Project Provincial

The Goal: Camp my way through the Ontario Provincial parks

The Logistics:
– 100+ parks advertised on ontarioparks.com (86 of which are currently active)
– over 70 current active parks offer car-camping sites
– 14 parks offer back-country/walk-in sites (varying difficulty)
– 11 parks offer winterized/yurt sites
– 20 parks offer paddle-in sites (varying difficulty)
– most parks run seasonally from late spring (May or June) to autumn (October or November)
– parks are scattered either within roughly a 1-6 hour commute from Toronto or a 1-3 hour commute from Thunder Bay

The Stipulations:
1. Must spend 1 night minimum in each park.
2. Never forget the marshmallows.
3. Only revisit/re-record parks if camping method changes. (example: car camping vs. backcountry/portage/yurt)
4. Legal sites only! (Permits for Crown Land included)
5. Every park has to be documented and rated.
6. Start slow and easy and work my way up to the tougher sites.
7. TP is a must.
8. Friends/family are always welcome!
9. Always bring a dog companion when possible.
10. BE SAFE!

The Why?
For my dad. That answer seems so easy as I say it out loud. It’s what I tell all those who are questioning this idea, my motivations and – not to mention – my sanity. But it’s not that simple, is it?
I’ve dreamed of taking off and doing something for as long as I can remember. What that something is has always been an elusive concept though. But when I think about what makes me happy, it’s always been a no brainer – I’m happiest outside.
My dad gave me that. He gave me a childhood of sleeping under the stars, of casting lines from a canoe, of diving into frigid waters and of always searching that next bend in the trail. He gave me unrelenting curiosity. He gave me stories of adventure; of backpacking and cross-country motorcycle trips. Of raft building and raft sinking.
Those stories and moments of childhood bliss would carry me into adolescence and adulthood. Because eventually we grew up. We stopped hunting worms for bait. Stopped spending summer nights with our heads pressed together under a tent roof. Stopped sharing s’mores with sticky fingers.
Losing my dad did something to those memories though. Suddenly, all those stories and nostalgias weren’t enough – aren’t enough. It took 29 years for me to learn that my dad boasted about his family on a daily basis to anyone that would listen. It took 29 years for me to find out he’d been so astonishingly proud of us and everything we’ve done. I never would have guessed that my life could be an accomplishment of his.
But this? This idea to camp, explore, hike, learn and be outside is something I know he’d be proud of. I know he would have loved it – would have been right there exploring along with me.
And if I’m going to do something in life to warrant that pride I never knew I’d somehow earned, then I’m going to do what I know would honour him best. And that’s this. It’s honing a passion he gave me. It’s walking in his footsteps. It’s completing the trails he didn’t get the chance to finish. It’s being outside.