More than the sum of its parks
Journeying 83,000 kilometres to all 45 national parks in one year of living a Canadian dream
CFS ALERT, NUNAVUT— I’m feeling on top of the world!
Quite literally, for I’m standing on the runway of the northernmost permanent settlement on Earth.
Figuratively, for I have now successfully completed my 2017 odyssey during Canada’s 150th anniversary year to see all 45 national parks on my list.
My journey began on New Year’s Day in Alberta’s stunning Waterton Lakes National Park, with the snow-capped Rockies as a backdrop.
It has concluded with four crossovers of Quttinirpaaq National Park atop Ellesmere Island, with Eastern Canada’s highest mountain, glistening Barbeau Peak, as a backdrop.
In between, there were 16 memorable journeys from coast to coast to coast, covering more than 83,000 kilometres by my car, eight ferries, three speedboats, one converted lobster boat, rented cars, 11 separate air charters and one giant military plane.
For the charters, I flew on everything from a Cessna 206, to a Britten-Norman Islander, a Piper Aztec, several Twin Otters, an Astar 350 Helicopter, a Bombardier Dash 8, and a C-177 Globemaster III.
Not only that. I achieved my secondary goal of seeing the four geographic extremities of Canada, plus its geographic centre. They are Cape Spear, in Newfoundland (east), Middle Island in Lake Erie (south), Boundary Peak 186 in Kluane National Park, Yukon (west), and Cape Columbia (north), just a whisker away from Alert’s runway. The country’s centre point? Baker Lake, about 1,600 kilometres north of Winnipeg.
Quite frankly, when I started I had no idea of what was involved. But the more I visited, the more determined I became. I insisted on doing all the planning myself, paying all my bills and setting my own rules.
Air charter was often the only viable option, particularly for the remote Arctic parks. My stay in each park ranged from hours to four days.
National park aficionados might note there are actually 47 parks and reserves listed by Parks Canada on its website, but my odyssey took in 45. I didn’t visit Akami-Uapishk-KakKasuak-Mealy Mountains because the land was only officially transferred by the province of Newfoundland and Labrador in July, or Qausuittuq, on Bathurst Island high in the Arctic, because it didn’t officially open until August. Neither site was in my plan at the outset of this journey, so they will have wait until next time. But, still, what a year! Two of my three final forays took me to the most northern and southern parks of the national network.
Quttinirpaaq National Park was always going to be the most difficult to visit. The closest hamlet is Grise Fiord, almost 800 kilometres south.
There is no regular air service and charter rates are extremely steep.
Thus I opted to pitch a story idea to the Royal Canadian Air Force which I know regularly services their base Alert on the northernmost tip of Ellesmere. To get there, you have to fly over Quttinirpaaq (pronounced koo-tin-ir-pak).
Fortunately, my pitch was accepted, and parka in tow, I flew north for a week with the crew, paying all my expenses. As part of the assignment, I was able to fly with the pilots in the cockpit and get a bird’s-eye view.
While Ellesmere Island is Canada’s third largest island, its latest population is listed as 191, and declining. Those in Alert can say they are closer to Moscow than Ottawa.
The park was created under the name Ellesmere Island National Park in 1988 and is Canada’s second largest, after Wood Buffalo National Park in the Northwest Territories.
It was given its Inuktitut name Quttinirpaaq (“top of the world”) in 1999.
As it turned out, it was the first pass-over of the park that proved to be the best. As we took off from Thule Air Force base in Greenland, we ran straight into a snow squall. “Maybe it’ll get better on the other side,” muttered Capt. Sean Bassett.
Mercifully the weather gods were with us and, as we passed over the narrow, ice-clogged Nares Strait, the sky suddenly opened up. There before us emerged the grandeur and majesty of the British Empire Range, the northernmost mountain range in the world.
There are hundreds of glaciers and ice fields that seem to go on forever. Long, bitter winters and surprisingly little precipitation have created polar desert conditions, with not much vegetation or wildlife.
There is one large lake in the park, Lake Hazen. It is one of Canada’s most northern lakes and the biggest lake north of the Arctic Circle. As we pass over row after row of peaks, it seems we are in an endless winter wonderland.
The undisputed highlight, however, was catching an unfettered view of Barbeau Peak, the highest mountain in eastern Canada. Named after Marius Barbeau, a Canadian anthropologist who studied First Nations and Inuit cultures, it is 2,616 metres in height.
Often shrouded in mist or cloud, the peak is known for its razor-thin ridges and deep crevasses.
The sighting was so breathtaking that even the seasoned Globemaster pilots whipped out their cameras for some fast photos.
Barbeau Peak was not climbed until 1967, and since then, very few successful summits have been achieved.
The northern coast of Ellesmere is famous for its once500 kilometre-long ice shelf which over the last half-century has lost massive pieces through global warming. One breakaway chunk measured almost 50 kilometres in length.
As we landed on the frozen gravel landing strip in Alert, I reflected on what absolute splendour I have seen and how so few Canadians will ever get the chance to experience it. There was also a punched fist for having successfully travelled to the southern and northern extremities of our country.
The trip south had taken place three weeks before when I headed out to perhaps Canada’s most famous birdwatching site, Point Pelee National Park.
Located in the southwestern corner of Ontario near the town of Leamington, this park is a true gem.
It juts out into Lake Erie like a needle and boasts a marshy wetland that one can walk about on an elevated boardwalk. Birds are everywhere. Indeed, most of the park consists of marsh, dominated by cattails and ponds. There are also sandy beaches on Lake Erie.
It is only seven kilometres long and was established in 1918 as the first national park for conservation on the urging of both birdwatchers and hunters.
While there, I also decided to see first hand the 18.5-hectare Middle Island, which is virtually right on the Canada-U.S. border in the centre of Lake Erie.
Inhabited only by cormorants, it is thickly wooded and has the distinction of being the southernmost point in Canada, on the same latitude as Northern California. It is also more than 4,600 kilometres south of Alert, a greater distance than Halifax to Vancouver.
As I climbed into my charter powerboat for the hour-long trip out, I asked driver Jeff Olmstead how many others have wanted to see Middle Island. “You’re the first!” he exclaimed.
In choppy waters, we circled the island, only to disturb the cormorants.
What came as a total surprise, however, was a huge victory column on an island off to the west in U.S. waters. Called Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial, it is the world’s most massive Doric column.
Almost 15 metres higher than the Statue of Liberty, it was built to commemorate the Battle of Lake Erie, one of the last naval battles of the War of 1812. Its name comes from Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, who led the U.S. fleet to victory, but the column is also intended to celebrate the lasting peace between Britain, Canada and the U.S.
I must say it was the last thing I ever expected to see.
Sandwiched between my trips north and south was an exquisite journey to the ponies of Sable Island National Park.
This mystical, sliver-shaped sand bar, more than 300 kilometres east of Halifax, is simply extraordinary. While more than 42 kilometres long, it narrows to less than a soccer pitch at some points, even floods over in high tides.
I went on an air charter with friends from Halifax over the Thanksgiving weekend, and the weather gods were again miraculously with us. Until our day, not one flight had landed on Sable’s sand runway in six weeks. Beach flooding and nasty weather were the culprits.
But we took off in brilliant sun with not a cloud in the sky, and 80 minutes later, the famous horses and scads of seals jumped into view. There are approximately 500 wild horses and 250,000 seals.
There is not one tree on the island save one miniature Scotch pine, but the dunes, grasses, freshwater ponds and glistening pristine beaches combine to make you feel you are off in some magical paradise.
And then, of course, there are the horses that amble at will as you hike by. The rule is to keep at least 10 metres’ distance, which is often hard to do.
The doyenne of the dunes and Sable’s master scientist, Zoe Lucas, used to chart the habits and peccadilloes of each horse. She now concentrates on the fauna, vertebrates and garbage that floats in, particularly wayward party balloons that have become a real hazard. As we tour the island, the horses continue to graze and wander by, some of them scratching themselves on fence posts.
When we hit the first beach, a cluster of seals wallows to the sea. Yet they follow us in the water as we head on, keeping a mindful eye.
On the north beach, we sit for our final reflection. To the north, graze four horses in easy eyesight. And to the south linger a cache of seals.
I feel sublime, totally at peace — as I have often done throughout my odyssey.
What a country! John Honderich is chair of the board of Torstar, the Toronto Star’s parent company.