Explore Magazine

Ahhh… summer. With the dog days of July upon us, I’m making my way north for my annual wandering pilgrimage, disappearing for a while into a wilderness new and mysterious to me. This year I’m headed off with my buddy Alex Kozma on a 1,200 kilometre, 30-day northern canoe journey in the Yukon and Northwest Territories (see attached route map). I’m calling the expedition Nèhtrùh, which is the local Indigenous Gwich’in word for wolverine.

Photo by Tourism Vancouver Island, Jordan Dyck From first-time abseils to post-injury hikes, the real measure of challenge isn’t altitude or distance—it’s how far you push your own limits. We tend to define adventure by numbers: elevation gained, kilometres covered, technical grades achieved, fastest known time (FKT). But those markers miss something essential. Rating an adventure as beginner, moderate or “advanced” isn’t something that can be fixed.

I smell resin drifting in the air, hear the buzzing of a fly at my sweaty forehead and see a cluster of hawks hunting above the farmland to my left. A fluffy, grey bunny darts out of the way of my wheels as I cycle an idyllic route through forests and rolling cottage country on Le P’tit Train du Nord north of Montreal. It’s quaint and picturesque, but my legs and glutes are already feeling the burn. I’m halfway through the longest trail I’ve ever cycled, and fatigue mixes with my awe.

You wouldn’t usually find Nils French and the other members of the Save Record Ridge Action Committee (SRRAC) in a courtroom, especially on a beautiful spring day. They’d rather be out on the more than 185 kilometres of trails that wind through the mountains around Rossland, British Columbia. But those trails were under threat.

For 45 years, explore has celebrated the people, places and moments that make a life outdoors so meaningful. To mark our 45th anniversary, we invited our readers, contributors and community to share an outdoor memory they’ll never forget. Since 1981, we’ve shared the best Canadian adventures, championed conservation, inspired new beginnings and connected readers with the wild landscapes, wildlife and people that define our country, from the mountains to the prairies and coast-to-coast-to-coast.

Whisky spillage while on a backcountry canoe trip has been the devil at my door for countless years. I think I’ve leaked more into the forest floor than I have quaffed down my gullet. I seriously can’t make these stories up. Yes, I am a creative writer who has embellished a few tales throughout my camp life, probably due to my Irish and Scottish descent, which speaks volumes of my ability to garnish a story or two.

I learned how to have extended family backcountry trips with small kids. Here's how you can, too. The rocky lakebed falls away into deep cold jasper, our paddles cutting ties with the shore along with the comforts and realities of normal life. Our yellow canoe rocks gently in reflections of mountain layers. Three toddlers lean over the sides, dragging their fingers in the smooth ripples. Everything we need to canoe-camp for a week in the backcountry is stuffed in giant dry bags under the seats. ...

There are places in the world that aren’t easy to describe. Places where rivers carve canyons deeper than you could have imagined, where glaciers spill between massive rock walls, where silence is sweetened with birdsong on the wind, where the stars feels close enough to touch. These are places that remind us that the wilderness just somewhere we go—it’s an experience.

After my first Girl Guides camping trip, I came home with three things. The first was the knowledge that I could turn an empty apple juice tin into a stove if push came to shove (thankfully, it never has). The second was an addiction to s’mores. And the third was two embroidered souvenir patches. Whether you call them patches, badges or crests, these small, embroidered keepsakes are beloved by campers, especially those who frequent national, state and provincial parks.

Located a short drive north of Pemberton, British Columbia, Joffre Lakes Provincial Park is one of the busiest parks in the province. On a summer afternoon, you’ll find not one or two, but three parking lots packed with cars. It’s so busy you need to register for a day pass in advance to hike it most of the summer. The backcountry tent sites next to its uppermost lake are some of the most coveted in the entire province, if not the country.