Muskoka Lake, Ontario, 1987

Readers of these Toronto Diaries might be forgiven for thinking me a dull boy. I may have given the impression that, aside from nightclubbing, my Toronto days were all about work and no play.

In the second “chapter” of this series, I quoted a letter from an old climbing buddy (himself stranded on the Prairies at the time) who worried that while Toronto life might scratch my cultural itch, it was unlikely to meet the needs of the adventurer in me. He’d obviously not seen Queen Street West on a Saturday night.

“…like, where are the mountains?”

He was right, the Niagara Escarpment, lovely as it is, didn’t quite match the challenges of Mount Andromeda’s “Skyladder” or the Silverhorn Arete, on Mt. Athabaska.

Nevertheless, Torontonians play as hard as they work. I was soon initiated into the weekend getaway, which begins on Friday nights with an adrenalin-infused traffic battle out of the city on Highway 401, to “Cottage Country.”

The family of fellow photographer and roommate Brian Hay (skipper (on right) of the ship of fools and source of many amusing incidents recounted here, since my memory is unreliable) owned such a rural escape, on the shore of Lake Muskoka.

Of the photographs I made there, this “morning after” shot has alway been my favourite. To my (outsiders’) eye, it records an essential element of Canadian life, with a hint of intrigue and humour … or it might just be a picture of people in a boat on a lake suffering hangovers — as I said, genuine Canadiana.

It came as a surprise to me when the Faces of Canada jury deemed it worthy of inclusion in the 125th anniversary collection, donated by sponsoring Ford Motor Company to the Canadian Museum of History, in 1992.

Canoeists, Killarney Provincial Park, Ontario, 1987

Since northern Ontario is as much water as terra firma, I accompanied friends and workmates to other lakes, some forgotten, while others, including the Great Lakes, and those in nearby Killarney Provincial Park, left great impressions on my inner adventurer.

I enjoyed my first sailing experience on Georgian Bay, in a nice little sloop owned by a fellow advertising photo factory drone named George.

Again, right after work on Friday, we’d drive north to pretty Penetanguishene, on the southeasterly tip of the bay, to spend the weekend cruising between tree-clad islands and out on a stiff breeze toward the vast horizon of Lake Huron. Evenings, we’d meet other boaters, raft up, and make music (I played harmonica) that echoed off pink granite shores.

Morning Coffee, Georgian Bay, Ontario, 1988

The Killarney canoe trip (which, counting myself, included 5 of the Muskoka gang) began with a surreal moment in Orillia when Brian, with his curly, leonine mane, was mistaken for Bon Jovi by a teenage gas station attendant. The error made the girl’s day, and Brian’s, who went by the rock star’s name for the rest of the weekend … and beyond.

I remember again the beautiful pink granite of the Canadian Shield, turned neon by the setting sun, the sparkling white quartzite ridges of the La Cloche Mountains, as well as the exhausting portages, made worse by marauding mosquitoes and suffocating humidity, which I endeavoured to escape by using my underwear, drenched in lake water, as headgear.

The discomforts of wilderness travel convinced one couple in our little expedition to abandon the trip after the first traverse of trail and swamp, or perhaps it was a night around the campfire with lunatics and a smutty game of “finish the sentence.” They got no sympathy from Brian and Deirdre, who discovered halfway that their rental canoe harboured a few gallons of Lake Simcoe behind the bulkheads.

The deserters missed all the enchanting beauties that inspired Group of Seven painters to save the area from loggers. Their campaign ultimately saw the chain of over 50 lakes protected in a provincial park and 10,000 km² of Georgian Bay shoreline set aside as a wilderness reserve.

On Sunday, we celebrate Canada Day. Here’s a toast to misty mountains and towering trees, shining seas and shimmering lakes, sailing and hiking, canoeing and climbing — all the things that make us Canadian, eh?

And beer.