Woodland Caribou Provincial Park is a special place for me. Despite obvious challenges traveling through an area that has been transformed and disfigured by so much wildfire over the past decade, it is still a paddler’s paradise. Small creeks wind their way through cozy, sheltered canyons between hard granite walls of ancient stone. Rivers gurgle and bubble their way over rocks below, culminating in violent rapids and waterfalls. Innumerable freshwater lakes stretch out endlessly in front of lone travelers, bobbing in their small canoe on top of shimmering whitecaps beside glass smooth sheltered bays. Songbirds serenade in a vast forest that clings impossibly to some of the oldest rock on the planet. Where the trees are still alive, a subtle canvas of green moss lies in deep shadow with yellow, white, pink and red flowers adding some welcome cheer.
Bald eagles and turkey vultures circle high above while gulls and terns dive fearlessly into the shimmering waters below. Caribou, moose, wolves and bear stride through the shadows – only the lucky few spot them along their journeys. Beaver, otter, squirrels and even woodchucks busy themselves preparing for a harsh winter that is always looming close ahead, no matter the time of year. Fish cruise the deeps and swirl along the shallows searching for an easy snack, while loons, ducks, swans and geese compete for prime real estate to raise their young on the surface. Frogs, toads and other creatures of the swamp add their voices to the fray – drowning out the forbidding drone of billions of mosquitoes nearby. Colorful butterflies and dragonflies dip and swoop their relentless, seemingly random loops around our heads as we marvel at how lucky we are to be here.
I’ll be back.
