GLOBE AND MAIL COLUMN

Weekly commentary on travel, exploration, and environment.

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EXPLORING THE WILD FRONTIER OF Jumbo Valley, B.C.

twenty years ago, with a faded orange rope lashed to my waist and an unfamiliar ice axe in hand, I stepped atop the rounded summit of Glacier Dome, in British Columbia's Purcell Mountains.
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SAVING THE DARKWOODS

In July 2008, a German noble sold 55,000 hectares of wilderness to the Nature Conservancy of Canada. Now what do they do with it?
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COULD FLATHEAD VALLEY BE NEXT NAT PARK

This ecologically essential corridor along the U.S.-Canada border is home to the highest concentration of inland grizzlies in Canada. It’s being eyed by nature lovers, politicians and mining and gas companies alike.
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FRIENDLY FRONTIER

A hike with the family in the park (and country) next door.  Exploring the border between Waterton Lakes National Park and U.S. Glacier National Park.
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THE GUIDING LIFE

A rambling profile of Kirsten Knetchel, which swerves towards an expose of the guiding lifestyle, and ends up, in its final breaths, expounding on the principals of leading a deeply contented life.
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MONGOLIAN CURE FOR HOOF PHOBIA

Find out what happens when two-horse challenged greenhorns hit the dusty trail through the lands of Genghis Khan. Well, for starters, we ate a lot of yogurt.
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TAKING ON THE TOUGH-MAN RIVER

They were a group of engineers, celebrating a near-middle-aged reunion by attempting one of Yukon's gnarliest whitewater streams ­ with only three bag-in-a-box wines. No wonder the rocket scientist was worried.
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RIVER'S UP!

River surfing is not entirely new. As far back as the early 1970s, a few steely Germans were jumping on the Eisbach-Ice Creek-in the heart of Munich. But it wasn’t until Corran Addison arrived in Montreal 10 years ago that this fringe sport began to surge towards the mainstream.
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ROMANCING THE TAT

"The Tatshenshini is like a symphony," a veteran river guide told me 12 years ago, as I prepared for my first trip down the remote Northern river.
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SURF CITY, HERE WE COME

If you've been to Montreal lately, you'll have seen them: folks wandering around with surfboards clutched under their arms, shirtless kids pedalling madly toward the St. Lawrence, businessmen driving sports cars with surf stickers plastered across the trunk.
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RAFTING THE ABAY WENZ

It is said that if the gift of the Nile is water, than the Abay is the Gift Giver. From its source at Lake Tana through to Khartoum near the Sudanese border, the Blue Nile winds through lands whose people have never seen a white face. A month long, thousand-kilometre journey by raft brings encounters with bandits, flash floods…and a boy named Abush.
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THE LAST HUNTER

Greenland's dramatic, mountainous east coast was once a paradise for Inuit hunters. But changing times and changing climate have altered that reality dramatically. A 40-day kayak through one of the world’s forgotten fiords.
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THE LONG WALK

Day One. Thorshofn, Iceland. We need to get to the lighthouse. Trying to thumb a ride. No luck. What is with this one-street town? Everyone stares, no one stops. Teenagers cruising back and forth, spinning tires? It ’s Tuesday afternoon. I think I’m in Fargo. Four hours later, still no lift.
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HONG KONG'S WILD SIDE

Exhausted from an unexpectedly desperate paddle around the outer headlands of Sai Kung Peninsula, drawn shoreward by the enticing refuge of Tai Long Wan Bay’s sprawling white sand beaches, I had been caught inside a set of rogue waves that broke far offshore and was now being pummelled in heavy surf.
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THE BIG DITCH

Jeff Rhoads is waiting for me, cup of coffee in hand, at the end of his Salt Lake City driveway. ‘I don’t know why, but I’m feeling kinda nervous about this one,’ I admit as we toss his battered kayak in the back of my pickup, beside the boat I have borrowed. ‘It’s been years since I ’ve paddled much.’
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CHASING MYIEK

Dawn was breaking slowly across the Mergui Archipelago. Soft, golden light poured over the eastern horizon as our three sea kayaks slid silently though a maze of jungle-tufted islets. Apart from the lonesome hooting of an imperial pigeon, all was still. With each stroke, our paddles sent shimmering ripples cascading outwards atop the calm water.
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