying for better cycling infrastructure. Now, they’ve secured $250,000 in funding—primarily from the Northern Ontario Heritage Fund Corporation (NOHFC)—to turn a dormant ski hill into a rideable slice of trail heaven.

At the helm of the North Channel Bike Park project is Steven Martin, who’s the project coordinator. “There used to be a little downhill ski operation here,” says Martin. “Now it’s a Nordic ski area, but the terrain is perfect for bikes. You’ve got views of the North Channel, a decent drop in elevation and room to work with.”

Martin’s team—led by Zane Davies of Treadscape—plans to build about five kilometres of trail this year on the 80-acre piece of land, including roughly 3 km of machine-built flow trail. The layout will include green-level loops and a beginner-friendly flow trail near the base, blues through the middle zone and black diamond runs off the top ridge.

They’re also putting in a dirt pump track at the bottom of the hill. “We’ve already got a paved pump track in Little Current,” says Martin. “This one’s going to be dirt, so hopefully we can go a little bigger with it.”

“Right now, the singletrack scene is basically non-existent,” he says. “There are a few of us on fat bikes in the winter and a little network at McLean’s Park but that’s about it.”

While it’s not designed to be a major riding destination (at least not yet), it’s a great stop for anyone road-tripping through Northern Ontario. The property sits just 45 minutes from Espanola, making it a quick detour if you’re heading to or from Sudbury or Sault Ste. Marie.

And with other northern hubs like Sudbury and the Soo building momentum, Martin sees potential for a broader “northern trail corridor” in the coming years.

Construction is slated for this summer, with plans for a soft opening this fall and a fully open park in 2026. As for the long-term vision, Martin hopes these trails will round out the island’s already impressive outdoor tourism package. “We’ve got everything else: beaches, paddling, sailing, fishing,” he says. “Mountain biking is just the missing piece.”

– Colin Field

Colin Field on Cup and Saucer, right around the corner from the upcoming North Channel Bike Park. GLEN HARRIS

Unassuming +Unrelenting

How Deanna Posey took on the world (and won) at the 2024 CrossFit Games

words :: Allison Kennedy Davies

photo :: Christophir Smith

At first glance, Deanna Posey doesn’t seem like someone who just won the worldwide Masters CrossFit Games. She’s a mom, a wife, a hairstylist, someone who’s spent her morning getting her son ready and off to school (before fitting in the first half of her two- to threehour daily workout)—and, when she absentmindedly pushes up her sleeves, revealing a visual clue of her physical strength—it’s clear she’s also a total badass.

When Posey finished her final event at the 2024 CrossFit Games in Birmingham, Alabama, last August, it was the moment everything came together—the years of garage training, the sacrifices, the doubts and the quiet resilience that had defined her journey. “My son and my husband were both there,” recalls Posey. “I could hear them screaming the whole time—especially my son. He sees me training all the time so for him to see it unfold in real life was incredibly special.”

Posey didn’t lead the pack from the start. “My worst event was the first one,” she admits, laughing. “I placed 12th and thought, Great—solid indication of my abilities!” But what followed was a slow, steady climb up the leaderboard. “I didn’t win a single event. It was kind of funny, actually. I was the only one in the top three who didn’t win an event. But aside from that first event, I was consistent and both physically and mentally strong, and that was the key to my success.”

At the CrossFit Games, athletes are ranked based on their performance relative to other athletes in their division, receiving a point value for their placement in each event. Her breakthrough came during the second-to-last event—a notoriously heavy lift she hadn’t expected to excel in. She lifted within 5 per cent of her all-time best, which is an impressive accomplishment at the end of a four-day competition with 11 total events. “Lifting events are usually not my strength, especially compared to the top 0.01 per cent in the world,” she says. But when the athlete in first place faltered in that event, Posey moved into first. The final event, featuring highly skilled, highvolume gymnastics, sealed the deal.

“I didn’t realize my competitive drive until I found CrossFit,” says Posey, who grew up swimming and lifeguarding, followed by rock climbing. “I think that helped my grip strength a lot,” says Posey. “For me, upper body strength is a big advantage. I think a lot of women don’t naturally have that, so the gap is wider there than with leg strength.” That natural strength carried over into CrossFit, where technical skill meets endurance, gymnastics and intensity. “It’s

engaging, mentally and physically, and there’s a camaraderie in the shared suffering,” she says.

Posey trains year-round, often at a home gym constructed during Covid with the help of her husband. The garage setup allows her to train without limits, but she also spends much of her time at CrossFit Somos in Barrie, where she trains with her teammates. Says Posey: “The owners and my team have become close friends, like family!”

Her husband has been an incredible asset, but her biggest cheerleader is her 11-year-old son, who witnessed his mom’s championship performance, often belting out lines from “Unstoppable” by Sia during the competition. “He was just so confident in me,” Posey recalls. “He kept telling me, ‘You’re going to win, Mom. I know you’re going to win.’”

Posey is often hesitant to trumpet her success. She laughs when asked if her salon clients know about her CrossFit accolades. “Sometimes they ask me if my arms got this big from handling a blow-dryer,” she laughs. But her coworkers and longtime clients are far better at sharing her success. “They’ll say ‘Did you know Deanna just won this massive competition?’ But I don’t usually bring it up,” she says with a smile.

With her 2024 Women’s Masters 45 – 49 CrossFit Games title in hand, training and competing for 2025 has already begun. Posey has competed in two qualifiers and placed first in both of them, including the worldwide CrossFit Semifinals, which earned her a spot at the Masters CrossFit Games this August in Columbus, Ohio, where she’ll defend her international title.

Posey celebrates her 2024 individual win. The international title was her first, after qualifying every year since 2019 both as a master individual and as part of a team.

Who Needs a Green Economy Hub?

Frustrated by the slow pace of change on the environmental policy front? Concerned about extreme weather? Me too. But instead of waiting for provincial and federal environmental policies to change— and instead of feeling panicky about the precarious state of the world—we can take action ourselves.

How? By supporting our community’s transition to a more sustainable economy. If, like me, you’re not sure where to start with that plan, the Collingwood Climate Action Team (CCAT) is in our corner, helping systemic change feel doable.

Founded in 2019, the CCAT is a registered charity that works with municipal government, businesses and the public, advising on and implementing plans for energy use, waste reduction, transportation and more. This year, the CCAT has partnered with Green Economy Canada on a Green Economy Hub Pilot Project, establishing a cohort of businesses in Southern Georgian Bay who will undertake carbon audits and create customized plans and targets. Ideally, the pilot will lead to the region’s designation as a Green Economy Hub, joining Sudbury, Waterloo Region and others across Canada. A hub offers many advantages, including access to a national network of sustainability experts and businesses already making the transition to lower-carbon or net-zero practices.

Becoming a hub is an ambitious endeavour, the success of which will depend on a widely held and unshakeable belief in the green-economy cause. I asked Catherine Daw, board chair at CCAT, if they have faced headwinds due to the recent preponderance of disinformation around climate change and decarbonization. “So far we haven’t had that as an issue with businesses,” she reports. “We’re finding that the hesitancy is around the fact that [business owners] are so stressed with everything else that’s going on—and running a business. They’re just concerned about the amount of time it’s going to take them to do some extra work.”

A former business owner herself (and repeat-selected as a top Canadian woman entrepreneur by Profit magazine) Daw understands this concern. “What scares a lot of people is that everything feels so overwhelming…. So we’re spending more time making businesses aware of what is possible and discovering ways they could actually make savings by changing some operating practices,” she says. For example, any cost-benefit analysis would find that installing even a small solar array will eventually result in energy cost reductions.

But making such changes en masse requires a shift of ingrained habits and deep-seated processes—never an easy sell at the best of times. And most people don’t see an urgent need to change, Daw points out, because the Great Lakes region has been relatively insulated from the climate crisis; it has so far avoided extreme wildfires, for instance. “In many ways, we’re fairly protected here,” she says. “We don’t notice the subtle changes.”

And even the most obdurate climate skeptics can’t ignore climatological facts: Earth’s hottest year on record was 2023—until last year’s temperatures broke that record. But instead of hardpitching with scary data, Daw sees the CCAT strategy as emphasizing the importance of a sustained, multi-partner cooperative effort. “The transition to a green economy is a shared responsibility,” she says. “More heavily weighted with government at all levels to create policies, programs, incentives and overall direction; businesses through innovation, technology and sustainable practices in production and consumption; and people in what choices we make and how we live.”

Daw adds: “There are lots of solutions out there, and a lot happening. Millions of people are making change. We just need to keep going to increase the momentum.” www.collingwoodclimateaction.com

– Ned Morgan

“The transition to a green economy is a shared responsibility.” UNSPLASH

Five Months in the Saddle

Inaugurating the Great Northern Bikepacking Route

words :: Ali Becker

photos :: Kristin Schnelten

Ifeel a bit of anxious energy bubbling up as my partner, Mathieu, and I leave the village of Meaford and cycle out along the shore of Georgian Bay.

It’s 8 a.m. and already the air is hot and humid, but that’s not what’s causing the stir. I’m nervous, I guess, about meeting someone for the first time. A person who has recently and almost single-handedly redirected the entire course of both mine and Mathieu’s lives.

It sounds dramatic, I know—and it is.

Hailing from the Silicon Valley of the North, Waterloo’s Matt Kadey is the mastermind behind what is currently considered the longest mapped, off-road cycling route in the world: the Great Northern Bikepacking Route (GNBR).

Meandering 13,500 transcontinental kilometres from the shorelines of the Salish Sea at Mile 0 in Victoria, BC, across 10 Canadian provinces and three American states, wrapping up at the outer reaches of Newfoundland—and North America’s— easternmost coast at the Cape Spear Lighthouse National Historic Site, the GNBR is a big ol’ ride.

The route was officially launched in 2023, and Kadey poured countless hours into patchworking tracks together, plotting points of interest, pulling insights from keen local cyclists and adventure enthusiasts all the while weaving in a few preexisting bikepacking routes along the way.

As Matt and his buddy John roll up beside us with spandexclad smiles and energetic high-fives at a roadside apple stand, my anxious energy quickly dissolves into the familiar feeling of greeting an old friend.

We saddle up in unison, and begin making our way towards the deceivingly punchy climbs of the Niagara Escarpment—sharing smiles, pedal strokes and the stories of adventure, challenge, connection and kindness that make life by bike so glorious.

In January 2024, when Mathieu and I heard the GNBR route was ready, we took a quick glance at the maps, then each other, and decided to make the first attempt at bikepacking the entire route in one fell swoop.

While most people in our late-30s age bracket would likely have a lot of logistics to sort out before loading up their bikes

and setting off on a four- or five-month bikepacking odyssey, Mathieu and I do not—and that’s because we have built a slightly unconventional and untethered life.

Mathieu and I met in 2011 at a mutual friend’s house party and immediately hit it off—despite the fact he was active, athletic and motivated to challenge himself, while I was an outof-shape 27-year-old with a sedentary lifestyle, punctuated by poor decisions impacting my mental and physical health.

To put it lightly, I was at an all-time low—and looking for a way out.

Luckily for me, Mathieu saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself, and while I wasn’t sure exactly what I had to offer our relationship back then, we made a pact that we would help each other change our lives for the better.

Six months later, Mathieu moved into my tiny apartment and while we were unpacking his boxes, I came across a small, coil-bound notebook with a sparkly gold cover and an Acadian flag sticker plastered across the front. It was the journal he had haphazardly kept on this solo cross-Canada bike tour.

It was full of serendipitous, almost unbelievable movietype moments—such as the time he stopped by a laundromat in Quebec and the owner came over with a smile, handing him a sandwich along with a spare pannier bag, some wool socks and a French book—three things Mathieu had been planning to pick up in the next town.

The more I read, the more I realized that I wanted—no, needed—more stories of travel and adventure in my life. When I closed the final page, I looked at Mathieu and asked if he would ever do the trip again. “Only if I had someone to share it with,” he smiled.

With Mathieu’s help, I finally kicked my pack-a-day cigarette habit, took my first-ever sustained break from alcohol and became more aware of what I was eating and how it was making me feel.

We made the decision to ride our bikes across Canada together in the summer of 2015—and we went all in. I realised all I needed could fit into the four pannier bags on the sides of my bike, and I had never felt more free. After finishing the crossing, our old lives didn’t fit anymore. We went on a quest to build a new one that prioritized well-being and adventure.

When the opportunity popped up to tackle the GNBR, we were ready, willing and able.

Every year since then, we’ve spent spring, summer and fall riding across countries, continents, provinces or states, amassing a total of nearly 100,000 km of two-wheeled travel and making the leap early on from paved-road expeditions to remote, offroad routes with more solitude.

In the beginning, we funded our travels with short-term manual-labour gigs while we house-sat, and supplemented that plan with social media shares, blogs posts and articles for outdoor publications and tourism organizations.

As our audience, skillset and confidence grew, we were able to support our cycling lifestyle through a myriad of avenues: digital content creation, sponsorship relationships with brands, affiliate marketing for companies we align with and, most recently, public speaking engagements about our adventures and wellness transformations.

So when the opportunity popped up to tackle the GNBR, we were ready, willing and able.

We knew we needed to head out in mid-May to make it all the way across before snow flew on the East Coast. So, headlong into a bitter-cold sideways wind blowing off the West Coast, we took the token Mile 0 selfie on May 18, 2024, and hit the trail.

A couple months before, we had shared a short video announcing our upcoming attempt, and it quickly amassed a small group of loyal adventure enthusiasts who wanted to come along for the ride. We made a promise to document the trip with daily vlogs to share our experience and trip reports.

What began as a fun way to keep friends, family and a few onlookers in the loop with daily videos, reels and stories steadily grew into a community of incredible people who sent us supportive messages and comments, shared intel about the upcoming route and sent generous financial donations to support us on the ride.

We carried a live-tracking GPS device to alert people of our location, an effort that brought us to tears on a few occasions when families standing roadside handed us fresh watermelon slices and encouraging high fives—or invited us over for dinner, showers and a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

Every day we received feedback from people all over the world, thanking us for sharing our trip and its beautiful landscapes, and for restoring their faith in humanity by highlighting the people who helped us. Messages of gratitude continually arrived, saying our posts had inspired them to get outside and soak in the beauty of nature, both on the bike and off.

In fact, the support and encouragement we received is a huge part of what helped us navigate the hard moments we had along the way, such as the worn-down afternoon ride into Moose Jaw where I stopped to scream profanities into the blistering headwind, while Mathieu, crying, threw his bike down on the dirt shoulder— both of us feeling battered by a string of sleepless nights in the pouring rain. We were desperate to quit the trip, but had no idea where we’d go.

The support and encouragement we received is a huge part of what helped us navigate the hard moments we had along the way.

I opened my phone to check the GPX file and, in between blurry, salt-water tears, noticed a Facebook message from a kind woman named Allison, offering to host us that evening in the upcoming town and nourish our weary bodies with a hearty bowl of beef stew and a hot shower followed by a good night’s rest in her spare room. This selfless gesture lifted our spirits off the side of the road and carried us the final 30 km into town.

Photo

Dozens of trail angels like Allison helped us weather the cold rain and big climbs in beautiful British Columbia, navigate kneedeep snowpacks, wild winds and nearby tornado touchdowns through Alberta and Saskatchewan, and battle menacing mosquitos and relentless horse flies through Manitoba, Minnesota, northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

They sheltered us through Ontario’s sweltering summer heat and the torrential rains that washed away much of our route across rural Quebec, kept us stocked up during New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia’s remote and rural passages and strengthened us against the cold temps and wicked Atlantic winds along the rugged stretch of Newfoundland’s T’railway.

We were welcomed with open hearts into St.John’s, NL, on the final days of the tour, escorted into the colour-streaked city by a friendly cyclist who just happened to be on the trail when we passed by.

He showed us the way to our lodging for the night—the home of a kind stranger who offered us a free, no-strings stay in his beautiful log cabin home and full use of his car while he was away on holidays on the West Coast.

We were blown away time and again by the openheartedness, generosity and enthusiasm for adventure that radiated out through hundreds of people from one coast to the other—palpable in every province and each state we passed through.

ON THIS PAGE ALI BECKER

Crashing waves on rocky coastlines. Serene lakefront sunsets. And exhilarating rides through spectacular natural beauty. These are the adventures that awaken us. Make them happen here.

From Canoe to Canvas

The expressionistic landscapes of Rod Prouse

words :: Nadia Pestrak

photos :: Kristin Schnelten

There is no shortage of artists who depict Georgian Bay. The allure is understandable: rock, trees, water, sky, light. A handful of elements to be painted in infinite ways. Still, in the shadow of the Group of Seven, artistic interpretations of Georgian Bay can get a bit formulaic. It takes a strong artistic vision and talent—like that of Rod Prouse—to stand apart. Ever been indoors too long and then emerged outside into a beautiful place? Prouse’s expressionistic, colourful landscapes give this sense of stepping into a lush natural world full of possibility. With movement in his brush strokes, his style has aptly been described as “rural graffiti” and he seeks to capture not the literal representation of place but its feeling. Given the active joy with which he inhabits the landscapes he paints, it’s no surprise that Prouse is so good at this task.

Prouse has been a full-time artist nearly as long as he has been living. “I know the guy in the fish store and I gave him a Christmas card. When he asked how long it took me to paint it, I said, ‘It took 79 years and three months.’”

After graduating from the Ontario College of Art (now the Ontario College of Art & Design University, or OCAD) in 1968, Prouse had brief stints in graphic arts and teaching before moving to Chester, NS, where he and his father (also an artist) opened a gallery. In 1976 Rod was picked up by the Canadian Fine Arts Gallery in Toronto, with his first show selling out. Since then, Prouse has painted and shown his work across Canada and internationally to widespread acclaim. While constant in his vocation, he’s never predictable. He’s worked collaboratively with other artists (including dancers and composers), and has integrated new media and video into his work. Prouse’s art, while landing with care and intention, is underlaid with innovation and exuberance. Consider his prints. Put aside the image of the usual delicate, palm-handled carving tools: Prouse uses power tools to carve his big block prints.

Exuberance also characterizes his relationship with the outdoors. In fact, Prouse’s outdoor spirit is as deep a through line as his art, and the two are intertwined. For Prouse, being in nature organically extends into its depiction. His life has been spent outdoors, whether hiking, windsurfing, canoeing, swimming, cycling, sailing or boating.

“The canoe has been my northern vehicle ever since I was 17,” he says. “But I’ve done it all on the water: water skiing, seafleas, sailboats. I once sailed a Hobie Cat all around the bay. I used to be a really good windsurfer; I’d go out in 50 km/h winds.”

”He’s

not afraid to take risks. There’s a confidence that comes after decades of painting.” – Sarah Beveridge, Blue Gallery

Prouse shrugs off the extent of his outdoor spirit. “Growing up on Georgian Bay helps. There wasn’t much to do in the summertime when I was a kid. We had a guy on the beach who was a diver, but he used an old sponge-diver helmet. He made a group of us kids a diving outfit that consisted of a World War II gas mask, a garden hose and an air pump. We walked along the bottom with air blowing in our faces.” (Don’t try this at home, kids.)

When Prouse speaks of his life, his stories sparkle with anecdotes, like tales from a traveler. It seems that while Prouse may appreciate the accolades he’s received as an artist, it’s not what really interests him. He talks of living in Yellowknife, where he’d bring his notepad to the bar. “I’d just start sketching somebody, and all of a sudden I’d get invited to a table, and a beer would appear beside me.” Although the subject would often purchase his drawing, it wasn’t a sale he was after, and probably not even the beer: It was the simple act of sketching, the interaction with interesting people and the reward of their stories.

These stories are the heart of Prouse’s work. As he says, “I look behind the curtain of what’s seen to reveal narratives within the landscape.”

“You ever watch people walking on the beach?” he asks. “They pick things up: a stick, a rock, a fish skeleton. People connect with the landscape in this way. Here they are in this amazing landscape, and instead of looking at the whole thing, they are getting their clues from stuff they pick up. These become pivot points. Driftwood: I was once a tree. I was once a fish, I swam. I am a rock, millions of years old. These are nodes of recognition, suggestions, that pull us along.”

These days, Prouse is settled (if such a word can be used of such an active, engaged person) in a cottage in Tiny Township, with its view of the Georgian Bay. When asked how he interacts with nature now, as an octogenarian, he declares, “I can still bike, hike, canoe, sail, swim and dance, so not much of a change there. My dialogue with nature and art is, if anything, stronger. More time to ponder and more tools in the toolbox.” He’s certainly still painting.

Sarah Beveridge, who owns Blue Gallery in Thornbury, is both an artist as well as a curator of Canadian contemporary fine art and has worked with Rod for more than 20 years.

“Rod works en plein air, from gouache sketches,” she says. “He immerses himself in the landscape. I

With movement in his brush strokes, his style has aptly been described as “rural graffiti” and he seeks to capture not the literal representation of place but its feeling.

love that you can feel that energy in the work, the sense of abandonment and play, pushing and pulling the landscape. He’s not afraid to take risks. There’s a confidence that comes after decades of painting.”

With his outdoor spirit and talent, Prouse is situated perfectly in the Georgian Bay to keep delighting in the nature around him, and then to pick up his paintbrush and let the stories come.

ISLAND SPEED

Slowing down in the Gulf Islands

words :: Noa Hawthorn Harris

photos :: Glen Harris

Arriving in the Gulf Island National Park Reserve in the quiet, lateSeptember breezes of BC, I was surprised at the sparsity of our itinerary. (This wasn’t my first National Parks trip with my family— usually we travel as a group of four, but this time it was just my dad and I.) In the past, every day had been filled with activities, but this time our to-do list read: “Walk around the town, meet the locals, picnic by the water, hike to campsite.” How would we fill our days on these tiny, remote islands? We would quickly realize that the point of our itinerary was to slow us down.

It took little time for us to appreciate this new pace. We had no tasks to complete, only the experience to be present in. On day two I wrote in my journal: “I have never felt so calm.” These islands have perfected the speed of life: slow.

Vancouver Island was our first stop. We spent an entire afternoon at a coffee shop before wandering down the street to pick out a book and deck of cards for the trip. The island felt like one huge wilderness park, open for us to explore. Google Maps took us on a wild journey down a winding road to our hike of the day; the farther we drove, the more the trees drooped down, creating a tunnel of forest. The trees were magical and giant, and so were the slugs (which I was terrified of).

As we headed off to our second island, Saturna, the clouds dropped low, closer to the water, surrounding the ferry. The least developed of the Gulf Islands, Saturna is home to less than 400 people year-round. It has only one store (Saturna General Store & Freight) and only two roads (one east and one west). Our first stop on the island was the most eastern point, where we met two men who live on the island part time. Like everyone on Saturna, they were in absolutely no rush—”Saturna speed,” they called it. They spoke to us like we had known them our entire lives and like we would meet again someday soon.

Camping on Saturna was my first experience hiking to a site, and I don’t think we could have been gifted with a more beautiful view. The forest opened up to a protected point on the ocean, where the water was a deep glacier blue and the trees were tall with twisted trunks. The sun shone down, welcoming us to our home for the next few days. The site was located right on the edge of Canada, but it felt like the edge of the world—with mountains visible in the distance and the sun rising from the ocean every morning. Two sailboats rolled into the bay our first night, the gentle sounds of their hulls bobbing in the waves lulling us to sleep.

Our final day of the trip we spent on Pender Island. There we hiked along the ocean, not once seeing another human—although a deer weaved in and out of the forest with us, meeting us multiple times as we continued along the path. She must have liked the Radiohead playlist Dad was playing on his speaker.

On the final page of my journal entry I wrote: “My heart healed on this trip. My body relaxed and I found a new appreciation for slowing down.” We discovered a new pace of life in this tiny corner of the world, and I brought that lesson back home with me.

With Fresh Air, Mountain Life highlights emerging local voices, giving the next generation of outdoor enthusiasts a space to share their unique perspective. Noa Hawthorn Harris is a graduating Grade 12 student, attending McGill University in the fall. – Ed.

Canoeing for Caribou

Citizen scientists gather critical data in Ontario’s last wilderness frontier

words :: Conor Mihell

A cold wind offers welcome respite from the blackflies and mosquitoes on an early July canoe trip in the lakes surrounding Wabakimi Provincial Park. But that’s the only relief we’re getting from the northwestern Ontario gale. Pinned down by downpours and whitecaps, huddled in toques beneath a billowing tarp, we wonder when we’ll be able to start on the work we’ve volunteered to do. Our group of seven came here for a canoe adventure out of the norm: the inaugural boreal caribou survey trip, organized by the Friends of Wabakimi (FOW), a nonprofit conservation group. We’re eager to get out and start collecting data, but so far inclement weather is thwarting our plans.

Boreal, or woodland, caribou are the ghosts of Canada’s northern forests. They have far different survival strategies from the closely related migratory caribou, which move huge distances in great numbers across the subarctic barrenlands. Boreal caribou are secretive and sedentary, ranging from northern British Columbia and the southern Yukon and Northwest Territories east to Labrador, at low population densities in mature spruce forests. They are tremendous swimmers and females seek refuges on large, island-pocked bodies of water to give birth to calves each spring. That’s where our surveys fit in.

Starting in 2024, FOW received three years of funding from the Ontario government to recruit volunteer citizen scientists to gather evidence of boreal caribou, a species that’s listed as threatened under both Ontario and federal species at risk legislation. We’ve been trained in a protocol, developed by caribou experts, that involves looking for scat, tracks, bedding sites, shed antlers and live animals on selected bodies of water where caribou presence is suspected. Our data will fill in knowledge gaps and highlight areas outside the 892,000-hectare protected boundaries of Wabakimi Provincial Park where caribou and the resource industry are on a collision course— hastened by a recent Ontario proposal to repeal provincial endangered species legislation to fast-track mining for critical minerals across this relatively pristine region.

We’re not expecting much when four of us pull GORE-TEX shells over our damp layers and finally set off in canoes, hugging the shore and clawing into the wind to conduct a caribou survey at the narrow tip of an island. We drag the canoes onto shoreline rocks, stumble through dense bush and fumble with cold fingers, labeling the GPS waypoint and datasheet. Then we fan out into the woods, looking for natural runways caribou are mostly likely to follow. Moments later, we’re overtaken by excitement when Brian Beney, one of the FOW board members who spearheaded the caribou project, discovers

The woodland caribou, whose habitat is already fragile, is under critical threat after the Ontario government recently proposed repealing the Endangered Species Act. MAXIME LÉGARÉ-VÉZINA

scat, which resembles a small pile of coffee beans in the moss. We share smiles and high fives for the project’s first evidence, which we photograph and tally on our datasheet.

Caribou are immortalized on Canada’s 25-cent coin; they’re also potent symbols of wilderness—wild rivers, pristine lakes and vast blank spots on the map, which are becoming increasingly scarce in the face of a juggernaut of development. To embark on a canoe journey in caribou habitat is to experience some of the last remaining wilderness on the planet. Both wilderness and caribou face similar threats.

Research shows that logging alters caribou habitat to be more suitable for moose; with moose come greater numbers of wolves and black bears; and roads and transmission corridors further tip the balance by affording easy mobility to predators. This pattern has played out across Ontario’s historic range in a “slow-motion crisis,” explains Jim Schaefer, a boreal caribou researcher and professor of conservation biology at Trent University.

The province’s caribou population is estimated at 5,000. About half of the species’ historic Ontario habitat has been permanently lost since 1880. You only have to look at maps of central and northern Ontario to see the “geography of loss,” Schaefer says. The name “Caribou Lake” is common in Ontario, with 20 bodies of water bearing the name. Many of these are located in places like Algoma and Temagami—regions where the species has long since disappeared.

imposing emergency measures, like it did in a last-ditch effort to resuscitate three populations of boreal caribou in Quebec in 2024, Ottawa negotiated a caribou agreement with Ontario. The agreement acknowledges the vulnerability of caribou to industrial development, but it prioritizes data collection—such as the FOW’s caribou project— and habitat restoration over imposing hard rules on forestry, mining and other resource development. Environmental groups chastised the agreement as “a plan to make plans” without prioritizing habitat protection, yet it also puts the spotlight on Ontario to finally take action.

To embark on a canoe journey in caribou habitat is to experience some of the last remaining wilderness on the planet. Both wilderness and caribou face similar threats.

Biologists first voiced concerns about the long-term viability of Ontario’s boreal caribou population in 1949. Studies have repeatedly shown that habitat disturbance must be kept below 35 per cent to provide boreal caribou with a 60 per cent chance of self-sufficiency. This benchmark has been set by the federal government since 2012; however, it has never been adhered to by provinces like Ontario, where forestry has been granted a permanent exemption from the current Endangered Species Act. Meanwhile, seven of eight discrete boreal caribou ranges in Ontario that overlap with commercial logging have declining population trends.

The federal government is legally obligated to intervene when a province is not doing enough to protect at-risk species. Rather than

Better weather the next day allows us to get down to looking for caribou in earnest. Working in teams of two, we paddle from island to island, landing our canoe on slippery logs and rocks and crashing through bush. After a few surveys, the species’ preferred habitat is quickly apparent: open spruce forests with abundant lichen and dense sphagnum moss, and particularly areas with some elevation to catch the breeze and afford panoptic views of the surrounding waters. In a few of these places we find the circular depressions of caribou bedding sites, with compacted moss littered with scat and tufts of straw-like fur revealing areas where animals rested. About midway through our trip, Brian and his wife, Lynn, return from a morning of surveys gushing about an exciting encounter. Lynn heard rustling and looked up to see movement at the water’s edge. “I know you’re supposed to be quiet,” she tells us, “but I shrieked!” Brian’s video captures the characteristic forms of two caribou, swimming powerfully across an inlet.

As a paddler, it is immensely satisfying to be working toward conservation. Environment and Climate Change Canada notes that “protecting boreal caribou’s critical habitat is expected to improve outcomes for 80 other listed species at risk,” including wolverine and many rare songbirds. Our trip, along with two others later in the summer, yielded caribou evidence at 21 locations. Eight trips are planned for this year, with volunteer surveys anticipated to continue into 2026. Every contribution helps, Jim Schaefer says, in tackling “the most formidable conservation challenge we have in Canada”— made even greater as the country forges a new place in emerging socio economic realities.

Volunteer citizen scientists document evidence of boreal caribou, including scat and tracks, on canoe trips around the outskirts of Wabakimi Provincial Park in northwestern Ontario. CONOR MIHELL

Geodiversity, Nature’s New (Old) Calling Card

The Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark will connect the region’s geology to our human stories

words :: Leslie Anthony

You don’t need to convince anyone who lives near it, or has otherwise experienced the siren call of its azure waters, that Georgian Bay is a special place. Indeed, it’s widely acknowledged as one of Canada’s most iconic landscapes: from the many historic rivers feeding Mindoo-Gami “The Great Spirit Lake” to its thousands of glacial-smoothed granite islands and exceptional beaches, from Silurian limestone escarpments to even-more-ancient quartzite mountains, and from Eastern Canada’s greatest aquatic and terrestrial biodiversity to human communities that have, in some cases, occupied these lands for 12,000 years. Not only is the vibrancy of community writ large here, but a reminder at every market or restaurant how local products rooted in the passions of human cultivators and craftspeople have their origins in the thrust and tilt of the land—its bedrock, microclimates, hydrology and soils.

To its many visitors, the area around Georgian Bay presents a unique melding of geological, biological, historical and cultural heritage—something a tourism region supporting 33 municipalities, 41 First Nations, myriad provincial and national parks, two UNESCO

World Biosphere Reserves and a boatload of other destinations might want to gather under a single thematic umbrella. Which is precisely what folks behind the Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark hope to realize with a long-term goal of designation under UNESCO ‘s Global Geopark program.

Before we go further, an explanation: While most are familiar with World Heritage Sites and World Biosphere Reserves—pillars of awareness, preservation and regional cooperation administered by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization)—Global Geoparks are a relative newcomer to the fold, officially branded by UNESCO in 2015 after flourishing under separate aegis in Europe and Asia since 2004 (see sidebar “What’s the Difference?” for a quick comparison of these designations).

Like all UNESCO ideation, geoparks revolve around a lofty concept: areas of globally significant geology that help connect people to lands that have shaped culture, language, history and ways of life. Geoparks deliver on this concept by leveraging unique features (typically termed “geosites”) in educational and interactive ways to bring awareness to natural, climatic, historic and cultural values— as well as the sustainable use of natural resources, environmental stewardship and mitigation of geological hazards (e.g., wildfires, floods, rock/landslides, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions). Fortuitously, these same attributes of connection position geoparks as emissaries for more respectful and purposeful travel that promote resilience in an age of rabid overtourism and Instagram pile-ons, biodiversity loss and climate-change impacts. As with other UNESCO designations, geoparks also serve as a vehicle for cooperative regional initiatives that might not otherwise find footing or motivation.

Geoparks also shoulder aside the old colonial models in favour of the emerging characteristics of a 21st century park: They’re not physical set-asides, but purely conceptual; they don’t restrict any kind of land use or title; there are no gates or turnstiles, no people

in uniform; most importantly, they can encompass landscape activities across areas that already have hundreds of thousands of people living in them.

No matter the broader crucible, however, each geopark stands on one thing: the rock beneath your feet. On an early fall day last year, I sat down with Tony Pigott, executive director of the Aspiring Georgian Bay Geopark, to learn what it all means. To begin, Pigott unrolls a laminated satellite image of Georgian Bay depicting its unique terraqueous character—but also the heavily populated and denuded parts of Southern Ontario edging it. “There will be 10 million people within two hours of Georgian Bay by 2040,” he says. “Pressure on the region is already intense, so a framework is needed to optimize all the

“Geology is destiny, so it’s important to understand and celebrate the fact that geology, by definition, connects to everything else— whether ecology or culture.” – Tony Pigott

community-based efforts being made to create resilience to those pressures. Geoparks are perfect for that; yes, tourism is part of it, but it’s how this is defined, managed and promoted as opposed to simply allowing the kinds of stampede some destinations are experiencing.”

The grassroots activities and efforts involved in advancing the geopark idea among partners from all levels of government, nature conservancies and trusts, academic and government researchers, commercial resource industries, business initiatives and First Nations fall into different categories, but the most obvious is the geological front—in this case going back some 2.7 billion years. A University of Torontobased team has plotted out eight major geological stories across the region that represent different zones of deep time as represented by “geoscapes” (a more precise term than landscape in this context)

WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?

In combination, UNESCO’s three types of designations— Global Geoparks, Biosphere Reserves and World Heritage sites—comprise a complete crucible that celebrates all aspects of human heritage while also conserving the world’s cultural, biological and geological diversity through the promotion of sustainable economic development. And while there’s necessary overlap, the role of each is unique, casting the trio as related—but staunchly individual— siblings. Biosphere Reserves focus on harmonized regional management of biological and cultural diversity (e.g., Átl’ka7tsem Howe Sound, BC; Riding Mountain, MB; Long Point, ON); World Heritage Sites promote the conservation of natural and cultural sites of outstanding universal value (e.g., SGang Gwaay, BC; Quebec City, QB; L’Anse aux Meadows, NFLD); and Global Geoparks offer international recognition for sites that promote the importance and significance of protecting Earth’s geodiversity through active community engagement. When an aspiring Global Geopark includes or overlaps with a pre-existing World Heritage site or Biosphere Reserve, clear justification and evidence must be provided to UNESCO on how Geopark status will add value by being both independently branded and synergistic with the other designations.

La Cloche Mountains, Killarney Provincial Park.

The south shore of Phillip Edward Island. SCOTT PARENT

that tell each story. “Rather than focusing solely on geosites that might be a small outcrop of rock,” explains Pigott, “we want to start with what these signature geoscapes and broader categories are telling us—a robust geological story within which lie various points of interest.”

As an example, he says, a provincial park or other readily delineated area like Parry Sound could be a geoscape with several geosites within it to explore. To that end, the group is pursuing geotourism initiatives with experts who’ve worked in the Canadian Arctic, Haida Gwaii and around the world on destination stewardship and conservation-oriented ecotourism that helped catalyze more meaningful visitation. This makes even more sense given that specific points of interest within a geoscape aren’t always geological, but can also be cultural or biological in nature. The latter is of special consequence for Georgian Bay. Of its 170 breeding bird species, including migratory and rare habitat-specialized island-nesters, 840 native plants, 44 mammal species and 34 types of reptiles and amphibians, fully 50 are listed as species at risk due to human development, invasive species and climate change. As the great German explorer-naturalist Alexander von Humboldt noted in the early 19th century—igniting a cause célèbre taken up by geologist Charles Lyell and his buddy Charles Darwin—geodiversity underlies biodiversity. Likewise, this relationship has become part of the appeal of geoparks—they are areas of both inorganic and organic natural wonder.

Of 213 UNESCO Global Geoparks in 48 countries, Canada hosts five: Discovery on Newfoundland’s Bonavista Peninsula, with stunning fossils of the planet’s first multicellular animals; Nova Scotia’s Cliffs of Fundy with its extreme tides, Carboniferous fossils and record of supercontinent Pangea; Stonehammer in New Brunswick, highlighting the closing and opening of ancient oceans and a Precambrian-to-Pleistocene geological record; Tumbler Ridge in northern BC, with fossil riches spanning Cambrian stromatolites to Cretaceous dinosaurs and their trackways; and Quebec’s Percé on the Gaspé Peninsula, home of the eponymous postcard rock and a halfbillion-year slice of Earth history.

In addition to Georgian Bay, four other regions sanctioned by the Canadian Geoparks Network are queuing for UNESCO status (check

out both existing and aspiring geoparks at canadiangeoparks.ca).

Each sees the advent as a means to connect their region’s geological story to its biological and human stories, educating through outreach and participatory geotourism (e.g., hiking, rafting, skiing, paddling, sampling local foods and crafts) to build a bridge between science, history, commercial enterprises and the public, fostering interest and stewardship in local geology—and maybe just a little bit of wonder.

“We’re interested in promoting an experience in which visitors to the region arrive with genuine understanding of what a treasure Georgian Bay is,” says Pigott. “So there’s a need to reinforce an aura around it that instills deeper respect and reverence, and the clear benefit of UNESCO designations globally has been to create conditions where that’s possible.”

This kind of thinking is particularly germane considering the diversity of conservation efforts scattered around the bay’s vastness. “As we build partnerships and relationships with these groups,

Geoparks centre on a lofty concept: areas of globally significant geology that help connect people to lands that have shaped culture, language, history and ways of life.

we can tell them that a geopark can actually help facilitate what they’re doing,” says Pigott. “Geology is destiny, so it’s important to understand and celebrate the fact that geology, by definition, connects to everything else—whether ecology or culture. This adds a depth of understanding to an all-encompassing story that can be told collectively.”

Such key backstories about the planet’s parallel geological, biological and human histories teach us not only about what happened and why, but how it’s all in constant flux both under and around us—the very essence of evolution.

“This is still very much a geopark in progress,” Pigott reminds me. “It may be a big, attractive idea, but we’re still reaching out to people and groups in hopes that they want to participate in creating it—which we very much hope they do.”

Beaverstone Bay. SCOTT PARENT

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From the Ground Up

The homegrown stoke of Highlands Enduro

words :: Colin Field

The inaugural Highlands Enduro wasn’t just another mountain bike race—it was a passion project fueled by community. Organized by 21-year-old Hannah Rydlo, the event took over the trails at Highlands Nordic in Duntroon last summer.

“I did an enduro race in Peterborough in 2023 and about halfway through I started thinking, We could do this in Collingwood,” she recalls. “So I met with Tyler Pratt because I know he used to race enduro. I sat him down and asked, ‘Do you think this is something that we should do?’”

His response was one that Hannah encountered again and again.

“He was like, ‘Dude, this is a great idea.’ So many people in the area were just waiting for an event like this,” she says. “Right from the start everybody that I spoke to said, ‘You have to do this.’ It was really encouraging.”

What started as an idea on a long ride quickly turned into a fullon race, complete with five timed stages, 115 riders and a newly built downhill trail.

“We were one stage short, so I thought, No problem, I’ll just

build one,” Hannah laughs. “That’s where most of my labour went.” With the help of local builder Jeremy Shields and a small army of volunteers, they racked up 400 hours building the new trail— complete with wood features—specifically for the event. “It’s the first purpose-built downhill trail in the CORC [Collingwood Offroad Cycling Club] network. The community really rallied around it.”

For those unfamiliar, enduro is mountain biking’s best blend of speed and camaraderie. Riders race the clock on downhill sections (called stages) but cruise between them at their own pace. You ride up as fast or slow as you like, then race down. “It’s the perfect format,” says Hannah. “You get the thrill of racing but still get to hang out with your friends. Music’s playing, you’re chatting and then you drop into your stage.”

The person with the fastest combined time on all stages wins. And that welcoming format delivered a strong turnout—not just from locals. Riders travelled from across Ontario, Quebec and even the U.S. And, thanks to the race counting toward the Ontario Enduro Series, it drew serious competitors while staying approachable for beginners.

“We hit 115 riders. Twenty-two per cent were women, which was huge for us,” Hannah adds.

Pryer Hollin on the final stage. JODY WILSON

Chris Wall drops into stage one. KRISTIN SCHNELTEN

For some racers, the event was about more than just competition. Local mom-and-daughter duo Maogosha Pyjor and 13-year-old Kali Tang both lined up for their first enduro—and both left with podium finishes.

“It was so cool seeing so many women and girls out there,” Maogosha says. Both Kali and Maogosha were heavily involved in building the trails, too. “It was pretty special racing features we helped create,” Kali says. “I worked on the drainage and the rock garden, and riding those sections during the race felt awesome.”

Kali loved the format. “You can chill on the climbs, talk to people, and then race hard on the downs. It’s great if you don’t love cardio!”

The two ended the day with Kali taking second place in her category and Maogosha topping the 50-plus women’s field. “We’ll 100 per cent be back,” says Maogosha.

For Hannah, the most rewarding part wasn’t just pulling off a successful event; it was the way the community stepped up. “It felt like everyone was waiting for something like this,” she says. “The support was incredible.”

Local mom-and-daughter duo Maogosha Pyjor and 13-year-old Kali Tang both lined up for their first enduro—and both left with podium finishes.

Local businesses pitched in, including Little Ed’s as the title sponsor, and donations rolled in to cover materials. Volunteers, sometimes entire families, showed up every Monday night to dig dirt, move rocks and build features. “We even had lumber milled in Owen Sound and trailered back for the new downhill,” Hannah adds.

The result? A course that surprised even seasoned racers. “Some riders said they’d never heard of Duntroon or CORC trails before this,” Hannah says. “Now they’re coming back to ride.”

With the first year behind her, Hannah’s already thinking bigger. “We’re doing it again—probably September this year so I can finish school,” she says. There’s even talk of joining forces with a new Beaver Valley Enduro to create a Georgian Bay Cup series.

“The dream is to build this into something bigger, showcase the trails here, bring people in and just grow the scene,” Hannah says. “There’s so much potential.”

For riders like Maogosha and Kali, it’s already a must-do. “We can’t wait for the next one,” says Kali. “It’s the best day on a bike.”

“No. Pants. On the rock. No pants on the rock!” – Superfans Wren Holmes and Lawrence Skinner. KRISTIN SCHNELTEN

Nicole Kertcher, Maogosha Pyjor, Jane Kotsopoulos and Valerie Smith, women’s winners at the first annual Highlands Enduro. JODY WILSON

Of Starfish and Surf

Overlanding Vancouver Island, one beach at a time

After flying into Vancouver and taking the high-speed ferry to Nanaimo, we made a quick stop at Cathedral Grove and its giant Douglas firs before we met Taylor in a Walmart parking lot (where all good adventures begin). After a quick walk-through, we loaded up with groceries for the solar-charged fridge and headed to an off-road site he’d recommended.

If there’s one way to cure jet lag, it’s waking up in the forest next to the icy waters of the Taylor River. We brewed some coffee and my daughter and I did a cold plunge in the river while my husband explored the banks before we regrouped for a drive along the Pacific Rim Highway.

words & photos :: Allison Kennedy Davies

Imagine being able to fly across the country with just a small suitcase to spend a week camping with your family. When I closed my eyes and pictured the perfect trip to Vancouver Island, it always involved camping, surfing and enjoying the ocean views together. So when I was invited to photograph a wedding in Campbell River for an old motocross friend, I quickly investigated how we could extend the trip to explore Tofino, Ucluelet and the Pacific Rim National Park.

When you want to camp on Vancouver Island and you’re coming from Ontario, you can either fly with all of your camping gear or drive with all your camping gear—or you can get creative. After spending too much time scrolling Instagram, I happened upon a relatively new startup, Vancouver Island Overlander. With photos of this badass overlanding truck parked in remote locations, I decided this was the way we should spend our week.

We settled on renting a 2022 Nissan Frontier PRO-4X—a beast that the startup owner, Taylor Smith, named Strathcona. Equipped with everything we’d need to camp, from sleeping bags and pillows to dishes and a cookstove, our ride had a large awning (you know, because sometimes it rains on the island) and a sleeping space just big enough for myself, my husband and our teenage daughter. We’d definitely be spending some quality time together in the rooftop camper.

When we got to the coast, we headed into Tofino. Although the town doesn’t allow motorhome parking, we flew under the radar and drove through the heart of this tiny tourist town with ease. Then we headed back to the junction and our campsite at West Coast Campground. It was pouring rain, as it is wont to do here, and while the campground was nothing to write home about it did have Uke Poke, a restaurant with world-renowned poke bowls, and we were able to experience open-air showers under giant hardwoods and wash our dishes in a real sink.

We didn’t have a set itinerary in Tofino, minus a family surf lesson booked with Swell Tofino. We headed to their shop at Hotel Zed to get suited up and then met our instructor, Ali. The Cox Bay Beach was packed with lessons, but Ali had staked out our own little area. That afternoon spent in the water together as a family, all of us successfully catching a few waves, was the highlight of the trip. We left exhausted and happy, with our teenager proclaiming that she’d one day be a surf instructor in Tofino. We all agreed there are worse life goals.

We spent much of our Tofino time exploring Pacific Rim National Park, hiking in the rain and picking our way along the shorelines in search of starfish. We started ignoring forecasted rain, instead planning our days around low tide. We hit Tofino Brewery and later watched the surfers from the swanky Wickaninnish Inn dining room. For our last night on the coast, we moved to Ucluelet. A much quieter

vibe met us there, and we enjoyed exploring the beaches and the trails around the lighthouse.

We were out of time on the coast, but we’d saved ourselves one more night to camp away from the beaten path. Cell service on the island is spotty at best, but we were able to navigate logging roads with confidence as we explored the old-growth forests of Nahmint Valley.

We drove for hours, following the map until we found an epic spot for swimming in another crisp, turquoise river, then made our way down a narrow gravel road with tight switchbacks to a BC Forest Services campsite. Coming from Ontario, it seemed crazy that a campground like this would be so well-maintained and yet completely empty. We chose a site among old-growth hemlock and had dinner by Nahmint Lake all by ourselves. We woke up, packed up and prepared to return Strathcona to Taylor the next day before continuing to the wedding and the rest of our adventures in Campbell River.

While Tofino and Ucluelet were on our bucket list, next time we’d head north for even quieter parts of the island—for now, we’ll keep our memories of family surf sessions, starfish at low tide and towering trees.

We drove for hours, following the map until we found an epic spot for swimming on another crisp, turquoise river, then made our way down a narrow gravel road with tight switchbacks to a BC Forest Services campsite.

Real Estate for Adventure Seekers

From Dock to Distillery

Georgian Bay Spirit Co. mixes craft, community and Canadian pride

words & photos :: Colin Field

When Denzil Wadds and Tim Keenleyside launched Georgian Bay Spirit Co. in 2013, they weren’t distillers, brewers or beverage insiders. They were ad guys. Storytellers. But, as Wadds tells it, that’s what gave them an edge.

“We were always surrounded by stories,” he says. “And Georgian Bay is full of them.” Both founders had family cottages on the bay, where gin and tonics on the dock were a summertime ritual. The landscape—juniper bushes included—offered both inspiration and branding. All they needed was a product.

So they made one—in Wadds’ kitchen. Using a coffee siphon and a questionable countertop still, the two began experimenting with gin recipes. They tested more than 80 different blends, eventually landing on a formula that felt right—and, more importantly, one the LCBO would accept.

“They liked our label and marketing pitch before they even tried the gin,” Wadds says, laughing. “We had six weeks to come up with the liquid.”

It started with small batches and one modest gin, but Georgian Bay Spirit Co. soon found its footing. After perfecting their award-winning gin recipe with help from a professional distiller, they launched the product into the LCBO—and later, their now-iconic Gin Smash canned cocktail in 2016.

Gin Smash exploded in popularity. Wadds and Keenleyside had modestly projected 16,000 cases in the first year. They sold that in four weeks.

Ready-to-drink cocktails, or RTDs, quickly became the company’s bread and butter. Today, they offer multiple gin varieties, a whiskey and a lineup of smash-style coolers, including Smashed Tea and Cranberry Gin Smash. And they make it all in their Collingwood-based distillery, built just steps from the shores that inspired the name.

While the drink world is increasingly dominated by conglomerates, Georgian Bay Spirit Co. remains proudly Canadian—and fiercely independent.

“We’re one of the last independently owned, at-scale beverage companies in the country,” says Wadds. “Our investors are Canadian. Our employees are Canadian. We get almost everything—from ingredients to packaging—from Canadian suppliers.”

That includes the juniper, at least in part. While the company sources from Tuscany and other regions for consistency and quality, they also harvest some juniper from the Georgian Bay region, where the wild shrubs dot the shoreline.

Even their cans—though currently made in the U.S.—start

with Canadian aluminum. And their commitment to staying local runs deep, especially in a climate where many small companies have already been absorbed by international players.

Sustainability isn’t just a marketing buzzword at Georgian Bay—it’s baked into the business. Jeff Young, the company’s supply planning and sustainability manager, has been spearheading efforts to better measure and reduce the company’s carbon footprint.

“When I took on the role, I really wanted to revisit how we were doing things operationally,” says Young. “I got connected with an organization called Radicle Climate Smart… They helped us go through our whole supply chain and calculate our emissions.”

One of the biggest emissions culprits? Shipping gin from Collingwood all the way to British Columbia. “So we made a few operational changes,” Young explains. “We started producing some of our RTD products closer to the markets they’re sold in. That cut down on emissions and costs at the same time.”

He points out that 90 per cent of a ready-to-drink cocktail is water. “It makes way more sense to produce it out west for the western market, instead of sending it by truck and rail across the country.”

Another major win? Packaging innovation. Georgian Bay Spirit Co. was the first Canadian beverage brand to adopt an eco-friendly paper bottle. “It’s about five times lighter than glass,” says Young. “And it’s all manufactured in Guelph, with 100 per cent recycled cardboard.”

They’ve also partnered with Georgian Bay Forever and Canada’s Forest Trust to extend their impact beyond the bottle, including shoreline cleanups, tree planting and even a microplastics awareness event held at their retail store.

“We planted our first forest last year in the Beaver Valley,” Young says proudly. “And we’re doubling our planting efforts every year with a five-year plan to offset our emissions.”

With a booming RTD lineup and strong distribution across Canada, Georgian Bay Spirit Co. isn’t sitting still (pun intended). They’re developing new non-alcoholic offerings to tap into the growing sober-curious market.

“Innovation is a big part of staying relevant,” says Wadds. “We spend a lot of time looking at global trends—what’s happening in Japan, Europe, Australia—and using that to fuel what we do next.”

Whatever comes next—be it new flavours, formats or entirely alcohol-free lines—one thing is clear: Georgian Bay Spirit Co. is doing it their own way. Sustainably. Independently. And unapologetically Canadian.

The Longhouse, Refined

Many renovations and new builds are remembered for their stress, but these homeowners look back on theirs with pleasure. It was a time of ideas, problem-solving and shared vision with their builder, Scott Young.

“I was a little bit sorry when it was over,” Diane laughs.

Their contemporary two-storey home stands near the bay in Thornbury. With its minimal design and modest footprint, it catches the eye but rests easily within the neighbourhood.

words :: Nadia Pestrak photos :: Kristin Schnelten

Before settling in the Blue Mountains, the couple lived in Toronto. “We knew we wanted to move,” Diane says. “There was a short list of places outside of the city, but Thornbury—with its walkability, proximity to the bay, cycling paths and beauty—seemed the obvious choice.” With Pete having grown up in nearby Owen Sound, the town had long been on their radar.

After they bought their property, the couple had an opportunity to test drive life in Thornbury by staying in the small unadorned cottage that once stood there—then known as Blueberry Cottage.

“It suited us. We like the countryside but we don’t want to be in our car,” says Diane. “We cycled around a lot on the Georgian Trail. We met the neighbours, walked to get groceries. Pete could pop out for basil and be back in ten minutes.” With the trail adjacent to the back yard, they often sat outside, taking in the rhythm of the town. They’d found their place.

Making the decision to rebuild in place of that tiny cottage, the couple began interviewing builders—including Scott Young from Scot-Build Developments Inc. (recommended, somewhat unconventionally, by a neighbour who was impressed by the impeccable tidiness of his construction vans, with their line drawings of longhouses and highland cows). The first meeting took place at Scott’s own home, a prototype of his style, blending traditional Scottish longhouses with clean, modern Scandinavian lines.

“The quality of construction and attention to detail were superb,” Diane says. “We liked his overall aesthetic—and the fact that he really seemed like a decent human being. These attributes formed the cornerstones of the entire project.”

Scott’s modern interpretation keeps the longhouse’s linear form and its emphasis on

efficiency, but updates the concept with large windows, minimalist interiors and a strong connection to the outdoors. This aesthetic became the starting point for the home— light-filled, streamlined and deeply livable.

But beyond the look and layout, the couple enjoyed the collaboration.

“We wanted to be involved in the design process,” says Diane. “Scott was enthusiastic and open to our ideas—like adding wood to the ceilings—but he also didn’t hesitate to speak up when something wasn’t going to work.”

Case in point: They initially wanted a poured concrete floor on the second level. Scott had reservations, and they pivoted to a porcelain tile. “When Scott was confident, we were confident,” adds Pete.

During the build, Diane and Pete rented a nearby townhouse. Their proximity meant they could stay closely involved. “Diane was over there twice a day,” Pete laughs.

Though they initially considered building a larger house, they soon realised they simply didn’t need the extra space. They also wanted to align with the scale of the neighbourhood.

The result is a clean, compact 1,500-squarefoot home (plus a suite above the garage) that balances privacy with connection. Cathedral ceilings in the main floor add an airy feel to the muted space, with its open-concept kitchen and cozy sitting area that opens onto the raised deck. Around the corner, the primary bedroom and ensuite

“Scott was enthusiastic and open to our ideas—like adding wood to the ceilings—but he also didn’t hesitate to speak up when something wasn’t going to work.”

mirror the same peaked, soaring ceilings. Upstairs, a small loft floats above the main living area—a quiet nook for reading or yoga. The lower level includes a guest bedroom and bath, den, laundry room and a second living room, affectionately known as Pete’s “puzzle factory.” And, above the garage, a cedar stairway leads to a full guest suite, giving visitors their own slice of privacy.

The couple is impressed by the home’s energy efficiency. Triple-glazed windows, a heat pump and in-floor heat contribute to a cozy, quiet interior. “The fact that there’s no forced air means it’s whisper-quiet,” Diane says. “And our feet are never cold on the porcelain.”

The carefully curated and minimal décor gives a sense of reserve, and yet there’s also warmth from the wood throughout, the lighting and the play of colour.

There’s an artistic thread in the design, notable in the sculptural oak staircase leading to the lower level. They wanted the stairwell to be more than utilitarian—to elevate not just a transitional space but the basement itself. The undulating balusters are distinctive, and the staircase seems to float in space, echoing the main-floor loft. “They wanted it to be a work of art,” says Scott. “That’s just the kind of people they are.”

Their style is apparent in the kitchen as well. Asked whether they wanted the now-standard white cabinets with dark marble, they chose a different path: wood

veneer with pastel colour blocks. The kitchen cabinet maker, Cabneato, was delighted.

“They were really quite enthusiastic about our unconventional design,” Diane says.

Even the laundry room has artistic intention, with cabinetry fronts that feature Pete’s own photographs of graffiti.

Most days, the couple gravitates toward the kitchen and sitting area, or out to the

Route (GTR) shuttle back. Not because they’re tired of cycling, but because they want to support the infrastructure that exists. They muse about what it would take to make the Tom Thomson Trail viable for cyclists to move between Thornbury and Owen Sound.

In the warmer months, their routine includes pier dips. “We ride our bikes down

Scott’s modern interpretation keeps the longhouse’s linear form and its emphasis on efficiency, but updates the concept with large windows, minimalist interiors and a strong connection to the outdoors.

back deck, where they can sit in the shade and look out on the Georgian Trail. Pete calls it his aquarium—an ever-changing panorama of cyclists, walkers, kids and dogs. “We barely use the front of the house,” he says. “Eighty percent of the time, we just head out the back.”

They regularly cycle along the crushedgravel path, often continuing to Blue Mountain and then taking the Grey Transit

and hop off, and into the lake we go,” she says. Like the trails, the pier draws the community in. “You’ve got visitors there, grandmothers and their grandkids, teens, dogs, everyone.”

Then it’s back on their bikes, back to the deck—and back to a home valued as much for its seclusion as to its community connection.

STRONG COMMITMENT

Blue Mountain Resort leads the charge in sustainability

words :: Carl Michener

photos :: Rudy Jenkins

When Tori Rooney started a summer job on the ropes course at Blue Mountain Resort, she never expected it would lead her to a greater mission: spearheading the resort’s sustainability initiative.

Rooney now tackles everything from energy and food-waste reduction to vehicle efficiency, reducing the use of plastics, planting trees and many other tactics that together will help BMR meet its 2030 carbon commitments: reducing emissions by 50 per cent, offsetting the remaining emissions and using 100 per cent renewable energy.

“The roles I had at Blue—ropes, bartending, tubing, mountaintop skating—opened my eyes to areas where the resort could improve its sustainability,” she explains. “So, after earning a degree in environmental science from Queen’s University, I met with my BMR manager and director to present a vision that led to this role.”

Rooney’s plan appealed to BMR management, including President Dan Skelton. Knowing BMR’s parent company, Alterra, planned to develop a sustainability leads team spanning all resorts, Skelton took the initiative to develop the role internally, helping to kickstart an initiative organization-wide. Now sustainability is part

of every decision BMR makes, with a focus on achieving their 2030 carbon commitments. “We’ve now done four years of greenhouse gas inventories resort-wide. Setting that baseline was important,” says Tori. “Seeing the data on paper paints a very different picture, and being able to calculate and analyze this data is super helpful.”

BMR is concentrating on reducing Scope 1 and 2 emissions, which are on-site operational emissions from vehicles and buildings, and electricity generation. The plan to reduce Scope 3 emissions (from guest travel, goods and waste transportation) is on the horizon.

Public transportation is an old-school green initiative, and BMR has its own internal network of complimentary shuttle buses that deliver employees and guests throughout the resort. And while BMR has only one electric vehicle—a car that assists retail outlets at the resort—it is considering other electrified vehicles and is moving to renewable diesel for machinery. In the meantime, under Tori’s watch BMR has installed a diagnostic system across its vehicle fleet. Sensors collect engine data and monitor idling, and the system flags vehicle fault codes and performs EV suitability assessments.

“This helps us determine which vehicles are underutilized and what fleet vehicles we truly need,” says Tori. “It also lets our mechanics know when to bring vehicles into the shop for maintenance.”

A reorganized waste station at Grand Central Eatery helps guests sort their meal remnants, reducing the amount of food waste with every passing tray.

Wherever possible, new resort infrastructure focuses on electricity rather than natural gas. Because Hydro One electricity is 87.5 per cent renewable, reducing Scope 2 emissions by increasing the electricity quotient makes green sense for BMR. Many other ski resorts, especially in the Rockies, tap into electricity grids that aren’t as clean.

Other possible on-resort plans include transitioning to electric vehicles, building to net-zero standards and implementing a longerterm on-hill management plan.

BMR already has several wins on the books, such as yearover-year efficiency gains in snowmaking thanks to analytics and automation. And the resort’s biggest transformers are already enrolled in Hydro One’s Industrial Conservation Initiative, a demand-response program aimed at shifting large electricity users’ consumption to off-peak hours. Because peak energy demands are during the winter for snowmaking, it’s an easy win for the environment and the balance sheet.

The resort currently diverts more than 37 per cent of waste from the landfill through various reduce, reuse and recycle initiatives and is aggressive about driving that number up. BMR also purchases

their receipt paper from EcoChit, a company that in turn works with Veritree to plant mangrove trees (which have a high carbon sequestration rate) in Kenya and Madagascar. “It’s a first step,” says Rooney. “Building a portfolio of high-quality offsets will be an Alterra head office initiative as we get closer to 2030.”

You know those Blue Mountain 5x7 passes that used to arrive in the mail each year? Season passes have now become reloadable, which means many thousand fewer plastic cards. But a much greater

BMR already has several wins on the books, such as year-over-year efficiency gains in snowmaking thanks to analytics and automation.

impact is coming from a deep dive into food waste.

“I love using technology to make sustainability solutions,” Rooney enthuses. “That’s how I would describe our current pilot of an AI-powered food waste tracking system.” The Swiss-made system consists of a scale with a camera that captures images of food waste. It identifies how much food is being wasted and precisely what type. System analytics have already delivered results: Restaurants serve too many fries, most guests don’t eat their second slice of toast, and garnishes like orange slices usually get thrown away.

“Based on the data, we’ve adjusted portion sizes and ingredients,” says Tori. The next phase for the tracking system will take place in the Village Conference Centre, where food-waste data can be associated with each group. “The system can inform us of meal preferences during a visit, so the following year we can tailor a menu to offer specific items and proportions for that group.”

Composting food waste at conference centres is not difficult, but cafeterias present a different set of challenges. To ensure cafeteria leftovers actually get composted, BMR has reorganized the waste station in Grand Central Eatery, giving guests a map of what to do with what’s left on their trays.

“You put your tray down and move along this conveyor belt of images,” says Rooney. “You pour out your drink. Then you dump the compost. Then it moves to container recycling and finally to waste.” Ideally, guests will dispose of the right item in the right area, resulting in the least amount of waste possible. As the system is replicated across all base lodges, guests will learn how to use the system efficiently.

Initiatives are important, but employee buy-in is just as crucial. To ensure sustainability behaviour filters down to BMR’s 1,200 employees, the resort created a culture committee composed of a representative from each department. Three subcommittees include wellness, sustainability and social responsibility. Two co-chairs for sustainability now work in lodging and the snow school.

“For me, seeing our team embrace and amplify the sustainability message across the resort is incredible,” says Rooney. As for the future, she’s unwavering in her vision. “We’ll meet our goals—and then we’ll go even further.”

Tori Rooney, sustainability analyst at Blue, at the site of the new electric vehicle charging station, which will have the capacity for 20 guest vehicles.

ROCKIN’ THE RIVER IS BACK

Born from a combined love of music and paddling, the fifth annual Free Spirit Tours Rockin’ The River event is back this year, bigger and better than ever.

On Saturday, August 9, bright flotillas of kayaks, canoes and SUPs will head out from Klondike Sports Park in Wasaga Beach for a four-hour paddle down the Nottawasaga River. Along the route, ten bands entertain paddlers as they float by, headed for a final band and bash at Free Spirit headquarters.

“The vibe is amazing!” says Free Spirit co-owner Jennie Elmslie. “The bands are having so much fun, too. It’s such a unique way to spend a day on the river!”

For the 2025 edition, they’ve added a fresh list of musicians—and a new stop at Oxbow Dunes, a favourite among paddlers. Spots sell out quickly, so head to www.rockintheriver.ca to learn more.

GEORGIAN BAY CYCLE FOR HOPE

On Saturday, August 16, the Cycle For Hope returns—and this year, it’s bigger than ever, with events in both Collingwood and Penetanguishene.

What began quietly 14 years ago has become the Georgian Bay Cancer Support Centre’s (GBCSC) biggest annual fundraiser, raising close to $700,000 to date. “Everyone who takes part knows how much the funds raised that day make a difference for those impacted by cancer in our community,” says Paul Eichhorn, the fundraising and stewardship manager at GBCSC.

Routes range from the family-friendly Ice Cream Route (great for riding or walking) to longer distances for more experienced riders, and participants can expect scenic rides through rolling backroads. As Eichhorn says, “There’s something for everyone who wants to get involved in the Cycle For Hope for a good cause.”

Last year saw 272 riders climb onto the saddle, and organizers are expecting more than 400 participants this year. Whether you ride, roll, or walk, it’s a day of celebration, connection, and making a real impact for those in need across Southern Georgian Bay and North Simcoe. Learn more and register at www.gbcycleforhope.ca.

WATER BORNE: A SUP EXPLORATION OF BLUE SPACE

Water Borne is like a fresh breeze off the Great Lakes: bracing and perspectiveshifting. The new book by longtime ML contrib Dan Rubinstein traces his solo 1,900-kilometre paddleboard loop voyage through rivers, lakes and canals from Ottawa to New York City and back via Toronto. Calling the mission “solo” is misleading, for though Dan is mostly paddling alone, the book focuses on the people he meets on the way including scientists, sailors, nonprofit managers, municipal employees, canal lock tenders, dockside bartenders and all sorts of regular citizens living near water. These encounters underpin the book’s exploration of water (and proximity to it) as both a boon to mental and physical health and an opportunity for human connection. In an age where that connection often feels broken, the book offers an alternative: Water is a unifier. – Ned Morgan

ALLISON KENNEDY DAVIES

GEORGIAN BAY CANCER SUPPORT CENTRE

HIT THE TRAILS AND RUN FOR HER

Ovarian cancer is one of the most fatal forms of cancer affecting women, taking the lives of five Canadians every day. Alicia Tone, Collingwood local and the director of research at Ovarian Cancer Canada (OCC), has extended her passion beyond the lab to found Run For Her, an annual trail-running event that raises funds for ovarian cancer research.

“It started as a solo run in 2020,” says Tone. “But the next year I shared my plans on social media and friends messaged me saying they wanted to join in. Since then, it has organically grown each year through word of mouth and a growing sense of community involvement.”

After last year’s stellar turnout of nearly 100 runners and walkers, Run For Her has raised $68,164 to date for OCC. Every penny raised goes directly to the organization.

This year Tone has upped her game with paper maps, increased trail marking, a streamlined registration and donation process and more on-site amenities. The fun starts just after sunrise on Saturday, September 27, at Three Stage, with four route options: five, 10, 20 or 31 kilometres. Walk or run, go solo or with a team—or just bring your best noisemaker and costume to encourage participants as an aid-station or navigational volunteer.

With the sixth-annual event gearing up to be the biggest yet, Tone is looking forward to the on-site vibe as much as the fundraising results. “Patient advocates have played a key role in this event since 2022 and are always so touched by the collective energy and generosity of the participants,” she says. “Participants have shared that they love the unique combination of fun along with the rewarding feeling of pushing themselves, and there’s an overwhelming sense of doing something good as a community. Last year I had to take a moment before the run started to take it all in—it is such a special day.”

Registration opens June 1, and sponsorship opportunities are still available. Learn more and get involved at www.runforher.ca.

THE GROWLING BEAVER FOR PARKINSON’S

On October 4, cyclists will once again gather for one of Canada’s most scenic fall rides: The Growling Beaver. Starting and finishing at Side Launch Brewing Company in Collingwood, this annual fundraising event is a powerful way to support Canadians living with Parkinson’s.

“This year marks our 11th annual Growling Beaver fundraiser,” says Scott McMillan, Parkinson Canada’s director of events. “Last year was our biggest ride yet with 295 riders and $695,000 raised for people living with Parkinson’s in Canada. We look forward to building on that success and continuing to watch this ride grow and become one of the pre-eminent cycling events in Canada.”

New this year: a 60-km road route and a refined 160-km gravel route, plus pro announcers, finish-line celebrations and a raffle for a fully customized bike worth nearly $20,000. Volunteers are needed for everything from registration to checkpoint management, so whether you’re riding or helping out, there’s a place for you.

Visit www.pedalingforparkinsons.ca to learn more about the Growling Beaver and register as a rider or volunteer.

SUPPORT YOUTH AT THE TEAM GIVE’R KENNETH’S WALK

Created to honour the late Kenneth McAlpine, the Team GIVE’R Foundation supports youth and young adults in both Collingwood and Rossland, BC, providing access and programming in skiing, athletics and culinary arts.

The annual Kenneth’s Walk event is an incredible opportunity to support the foundation while sampling some of the area’s best fare. Slated for September 20 at Duntroon Highlands, the 5th annual Kenneth's Walk combines a meander through the woods with chef tastings, followed by an after-party celebration at the Highlands House—complete with appreciation speeches, silent auction, raffle prizes and presentations from last year’s grant recipients.

Kenneth’s energy was contagious, whether he was coaching ski teams, mentoring young chefs or inspiring Canadians on The Amazing Race Canada. “He was the most caring person I knew on this planet and the ultimate best friend a guy could ask for,” says Ryan Lachapelle, executive director and founder of the Team GIVE’R Foundation. “He lived his life devoting himself to his friends, family, faith and community.”

Last year’s walk was a huge success, and the 2025 event promises to be even better—thanks to the chefs, craft beverage suppliers, sponsors, volunteers and community members who keep Kenneth’s spirit alive.

Tickets sell out quickly, so get yours in advance at www.teamgiver.ca/events.

South Bruce Peninsula:

The Staycation Destination

Photos by Justyna Charette, Vanessa Chassard, Colin Field, Andrea Hamlin, Boyd Leeson, Lauren Miller, Kristin Schnelten

UNWIND AND RECONNECT IN CHARMING TOWNS, SUN-DAPPLED FORESTS AND SHIMMERING WATERS

There’s never been a better time to take a staycation: Hit the road for a few days, even a week, and explore your own backyard, expand your local horizons. And there’s never been a better time to visit South Bruce Peninsula.

Just an hour west of Collingwood, this quiet corner of the Saugeen Bruce Peninsula begins in the windswept community of Sauble Beach and reaches through trail networks, rivers and bays to include the charming, quirky town of Wiarton. South Bruce Peninsula, with its rocky shores and tiny hamlets, is on the surging crest of a reawakening—and boasts enough recreation, dining, small businesses and stellar annual events to warrant multiple visits, in every season.

The two largest South Bruce Peninsula communities—Wiarton on the sunrise side of the Peninsula, perched atop the escarpment overlooking Colpoys Bay, and Sauble Beach with its unforgettable Lake Huron sunsets—have long welcomed visitors, evolving and growing over the decades into their own eclectic personalities. Before loading up the car, get to know the people and places of South Bruce Peninsula and plan your visit with insider tips.

SAUBLE BEACH

Renowned as the second-largest freshwater beach in Canada, Sauble has attracted tourists and cottagers for more than a century. At more than 11 kilometres in length, that pristine Lake Huron shoreline is the main attraction, but what lies beyond the volleyball nets and boogie boards are the trails and tracts, shops and stops that beckon a visit, long into the mellow seasons bordering the few bustling weeks of summer.

Sauble’s main street, built primarily in the post-war boom of the late 1940s, has retained that optimistic, heady energy—and its retro style. Ice cream parlours and sweatshirt shops fling open their wide storefronts to the strolling passersby, who follow the wafting scents of fresh fudge and the bright songs of swirling arcades.

Tiny wooden houses dot the quiet streets, which see more pedestrian than automobile traffic most days, and children dart around mini-golf courses, chasing stray golf balls while parents and grandparents sip afternoon cocktails. It’s simple and quaint, a reminder of easier times and a slower pace.

But the past few years in Sauble have seen a rejuvenation of the spirit that initially brought it to life. With a treetop adventure park, vibrant new restaurants and chic, trendy accommodations, visitors are experiencing a fresh side of Sauble Beach.

A SAUBLE BEACH ITINERARY

Exploring the western coast of South Bruce Peninsula begins with a plan. A multi-day visit will hit the hot spots and give you a taste that may very well have you asking for a sizable second helping.

CRASH AND RELAX: WHERE TO STAY

Want to hang with the hip kids at the coolest pool and hotel in town? The June Motel is your jam. The trendy roadside motel, recently rejuvenated by friends April Brown and Sarah Sklash, offers luxury and style—and is the perfect backdrop for “wish you were here” selfies.

Longing for the sound of the Sauble River outside your window? Check into the Kit Wat Motel & Marina and take one of their canoes, kayaks or SUPs out for a relaxing paddle. Enjoy a picnic meal along the river and roast marshmallows under the stars at this newly renovated long-time favourite.

If a classic cottage experience is your dream, Beach House Cottage Rentals has refreshed their tiny 1940s-era cabins while retaining all of their charm.

Immerse yourself in nature at Woodland Park. At Woodland you’ll find a serviced site for your RV—but if you don’t have your own, they also offer on-site RVs that offer a tiny-home experience. With an indoor pool and hot tub as well as playgrounds, Woodland has all the amenities you’d expect from this beloved family-run campground.

EXPLORE: WHAT TO DO

If the beach vibe is what you’re after, Sauble has you covered. With surfboards and boogie boards, wetsuits and wingsurfing equipment, Jack n Jill’s Surf Shop has all the gear you need to hit the waves in style. Or take a few steps from the sand to tackle the high-flying ropes course at Ascent Aerial Park, where you’ll find the best view on the peninsula, hands down.

Need a break from the sunshine? The rush of winning and the dopamine high of “just one more try!” at Giggles Arcade and Grab Lab are sure to induce high-fives and good times.

Taking a stroll down Main Street leads to The Patch, a funky sidewalk shop with curated vintage and second-hand apparel. After a zig-zagging walk across the street, pop in to Grit & Grace for beachy vibe summer wear. Sauble offers not one but two miniature golf courses, with Putterama holding up the retro-kitsch end of the stick and Bar Tiki coming in with the on-site tiki bar and patio experience.

Away from the buzz downtown, there’s an outdoor world to explore. Take a hike at Sauble Falls Provincial Park and pick up a tube while you’re there. Or wander the Rankin River Loop Trail, a 4.7 km easy loop with meadow views. Looking for a bigger water adventure? Both Suntrail Source for Adventure and Outer Vision offer boat rentals and guided trips to take extended tours in the sun.

FUEL UP: WHERE TO EAT

You might need a full week to sample just half of the offerings at Luscious Bakery, where the sweet tooths in your family will be just as happy as the savory crowd. (Bacon, cheddar and onion breakfast croissant? Piles of iced cookies? Yes, please!) And Crust and Crackle offers artisanal breads so good you’ll take a couple loaves home with you.

Picnic lunches are easy with a quick stop at the Casero Taco Bus or Royal Fish & Chips. Afterward, wander around the corner for dipped cones at Happy Donuts, stopping by Bruce County Nut & Fudge Co. to pick up a take-home afternoon treat.

The Dunes Restaurant and Bar serves excellent pub fare along with live music and ice-cold beers on tap, and the signature cocktails at Smashed Burgers are only surpassed by their layered and loaded sandwiches.

Sauble’s renaissance movement hits its pinnacle at Heydays Restaurant, where Executive Chef Tyler Cunningham crafts reinvented coastal classics and is whipping up a revamped menu this season. And Laszlo’s Bistro offers a fast-casual dining experience, punctuated by fresh, handmade pizza.

DON’T MISS OUT: SCHEDULED EVENTS

Sauble Beach is the place to be for regular live music at venues throughout town. And weekly events include the Tuesday evening car show hosted by Sauble Beach Sunset Cruisers, when classic cars from around the area cruise and park on Main Street and Lakeshore Boulevard.

Every Thursday in July and August, from 9 a.m. until 4 p.m., the Lakeview Vendors Market pops up at the Sauble Beach Town Square, with booths offering produce, baked goods, handmade goods, clothing and vintage finds.

SNEAK A PEEK: INSIDER ADVICE

Ever ventured north to cottage country in June, only to immediately retreat from the bugs? This year, make a beeline to Sauble Beach instead. June is the perfect month for a beach trip: The sand is warm, shops and restaurants are open, the crowds haven’t yet arrived—and blackflies are nonexistent.

WIARTON

Wiarton, long touted as the Gateway To The Bruce Peninsula, is quintessential Ontario, with its shop-lined main street nestled right into the escarpment. But this charming blonde-brick town has outgrown its “gateway” moniker and is more than worthy of a visit of its own.

Filled with offbeat locals who welcome newcomers with enthusiastic arms, the community embraces its hard-working history alongside its bright future, which at the moment looks quite colourful indeed.

The Deep Water Gallery—at 400 square feet, it’s the little gallery that could—opened in 2019, and with it brought a wave of art and artisans to the surface. The vibrant paintings at the Taylor Gallery and curated treasures of Strata Gallery followed a few years later, and the Little MAD Gallery—the wallspace of which is measured in square inches—is gaining its own acclaim. There’s enough artistic energy burbling here that proponents are rethinking the town as wiARTon, and it certainly seems a fitting change in emphasis.

The old stalwarts of Wiarton—Colpoys Bay views, Wiarton Marina, Bluewater Park with local artist David Robinson’s Wiarton Willie statue, the Bruce Trail and the Bruce County Mountain Bike Park—are deserving of their fame and beg a lingering stay, as well.

Wiarton, with its growing arts scene and access to nature, is a true gem hidden in plain sight.

A WIARTON AND BEYOND ITINERARY

Tucked deep in the crook of Colpoys Bay and carved out of the rugged escarpment, a visit to the little town of Wiarton is really an invitation to visit to the broader region—to the secret hamlets and many bays along the way.

CRASH AND RELAX: WHERE TO STAY

If you’re craving a cozy, historical retreat, The Wright House B&B in Wiarton is a restored heritage home in the heart of town. Right at the top of the hill on Highway 6, the Spirit Rock Motel is an ideal spot for hikers and adventurers with its simple, tidy rooms.

Camping options abound in the Wiarton area, from the Fiddlehead Resort, located along the Lake Huron shore in Oliphant, to Cape Croker Park, owned and operated by the Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation.

The classic Lake Huron holiday, with small shoreline cabins surrounding a lively main lodge, is an essential peninsula experience. Both the Red Bay Lodge and Evergreen Resort have been welcoming visitors for more than 70 years. Red Bay Lodge, the logs of its popular pub-fare restaurant adorned with antlers, offers hotel rooms as well as its recently renovated knotty-pine cabins. Evergreen Resort, just a few kilometres down the road, leans more toward the Dirty Dancing era, with home-cooked buffet meals and organized activities for the whole family.

FUEL UP: WHERE TO EAT

An anchor in this sea of thoughtful artisans, Lost Art Espresso brings together the movers and shakers making things happen in this growing town. A hip and funky recent addition to the block, its young owners are building community with every pour. And, tucked between paintings and sculptures at Taylor Gallery, Ashanti Coffee serves cappuccinos and sweet treats (try the butter-tart bar!) with a smile.

Local twin sisters Jessie Lorraine and Ann Marie Hadcock recently launched their Sand Witches Food Truck to great success, and the new Bread Bowl sandwich shop is just getting started. Those two new hot spots join long-time Wiarton favourites The Green Door Cafe—where you’re just as likely to make a new friend as enjoy a home-cooked meal—and The Silo Taphouse, serving burgers, wraps and brews.

A cultural beacon in the local restaurant scene, Coral’s Caribbean is the sole Caribbean restaurant within 100 km, and the Wiarton Inn Restaurant & Bar has been serving Asian cuisine to the South Bruce Peninsula for years.

Meandering through shops and down to Bluewater Park, ice cream in hand, is a ritual, and there’s no better place to scoop up than the award-winning homemade flavours at Lloyd’s Smoke Shop—unless you’re looking for the buzzing summertime scene, in which case you can hang with the crowd for towering soft-serve cones at Frosty Freeze.