Last year I went to Iceland. It's a smallish country really, with roughly the same number of people as Halifax. The highlight of our trip was a 4-day backpack with friends on a route known as Laugavegur, a 53 km trek from Landmannalaugar to Thorsmork and by no means an easy hike. The route traverses volcanoes, glaciers, extremely steep climbs and even steeper descents. The scenery is unbelievable but you work for every frigging look, that's for sure.
Carrying backpacks weighing somewhere close to 60 pounds apiece, my husband Troy and I set out at the end of July to complete Laugavegur with our Icelandic friends Sigrun and Bjarki. Getting to the trail involved a 2-hour drive from just outside Reykjavik, and then another 2 hours down a dirt road on a tour bus that traversed glacial rivers and navigated switchbacks I'd be hesitant to ride on my mountain bike. When the bus finally dumped us at our destination, I was shocked to find myself in a mini-city of high-tech fabric, extreme four-wheelers and camping gear that you'll never be able to afford. No really, I'm serious... you won't. Think I'm joking? Imagine paying $120 for a Camelbak bladder (JUST the bladder), $25 for a single dehydrated backpacking meal, $40 for a Nalgene bottle. Yes, it's expensive to be "outdoorsy" in Iceland.
And yet, despite the prohibitive costs, the insanely inconvenient travel to get to the trail head, and temperatures that (we found out the hard way) get down to -5° at night at the end of July, Laugavegur sees an average of 8000 hikers per year. Yes, 8000, you heard me right. Astonishing, isn't it?
Our backpacking trip began with a meeting with a park warden. He warned us about jeans, the "pants of death", informed us that a snowstorm was headed for the area where we planned to camp that night, and wished us luck as I dug my toque and mittens out of my pack and watched bikini-clad women splash in a nearby hot spring. I sensed that this was about to be a very challenging hike, and I was right!
8000 hikers per year. On one trail. Statistically it sounds like a lot. Realistically, it's unimaginable. Every turn on the trail we encountered another group. For four days we could always see people in the distance and people following our steps. Every night we camped alongside at least 30 or 40 tents, not to mention all the people who chose to stay in the huts at each campground. It was like car camping in Nova Scotia, but there were no coolers full of Coors Light, no ghetto blasters fronting Kid Rock, no screaming children, no washer toss. This was serious business. Every night as the sun dimmed (it never really got dark) the campground went silent as exhausted backpackers slid into tents for the night and every morning a routine of eating, packing, lining up for the toilets and departing occurred as hikers set off once again. Although this trail was remote, it was never lonely and always occupied by others with a similar goal. You can't imagine what it's like to be surrounded by so many people who appreciate the outdoors as much as you do. Men and women, young and old, traditionalists in wool and techies in Gore-tex - they were all out there, enjoying the scenery, enjoying the challenge, and enjoying the comeraderie of their fellow explorers in the great outdoors.
That was last year's backpacking trip.
This year, Troy and I decided to tackle something more local. Cape Chignecto is a 51 km coastal route around one of Nova Scotia's most scenic shorelines.
This time we set out in mid-July, a week earlier than our Icelandic journey. We arranged the trip to last four days again, and found the trail to be a little more challenging than Laugevegur - no volcanos or glaciers, but definitely steeper in places, and with a temperature pushing 30° each day and insane humidity, a whole lot more uncomfortable.
Chignecto is touted as one of Nova Scotia's great backpacking destinations, and I always thought that as Canadians, backpacking, camping and wilderness exploration is in our blood. Yet over a course of 4 days we encountered 3 other people on the trail. 3! That's less than one per day! What the hell?
Could it be that video games, movies, Lazy Boys and SUVs are destroying our great Canadian desire to explore the wilderness, rough it in nature, and breathe in real fresh air? Is Canada afraid of the wild, the coyotes, the attack squirrels and the oh-so-fearsome horseflies? Have we been pampered to death? Have we fallen into the seduction of air conditioning and paved parking lots and Rotten Ronnie's and microwave meals? Have we given up on what it means to be Canadian? Alas, I fear that might be the case.
I have words for you, Canada. Words like "beavers", "canoes", "maple", "loons", "wilderness", "stars", "birch bark", "wild", "rugged shore lines", "eagles", "wildlife", "free". Have you experienced any of these words lately? Do you really know what it's like out there? Could you tell the difference between a street light and the Big Dipper if your life depended on it?
If the answer is no, then do yourself a favour. Grab a backpack. Get out of cell phone range. Find out what shit is all about, both figuratively and literally. We were never supposed to be a nation of tv-watching, fast-food-eating couch surfers. If a chilly and treeless nation like Iceland can see the beauty and value in spending time outdoors, then what the hell is our excuse? North Face wasn't made for grocery shopping, you know?
Canada, I'm embarrassed. We have one of the most beautiful countries on the planet and if it wan't for the Discovery channel, you wouldn't even know it. The sights in your back yard are National Geographic material, but you're busy checking out the shootings downtown and the deals on pizza pockets in your stupidmarket flyer. There's a whole world out there that you'll never experience until someone plows it with a bulldozer and puts up a strip mall or subdivision.
Oh well, more tranquility for me, I guess. Enjoy your gridlock, screaming neighbours and Blockbuster fees. If stress is stepping in a pile of bear poop or going a day without texting, I'll take it. You don't know what you're missing, Canada, and I say, "Skål!"
Don't know what that means? I'm sure you can Google it from the comfort of your home office.
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