Rapids, Ancient Trees, and River Lore: Our Weekend with Adam Shoalts
There is a distinct, quiet magic that takes over the Grand River valley in late September. The morning mist hangs low over the swifts, the foliage along the Carolinian bluff lines begins its amber turn, and the river demands a cleaner, more deliberate read of the channels.
When you bring together dozens of passionate paddlers to share moving water with modern explorer Adam Shoalts, that magic turns into an unforgettable weekend of storytelling, grit, and living history.
Across two days, four distinct river runs, and two packed evening talks at The Arlington Hotel in Paris, we put our fleet of rugged Nova Craft canoes to work. Guiding these trips alongside Adam offered a rare look at how wilderness instincts forged in Canada’s far north translate seamlessly onto our home waters.
He pointed out scouring rush along the gravel banks, clusters of turkey tail mushrooms, towering shagbark hickories, and ancient hemlocks.
Our operations relied on clockwork logistics, anchored by Joel, who expertly shuttled every cohort of guests to and from the river with seamless calm. On Saturday morning, Adam and I pushed off into the current to lead the opening 9:30 run. The water was crisp, lines were clean, and we navigated the opening stretches without a single incident.
Halfway through the run, we pulled the canoes onto the shoreline for a guided trek deep into the riverside forest. I led Adam and our guests inland to one of the valley’s best-kept secrets: an ancient, 400-year-old hollow sycamore tree standing like a quiet cathedral among the hardwoods. Standing beneath its massive canopy, Adam enthralled the group with his encyclopedic reading of the local ecosystem. He pointed out scouring rush along the gravel banks, clusters of turkey tail mushrooms, towering shagbark hickories, and ancient hemlocks. It wasn’t just a walk in the woods; it was a masterclass in seeing the landscape with the observant eye of a true naturalist.
Following a rapid gear turnaround back at the staging area, our 1:30 afternoon run launched with staff member Josh and his father, Jarret, backing up the fleet. Late September brings lower seasonal water levels, exposing gravel bars and boulder swifts that require quick paddle adjustments. A few boats found themselves hung up on shallow limestone shelves, but Josh worked the current tirelessly, wading in and coaching folks off the rocks with steady patience.
Along the way, the afternoon guests were captivated by the diverse wetlands, spotting tamarack larches beginning their golden turn, massive cottonwoods anchoring the banks, dense basswoods, and an array of migratory waterfowl using the river corridor as an autumn highway.
Sitting in the bow while an octogenarian master carved the stern was an absolute masterclass.
Sunday brought fresh energy and a gentle reminder that moving water is always in charge. On the 9:30 morning trip, our guide Quincy proved his mettle when a canoe pinned unexpectedly on a mid-river rock, requiring a swift, textbook boat recovery. Thanks to his calm direction, the paddlers regained their composure, shook off the chill, and paddled the rest of the route with high spirits and renewed confidence.
I closed out the weekend guiding the final 1:30 run, which wasted no time delivering its own drama. Within the first five hundred metres, two guests caught an edge in a brisk swift and went over. We executed an immediate recovery, brought everyone to shore, and reshuffled our boat pairings to balance out the fleet.
That quick adjustment gifted me one of the absolute highlights of my paddling career.
I moved into the bow of a tandem boat steered by an 89-year-old gentleman who had over seventy years of continuous canoeing experience under his belt. Sitting in the bow while an octogenarian master carved the stern was an absolute masterclass. Working together through the rock gardens, setting subtle draws, and feeling him line up intricate, zigzagging descents through the rapids with effortless economy of motion was pure joy. Seventy years of river wisdom spoke through every pry and rudder stroke. It was a humbling privilege to share a gunwale with him.
The room hung on every word as he unpacked the gritty reality of solo expedition travel across Labrador.
When the boats were finally racked and dried, our community shifted from the riverbank to the warm glow of The Arlington. Both evening pub talks were completely packed with eager paddlers, local historians, and outdoor enthusiasts.
Adam captivated the room with vivid accounts of his latest expedition into the unforgiving interior of Labrador. The room hung on every word as he unpacked the gritty reality of solo travel: navigating cold winds, hauling loaded canoes upstream, portaging through dense black spruce, and relying entirely on personal resolve and traditional navigation. Listening to those remote wilderness tales over pints in the heart of Paris created a bridge between Ontario’s southern waterways and the wild frontiers of the north.
A heartfelt thank you to everyone who joined us and brought such infectious enthusiasm to every swift and trail. Deep gratitude to Nova Craft Canoe for crafting the bulletproof hulls that take river abuse in stride, to the incredible team at The Arlington for their warm hospitality, and to our tireless crew who kept every shuttle, paddle, and safety detail running flawlessly behind the scenes.
The river will always have more to teach us. We will see you on the current.