The joy of going slow

Camping might be the quintessential Canadian vacation. In a country with fewer than five people for every square kilometre and most of us enjoying easy access to nature, sleeping outdoors in the summer is a simple pleasure. Parks Canada even has a section of its website dedicated to learning to camp, with videos, instructions, recipes, gear advice and sample packing lists.

Of course, there are many ways to camp – from glamping in a big rig with all the space and luxury (or more) of home, to a sleeping bag on a (hopefully leak-free) mattress in a (hopefully leak-free) tent. But no matter how much luxury you enjoy or can afford, the distances of this country and the lifestyles of most Canadians mean camping is mostly done with a car. If you have a truck or a large SUV, you may even tow a trailer or fifth-wheel. Most campers need lots of gear and a way to transport it.

Except not me.

Ever since we were raising children, we’ve had a small camper, but sometimes, perhaps even against my better judgement, we go family camping without a car.

Why? Because it’s so liberating!

Car-free travel

This summer, for the fourth time in the past five years, my husband, Dean Bonsma, along with our daughter, Madeleine Bonsma-Fisher, her husband Kent Bonsma-Fisher, and their two children will load our bicycles and head out for a week of camping, completely car-free. It started as an experiment: was it possible to experience that most Canadian of vacations travelling by bike? Could our bicycles and our bodies be sufficiently configured and cajoled to deliver an experience that is as enjoyable and restorative as the car-camping vacations we enjoyed for decades?
The answer, we have found, is “yes.” But it takes some careful planning and the secrets to our success have been refined over the years.

It started with Madeleine’s move to Toronto, and her deliberate decision to choose a home where she and her family could be car-free. They live in a dense, walkable neighbourhood, and mostly organize their work, family and social lives around destinations and activities that don’t require a car. Their house has a two-car garage, but it’s full of bicycles, for different reasons and different seasons. They own or borrow bicycles in a range of sizes for their growing children and for guests. Two of those permanent bicycles are electric cargo bikes, with room for gear and children, and power to aid with hills, distances, or large loads like Christmas trees, flat-pack furniture, or bulk purchases of toilet paper.

When neither their feet, transit nor bicycles will do, they are members of a car-share program, which they use for visiting out-of-town relatives (us!), and vacations. My daughter also works in cycling advocacy and uses her education and her voice to encourage others to consider the environmental and civic costs of our society’s heavy reliance on automobiles. Almost everything from the way our cities are designed to how we spend our dollars and our free time relies on car ownership, but there is growing evidence that neither we, nor the planet, are healthier for it.

There’s also the equity issue. The first major look at the demographics of cycling in Canada was published in 2023 by researchers in Toronto, Greater Vancouver and Montreal. It showed that between 1996 and 2016, “Men, non-visible minority populations (including both white and Indigenous people), low-income, and younger groups all commute by bicycle at higher rates than comparison sub-groups.” With its equity lens, the study focused on commuters rather than Canadians who cycle for sport, fun, or relaxation.

Just because we can

So, a few years ago, when one of us wondered whether we should attempt a weeklong cycling holiday along the Great Lakes Waterfront Trail, just to see if we could do it, a plan was hatched.

That trip around Lake Ontario, from Stoney Creek to Brockville was a huge success, with glorious views, wonderful campsites, and impromptu stops for lake dips and ice cream.

But we also organized the trip expecting to return home by train, only to learn – too late – that VIA Rail no longer allowed bikes on trains. VIA had decommissioned baggage cars during the pandemic, and there was no way we could get home. We ended up renting a large truck at huge expense, both financial and environmental, and decided the next trip would need to be door-to-door.

Year two featured a ride we called Erie Shore. We left our homes in Niagara and Toronto and met in Brantford, cycling south to Port Dover and then camping our way along Lake Erie’s north shore, with overnight stops at Long Point, Turkey Point, Selkirk and Rock Point Provincial Parks. We shortened our daily distances, giving the four-year-old more opportunities to ride his balance bike, adding a second day at the park with the best beach, and allowing for more downtime each day at the campground.

Last year, we planned a more northern route that put us back on trains – this time the GO Train, which allows bikes with certain rush-hour restrictions. We met at Toronto’s Union Station on a Sunday morning in July, hoping we could get four fully loaded adult bicycles (plus two bikes for the children), four adults and two children up to the platform in the 10 minutes between the track announcement and the train’s departure.

Big mistake. Congestion at the elevators (people with mobility devices, strollers and luggage all queuing up for a single elevator) meant we were delayed, panicked and spread out the full length of the train. We didn’t know until the train was on its way north to Barrie, and we could message each other, that we had all actually made it on board.

At our own pace

The Simcoe Loop itself was magical. The route is mostly well-marked and off-road, on fantastic, well-maintained trails with lovely pastoral or natural views. We had shortened our daily distances even more, added a small screen tent to our gear to provide protection from insects and bad weather, and took more time along the way to visit attractions, stop at playgrounds, eat fresh peaches, and enjoy being outdoors at our own pace, under our own power.

As on previous rides, we had pre-booked our campsites and planned a grocery store stop for provisions and campfire refreshments near the end of each riding day, so our evenings pleasantly resembled our decades of car camping, even when it rained.

Try going slow

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I secretly hope that some of you might try it too. Maybe not with babies in diapers, maybe not sleeping on the ground, but there is something magical about exploring the countryside that’s close to home, slowly, quietly and intentionally. Almost every time I find myself driving one of the roads we’ve cycled, or on Highway 401 between Oshawa and Kingston, I look at the scenery whizzing by and wish that I were on a bike.

Many Canadians already enjoy slow travel on foot or by canoe, travelling into the wilderness with only what they can carry on their backs or their boats. The benefit of bike-packing is you are seldom far from a coffee shop, restaurant or hotel, so if rain or the prospect of another night on the ground seem daunting, the comforts of civilization are often just a credit card away.

But even if this is not for you, you can help ensure others can enjoy slow travel. Advocate for and support community investment in cycling infrastructure, like dedicated cycle tracks or safe off-road trails. Give cyclists a wide berth when you encounter them on shared-use roads, and smile and wave when you see them go by, especially if they are children.

And you can apply slow travel to your own rest and relaxation, by slowing down, spending less, staying closer to home, going outside and paying attention. As the whimsical children’s book Snail’s Staycation by Canadians Nasreem Hrab and Kelly Collier, points out there is something powerfully restorative about moving slowly and taking in the sights, smells and scenery of nearby nature. Like the creation story found in Genesis, our Creator, we, and the snails can all “find wonder around every corner.”