capital

I breezed into Ottawa today for a quick stop. My friend Soha picked me up and whisked me away for an afternoon of fun.

After showing me her stained glass studio and home-brew kombucha, we dashed off to pick up her son and then meet her husband at a reception for a graphic novel about exploitative mining.

Then it was off to Northern Lights, a free multimedia extravaganza honoring Canadian history and values. The images are projected onto the Parliament building and accompanied by bilingual narration. 

It was such a pretty night. 

How much Canadian history do you know? I know a little.

Very little. We lost the War of 1812?!

No idea who these people are.

First Nations were well represented. 

Mostly the presentations spoke to heartfelt Canadian values. Valor and voyaging and inclusiveness.

The tulips were a gift from Holland for WWII service. 

I loved the stained glass projection at the end. Like VR but better: real life. They reminded me of the SF City Hall 100 celebration.

Next year, Canada turns 150. But don't worry if you missed Northern Lights this year. It runs through 2019!

We all left humming O Canada. 

either oar

Although I've kayaked in California and Alaska and New Zealand, I've only canoed a few times. 

They are really different sports. They even evoke different places: summer camp in Maine vs icebergs in Prince William Sound. 

What could be more Canadian than a canoe trip in Algonquin? On Canoe Lake. 

Unlike kayaking, canoeing is hard by yourself. So I joined a small group at the Portage Store. Learn more about the roots of "portage" here.

My partner was our enthusiastic guide Taylor. This is her first summer guiding at Portage, but she went to camp on this very lake. Canoe camp.

As we paddled into a head wind, Taylor regaled me with stories of challenges at camp that made me glad I spent summers working at the movie theater. 

It was incredibly placid once we got into the marshy part of the lake. No moose or beavers, though I did see a great blue heron and lots of little pads. 

On the way back, Taylor talked us into tying our canoes together and MacGyvering a sail made out of a tarp and oars and elastic hair bands. It was quite the sight, our little pirate flotilla. It reminded me of "LOST" except of course we weren't actually lost.

Summer is drawing to a close, and the Europeans in our group are flying home this weekend. Taylor is going back to school and then to Queenstown where she'll be cheering on bungy jumpers and maybe learning to drive a jet boat on my beloved Dart River. 

And I'm off to Ottawa, Canada's eminently civilized capital. Less plein air. Fewer moose. 

But as always, my heart belongs to the forest. And the unseen corners of the lake where the only sound is your paddle meeting the water.

(Pass the Advil.)

sweet as…

No, this is not another New Zealand post, though Canada is well forested and filled with beautiful lakes and good hiking. Happily North America remains the center of maple syrup production.

I gave into my true identity as a tourist today and stopped off at Sugarbush Hill Maple Farm for a tour led by Tom, who opened this family business a few years ago fulfilling a lifelong dream. 

Tom and his wife came from Quebec and his wife hails from a family that owns sugar shacks (cabines a sucre). 

They have 100 acres planted with 3200 maple trees. 

Here's a tree with a tap in it.

It takes 40 gallons of maple sap to produce just 1 gallon of syrup. A typical tree produces .8 liters per year. The season in March and April runs 3 to 6 weeks. Short but sweet.

The sap is then reduced through reverse osmosis and boiling. 

The goal is to end up with 66% sugar. Not 65. Not 69.

The syrup is heated by a wood-burning oven. You can see the taps on the side. 

This cut was from Big Maple, a tree that lived over 400 years and was planted prior to the French arriving in Quebec.

As you can see, Tom has quite the collection of maple syrup paraphernalia. These are molds. I used to love maple sugar candies from Vermont when I was little.

We saved the best part for last. Maple syrup comes in 4 standard concentrations—but these are all from the same tree. I got a bottle of golden and a bottle of amber just in case. I also learned the iconic maple leaf flag of Canada was not adopted until 1965. 

Jen, my hostess in Muskoka, grew up in Northern Ontario, and said they would eat snow cones drizzled with maple syrup. I can't wait to try it.

rusty

Last time I was in Toronto, we went to an art gallery where I saw a photo of rust-colored rocks lapped by lake water and knew I had to go there. 

It only took 9 years to get to Georgian Bay. 

I'd planned to go kayaking on Mutton Lake from the farm where I'm staying. 

But it rained hard throughout the night and I got a late start. There's a drought in Ontario, as anyone here will tell you. 

Fortunately not a severe California one. It's still exquisitely green. 

Determined to find those red rocks, I headed for Killbear Provincial Park, where prehistoric continents collided hundreds of million years ago.

The waves were big and fast moving! Parry Sound is not a little pond. Despite that, people were swimming.

The rocks were everything I'd hoped for and more. These rock piles (inuksuk) are apparently illegal at Killbear, so don't tell the Mounties. 

You can almost feel the curvature of the earth. 

Incredibly peaceful. 

Don't know about you, but I got what I came for. 

No bears were killed in this post. 

The only wildlife I've seen on this trip so far was a black squirrel in Toronto and a turtle crossing the road. 

Later I headed to Snug Harbor for dinner and got this view of the lighthouse. 

Though I liked this little free library lighthouse  even better. 

Back in Seguin after another long, hard day. Sipping local cranberry juice sweetened with local maple syrup.