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P. 13 Editorial
P. 14 Behind the Photo
P. 16 Cultural Mapping Project
P. 19 Talisman Lands Update
P. 22 The Perseverance of Charlie Adams
P. 60 Wilderness Traverse
P. 29 The Nature of Trails
P. 32 Wheel Well: Endless Stoke of Quebec
P. 37 Biophiliac: Avian Flu Update
P. 40 Entrepreneurs: Clarksburghers Reborn
P. 49 Mountain Home: A Craftsman Workshop
P. 57 Community: Pom Pom for All
P. 67 Resort Trip: SilverStar
P. 70 Artist: A Bicycle Tour East
P. 73 The Beta: Local Deets, Cool Feats
P. 80 Gallery
P. 89 Gear Shed
P. 96 Back Page: The Memory of Snow
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.
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Ned Morgan ned@mountainlifemedia.ca
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the only lines are the ones behind you.
I’ve long proclaimed that autumn is my favourite season. Cool enough for a sweater, warm enough for a hike. Back to school. New classes, new friends. Those brilliant colours.
When the soaring oaks, sycamores and tulips of my south-of-the-border youth finally dropped their leaves, we piled them into head-high piles then sprinted in, head first, again and again. We belly-laughed while wriggling against their prickly edges, creating heaps of crushed leaf dust my ever-patient father shook his head over but gleefully dove into as well.
By the time November arrived the piles were gone, burned in the ditches and backyard barrels that dotted our quiet neighbourhood. Watching our decaying jungle gyms disappear in a damp, smoky haze always had the air of a funeral pyre: Ahead of us was the bleakness of four cold,
grey Midwestern months, when crippling ice storms were the only meteorologic certainty.
Then my father discovered skiing.
With that early-’80s revelation, the course of our lives changed—and postHalloween fires now marked the beginning of winter, the soul-filling season of ski lifts, snow guns and busloads of bonkers friends.
Eventually marrying a skier and now living with the two teenage ski monsters we created, autumn is a conflicted time in our little family. We’re sucking up every bit of sun we can: last-minute pier jumps and paddles, quick trips to the bike trails before the sun sets. But it’s difficult to focus on the now when we know what’s around the corner.
Snow.
Somewhere in mid-October (we’re always caught off-guard), my husband will venture to the crawlspace and dig out bin after bin of winter gear. We’ll wash hats, mitten liners and base layers, hang them on the line. Kids will try on winter gear: Who’s
outgrown what? Click into ski boots, stomp around the kitchen in our full kits—helmets, goggles and all. An annual, ridiculous game of dress up.
Soon we’ll be stuffing kids and skis into the truck, making it halfway to the hill before we turn around for a forgotten season pass. We’ll make laps, slurp hot cocoa. A whooping hockey stop and a face full of snow. Cheesing chairlift selfies. After Christmas we’ll pack our bags for places west, sneaking boots into carry-on luggage and delivering dogs to sitters on our way.
The real mountains will awe and humble us. We’ll find favourite trails, one child or both will have a skill epiphany. New friends at the après bar. Best restaurant ever. Never leaving, let’s just move here. Grinning earto-ear, a tear in the eye. An overnight dump, bouncing powder turns. Skiing is heaven.
Ya. Autumn may be the best season, but winter—I guess winter is worth getting excited about, too. – Kristin Schnelten
photo & words :: Nicholas Spooner-Rodie
kayakers :: Scott Rodie and Nicholas Spooner-Rodie
location :: Southwestern shore of Philip Edward Island
A paddle trip through Georgian Bay feels like stepping back in time, when nature ruled and you had to earn your way through the wilderness. Surrounded by an endless sprawl of islands, remote beaches and coves, the possibilities for exploration are infinite. A rare three-day stretch of calm weather gave us the freedom to swim, island hop and embrace the simplicity of being out there. The water was so clear you could see straight to the bottom, crystalline and untouched, a reminder of what wild places should be. This bay has history, too—early fur traders passed through this ancient place, which the Anishinaabe named Gwiinokgwiindek Mnisheh—and you can still feel a sense of isolation and adventure. It’s the kind of trip that strips away all the noise, where you measure time by the sun and your next destination is wherever the horizon takes you. Wild places like this remind you why it’s worth fighting to protect them.
words :: Carl Michener
The Niagara Escarpment—that sinuous ridge bringing relief to the monotony of gently rolling southern Ontario landscape—offers recreation in many forms: skiing, biking, hiking, hunting, fishing, climbing and the pure pleasure of 60-kilometre views. The geological wonder, all 725 km of it, makes towns like Collingwood, Owen Sound and Hamilton remarkable, and attracts thousands of tourists every year. But how much do most of us know of the escarpment and its Indigenous cultural significance?
For most of humanity’s acquaintance with it, the great dolomite serpent was known by names such as Gchi-bimadinaa, Anishinaabe for “the great cliff that runs along,” and Kastenhraktátye, Mohawk for “along the cliffs.” As a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Niagara Escarpment is thoroughly reviewed against UNESCO criteria every 10 years, and in its last review the escarpment’s millennia-long Indigenous heritage was a major point of discussion. One finding was that the Niagara Escarpment Commission (NEC) needed to do a better job of partnering with Indigenous peoples.
Plenty Canada, an Indigenous-led nonprofit organization, worked with the NEC to improve those relationships. Consultation with First Nations revealed that a storytelling and mapping project should be the first step to begin restoring Indigenous knowledge, visibility and character to the Niagara Escarpment.
After years of work, the resulting interactive map looks a lot like a Google Earth project, but beneath each blue pin lies a rich story. Each point refers to a site of Indigenous significance, whether it’s a historical trade route, a sacred space or a modern-day arts centre.
A quick pin click provides a detailed description as well as a gallery of images, videos, quotes, interviews and other resources. Users can also browse pins by Indigenous ethnicity as well as access a virtual museum of Indigenous artifacts.
The interactive map adds layers of knowledge, relationships and histories of locations to re-establish the Indigenous experience and voice upon this ancient geological formation. But it’s much more than just a source of local Indigenous knowledge for the armchair traveller. These are places you’re meant to get up and go visit.
“Canada’s origin story is nestled in the Niagara Escarpment region,” notes Larry McDermott, Executive Director for Plenty Canada. “One goal of the Great Niagara Escarpment Indigenous Cultural Map is to bring this story to light and celebrate the essential role that our First Nations played in it, well before Europeans arrived and ever since.”
The story McDermott refers to is of the 1764 Treaty of Niagara, which resulted from a gathering of approximately 2,000 representatives from 24 tribes along with the British. First Nations people see the treaty as a foundational document, as it set out the core elements of their relationship with the Crown, establishing the recognition of Indigenous rights in Canada and laying the foundation of the treatymaking process.
The map grows richer with time. The next step is to add more plant and animal lore, complementing the existing historical and cultural information.
Check out the Great Niagara Escarpment Indigenous Cultural Map and enhance your experience of our backyard: www.thegreatniagaraescarpment.ca/destinations
Come
words :: Ned Morgan
The saga of the former Talisman ski resort shows no sign of winding down. More than one development has been proposed over the last 15-plus years, though new ground remains unbroken. But as the abandoned resort buildings at the base of the escarpment hill continue to moulder, a plan from the Beaver Valley Development Group (BVDG) seems to be gathering steam.
BVDG recently submitted a plan of subdivision to the County of Grey for 370 townhouses/apartments and commercial buildings on and adjacent to the long-closed Talisman golf course, not far from the banks of the Beaver River and a tributary creek.
The Escarpment Corridor Alliance (ECA), a registered charity with a mandate to preserve the Niagara Escarpment across southern Georgian Bay, believes this plan is inappropriate both for the site and the greater region.
Why? It’s a long answer that begins with Ontario’s Niagara Escarpment Plan (NEP). Since 1985 the NEP, overseen by the Niagara Escarpment Commission (NEC), has dictated land use on and around its namesake landform. While the plan has successfully protected many areas, development has been allowed on some land originally zoned recreational to encourage ski and golf developments (e.g., Blue Mountain Resort). And though Talisman hasn’t operated as a resort for 13 years—and in all likelihood will never reopen as such— the property retains its recreational use designation. Developers or land speculators may interpret this designation as less stringent than others (for example, natural or protected) thus allowing development without the original recreational uses. The
ECA fears that if the BVDG’s application is approved, a domino effect will ensue, and developers will rush to open up more escarpment recreation land.
But in its recently released comment letter, the NEC asserted primary jurisdiction over the proposed BVDG development, rejecting the latter’s argument that this is a matter for Grey County and the Municipality of Grey Highlands alone, and identifying a number of policy issues.
“This proposal is for a large-scale, high-density development in the heart of Beaver Valley. This would open up the Niagara Escarpment, a UNESCO Biosphere Region and a critical part of the Greenbelt, to further large-scale development outside of existing urban settlement areas. Talisman and the Beaver Valley are also critical linkages of the emerging south Georgian Bay escarpment ecological corridor,” said Jarvis Strong, ECA executive director.
The NEC’s requirement of a development permit is in line with the public statement of Minister of Natural Resources Graydon Smith on the Talisman proposal. “Ministry officials will continue to work closely with the relevant municipalities and partner authorities to ensure that the policies of the Niagara Escarpment Plan are duly considered during the review process,” Smith told CBC News last May.
“ECA applauds the NEC for undertaking a thoughtful policy analysis rooted in upholding the core objectives of the Niagara Escarpment Plan. The NEC’s feedback aligns with the position that the ECA has publicly taken since the application was received,” said Stephen Griggs, ECA chair.
In an environmental impact study
submitted to the County, the BVDG claimed that their proposed development “is consistent with the applicable natural heritage policies of the Provincial Policy Statement, Niagara Escarpment Plan, County of Grey Official Plan, Municipality of Grey Highlands Official Plan and Grey Sauble Conservation Authority [regulation 151/06].” They added: “Our impact assessment has given full consideration to the habitat requirements of all Species at Risk (SAR) assumed and documented to occur in the area….[And] there will be no direct impacts to the wetland features located within the Significant Valleyland associated with the Beaver River.”
The ECA takes issue with these and other elements of the assessment. In the summer of 2024 the ECA submitted several expert peer reviews and letters taking aim at the BVDG documentation to the county.
“Our experts found many deficiencies in the BVDG submissions,” said Griggs. “It is clear that as proposed there would be serious environmental impacts to the sensitive Beaver Valley Wetlands and River.”
And, separate from the BVDG proposal, the owners of the defunct Talisman hotel and ski hill property have applied for a bylaw amendment to permit a 500-room condostyle hotel and the largest Nordic spa in North America. Few details were known at press time.
“The ECA supports the revitalization of the Talisman site at a similar scale to the original. However, the proposed scale is extreme—nearly a tenfold increase in size— and is not appropriate for this location,” Griggs added. “ECA will be following this application closely and making submissions as the regulatory process proceeds.”
words and photos :: Colin Field
On March 7, 2024, the first-ever Charlie Adams Ski Day took place at Craigleith Ski Club. If you got the invite, it was a relatively cheap day of skiing: $110 for a lift ticket and two beers. But none of that mattered. It was a chance to watch Charlie Adams hit the slopes. And that’s the real reason everyone was there.
For years I’d enviously watched Charlie Adams’ life from afar. If you lived in the Collingwood area long enough, you’d eventually meet Charlie or his wife, Pam Paylor. They were cool people doing cool things. And in 2017 they had it all figured out.
“I retired at 57 [after almost 30 years as a lineman] and we had the place in Golden,” he says. “We chose Kicking Horse because it has fabulous skiing. I always called it the best lift-service, big-mountain skiing in North America. We had great friends to ski with, we got into backcountry skiing and a little bit of ski mountaineering. We were pushing the envelope, but we were really enjoying ourselves.”
They didn’t sell their place in Collingwood and would spend summers here, sailing, mountain biking, waterskiing and enjoying what Ontario has to offer.
Their Instagram reel was seriously FOMOinducing. I wanted to hang out with them. To join their adventures.
“We were living the dream,” he remembers. “It was pretty awesome.”
Then on September 8, 2022, everything went sideways. Charlie’s years as a lineman had taught him a thing or two about trimming trees, so he had a little side hustle working as a tree surgeon. He was working on a tree in Tiny Township. It was the last tree of the day. He was 35 feet up when disaster struck.
“The tree split and broke underneath me,” he recalls. “I rode it to the ground then another piece came down and hit me. So I broke my neck, which wasn’t too serious. I also broke my back, which was the big accident. I had 13 rib fractures, a fractured scapula and a collapsed lung. My partner thought I was dead.”
The tree that landed on him was so large it had to be chainsawed into three pieces before they could move it.
Paramedics rushed Charlie to the Georgian Bay General Hospital in Midland where a helicopter airlifted him to Sunnybrook Hospital. Charlie’s injury included a T8 burst fracture and T7 and T9 fractures. Surgeons installed rods and screws to fuse his T6 through T11 vertebrae.
“I don’t remember any of that other than waking up after the surgery. I had a breathing tube in and my hands were tied down because the natural reaction is to try to take that breathing tube out when you come to. That was kind of the low point. Because I realized I had no feeling in the lower half of my body.”
Charlie was paralyzed from his belly button down.
“I didn’t know what I was going to do. I spent some time reflecting on whether or not to pull the plug. It was a huge, huge change in what I wanted to do and what I wanted to be. But I decided I was going to give it a go. Somehow I got a piece of paper and a pen and just wrote on it that I wanted to live. I’ve always looked ahead from there.”
Charlie’s Instagram changed dramatically. From backcountry skiing, climbing, water skiing and après, it turned to rehab, rehab and more rehab. But the tone of his captions never wavered: They remained positive and hopeful.
Sponsored by John Mealey North Shore Ltd and Head Skis, the Charlie Adams Ski Day was a fundraiser to help Charlie get his own sitski and raise money for Canadian Adaptive Snowsports (CADS).
“I went from a fairly high-level skier to a complete beginner again,” says Charlie. “They told me I was gonna pick it up pretty quick, but I have to learn everything again. It’s humbling for sure.”
“I
know that sometimes when the doctors tell people there’s no hope then they have no hope. But without hope, you don’t have anything.”
–
Charlie Adams
Watching Charlie get ready to ski was daunting; it’s a herculean team effort. It took four people to get him transferred properly from his wheelchair to the sitski. But it was a beautiful sunny day with nothing but laughs and encouragement from friends and family. Multiple CADScertified skiers were part of the process, and Pam was there every step of the way. When it came to getting on the chairlift, it involved more teamwork: one skier on each side of Charlie helped lift the sitski into place (they only fell in the mud once). Up top it was a similar offloading process.
When Charlie dropped in on Little John, it was clear he was still new to it. CADS skier Mike Maher held the reins behind Charlie, ensuring he didn't get out of control.
Despite this frustration, the joy it brings him, and everyone else, was obvious. The gathered crowd cheered as he hesitantly carved down the hill. When we all moved inside for drinks and a silent auction, the mood was celebratory. Charlie made a speech about his accident and his desire to keep moving forward.
All this gear is expensive. Everything is custom. Just after the accident, local ski legend Rob Butler created a GoFundMe account to help pay for jump seats in Charlie’s truck. They were $8,000 each.
His wheelchair is worth $7,000 (because it’s prescribed, the government pays for 75 per cent of that). Charlie and Pam sold their house in Golden and relocated to Orillia, where they renovated a house for their new reality. There’s a lift in the garage to get him into the house, and a friend renovated the bathroom to work for Charlie.
But it was the bike that was the real bigticket item: At $28,000, the Bowhead Cycle is
an absolute work of art. Made in Calgary, it’s an e-assist, 12-speed hand cycle with fully articulating suspension. With two wheels in the front and one in the back, it boasts all the latest and greatest hydraulic disc brakes and suspension you’d find on any two-wheeled $10,000 mountain bike. It also came with a special bike rack to get it onto his truck.
Riding with Charlie, Pam and Butler in Copeland Forest, it’s clear this was money well spent. Charlie sings “Folsom Prison Blues” while riding along some double-track with Pam. He rolls over bridges, through rock piles and up and down technical switchbacks. One can’t help but imagine the feeling of freedom it gives him. We all hoot and holler as he rolls over difficult sections. And we help him when he gets stuck.
None of this would be possible without the powerhouse that is Pamela Paylor. Charlie’s wife of 14 years is a relentless bundle of positivity, determination and energy. And Charlie’s fully aware of this.
“She’s an emergency nurse, so the trauma part in the beginning she had down pretty good, but the rest has been a real learning curve. Pam
is the captain of my team,” he says. “I would not be able to do a lot of the things I do without her.”
Before the accident, she was always adventuring with Charlie. They skied, biked, water-skied and sailed together all the time. It was part of what made their life look so incredible; they were a couple that played together. That hasn’t changed. Pam is still a part of all their continuing adventures. It’s just different.
”It’s been a big change for her, too. We were living the dream and the dream has changed. In some respects she’s lost more than me,” Charlie says. “I’m very, very grateful for her help and support. She’s number one.”
Rounding out the sport trifecta, we met on August 16, 2024, in Puslinch, Ontario, at a place called Summerski. Charlie told me he was going water skiing. This I had to see.
Spinal Cord Injury Ontario, along with Adaptive Water Ski Canada, set up a water ski day for people with a variety of levels of injury. Participants were welcome to try water skiing for free. There was a quadriplegic guy who tried it out. There was a blind man helping out on the dock. The boat driver was Jake Thomas,
a paraplegic who wrote, directed and produced the feature-length documentary film Adaptation Members of the Canadian Adaptive National Water Ski Team were there.
As helpers and volunteers strapped Charlie into the ski, I got the same feeling I always get watching Charlie trying something that was totally normal in his old life. It’s a feeling of gratitude to all these amazing volunteers who work ceaselessly to make these events happen. It’s appreciation to Charlie for letting me tell his story. The adaptive sports community is a powerhouse of possibility.
While I’m at the event, Charlie ends up on the wrong ski and can’t quite get going by himself, but later that day he figures it out. Like he said, he’s a beginner all over again. But the determination, the commitment and the willingness to try are the takeaways.
“The focus now would be trying to get something to ski, so I can ski behind my own boat in Orillia,” he says. “Just trying to get on the boat, get around the boat, get in the water, get out of the water. Everything has to be custom.”
His Instagram is more inspiring than ever. Finding the good in life is what’s important.
“As Pam says, ‘We’re not dying with a spinal cord injury, we’re living with a spinal cord injury.’ I think that’s an important message,” Charlie says. “I know that sometimes when the doctors tell people there’s no hope then they have no hope. But without hope, you don’t have anything.”
A little more than two years after his injury, Charlie can now go to rehab by himself. “Almost every day there’s something I can do that I couldn’t do before,” he says.
And in a way, isn’t that what we should all aspire to? To keep learning a little more each day? To get a little bit better as people every day?
Charlie’s list of people to thank is huge. From doctors and therapists to CADS skiers, friends, family, organizations and even complete strangers.
He’s ready to pass that on.
“Whether you want to volunteer, or you have a disability, anybody that wants to find out more about any of these things, please don’t hesitate to get in touch,” he says.
Personally I’d like to thank Charlie. Thanks for the motivation, man. You make me want to try harder. To do better. And to be more grateful. You’re making us all better humans. Keep kicking ass. We’ll never stop cheering you on.
Fragile pathways act as both provider and protector
words :: Nicola Ross
Ask not what trails do for you—ask what trails do for nature.
At “The Walrus Talks Nature” event in Toronto last spring, seven speakers were each given seven minutes to present their thoughts on the topic “How nature and Canada’s trails can play a pivotal role in bolstering the environment, economy and health of all Canadians.” According to numerologists, the number seven is associated with insight, intuition, truthfulness, introspection, intellect and wisdom. It seems The Walrus calculated its presentation.
Trails figured largely in the speakers’ brief presentations, as footpaths are how most people gain access to nature. And nature’s key role in physical and mental health has become accepted wisdom, as noted by Dr. Melissa Lem, a family physician who is both president of the Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment and the director of PaRx, Canada’s national nature
prescription program, an initiative of the BC Parks Foundation. She refers to nature as “the fourth pillar of health,” in addition to a healthy diet, exercise and good sleep. Lem cited a fascinating study, “Neighbourhood Greenspace and Health in a Large Urban Centre.” Carried out in Toronto and reported in the journal Scientific Reports, the study found that, “having 10 more trees in a city block, on average, improves health perception in ways comparable to an increase in annual personal income of $10,000 and moving to a neighbourhood with $10,000 higher median income or being 7 years younger.”
The role of trails in connecting people and places is paramount to Marlaine Koehler, executive director of the Waterfront Regeneration Trust. The 3,600 km Great Lakes Waterfront Trail links 170 communities and First Nations, 520 waterfront parks, 266 beaches and four Great Lakes. This trail, according to Koehler, breathes life into communities that are often “only known as the names on Highway 401 exits.”
Koehler stood out from her fellow presenters when she took a step outside what were largely existential discussions about the importance of nature and trails. While most speakers discussed what trails do for people and how they can serve us better, Koehler recognized that the Waterfront Trail also protects and is restoring the waterfront. Her fellow presenter, Dianne Whelan, who accomplished the amazing feat of traveling (on foot, bicycle, snowshoes, skis, kayak and canoe) all 24,000 km of the Trans Canada Trail—and has made a film about it entitled 500 Days in the Wild—similarly recognized trails for their role in guarding nature. The seventh of the seven speakers, Whelan’s seventh of seven lessons taken from her expedition was that fostering a relationship with nature will help save the planet.
While walking Ontario’s 900 km Bruce Trail along the Niagara Escarpment, one of Canada’s most unique UNESCO biosphere reserves, I learned a similar lesson. I, however, would rank it as number one or two of what I took away from my journey. As I hiked for seven or eight hours a day for more than 40 days, it became apparent to me just how crucial the Bruce Trail is to the Niagara Escarpment’s ongoing health.
The Bruce Trail, and countless other footpaths, keep public land in the public realm. In addition to crossing land owned by amenable private landowners, the trail follows innumerable unopened road
The Bruce Trail and countless other footpaths keep public land in the public realm.
allowances, hydro corridors and rail trails. It crosses myriad municipal, provincial and national parks as well as conservation areas. There wouldn’t be a Bruce Trail if it didn’t stitch together these fragments of public land. The mere presence of this much-loved and oft-walked trail, which stretches from the tip of the Niagara Peninsula to the toe of the Bruce, is akin to telling all levels of government: “Don’t mess with me.” Selling off a road allowance to adjacent landowners may go unnoticed—unless, that is, the Bruce or another trail happens to run along it.
In this way, the Bruce Trail provides the Niagara Escarpment with another layer of protection from urban development, aggregate extraction, wetland drainage, habitat loss, pollution and the glut of other negative impacts on wildlife, air and water quality.
On top of these environmental benefits, people love their trails; they bond with them. “Hands off” is a common response among trail users, especially locals, if there is a proposed interruption of their trail use. A piece of land that may seem inconsequential—despite the key role it plays as a corridor or habitat for wildlife—becomes something worth fighting for when it’s your favourite place to walk the dog or take the kids.
Adjacent to the village where I live is a 140-hectare piece of richly forested land. The Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR) owns the property but, by agreement, a village committee manages it. The Grange is home to a provincially significant wetland and two important streams that provide ideal habitat for brook trout. It also hosts a network of trails, which are well-used by people from the village and neighbouring towns. Dogs and kids abound. Without the trails and those who use them, the MNR could sell this property to a developer without much ado. But should the MNR decide to peddle the Grange and its network of trails, it would learn that the adage is true: We protect what we love—often with the ferocity of a mama bear.
As the future unfolds, nature needs all the help it can get— especially in Southern Ontario, where population growth is unbridled and threats to the environment mount with every new house built, every new quarry excavated and every new highway constructed.
Trails don’t just contribute to our mental and physical health, as Dr. Melissa Lem pointed out; they don’t just provide connections between and within communities, as Marlaine Koehler suggested; and they don’t just renew our relationship with nature, as Dianne Whelan discovered somewhere along her 24,000 km journey. Trails protect nature—and strengthen our bond with it.
So, ask not what trails can do for you—ask what you can do for trails.
Nicola Ross is a National Magazine Award–winning journalist and the bestselling author of the Loops & Lattes hiking guides.
Le Massif and Mont-Saint-Anne deliver epic mountain bike vibes
words and photos :: Colin Field
Thousands are gathered at the bottom of Mont-Sainte-Anne’s legendary downhill track for the final round of the UCI World Cup as Finn Iles finishes what was almost the run of a lifetime. At each timing split he was faster
than the previous leader—by 2.9 seconds, then 3.8 seconds, then 4 seconds. Then, as he flew through the rocky, rooty trail near the bottom of the track, his front tire slid out on the wet rock and he rolled off his bike, dashing all hopes of a top-three result. He got up quickly and was uninjured, but he lost too much time to podium.
After his crash, Finn continued down the track, rounding the final bend as the crowd erupted in a cacophony of chainless chainsaws, noisemakers, horns and riotous cheering. He flew over the last jump, throwing his hands behind him in a suicide no-hander that again garnered wild applause. Then, as he skidded into the finishing area, he removed his goggles and threw them into the heaving mass of humanity. Nonchalantly, my wife shot up her hand and caught them in an instant. It’s a moment I’ll never forget, one that sealed this trip as one of our family’s best.
We had flown to Quebec City a couple days earlier to check out the riding in La Belle Province. Our first stop was Le Massif de Charlevoix; we were not disappointed. Touted as the highest vertical east of the Rockies, Le Massif is a destination I’ve wanted to visit for decades, ever since I first saw a ski image from the resort. Rising straight out of the Saint Lawrence River, the view from this place is unreal. And since 2021 they’ve been working to become a mountain biking destination as well as a ski stop. They’ve made a ton of progress in a few short years.
Owned by Daniel Gauthier, the guy who co-founded Cirque Du Soleil, Le Massif is a scant 80 minutes from the Quebec City airport. The vision here is simple: Provide the best experience possible without turning it into a Disneyland-type shopping mall. And they’re doing exactly that.
After grabbing rental bikes and meeting the ski and bike school director Clovis LettreRacine, we hit a mix of green and blue trails including Easy Rider, Funky Funghi, 6Pack and Roulé Suisse. The berms and rolling jumps flowed through the colours of fall and each time we popped out of the woods we were blasted with scenic views of the mighty Saint Lawrence. Massive container ships and cruise liners sailed up and down the waterway. And if we drove an hour further east, Clovis said, the water gets saltier and the chance of seeing whales increases.
We managed to get one more lap with Clovis before heading to an incredible dinner at Camp Boule overlooking the mountain and the fleuve below. We scarfed down a charcuterie board brimming with locally produced meats and cheeses before getting into the main course. Dessert
was mandatory, and we shared slices of apple and walnut cakes as well as thick chocolate cream. Beyond sated, we stayed overnight at Les Caches de la Grande Pointe at the bottom of Le Massif. Fall is the time to visit this low-key spot with rugged, natural beauty. It feels like real wilderness here.
On our second day we made the nottoo-difficult uphill ride to the top of the Bus Jaune trail then rode a mind-blowing 7 kilometres of downhill on Histoire Sans Fin. The blue-level run is family-friendly and absolutely a rollercoaster of good times and great scenery. We rode the same blues and greens of the previous day, enjoying the speed as we got to know the trails and the jumps along the route. We dipped into little sections of black diamond trails like Whippette and Tite Chèvre and fell in
love with the trail system even more. We discussed what it would be like to live here. Could we just pick up and move?
On our second night we stayed in BaieSaint-Paul, 20 km north of Le Massif where the smell of the sea wafts in off the river. We stayed right on the water at Domaine Belle Plage and had dinner at Le Bercail, where most of the fruits, veggies and herbs come from their 5,000 m2 garden. Again we lingered over our three course meal, enjoying the atmosphere and decadent servings. Quebec sure does food right.
Baie-Saint-Paul is the kind of town we wanted to spend a lot of time in, but we couldn’t; we needed to get to Mont-SainteAnne for the World Cup.
Mont-Sainte-Anne has hosted the Union Cycliste International (UCI) Mountain Bike
World Cup circuit since 1998. It’s a legendary stop on the tour for both the cross country and downhill races. In 2023 and 2024 the finals of the entire tour happened in MontSainte-Anne. If you’re Canadian and into mountain biking, this is an absolute must-visit event. Every year the organizers, along with around 500 volunteers and tens of thousands of visitors, greet the UCI World Cup athletes and their teams with unbridled enthusiasm.
The final person to descend the UCI World Cup track at Mont-Sainte-Anne on race day is the rider with the fastest lap during semi-finals; this year that rider was the young Canadian phenom Jackson Goldstone. As he pedaled, tucked, jumped, turned and flew down the grueling terrain, it was obvious he was something special.
At the first timing split he was in the green, .152 of a second faster than the current leader. The crowd simmered with nervous excitement. At the second split, he increased his lead; he was 2.258 faster than anyone that day. The crowd’s simmering grew stronger. At split three he was fastest again, this time an unbelievable 3.567 faster than any other rider. The chainsaws roared. And as Goldstone passed the fourth timing split, the crowd erupted—he was 3.895 seconds faster.
He pushed over the finish line and the jumbotron revealed what everyone already knew: He’d won. By more than 4.3 seconds. The over-rowdy crowd swarmed Goldstone, pushing past the barricades. The next ten minutes were a blur of chaos filled with
deafening noisemakers, yelling and jubilant celebration as Goldstone realized he’d won the race.
It was another moment of mountain bike history and one that I can’t believe I witnessed. And I can’t believe that none of my riding friends were here. As far as mountain biking is concerned, this is the place to be. It’s one of the coolest mountain bike events in the world and it’s less than 10 hours away. Seriously. This is the rowdiest, most incredible sporting event I’ve ever been to and the downhill riders are animals. Watching the crowd lose control is the best. For sure one of the raddest things I’ve ever seen.
The day after the downhill World Cup we got to ride the trails at Mont-SainteAnne. The trail system is massive. With enduro style trails, cross-country runs and pure downhill tracks, we chose the downhill tracks and stuck to the blues and greens. And though our legs and arms were tired from multiple days at Le Massif, we had an incredible few runs in the rain.
It was here I saw my son becoming a better rider than me. A braver rider anyway. It was a bittersweet moment. As we charged cautiously down La Baptême, I watched him jumping over sets of doubles on his first time ever riding the track. I was probably over-cautious, but watching him charge confidently and with speed into corners and over jumps, I knew I’d done a good job at parenting. At least as far as my priorities are concerned.
As we got ready to leave Mont-SainteAnne, a qualifying round of the Pump Track World Championships started up on the Velosolutions track that’s right beside the gondola liftline. Velosolutions build the ultimate pumptracks, and the fact that there’s one right at the resort is unbelievable. We paused to watch, imagining what it would be like having a local hill that not only embraced riding, but supported its growth.
Interested in building a strong local mountain bike community? The International Mountain Biking Association (IMBA) is hosting a summit this November in Peterborough. Find details on p. 73
W h e r e e a c h r u n f e e l s l i k e a c e l e b r a t i o n
B o o k y o u r s t a y o n t h e
m o u n t a i n n o w a n d e n j o y
t h e b e s t p r i c e s o n l i f t t i c k e t s
words :: Leslie Anthony
Early in the summer, those who pay attention to such things may have noticed yet more twists to the now three-year global saga of Avian Influenza A(H5N1). If you subscribe to the daily ProMED Digest of global disease outbreaks in plants, animals and humans (recommended reading—though it might affect your sleep), you’ll have been treated to regular updates as the virus burned through birds, into marine mammals, into land mammals (both wild and pets) and on into American dairy cattle. That’s bad enough, but further reports suggest a widespread global disease situation that seems entirely out of hand and primed to cause more problems with entries like this: Avian influenza—USA (WY, IA) H5N1, dairy cows, unreported fatalities; Avian influenza—USA (NM) house mouse; Avian influenza— Cambodia, human H5N1, 10 cases, fatal, and; Avian influenza— Mexico, human H5N2, fatal.
We’ll unpack how those are related in a minute, but first, know that the Government of Canada is paying close attention, with many web pages under its various department portals dedicated to
Although avian influenza mainly affects birds, it sometimes infects mammals, including humans.
explanations of this emerging disease issue and threat factors for everyone from farmers to health-care workers to the general public. The information is solid, science-rooted and offered so that people can make informed decisions about their own risks of exposure.
Although avian influenza mainly affects birds, it sometimes infects mammals, including humans. As with many diseases, some birds that become infected fall ill and die while others appear healthy. The numerous types of avian influenza are all caused by strains of type A influenza. Some, such as A(H5N1) and A(H7N9)—classified
as Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza (HPAI) based on the severity of illness in birds—have also caused serious illness in humans; as of June 2024, there have been 900 human cases globally with a mortality rate of 52 per cent. Though it’s worth noting this may be an overestimate given mild infections can go undetected, still… Fifty. Two. Per cent. That makes COVID’s 1.4 per cent mortality rate seem like diaper rash.
Although the World Health Organization maintains that the likelihood of sustained human-to-human transmission remains low, we’ve heard such things before. Influenza viruses mutate like mofos and have already ripped through many groups of birds and mammals to which they weren’t previously well adapted. So, there’s that.
Human cases can occur through direct contact with infected birds (dead or alive) or contaminated environments. For instance, infection has been reported after defeathering of dead H5N1-infected swans (the virus can survive in feathers for more than five months). And while it’s “thought to be possible” (meaning only a matter of time), to date there are no documented cases of humans contracting the virus from a mammalian pet despite increasing reports of mammal-to-mammal transmission and spillover from infected livestock (numerous human cases in the U.S. were contracted from dairy cattle).
Mutations within some Eurasian/North American strains of the virus show enhanced replication in mammalian cells, evasion of immune response, and increased virulence (remember COVID19’s Omicron and Delta variants?). As well, pathogenicity and transmissibility studies indicate these emerging strains indeed cause more severe illness, and—let’s call this worse—that some common flies and beetles can act as mechanical transmitters of H5N1 and other avian viruses. Uh oh.
How did this mess start? Pretty routinely: Arising in Asia in 2020, it travelled to Europe with migrating birds and into poultry flocks, millions of which were culled. Then the story got stranger. The virus moved into seabirds and on to sea mammals. In North America, its arrival was off the radar. In December 2021, while we were all in the throes of our own pandemic, bird flu turned up on a farm outside St. John’s, Newfoundland. Hundreds of farm birds died, and the rest
There have been 900 human cases globally with a mortality rate of 52 per cent. That makes COVID’s 1.4 per cent mortality rate seem like diaper rash.
were culled. But culling doesn’t matter for wild birds, which died in droves across the country.
The jump from seabirds to sea mammals was the eye-opener. In October 2023, the virus killed 17,400 elephant seal pups in Argentina—95 per cent of the colony’s young—and some 24,000 South American sea lions; in the U.S. alone, 90 million birds were culled in a failed attempt to stop a virus that was now simultaneously killing mammals (in Eastern Canada as well) from squirrels to raccoons, foxes to skunks and dolphins to polar bears before infiltrating livestock for the first time by jumping to dairy cows. Virologists have never seen anything like it.
We’re told that HPAIs aren’t a food-safety concern, largely because pasteurization (milk) and cooking (eggs, poultry, beef) tend to kill and disassemble viruses. Indeed, every meat and dairy product we currently eat is already swimming in viruses and bacteria like Salmonella and E. coli that require proper handling. But if you choose to eat raw, look out. A recent study confirms high virus-level infections in rodents fed H5N1-contaminated raw milk. In a June 2024 update, the USDA Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service reported 36 more H5N1 detections in wild house mice in the same New Mexico county, as well as four in local domestic cats (which eat mice and birds). WastewaterSCAN, a national monitoring system based at Stanford University, launched an H5N1 avian influenza wastewater dashboard that now shows detections at about a dozen locations.
Is H5N1 coming for us? Is it really only a matter of time before it mutates enough to not just jump into humans, but move between us? Epidemiologists think so. Finland was the first country to offer avian influenza vaccines to poultry farmers, veterinarians, scientists and people who work on fur farms (mink are highly susceptible). In June, the U.S. contracted for millions of H5N1 flu vaccine doses to add to its stockpile, and the EU likewise planned to make 40 million doses for 15 countries. Beyond a dedicated vaccine, having had a number of different seasonal influenza vaccinations might also confer some level of immunity to H5N1. But for now, I suggest we all pay closer attention to a situation that is not only fast-evolving, but unprecedented in the annals of global disease.
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words :: Carl Michener
photos :: Kristin Schnelten
Eric Neumann and Tina Gibson’s inspiration to take over and breathe new life into the longstanding vintage store, Clarksburghers, came in part—ironically—from a desire to escape the frenetic pace of their branding and signage company, Newsun Design. (The go-to for local businesses, Newsun has been developing visual identities, logos and signage since 1998.)
But they’re currently pulling seven-day weeks while running both ventures. Something had to give—and that something was pickleball. Eric had been playing 12 hours a week for years (by now he’s a master dinker) but it was either that or walk away from his band, Too Loud for Tina. The band won. He kissed pickleball goodbye, cold turkey, and steeled himself for the relaunch of Clarksburghers.
And the place is off like a bottle rocket. The couple signed the lease this past March, took possession at the beginning of June, then punched through to the unit next door and extensively renovated the entire space with the help of their son, Jonah Neumann. They opened just in time for the Blue Mountains Arts and Crafts Walk, and the shop was packed to capacity all weekend.
Meanwhile, they were madly working on their latest signage project for Mark McEwen’s The Port Tavern. But Eric and Tina manage to shed any sign of stress once they hit the store. It’s obviously their happy place.
Clarksburghers feels more high-end boutique than thrift shop, popping with orange furniture and the riotous colour of Tina’s handpicked vintage and pre-loved clothing, including pieces from her collection dating back to the mid-’70s—items that simply can’t be found in circulation anymore. “I’ve admired vintage clothing forever but really began wearing it regularly while studying at Sheridan College,” says Tina. “Surrounded by other art students, I discovered that dressing differently was a good thing. A great way to express myself, as opposed to looking like everyone else.”
Eric is sitting comfortably in a tub chair, part of a conversation area in the middle of the shop. Beatles deep cuts pulse from overhead. Tina, in a flamboyantly patterned handmade ‘70s maxi dress, gestures at a huge black-and-white photo on the brick wall next to the entrance. It’s her Granny Liz and a friend, both Norfolk County tobacco pickers, clad exclusively in tobacco leaves. “She was a real nut,” says Tina, referring to her grandmother. “She just passed away. She was my inspiration, and would have been my greatest supporter in this.”
Because she’s been into vintage fashion her whole life and Eric’s been a musician all of his, the combo fits. “I feel like I’m a kid again, playing make-believe: ‘Hey, I’m a shop owner!’” she exclaims. “Older ladies will come in together, try on hats or look at nighties and get lost in conversation. I just sit back and feel like the hostess. Or I’ll tell people, ‘If you like what I’m wearing, but aren’t up for head-to-toe vintage, pick just one piece that’s different and that speaks to you, like a dress or a handbag, and go with it.’”
At the north end of the store you’ll find the resonant twang of Eric’s vintage guitars. Shining ukuleles and guitars new and old surround amps, soundboards and musical bric-à-brac, and tucked in the corner is Eric’s own section of vintage clothing: band t-shirts, leather jackets and cool hats—everything a rock star needs.
In the front window, where the former proprietor, Hanna, used to stand for hours, ironing and mending, Eric now restores and repairs instruments.
“A guy came in with a fiddle in a plastic bag, hoping to get it fixed,” remembers Eric. “It was a pretty, fine instrument, so I looked it up and found it was worth somewhere between $50,000 and $500,000. Needless to say, I referred him to a professional luthier.”
Eric is blown away by the people he’s met walking into his store: “They start opening up, and it turns out they were former rockers, or grew up with members of The Band. Such interesting people.” After just a month at Clarksburghers, he figures he’s met more area musicians than he has in 25 years of living in Thornbury.
The couple is hoping to band together with other merchants to beautify the main street and celebrate Clarksburg. Most visitors to the area seem not to know that Clarksburg is a short walk up the
road from Thornbury—they haven’t cruised Clarksburg’s many art galleries, its antique shops, the new framing store, nor experienced the music and fashion at Clarksburghers.
Open Friday to Sunday while running Newsun Monday to Thursday, the couple admits they haven’t had much of a break since opening. But they did manage a quick trip to BC, and their out-ofoffice post pretty much summed up the whole Clarksburghers ethos:
“We will keep our eyes peeled for cool instruments and vintage clothing on our travels and encourage you to get out this summer, too! If you need a ukulele or some other travel-size instrument, some extra strings or a nice vintage Simpson-Sears floral robe to take with you, come see us whenever we’re back and we’ll set you up.”
Check out the vibe and keep up to date with continually changing stock at @clarksburghersvintage on Instagram.
words :: Allison Kennedy Davies
Remember those ski trips you took as a kid? Packing up the minivan, arguing over who got the front seat, playing silly road trip games because your van pre-dated DVD players? Remember the feeling of the cold winter air on your face and the forever views of a brilliant blue Georgian Bay below? It turns out that those trips, those experiences from your younger years, can often inspire a return to the slopes, sometimes even decades later.
Boomerang skiers—those who’ve come back to the sport after a long gap—now account for about 35 per cent of the Ontario ski market. Nearly 262,000 skiers and riders who’d hung up their boots and stowed their snowboards made their way back to the slopes in 2023 according to a Canadian Ski Council study.
Whatever had stood in their way—
finances, university, pandemics or just the hectic pace of life in general—that feeling of swooshing down the hill without a care in the world has ultimately drawn them back to the slopes. We caught up with two Collingwood residents who’ve recently made their way back to Blue to learn more about their return to the ski and snowboard lifestyle.
Heather Garner is a local real estate agent who grew up skiing at Blue with her family. “When I was younger, we started coming up on weekends and my parents fell in love with the place,” she recalls. “They were big skiers and eventually bought a weekend place in Collingwood. I went off to university, I traveled and then after graduation I ended up getting a job in Collingwood and was living at my parents’ weekend place. I met my husband up here; he’s a Collingwood local and had skied at Blue all his life. We quickly ended up back on the slopes.”
Today the Garners have an 11-year-old daughter. While they pursued the private ski club route for a few years, they eventually made the switch back to Blue. “We realized that we were paying for a private club we weren’t really using while buying a pass at Blue that we used every single week,” says Garner. “Now our daughter does after-school lessons regularly. We love the freedom of dropping her off for a lesson and going skiing or heading to the Village for dinner. While we haven’t made the time yet, we hope to spend some bluebird days on the slopes while she’s in school. And of course we get out as a family regularly, too.”
The Garners’ extended family have made their way to the region, too. Her parents are now here full-time and her nephew, a member of the Ontario Ski Team, lives in Collingwood. “A lot of us have made our way back to the sport,” says Garner. “That family time together on the slopes is so important.”
Alexandra Cox is the youngest of five siblings born into a die-hard ski family. “My dad was a bit of a ski bum,” she laughs. “My parents worked at Sunshine Village. They travelled across North America and at one point they worked at Blue Mountain for two years as hill hosts. When I was three or four my parents taught me to ski, and most of our family holidays were ski vacations to places like Holiday Valley and often to Blue Mountain.”
Being the youngest, Cox drifted away from skiing as her siblings got older and left the sport. “Life just got busy and it became less of a priority,” she explains. But the seed was planted and her love for being on the slopes would be rekindled years later. “I didn’t ski for nearly 10 years and then I met my now-husband,” recounts Cox. “He was already a 5x7 pass holder who had just gotten into snowboarding through his friends. Then we decided to give it a try together, and I fell back in love with it and we started spending our weekends at Blue once again.”
“I started out using my mom’s old gear and I got a young adult 5x7 pass,” she remembers. “The next year we went to the
Nearly 262,000 skiers and riders who’d hung up their boots and stowed their snowboards made their way back to the slopes in 2023 according to a Canadian Ski Council study.
Toronto Ski Show and I invested in some new gear. We entered a draw for a free Ikon Pass there and my husband won. We went on a trip to Banff that year and we’d stay at his aunt’s house in Wasaga Beach so that we could ski at Blue most weekends. I started looking for a job in Collingwood.”
Today, Cox is working for Blue Mountain Resort and spends most of her days on the hill. She and her husband moved to the area permanently and they haven’t looked back—they even tied the knot on the hill
this fall. “We love the vibe up here and the lifestyle,” says Cox. “Blue has so much to offer. I ski and my husband snowboards, and the variety of terrain works great for both of us. From skiing here as a little girl to now working on the resort, things have come full circle for me and I love it.”
If those distant winter memories are flooding back to you, maybe this will be the year you return to the slopes. Blue Mountain is ready and waiting for you to write the next chapter of your ski saga.
An award-winning community nestled between Blue Mountain Resort and the tranquil Scandinave Spa. A neighbourhood proudly connected by parks, ponds, trails, and nature preservation areas. At the heart of Windfall is “The Shed,” a vibrant gathering place available year-round, features outdoor pools, and serves as the perfect community hub. The essence of Blue Mountain living – a lifestyle of luxury, leisure, and natural beauty.
words and photos :: Kristin Schnelten
Dano Harris swings the hefty Dutch doors of his shop wide into the autumn afternoon, filling the quiet interior with soft beams of light.
The high half-doors clang to a stop and he dusts strong hands on a worn leather apron. “If I open the full door, I can’t get any work done,” he says. Curiosity gets the best of passers-by, it seems.
To the observant, Dano’s cordwood studio serves as a welcoming lodestar to the tiny village of Ceylon. Perched high on a hill at the edge of town, its exposed beams, steel supports and green roof are a masterpiece of old-world design and exceptional craftsmanship.
It’s a fitting home for Dano’s work. An artisan in both metal and wood, his skillset—and mindset—were key to the success of this calculated and protracted building process.
The workshop had its beginnings more than a decade ago, when Dano and his wife, Shannon, purchased the property next door to their century home. Over a five-year period, Harris slowly disassembled the existing house on the lot, stockpiling one window, brick and beam at a time.
While continuing to fill orders at a shop on his parents’ property, co-raise his now six children and spend winters working in recreational programming at Beaver Valley Ski Club, Dano still found time to research the intricacies of cordwood, timber and green-roof construction and draw up initial plans, later to be stamped by an architect.
He compiled lessons learned from prior shops to design the workspace and set a footprint that worked within property setbacks. “A lot of it was based on the size of the house that was there. Also the apple tree right there,” he says, indicating the soaring heirloom variety just feet from the handmade fire escape. “I couldn’t touch that. You can’t just buy an apple tree of that size and put it in.”
Such was his thoughtfulness throughout the project.
“The whole idea for this building was that it could be taken apart and reused in the future,” Harris says. “So I tried to use very few newer materials. On the roof I used a little bit of plywood just to smooth it out, and there’s a bit of insulation up there under the membrane. But other than that, I think everything could be reused. It’s all solid wood.”
“All these old barns are coming down now, and the materials are being reused. Whereas, with newer houses, some of it’s recycled but really most of it is just garbage. Cordwood was a way not to use any insulation, and it was really cheap to do. It was just really high labour.”
Two years of labour, as it turns out. The majority of it provided by Dano and Shannon with help from family, friends and neighbours.
Ash and hemlock timbers from a local Amish mill were handgraded, pre-fit by Dano off-site, then numbered, disassembled, transported and hoisted into place with the help of his father, Don, and friend Cory Davies. What followed was the painstaking process of building the cordwood walls. In addition to cutting each split to an 8-inch length and meticulous stacking, the method requires precision measurement of the wood’s humidity level, and therefore timing is key.
Dano’s innate curiosity and natural teaching affinity spill into the retelling of this story as he calmly explains the specific ratio of sawdust and lime that fills the airspace between exterior and interior layers of mortar. Then he reaches onto a shelf to display the chisel he forged and turned on a lathe—the tool he used to notch every beam at every joint in the building.
“This is an old spring, pulled off a truck,” he explains. “And the handle is a piece of ash from the off-cut of one of the shop’s beams.”
As he pulls the chisel from its sheath, he says: “My grandfather is from Jamaica, and on his 18th birthday he shot a crocodile that was being a nuisance in the village. Afterward he had the leather cured and made into a suitcase. So I made this with the leftover leather from about 1938.”
When Dano returns the chisel to the shelf, he pauses to note that it and the circular saw next to it “pretty much made the whole building.”
That adventurous grandfather took up woodturning in retirement, and was an early inspiration to a young Dano. Harris initially dabbled in furniture design, following in his parents’ designer footsteps, but discovered he found more joy in the hands-on process of making.
A meandering career path led him from woodturning to metalwork, and most of his time is now spent with the latter medium, most often as a blacksmith, and the forge and its imposing chimney are the centrepiece of the shop. Unsurprisingly, those chimney bricks were salvaged—some from the former house, others from various sources, including an old school in Flesherton.
Steel supports, which Dano designed with an understated flourish, bolster interior beams. And each frame joint is secured with enormous plates that echo those same lines, the curve of which is replicated again in the greying beams of the carport. Steel foundation flashing consists of off-cuts and scrap. High windows capturing indirect light were sourced from a single Kijiji find.
Everything here is intentional.
With added illumination from the half-open doors, Dano shuts off the overhead fixtures and fires up the forge. The natural light is key to his blacksmithing work; he has to pay close attention to the colour of the metal as it heats and cools.
It’s that exacting attention to detail, along with thoughtful planning and mounds of patience, that created this piece of art masquerading as a shop. If you’re interested in checking it out, please call ahead—Dano needs to get some work done.
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JOIN US IN CLARKSBURG ON THE EVENING OF DEC. 6 FOR SOME CUSTOMER CHEER
words :: Allison Kennedy Davies
Imagine riding your bike down the main street of town alongside every other elementary school kid you know, headed for your favourite scoop of ice cream on the last day of school. Sitting with your friends while finishing your treat, you dream about the blissful freedom of the next eight weeks and then cap off this annual tradition with a jump off the Thornbury pier.
For the last nine summers, Pom Pom Treat Hut has been at the centre of this picture-perfect moment. And for the last two years, this ice cream institution has been scooping out a home on the main street of Meaford, too. From ice cream sandwiches with homemade cookies to take-home pints of London Ice Cream and an everexpanding roster of plant-based flavours (and amazing lattes at their Meaford location), Pom Pom has grown from a shared idea among two local foodies into a must-stop destination.
Pom Pom began after Rheanna Kish and Andrea Greyerbiehl connected at a women’s culinary event in Toronto. Despite both
living in the Thornbury area and running successful ventures of their own, the two had never crossed paths. They’d heard of each other and even been told by friends that they needed to meet and create something magical. At that time, Greyerbiehl was busy with her Collingwood restaurant, Azzurra, and Kish was running her Wheelie Pops business at the Thornbury Farmers Market and working as the senior food editor for Canadian Living
After the Toronto event, and with a rental property on the main street of Thornbury catching their interest, the idea for Pom Pom was born. They met for coffee and settled on the idea of an ice cream shop. While the original location fell through, Greyerbiehl and Kish pulled things together to open Pom Pom’s very first incarnation in 2016 in the little yellow hut on the way to the harbour. Right away, this place had personality. They brought a ping pong table from home, hula hoops and sidewalk chalk. This wasn’t just a place to grab a cone, it was a place to gather and see friends while embracing summer in southern Georgian Bay.
Greyerbiehl and Kish have many stories from that first summer,
While they didn’t set out to be known as a vegan destination, they’ve found that people will drive quite a distance to have that true ice cream shop experience with plant-based desserts.
not all of them good. Summer one was a blur of late-night ice cream runs, learning how to manage staff and making vegan ice cream in a Cuisinart. “We kept telling ourselves, ‘It’s just for one summer,’” laughs Greyerbiehl. They closed up shop in the fall, went back to their own lives and businesses and really didn’t think much about what would happen next for Pom Pom. “But then all the kids at school started asking me when Pom Pom would open,” recalls Kish. “I think we realized then that Pom Pom had already become part of the community and that we were onto something.”
Just one summer turned into three seasons at the yellow hut and then came a move up the street to Pom Pom’s current location next to the laundromat. Along the way a little thing called Covid happened that totally transformed Pom Pom’s business model.
Customers wanted take-home options to create a feeling of normalcy and comfort. While demand for Pom Pom’s take-home pints—particularly plant-based options—was already great, now it started to explode. “Right from the beginning, we weren’t finding what we needed for vegan ice cream,” explains Kish. “We started working on recipes of our own, first on a small scale in our kitchens. Then, during Covid, the demand became so great we rented a kitchen space to keep up. During that time we perfected our recipes, did a general rebrand, built a website, created labelling and really got everything set up to start selling Pom Pom pints in other locations.”
Cue the Meaford location. What you might not know about Pom Pom’s adorable Meaford storefront is that the back of the shop is a full production facility for their vegan ice cream. Here they’re able to fill the demand for plant-based pints being sold around Ontario as well as offering the Pom Pom experience to the town just down the road from where it all began.
The Meaford shop is a different animal than Thornbury. Open year-round (ice cream cravings pop up during snowy months, too) and home to an epic espresso machine, you can stop by the Meaford location for fresh scoops, fresh-baked pastries and take-home flavours, hot and frozen mochas, takeout pizza and gobs of coveted Pom Pom merchandise.
When does a small business become a community fixture? It happened quickly in Thornbury and is continuing to grow in Meaford. Kish and Greyerbiehl love to get involved in local initiatives, from supporting the food bank to offering free scoops after public skating or minor soccer. They know a business is only as successful as the support it gives and receives from the community.
With a ten-year anniversary on the horizon, it’s easy to forget those hazy early days. But they vividly recall the origin of their bouncy name. “Why ‘Pom Pom?’ Well, it’s fun to say,” explains Kish. “Ice cream is fun. It’s meant to be a joyous occasion. And kids can read the words ‘Pom Pom.’ They can remember them and they can ask their parents to come back. We went through many, many other names and ideas along the way, but 'Pom Pom' just stuck.”
The iconic shop’s slogan is “Ice cream for everyone” and it’s fueled their desire to both perfect their plant-based ice cream and serve a top-quality scoop every time. While they didn’t set out to be known as a vegan destination, they’ve found that people will drive quite a distance to have that true ice cream shop experience with plant-based desserts. Greyerbiehl adds: “That feeling of looking up at the board, choosing your flavour and placing your order is the best.”
Tackling Ontario’s Greatest and Toughest Adventure Race
words & photos :: Kristin Schnelten
Evan Edgell, Thomas Douglas, Carson Blackwell and Gabe Sims haven’t seen another human in nearly four hours. The team of 17-year-old rookies has spent a sleepless September night squelching around the Ontario wilderness, heaving and dragging their bikes in thick and thorny underbrush, over ankle-rolling scree, through concrete-thick muck up to their axles.
Rain is falling in relentless sheets, and solid cloud cover has choked every ray of moonlight. With nothing but a map and compass to guide them past the collective pool of their headlamps and exhaustion bringing them to their knees, they’re pretty sure they are truly done. Lost, even.
Maybe?
The group does have a GPS unit. And four cell phones. But they’re sealed in tamper-proof bags, stored deep in soggy backpacks. The
team is physically and mentally depleted, and the temptation to throw in the towel is high. Thoughts of an escape route glimmer like the promise of a steaming pepperoni pizza set before a roaring wood stove.
Gabe digs out the plastic bag. Defeated and deflated, the athletes stare down at his hands. After weighing their options (are there others, really?), all four nod their heads in agreement: It’s time to break the seal.
He reaches for the tab, but the bouncing light of approaching headlamps freezes him: People! A brief greeting proceeds the headsup that saves them: Yup, you’re going the right direction. The next check-in point should be just around the bend.
An instant frozen in time, a team’s fortune turned 180 degrees. The boys repack bags and surge ahead in a sleepwalking daze. In the mere minutes before they reach that check-in, the sun begins to peek through the trees. The maddening rain ceases. They leave the station reinvigorated, determination doubled.
Finding the strength you didn’t know you had, sharing encouragement, overcoming gargantuan hurdles—this moment of truth is what Wilderness Traverse is about.
An overnight multisport competition established in 2010 by internationally recognized racer and organizer Bob Miller (a Collingwood local and bona fide celebrity in the adventure-racing world), Wilderness Traverse has developed a reputation as the most prestigious race of its kind in the country. This slog of a bike section is one of three disciplines, along with paddling and trekking, in the 150-ish-kilometre event. It all began well before sunrise, a short (or excruciatingly long) 24 hours ago.
Saturday was a dewy morning, with mist-shrouded trees in full autumn colour. Yawning and stretching, fresh and clean, spandexclad racers—more than 200 of them—milled about the starting area just west of Algonquin Provincial Park, stacking bikes and schlepping plastic bins large enough for at least one corpse. Hastily labelled with
tape and Sharpie, they bore team names both ominous and amusing: This Is A Terrible Idea, We Signed The Waiver, No Truck Home, Sober And Confused.
Inside each bin: A change of shoes, dry socks, extra layers, bike helmets, piles of food. Racing nutrition like energy bars and gel packs, yes; also Ziploc and paper bags stuffed with cold pizza, drivethru burgers and convenience-store candy.
Organizers will spend much of the day shuttling these bins and bikes to transition areas (TAs) throughout the course. Each TA is staffed by volunteers who fill water bottles, answer questions, encourage and uplift, call for help when needed. Finding their way to each TA—and the piles of checkpoints (CPs) in between—is up to the racers. The course is entirely unmarked.
By 8:00 a.m. that first day racers and volunteers have made their way inside, where Miller delivers a welcoming pep talk and rundown of the event. While he chats, volunteers make their way through the
tables and chairs, handing a single, sealed envelope to each team. When he’s finished speaking, racers are hovered and ready.
Miller gives the okay, and they tear into envelopes. Prior to this moment, teams knew the starting point, length and the three disciplines, but very little else. What they have now is scarcely more: a few printed topographical maps, marked not with routes but dotted with tiny circled CPs and TAs.
The Wilderness Traverse is open to teams of three or four, and typically each team has one navigator. They’re easy to spot in the muffled flurry that follows: Each is at the centre of a team huddle, hunched over a table littered with maps, compass in hand, pointing at landmarks and making notes. Teams have roughly 90 minutes to make their plan before they pack up and head to the start line.
“Everyone knows it’s going to get hard at some point, but knowing you’re going to push through, setting up your mind ahead of time helps.” – Bob Miller
The course begins with a short 2 km running race around headquarters, each team choosing their strongest runner to toe the line. An adventure in itself, racers report bogs, bugs, tight turns and fallen logs.
The object of this leg race is simple: Avert the chaos of 100 canoes entering the water at once. And it works. The five-minute spread between first to last runner carries through to the shore, where paddlers mostly have enough space to jump in and dig in.
The saga from this wet and frenzied point to the far-off finish is as varied as the teams themselves. Some will complete the course before the cutoff time of 30 hours. Others will skip a short section or two, completing a slightly shorter course. Nearly a quarter will call it quits from pure exhaustion or befuddlement, or be forced to DNF (did not finish) along the way. At least one team won’t even make it to the end of this first paddling leg.
Although the venerable Wilderness Traverse is known in the
adventure racing world as the de facto Canadian championship, part of its appeal is that it welcomes all levels of athletes, from rookie to elite. But it’s tough. Very tough. Making multiple attempts over many years, taking one DNF after another, isn’t unheard of. The course location changes every year, making the finish line an ever-changing goal that keeps racers returning, hoping to eventually reach.
Margaret Stefels of Team NARly There admits her first attempt, in 2020, was “a disaster.”
“Our navigation went awry,” she says. “The first leg was a trek. We were at a stream, filling up water, doing foot care, and we bumped into a canoe team coming by on a portage. One of the racers looked at us and said, ‘Wow. You’re a rookie team, and you’re doing an amazing job. Well done.’ And then he realizes we have no canoe.”
Team NARly There had managed to veer so far off the intended trekking route that they wound up in the path of the second, paddling, leg. After seven hours of bushwacking and an unplanned full-kilometre swim, they eventually threw in the towel.
On her second attempt, Stefels and her team made it through one full day and into the night. “We were crushing it on the mountain bike leg; we felt so good. We got onto the trek, and everything fell apart again,” she remembers. “We kind of started wandering around in the dark, and at the end we were sitting on a rock by a lake, with no clue where we were on the map. We just couldn’t make sense of anything.”
Calling headquarters for help meant the end of the race—or so Stefels thought. She later realized they could’ve made the call, found their way back on course and feasibly completed the race as an unranked team, a designation that simply means you can’t say you came in Xth place. But she admits, “I don’t know if we would have been in a position at that point to continue.”
It’s these nuances in rules and regulations that Barb Campbell, longtime racer turned invaluable volunteer, coordinates. Sitting behind flickering screens at race headquarters, it’s Campbell who answers the calls for assistance and monitors the tiny dots that jump around a digital map (every team is equipped with a send-only GPS tracker that organizers and spectators view in real time, on the edge of their collective seats, online).
Not your typical slopes.
The mountain means something different for everyone. If you’re like us, it’s one part love for the people we do it with and one part commitment to pushing ourselves. It all meets where family flows together on the Okanagan’s best terrain, covered with 100% from-the-sky snow. If this sounds like you and yours, join us, knee deep in joy and lifted high by our village vibe.
We’re here for the heart core.
“Usually people are dropping out because they’re tired, they’re cold, they’re discouraged. They just can’t quite make it to the end,” says Campbell. “They’re usually not dropping out because of an emergency.” Besides being monitored via their tracker locations, racers are required to carry emergency supplies, such as reflective blankets and fire-starting tools, to thwart dire situations.
Bob Miller, as captain of the second-place Team Canada Adventure at the 2019 World’s Toughest Race: Eco-Challenge Fiji, knows firsthand, “Positive attitude is everything. Even as very experienced racers, we struggle with attitude. The sport is mentally taxing, and people break down mentally before they break down physically.”
“Everyone knows it’s going to get hard at some point, but knowing you’re going to push through, setting up your mind ahead of time helps,” he says.
Miller is adamant that it’s not necessarily the teams with the greatest fitness levels who podium at adventure races. It’s the teams with the best navigators and the best attitudes.
At transition areas, he says, “You’ll see the happy teams and sometimes a grumpy team, and the chances of the grumpy one finishing are way less than then the teams that are having fun or just maintaining a positive outlook.”
At each of those TAs, the frontrunner teams fly in, make the gear switch, grab food and scarf it on the way out. But as the hours wear on, teams further down the leaderboard stroll to the parking lot, sit on the pavement and hang out for half an hour—soothing blisters and savouring cold burgers.
Two co-ed teams were neck and neck for first place at nearly every checkpoint, but Collingwood-based Peaks and Trails Running Series is the first to emerge from the woods at the finish line, taking first place at 3:01 a.m. with Raid Pulse hot on their tails, just 24 minutes behind.
Later, at the awards ceremony, Peaks and Trails will take home $1,500 in cash and other prizes and will proudly accept a three-foothigh carved beaver, the coveted travelling Wilderness Traverse trophy.
But first the remaining teams need to find their way to the finish line. They continue to trickle in through the long night and hot day,
and just before 3 p.m.—an hour before cutoff—the final team walks beneath the archway, limping and dazed. They collapse into the grass at headquarters, having paddled, portaged, biked and trekked for nearly 29 hours.
Finding the strength you didn’t know you had, sharing encouragement, overcoming gargantuan hurdles—this moment of truth is what Wilderness Traverse is about.
A few participants and volunteers are there to congratulate with claps and cheers, but for the most part it’s an anticlimactic moment. Months (and sometimes years) of training and planning wrap up with little more than some high-fives and an ice-cold carton of chocolate milk.
Team Unknown ETA, the first all-youth team to sign up for the Wilderness Traverse, came back from that low point on the bike leg to cross the line just shy of 1 p.m.—and at least one of their grandmas was there to greet them.
“I think that was the first time we had grandparents at the finish line,” laughs Campbell. “And the boys didn’t just finish, they came in 30th out of more than 60 teams.”
Miller was blown away by the rookie team. “Honestly, beforehand I gave them maybe a 10 per cent of chance of finishing the race. I was like, There’s no way. But they totally crushed it,” he says.
Carson Blackwell was conflicted when he crossed the finish line: “I thought, Wow, that was really impressive that we were able to finish. I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. I don’t really want to go through that again anytime soon. But in the back of my mind I thought, But maybe I would like to try, now I know what I’m getting into.”
Blackwell echoes the words Miller delivered to competitors that first morning: “You will love it. You will hate it. You will feel powerful. You will want it to end. Then, when it’s all over and you’re back to your regular day-to-day life, you will crave to do it again.”
words :: Glen Harris
I still remember my first time out west in the mountains riding the chairlift up, up, up and into the clouds. Then an offload, another on-load, then up some more. For me it was Whistler, and it changed my life. The next decade brought an override: Skiing in the Mountains, youthful freedom and opportunity for adventure-themed travel overrode all practical decisions. I entered the mountain culture and wasn’t looking back. Ski bohemia. Friendships. Travel.
Although life brought me back to Ontario, the mountain mentality never left. My friends and I started glading, venturing into the valleys between the lifts, scouting parks and clubs for access to a few powder turns in the sidecountry.
Eventually I watched the process start all over again. Teenagers now, my two kids
had put in the work: years of ski lessons, dabbling with racing, free skiing with friends, a few Quebec road trips and Ontario glades (the tightest out there!). It was time. My daughter stepped up: “Dad? Can we ski out west this winter?”
We did some research and chose SilverStar. In all my years out west I never made it to the Okanagan Valley resorts and
The girls are quickly approaching an age where they start looking past high school with excitement and trepidation. This chatter carried on throughout the day’s commute. What schools are they applying to? What programs did the schools offer? How big is the school, what are the extracurricular activities and where is it located? McGill? Dal? UBC? Perhaps a school overseas?
Our shuttle driver began touting everything the Okanagan Valley had to offer: the trail systems, climbing, beaches, fishing and kiting spots— and mostly the relaxed environment—is what keeps him here.
really didn’t know what to expect. There were three of us, my daughter Noa and one of her best friends, Brooklyn.
The day came. We piled into the car and headed down Airport Road.
All very important considerations. Big, life-altering decisions really.
We battled through YYZ, figured out how to attach our bag tags and landed in Kelowna Airport—the most chill and relaxing airport
I’ve been to. A total contrast to Toronto. The travel stress I seem to have acquired in recent years dissipated as we got our skis from oversize baggage and jumped into the shuttle.
Just under an hour from Kelowna, SilverStar consists of four different mountain faces of the Monashee Range. With 132
had to offer: the trail systems, climbing, beaches, fishing and kiting spots—and mostly the relaxed environment—is what keeps him here.
He points over at certain ranges and talks about the cat and heli operators. The sun bounces off the deep lakes and
The sun bounces off the deep lakes and the hillside is spotted with the vineyards and orchards of the Okanagan.
runs, it’s a big place with the heart of a small town. The mid-mountain village offers true ski-in/ski-out access to the slopes. With loads of progressive terrain, SilverStar is family-friendly but the 1,328-hectare back side throws down big-league gauntlets of steep and deep.
Our shuttle driver was a Whistler expat, so we bonded over that. He then began touting everything the Okanagan Valley
the hillside is spotted with the vineyards and orchards of the Okanagan. Eventually we start ascending in elevation as the snow banks grow, and we can see ski runs heading up into the clouds. We quickly settle into our oversize slopeside two-bedroom walk-out with our own hot tub and ski lockers next door.
Heading up the gondola the next morning the girls are stoked, their excitement palpable.
Over the next few days we explore the resort and get our bearings, make it out for fresh groomers and take in some night skiing, which is not that common out west.
And then, just as we were really comfortable and feeling at home, the trip was done. But it was obvious looking at the ridges and the sidecountry that SilverStar had plenty more to offer. The girls’ stoke kept rising. Let’s get back here. They spotted the downhill mountain bike features and made summer plans.
Heading home I couldn’t help but listen to the girls chat away. Notably the conversation had shifted. Maybe do a gap year or two? Come back for a season to SilverStar? Resort options across Canada were now being weighed with excitement and trepidation. What were the towns like? Staff accommodations? Perhaps a resort in Europe?
All very important considerations. Big, life-altering decisions really.
First tracks, full sends and every run in-between—spend your longest days in jackets, bibs and pants built to keep you out there.
With a GPS-enabled phone in our pockets 24/7, complacency about map-reading skills is an easy habit to fall into. But cell towers don’t offer full coverage—and batteries die. Possessing the ability to navigate, device-free, in the wilderness could prove crucial to survival in an emergency situation.
It can also be downright fun.
After hosting map-and-compass events in the area for years, local orienteering enthusiasts recently established Dontgetlost South Georgian Bay, an offshoot of a Hamiltonbased orienteering club. The organization coordinates year-round events that range from introduction clinics to timed races, and word is getting out about that fun factor.
“We had about 100 people at our first event at Loree Forest in April 2023,” says volunteer and co-founder Barb Campbell. “And we’ve had participants ranging in age from 5 to 75.”
If you want to take part in a clinic but can’t tell north from south, it’s all good. Volunteers are there to help, providing orienteering maps, explaining symbols and walking you through the basic skills. Then they lead the group on a beginner course to practice those new skills together.
“The orienteering community is just fantastic. Everyone is so supportive and encouraging,” says Shannon Taylor, a regular at Dontgetlost events, who progressed from never-ever to nationallevel competitions in just a few years.
“It’s amazing. It’s like a scavenger hunt for adults. But yet, little kids can do it with their parents, too,” she says. “I just did the Canadian championships, and there are people in their 80s doing it as well, and they’ll keep doing it as long as they can walk and hike. You’re just as competitive as you want to be. I love it, because as I get older it’s going to keep me getting out in nature and my brain active.”
Dontgetlost South Georgian Bay has multiple events planned for the upcoming year, including bike and foot navigation races this fall and both ski and snowshoe orienteering this winter. Locations are nearby and event fees are low, primarily helping to fund the Dontgetlost Adventure Running Kids program, which operates in several southern Ontario towns.
Visit www.dontgetlost.org/sgb for event info and to sign up for their newsletter.
Unfortunately, the days of heading into the woods with a shovel and rake to build rogue mountain bike trails are coming to an end. These days there are more riders, more trail users and more special interest groups. Fortunately, there are also more organizations continuing to fight the good fight, ensuring new trails are built and landowners are kept happy.
Organizations like the Collingwood Off Road Cycling Club (CORC), Simcoe County Mountain Bike Association (SCMBA) and many more are putting in the work to maintain, expand and enhance our trail systems.
But way back in the day there was only one organization: the International Mountain Bike Association (IMBA). It started in the U.S. in 1988, publishing the “Six Rules of the Trail” manifesto to encourage responsible riding and ease land managers’ concerns. IMBA’s mission—“to create, enhance, and protect great places to ride mountain bikes”—has remained steadfast, and to work toward their goals north of the border they established IMBA Canada in 2004.
Largely focused on helping organizations like CORC and SCMBA, IMBA’s experience helps smaller clubs get started and larger groups progress.
“We’re really focused on the little guy right now,” says IMBA advocacy coordinator Justin Darbyshire. “We’re working with grassroots, new and emerging locations and assisting them with building themselves out through best practices and lessons learned in communities that are more established.”
This year IMBA Canada is hosting a summit in Peterborough from November 8 to 10.
“The main conversations are going to happen on Saturday,” says Darbyshire. “Friday is a social event and Sunday we’re going for a bike ride. The Saturday event is a mix of panelists and presentations, focused on the theme of building better mountain bike communities. We’ve got a number of panelists, local and regional, some governmental representation and then a number of experts in the field.”
This event is open to anyone interested in trails. If that sounds like you, put down the shovel and head to Peterpatch this November. – Colin Field
Find summit details and community-building inspiration on Instagram at @imbacanada.
As a woman well past her self-conscious years, I have to admit Fran Bouwman’s upcoming Vulva Dialogues intrigues me. Despite my amassed decades of conversation, I can’t recall the world vulva crossing my lips at any point in my life. That absence of vocabulary and lack of recognition of this rather, as Bouwman puts it, “unique and miraculous” part of anatomy is something I’d never taken a moment to consider until now.
Bouwman, a recognized musician, comedian, sculptor and educator, is also the founder and creator of Viva la Flying Vulva. Her vulva sculptures are a bold way of beginning a discussion she says was silenced nearly 5,000 years ago with the inception of the patriarchy. She’s continued that discussion with her Viva La Flying Vulva Positivity Portal—a website with videos, links, blog and vulva merch—as well as a series of events like the recent Vulva Forest Walk held last August and the upcoming Vulva Dialogues at the Simcoe Street Theatre.
The November 21 evening will feature five engaging speakers, each with unique insight into healthy relationships, sexuality, body literacy and diversity. What unites the group is the desire for a more open dialogue.
The speakers include Lisa Pelletier, a registered psychotherapist, registered marital and family therapist and certified sex therapist; Karen Houle, coordinator for Building Gender Diverse Communities at the M’Wikwedong Indigenous Friendship Centre; Nikki Zavitz, a certified Fertility Awareness Mastery Mentorship practitioner, body literacy advocate and founder of Pretty River Red Tent; Dan Fotopoulos, founder of the Everlove men’s group; and Brit Ellis, aka Blu Hummingbird, a multidisciplinary Haudenosaunee artist specializing in beadwork (including vulvas) and tattooing.
The audience is invited to bring forward questions of their own during this evening of poetry, music, comedy and education. “I am beyond thrilled with this dynamic group,” says Bouwman. “It’s going to be a night filled with love, laughter, courage, probably some tears, and a whole lot of awareness and inspiration.” – Allison Kennedy Davies
Find out more and pick up your tickets to The Vulva Dialogues at www.vivalaflyingvulva.com.
Last year, the wildly popular Mountain Movie Fest had its biggest year yet—650 people whooped it up at the threenight event, which raised more than $8,500 for the Protect our Winters (POW) Canada Hot Planet, Cool Athletes program, an in-school education series that teaches teens about the impacts of climate change and demonstrates how they can help.
Slated for the last weekend of November, this year’s unofficial kickoff to the season is going to be better than ever, says Movie Fest founder and organizer Lindsay Earle. “I’m passionate about bringing people together, and even more so if it’s for a good cause, so I’m really excited about year four! It’s been great to see the local support and how much the festival has grown.”
When the Thornbury-Clarksburg Rotary Club started dreaming of a revamped Moreau Park, they began with a vision board. The group hoped to create a space open to everyone, a hub that would attract people of all ages and interests to the central Thornbury park. The resulting wish list is extensive: a concrete skatepark with bowls and lighting, a pump track (if space allows), a year-round walking path, an accessible playground—and maybe even a basketball court.
While final designs and elements are still being discussed, fundraising for the park is already underway, beginning in 2022 with the inaugural Kindness Gala. The glittering night of fundraising and fun, along with its follow-up in 2023, raised nearly $92,000 towards the Moreau Park rebuild.
Bring the family (and cash for raffle tickets—and beer) to see Teton Gravity Research’s Beyond the Fantasy, Warren Miller Entertainment’s 75 and the Salomon QST Film Tour. As always, Earle promises “giveaways galore” from local shops and great brands.
Find details and tickets at www.mountainmoviefest.ca.
But an extensive project requires an extensive budget, so the fun continues. In 2024 the Kindness Gala, billed to be a sophisticated evening with dinner and dancing, will take place on November 9 at the Georgian Peaks Club.
The Town does have a dedicated budget for the project, which is being supported by the Parks and Recreation Development Charges reserve. The remaining funds will be raised through further community efforts like the Kindness Gala, as well as grants and sponsorships.
So what’s the timeline on this build? “Ideally we build everything in summer of 2025. That’s what our goal is,” says Ryan Gibbons, director of community services for the Town of the Blue Mountains. “I think the reality is that it may be a multi-year construction.” – Colin Field
Get your tickets for the Kindness Gala at www.tcrotary.ca.
Imagine skiing for 24 hours at Blue Mountain Resort. From noon on Saturday till noon on Sunday. All. Night. Long. Obviously you’d need a relay team (up to 12 people), unless you’re a maniac like Tommy Lam (who has repeatedly raced it solo). You’d have a ton of fun and raise money for a great cause. Win-win, right?
That’s what the 24h BLUE MTN event is all about: fun and fundraising, with every donation and pledge directly supporting Special Olympics Ontario and the Blue Mountain
Village Foundation. Held at Blue Mountain Resort on the weekend of February 22 to 23, this is the seventh year of the event that sees racers zoom down Smart Alec and speed to their elite spot on the chair, a full lift line cheering and clanging poles as they pass.
“We’ve raised close to $700,000 so far,” says founder Michael Ney. “I was living in Montreal when the [similar] Tremblant event started, and they’re going into their 24th event this year. Last year they raised $6.7 million. This event is fashioned exactly the same. Their event is in December and they already have 435 teams committed. They’ll get to 500-plus teams.”
This is the long game plan for Ney. He hopes to see the Blue Mountain event as big and as effective as Tremblant’s, and slowly but surely it’s getting there. With 35 to 40 teams participating each year, Ney is hoping to get 50 registered this year. And the 2025 event will introduce a new challenge.
“We’re calling it the Escarpment Cup,” he says. “The trophy will be given out to the private club that raises the most money. One year the Georgian Peaks team raised $26,000 alone.” There’s always the timed-ranking bragging rights, as well. Who can complete the most laps? “The last two years it’s been a team from Beaver Valley that has won the event. It’s a friendly competition.” – C. G. Fuego
Gather your team, sign up as a (crazy) solo or join an existing team at www.24hbluemtn.ca.
Georgian Bay Community School’s Pursuits program is a four-credit high school program that focuses on outdoor and environmental education through experiential learning. The official literature for the long-standing Meaford program describes things like a sense of community, critical thinking, teamwork and transferable skills; in everyday terms, it’s a semester filled with backcountry camping and inclassroom planning. Pursuits takes kids on multiday, education-focused paddling trips in Killarney Provincial Park, on the Bruce Peninsula and elsewhere. The students do all the prep, planning and business end of their adventures under the leadership of Ian Carr. It’s an awesome opportunity.
“My brother, sister and I all took the Pursuits program,” says Josh Fletcher, a program alumnus. “We learned so much and really bonded as a group. Georgian Bay is lucky to have something like this; it’s a one-of-a-kind experience that builds community. The program and the film festival showcase how many epic adventures have been had—and can be had—so close to our home.”
Of course keeping a program like this alive requires funding. And that’s where the seventh annual Pursuits Film Festival comes in. Taking place at the Meaford Hall November 29, this year’s instalment promises to be a good one. With outdoor-focused movies, guest speakers and a silent auction, the event is always a good time with some of the coolest locals around. Snacks and beverages keep the conversation flowing before the show, and donated items for the silent auction include local experiences and wicked outdoor gear. With acclaimed international films on slate, this is an inspiring evening of outdoor adventure not to be missed. Grab your tickets at meafordhall.ca before they sell out. – Colin Field
After opening its doors in January last year, Rooted Woodland
outdoor retreat centre is eagerly preparing for its second full cold season. Their upcoming winter program is stocked with outdoor-themed activities including full moon fire and ice events, sauna and snowshoe experiences as well as new moon couples’ ceremonies and cross-country skiing on their extensive trail network.
Nestled in the forest 20 minutes southwest of Collingwood, Rooted Woodland provides a variety of nature-based offerings year-round. Owner and operator Jodie Heffren says winter is a special time to visit, especially with the added benefit of cold exposure after stepping out of the wood-fired sauna.
“The most beautiful thing I have witnessed is seeing people coming in and feeling instant relaxation and an ability to ground,” Heffren adds. “They’re definitely leaving more rejuvenated than when they came in.” – Mathew Channer
To learn more, visit www.rootedwoodland.com or follow @rootedwoodland on Instagram.
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705-351-0905 andrea@remax-bluemountain.com
The RE/MAX at Blue Realty o ice is located in the heart of The Village at Blue Mountain right beside Starbucks. More than two million visitors walk past the o ice window each year. They don’t drive by at 60 kilometres per hour. They WALK past our window and review the listings prominently displayed. Why not put your home in our window?
5 RE/MAX at Blue Realty website
Just type “Real Estate in Blue Mountain” or “Blue Mountain Real Estate” in any search engine and the RE/MAX at Blue website consistently appears in the top 2 organic (unpaid) searches. That’s marketing power to help sell your home faster.
Double Down $154
Save over 40%*
Get two for you or two for your crew with the most flexible lift ticket at Blue. Double Down lift tickets are fully transferable and can be used nearly every day of the ski season.
*Price +HST. Savings based off two Adult lift tickets purchased at a representative window rate of $139. Blackout dates: December 27-30, 2024 and February 15-17, 2025. Offers subject to change without notice. Only available until December 24, 2024.
1. The RAB WOMEN’S KHROMA CONVERGE GTX SKI JACKET is built to take you from untracked slopes to exposed summits and everywhere in between. The GORE-TEX shell offers versatility with three-layer waterproof protection that keeps you dry, and the warm backer technology feels warm and cozy in icy temperatures, wicking away moisture to keep you comfortable on the climb. rab.equipment // 2. The FJÄLLRÄVEN SKULE 28L BACKPACK is perfect for everyday trips to school or work and just as suitable for day hikes. Made from hard-wearing, waterrepellent Oxford fabric in recycled polyester, it has all the right pockets and a padded 15” laptop sleeve, an air mesh back panel, padded shoulder straps and adjustable chest strap. www.fjallraven.com // 3. The ARC’TERYX
CERIUM HOODY is alpine-proven as a winter-climbing midlayer or a standalone at camp, with packable warmth for backcountry rest periods. Driven by an obsessive attention to detail, it offers an exceptional warmth-to-weight ratio for every backcountry adventure. www.arcteryx.com // 4. The SALOMON S/PRO RACE 140 BOOTS are the pinnacle for competitive skiers looking for exceptional power transmission, precision and control. With easy-tocustomize comfort, they combine the best from Salomon’s race and pro lines and are designed to withstand intense turns while offering a lightweight feel and a secure heel lock. www.salomon.com // 5. Being a grownup is no excuse to stop playing. Minds Alive is your source for all the new 18+ LEGO sets, like this sweet MCLAREN P1. Check it out in the Collingwood store or shop online to see the full line of big-kid toys. www mindsalive.ca // 6. The SWANY
X-CELL GLOVE is one of the warmest gloves in the market, thanks to the Triplex alpha insulation system that’s 30 to 50 per cent warmer than standard insulations. Fully waterproof and breathable, the odour-resistant and quick-drying lining is wrapped in a supple and durable performance leather. Your hands will thank you. www.swanycanada.com
7. From blustery trails to high-altitude multi-day backpacking trips, the MOUNTAIN HARDWEAR MEN’S STORM WHISPERER INSULATED JACKET is the one-jacket solution when any weather is possible. It delivers ultralight warmth with enhanced waterproof protection, keeping you warm and dry on the trail or in town. Compressible and stashable, it disappears in your pack until you need it. www.mountainhardwear.ca // 8. Keep warm, embrace the chill—and make a statement—with the unisex heavyweight MUTTONHEAD ALPINE SHERPA VEST. Designed, cut and sewn in Canada with YKK zips and a front phone pocket, it’s perfect for hitting the trails or running errands. www.muttonheadstore.com // 9. Crafted for post-adventure enjoyment, RALLY TRAIL BLAZER is the original Rally ale. It's brewed with artisanal sea salts and blackcurrant for refreshment at the finish line. Go ahead, you’ve earned it. www.drinkrally.ca // 10. Planning cool-weather treks and travels? Check out the insulated JACK WOLFSKIN TEXTOR JACKET for men and TEXTOR COAT for women. Breathable Texapore Core Light Crinkle fabric provides protection from wet and windy conditions on the trail or a city sidewalk. Multiple pockets stash your phone and other essentials, and an adjustable hood tucks away inside the collar. Available at Sail: www.sail.ca // 11. Looking for the best ski boot for freestyle and park? The K2 REVOLVE TBL WOMEN’S SKI BOOTS are your answer. Designed to take your freestyle skiing to the next level, it’s the boot Taylor Lundquist relies on day-in and day-out. www.corbetts.com // 12. The SMARTWOOL WOMEN’S SMARTLOFT VEST is the ultimate compact layer for cold-weather adventures. It features recycled wool insulation for lightweight, packable warmth wherever you go. The DWR finish and stretchy/soft Merino-blend interior fleece will help you power through any fall, winter or spring activity in sustained comfort. www.smartwool.ca
13. The FLYLOW KATINKA HOODY is the ideal midlayer, with soft yet tough fleece that’s breathable as well as wind- and water-resistant. Wear it on the uphill climb, throw a shell over the top for the way down, then don it for après. It hits that sweet spot: warm but not hot and lightweight for easy layering. www.flylowgear.com // 14. A tribute beer to the amazing Collingwood-area community, the BLACK BELLOWS EL 9 WYE is a crisp, refreshing lightly malted helles-style lager. Great for porch sips and backyard strolls. www.blackbellows.com // 15. From the everyday carry to carry-on travel, the OSPREY ARCHEON 40 PACK offers advanced organization, easy access to gear and protects most laptops up to 17”. The ultra-strong, bluesign-approved carbonate coating blends style, sustainability and weather protection. www.osprey.com // 16. Waterproof on the outside, warm on the inside: The NORTH FACE MEN’S THERMOBALL SNOW TRICLIMATE JACKET is an all-purpose snowsports jacket that lets you customize your layering to the current conditions. With 100 per cent recycled DryVent and two different synthetic insulations, you’ll be comfortable from lift to lodge. www.thenorthface.com // 17. The all-new VÖLKL PEREGRINE SERIES SKI excels on hard-packed terrain, and its 3D radius sidecut supports versatility for playful skiing. Thanks to the tailored carbon tips and Titanal frame, it offers impressive responsiveness and easy turn initiation. At the same time, it packs serious power, delivering precise and stable handling. www.skiisandbiikes.com // 18. Your ticket to a lightweight, nimble ride, the LINE PANDORA 92 offers an unmatched weight-to-performance ratio to keep you skiing from the first chair to the last call. With a featherweight feel that enhances edge-to-edge quickness and precision, the Pandora 92 is right at home, ripping hardpack and those few inches of fresh that fell overnight. www.lineskis.com
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words :: Ned Morgan
I remember when winter was unremarkable.
In my childhood, Georgian Bay froze solid year after year, high snowbanks lined every roadway and I recall just one green Christmas— and that was remarkable. I recognize that memory is unreliable, but I’m not alone in believing that snow used to be more abundant.
A recent study in the journal Nature found that snowpack—the multiple layers of snow accumulated over the winter months—has declined dramatically since the winter of 1981 (when I was 10 years old). According to the study that compared datasets in the month of March throughout North America, snowpack fell by seven per cent per decade between 1981 and 2020 in the Great Lakes region.
That’s a cumulative loss of 28 per cent. I’m shocked by the number but I can’t do much with the knowledge (apart from watching my optimism wither on the vine). But do I need a research paper to tell me there’s less snow than there used to be? Personal observation over the last 15 or so years—give or take a few polar-vortex cold spells—leads me to that conclusion.
For snow people, last winter was a merciless hit job on optimism. In recent years most Ontarians have become accustomed to not skiing much in December, as the month has stayed largely green. But last winter, even January was snow-challenged—though some local resorts pulled off small miracles of snowmaking and remained open for the season, albeit with severely limited terrain. And except for a handful of decent weeks, the backcountry was a sloppy graveyard for hope and ski bases.
Those who deny all the scientific and observational evidence that the earth is warming should consider the Neanderthals. Our hominid ancestors, who disappeared roughly 40,000 years ago, presumably didn’t understand they were slowly but surely going extinct (according to some theories, because they failed to adapt to ancient climate change). If they’d had a clue—if enough of them said, “Hold on. Something’s going wrong here… but we have options!”— maybe they would still be around today.
Aging is a sustained readjustment to the previously unthinkable. When I was young I never imagined that winters wouldn’t continue to deliver the cold goods into eternity. But in the 21st century, in much of the temperate region of North America, a month and a half
of consistently dry, plentiful snow feels like a windfall, an occasion for gratitude. I’m old enough to remember a time when nobody was thankful for snow. It was just the medium we existed in for four months each year.
If snow isn’t guaranteed anymore, we need an enhanced perspective to help us through the protracted freeze-and-melt cycles. The Norwegian concept of friluftsliv—embracing the outdoors in winter as a time for redoubled activity and connection—falls a little flat when winter isn’t cold enough. Perhaps a new form of adaptability is key to our salvation. When we can’t ski our favourite
I’m old enough to remember a time when nobody was thankful for snow. It was just the medium we existed in for four months each year.
backcountry trails, we can at least run them with shoe spikes and trekking poles. When snow does fall, we need to stay out longer, wringing the friluftsliv out of every last snowflake.
As a youngster in the snowy ‘70s and ‘80s, my friends and I always stayed out longer. I plan to recapture that oversupply of friluftsliv, even when confronted by an undersupply of the essential raw material.
The sight of a freshly snowbound landscape will always transport me back to long childhood days on skis or toboggans, when bliss was ironclad and freezing to the touch. This winter, a childlike sense of wonder and anticipation will be on tap—no matter the forecast.
