That’s especially true for the community of Tofino, on Vancouver Island’s west coast. Canada’s surfing capital stood in for the Oregon coast in The Big Year and it’s got the birds to back up its growing reputation as a birding destination. Besides being on the Pacific Flyway—a major migration route—and an overwintering spot for many species, Tofino harbours many exotic and stray birds blown off course or totally lost.

Of course Tofino is not the only birding hot spot in Canada. Check out this migratory bird atlas from the government of Canada to find an important sanctuary near you. And surf through RAMSAR’s site to find internationally important birding areas around the world.

Or just take our advice and check out these hot spots:

BC

George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary

The numbers say it all at this nature area on Westham Island in the Fraser River estuary: 240 species, 1.5 million total birds. The 850-hectare sanctuary, an hour from Vancouver, is a popular winter home of the lesser snow geese. Trails lead around the island and there’s an interpretive centre.

Alberta

Lesser Slave Lake Bird Observatory

Song birds migrating from the northern boreal forest along the east side of the Rocky Mountains get pinched between Lesser Slave Lake and Marten Mountain, funnelling them onto the lake’s eastern shoreline. In the fall and spring, as many as 5,000 birds fly through daily, giving weight to the Lesser Slave Lake Bird Observatory’s reputation as “The Point Pelee of the North.” It’s also a hot spot for bird banding in the boreal forest with 102 species and counting.

Beaverhill Lake

This shallow lake, 70 kilometres east of Edmonton, attracts up to 50,000 birds at a time, more than 200,000 in total, during the peak fall and spring migrations. While the forest around the lake is important for raptors and other upland birds, it’s the monster slough itself that’s the big draw for 32 different species of ducks, geese, swans and shorebirds. The 18 km long, 10 km wide lake is only three metres deep with expansive and food rich shallow water and mud flats.

Manitoba

Oak Hammock Marsh Interpretive Centre

Migrating birds can do a lot of damage to farmers’ fields by grazing—the sheer weight of thousands of birds doesn’t help either. This engineered marsh is designed to mitigate the damage to commercial crops by encouraging birds to land there instead of the fields. Water levels are regulated to encourage nesting, feeding and resting. The birds are onboard: Hundreds of thousands of water and shorebirds stop in every spring and fall.

Quebec

Cap Tourmente National Wildlife Area

An hour north-east of Quebec City the Canadian Shield meets the St. Lawrence Lowlands, the Appalachian Mountains and the St. Lawrence River at Cap Tourmente creating a unique ecosystem including a huge bulrush marsh. This area was Canada’s first RAMSAR recognized wetland and is protected as a National Wildlife Area. Greater snow geese stop here on their annual migration as do dabbling ducks, while warblers and other song birds flock between the escarpment and the St. Lawrence River. More than 306 species have been IDed in the sanctuary, which includes interpretive trails and a visitor centre.

Ontario

Point Pelee National Park

The narrowest point across Lake Erie attracts both birds and butterflies during the fall migration as they flock in the forest and protected marshes on the long spit, waiting for the ideal weather window to continue on their way. In the spring it’s a good resting spot after the long crossing. Yet, any time of the year Point Pelee is considered one of the greatest birding destinations in the world with 360 species identified in the park.

Lake St. Clair

The system of marshes and dune ridges along the shore of Lake St. Clair is one of southern Canada’s most important resting, feeding and breeding areas for migratory birds, especially tundra swans and canvas back ducks—25 and 18 percent of the species’ population respectively. In the spring, more than 350,000 birds stop along the shore. Fall numbers are lower, but still impressive.

Long Point Provincial Park

The micro climate created by this sand spit on the north shore of Lake Erie supports species usually found much further south. It’s also an important stopping spot for migrating tundra swans, canvasbacks and redhead duck. Song birds, bats and butterflies also use the park as a resting area during the spring and fall.

Saskatchewan

Quill Lakes

Named after the feather quills found on the shore and shipped to England to be turned into pens, it’s no surprise these likes are great for birding. 85,000 geese, 100,000 ducks and 12,000 cranes visit Canada’s largest saline lake and neighbouring lakes twice a year. The lakes are at the bottom of a closed drainage from the surrounding glacial moraines, an important nesting and staging area in eastern Saskatchewan.

PEI

Malpeque Bay

Famous for its oysters, the bay on PEI’s north shore is equally ideal for nesting colonies of herons, cormorants and Piping plovers. 25 kilometres of sandpits and dunes protect the salt and freshwater marshes from the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The intertidal flats attract migrating waterbirds.

New Brunswick

Grand Manan Island

The twice-daily flush of the Bay of Fundy’s huge tides bring marine nutrients to the surface, attracting bird life and marine species year-round to the islands around Grand Manan, the largest in the Bay of Fundy. The island is on the eastern flyway, where many migratory birds stop. 360 species have been identified and 131 have been found breeding on the islands.

Newfoundland

Witless Bay Sanctuary Ecological Reserve

An hour south of St. John’s and on the edge of the Avalon Peninsula is one of the busiest bird colonies in Canada. The islands of Witless Bay are home to North America’s largest Atlantic puffin colony (260,000 nesting pairs), the second largest Leach’s storm petrol colony (620,000 pairs) and thousands of black-legged kittiwakes and common murres. The May to September nesting season is the only time of year these bird species spend on land.

Nova Scotia

Southern Bight-Minas Basin National Wildlife Area

Big tides expose sand and mud flats in this bay near Wolfville, attracting large numbers of waterbirds like ducks, geese and swans. But it’s especially important for sandpipers: Bird counters estimate more than 100,000 semi-palmated sandpipers and 10,000 Least Sandpiper are among the one to two million birds present during the summer.

It is time to rationalize. I am at a naturist camp. Nudity is not foreign to me. I don’t shy away from skinny-dipping, and the ratty towel I use at the gym is too small to wrap all the way around my waist. Also, now that I’m getting older—into my late thirties—I seem to spend increasing amounts of time in public with my fly undone. (My wife is not impressed.)

I reassure myself that I’m no shrinking violet, which immediately brings to mind worries about how cold it is outside. The sun is strong, but it is only about 20 degrees, with a wind that could be both stiff and wilting at the same time.

“What are you afraid of?” I ask myself. I step out of the car and slip my shorts and sundries past my knees and over my sandals. The rush of liberation that is supposed to come with being naked, the one that’s parroted by so many naturist testimonials, fails to take hold.

I’m aware of every hair on my rear end as I rummage through gear in the trunk. My car keys, pen and notebook go into a fanny pack. Normally, I consider fanny packs to be dorky, but they’re useful enough to be tolerably worn in certain circumstances. This is one of them. I consider wearing it loosely around my waist with the pack in front, but instead sling it over my shoulder like a purse.

I step self-consciously across the lot on legs that feel newly gangly and foreign. It takes all my willpower to keep my arms straight and to my sides, not creeping out in front to act as a form of concealment.

As I walk, a caretaker bicycles by. At least I assume he is a caretaker because he’s wearing typical caretaker garb. The point being, he has clothes on.

When I open the door to the office, a woman shrieks. Whatever has caught her attention turns out to be over my shoulder in the parking lot and not more centrally located, but the blood has already rushed out of my face, and possibly one or two other things.

Two young women behind the counter are wearing only sympathetic smiles. One pushes a waiver toward me and stays close, directly across the belly-high counter. I attempt to limit my
peripheral vision but still read the first line of the waiver four times, trying hard to be as unconcerned about her breasts as I trust she is. I work my way slowly down the page and manage to spell and sign my name correctly.

I’m now a registered naturist.

The reason I’ve come to Bare Oaks—located about half an hour north of Toronto, not far from busy Highway 400—is to see whether being in a state of nature helps outdoor people be in a better, well, state of nature. Or at least, that’s the official reason. I’m also here because I’ve always wondered what goes on at a place like this.

My visit begins with a quick tour of the clubhouse and grounds led by the camp’s owner, Stephane. Stephane—who has a large moustache but no tan lines—tells me that the club was started back in 1972, and now has about 500 members. He says that he’s been a naturist since the 1980s, when he explored the logical extension of his love of skinny-dipping.

As we walk through the clubhouse, Stephane explains the difference between naturism and nudism—naturists are more inclined to see nudity as part of a closer relationship with the natural world, while nudists just enjoy getting naked, anywhere. He also explains the body-image problems that result from clothing and the restorative power of simply going without. But I’m having trouble concentrating. Instead, I’m wondering if it is better to follow a nude person very closely as he climbs stairs, thereby risking an inadvertent bump, or to drop back a few steps and resign yourself to where this leaves your eye level.

After my tour, I pick out a tent site at the back of the property. Setting up takes a little longer than when I’m clothed. It’s not just that I don’t have any pockets to keep the pegs in while I stake the tent out, but also because every time I begin to bend down to clear debris or attach a line, I do an involuntary 360 to see if anyone is looking my way. My comfort level with being naked is creeping steadily upward, but there’s been no improvement on the being-naked-and-bent-over-in-public front. Squatting is somewhat better, but as a man it leaves me vulnerable to getting the undercarriage caught in the underbrush.

With my tent set up, I’m not sure what to do next. If I were on a normal camping trip, I would move into equipment management mode, unpacking and organizing clothes, sorting through gadgets to see how many tools I could clip to my belt or sling around my neck. But I’ve packed in the spirit of nakedness, and have left behind not only clothing but also most of the excess gear that normally weighs me down.

I have to confess that this stripped-down tripping style feels liberating.

The surest way to be conspicuous at a naturist camp is to keep your clothes on. But for men at least, there’s also a way of being conspicuous while naked. A naturist website had assured me before my visit that erections are unheard of in such non-sexual environs, yet it also went on to recommend that “a strategically placed towel, a dip in a cool pool, or rolling over on your stomach will take care of it.” Assuming that I could be a significant distance from the nearest swimmable pond, and imagining the consequences of lying prone on the ground, I decide deft towel arrangement is my best bet should the need, um, arise. I hang my terry-cloth security blanket from my fanny pack before setting out to visit Lake Beamor.

Lake Beamor is a hub for Bare Oaks’ more rustic members. The large and semi-natural pond has a beach at one end and a swimming raft, but I am hesitant to jump right into the skinny- dip/sun bake rotation that a dozen or so naturists are already engaged in. Instead, I turn my attention to the canoe rack (the key to my naturist experience so far being to look not just naked but also busy). I’m about to swing a faded fibreglass hull onto my shoulders when a friendly naked man asks if I’d like a hand getting it up, which I take to be an offer to help lift the canoe. I want to be beyond body in mind, but an imaginary scenario takes shape. It involves me standing toe to heel with the man while we bend down, perhaps grunt and heave the bow up and over our heads. I would then crouch down to duck under the gunwale of the overturned canoe and settle under the yoke while the friendly naked man stands fully extended underneath the bow seat.

With a few more nude weekends under the place where my belt should be, I might accept his offer. For now, I tell him I won’t be taking the canoe far and was intending to just shuffle along holding the gunwale with the hull resting against my thighs. I hasten to demonstrate and realize that the friction on my thighs is painful. But even more painful is the emotional anguish of slowly shuffling across a beach full of sunbathers while using rhythmic pelvic thrusts to unweight the canoe and make each next step possible.
When I get on the water, I find the act of canoeing naked is little different from the clothed pursuit, with two exceptions: It demands a thorough, though discreet and unenthusiastic, application of sunscreen; and it allows for—even encourages—effortless slips over the side for
frequent skinny-dips.

Getting back in with both grace and modesty is impossible—something has to give. So I forgo grace by keeping my legs uselessly together and manage to scribe bold red lines across my chest as I scrape myself over the gunwale. They are a nice counterpoint to the more intricate design the seat has imprinted on my rear end. I notice this on my return to the beach and spend a few seconds craning around to get a good look at it, like a dog chasing its tail.

Then I make a note to sit lightly while on toilet seats around here.

A little hike sounds like a good way to round out the day. Strolling onto one of Bare Oaks’ walking trails, I feel the sun on my backside and the wind in what the Germans would call my shame hair.

With legs that feel like they fit me again, I’m taking lithe steps toward becoming less a self-conscious middle-aged man and more a child of nature. I realize that the people here simply feel good about themselves and their natural surroundings. Maybe they are the ultimate outdoors people.

On the path, I fall in behind three teenage boys. They are about 14 and from the comprehensiveness of their tans they look to spend a lot of time here. I decide to adopt a properly unconcerned naturist attitude, and don’t slow my pace to put more space between us. I’m close enough to hear their conversation, and admit to being curious about what boys talk about while naked and on the pinnacle of puberty.

“Yeah, well, Hitler only had one testicle,” says the one on the left. I’m surprised to hear what might be considered to be a body-based value judgment at a place that’s supposed to be above such things—especially since the man in question pretty well set the standard when it comes to shortcomings to discuss.

“Did you know he was Jewish?” asks the one in the middle. This is met with confusion and disbelief by either flank, and I decide to interrupt to help set the record straight. “They say his grandfather was Jewish.”

Silence up ahead. The boys look over their shoulders and see a pale naked man following at eight paces.

“Creepy,” comes the verdict from the boy on the left.

A few minutes of slow walking later, I get the inevitable mosquito bite you-know-where. A little swelling I can handle. Scratching it will be a problem.

From the May 2011 issue

May the best kayaker win

The first Whitewater Grand Prix was held in Quebec and Ontario in May 2011. American Dane Jackson claimed the overall title of the 14-day, six-event competition featuring 28 of the world’s best paddlers. Canadian big water specialist Ben Marr was leading after five stages and claimed the Big Wave Challenge, but ended up eighth in the 18-gate extreme slalom event, bumping him down to second overall. Canadian freestyle champ Nick Troutman pulled off a respectable fourth. On the women’s side, Kiwi Lou Urwin won. Canadian women Marie-Pier Cote and Kartina Van Wijk, came third and fifth respectively. Find full results and exciting highlight videos on the Whitewater Grand Prix website.

Ray Zahab’s busy 2011

In February 2011, endurance athlete Ray Zahab ran the length of the driest desert on earth solo. The 1,200 kilometre trek across the Atacama in Chile took him 30 days, and that was just the start of a very busy year. He followed that expedition up with the Impossible2Possible Youth Ambassador trips to Bolivia and India. In an effort to inspire kids to exercise more, Impossible2Possible is a charity that recruits Canadian youth to tackle extremely difficult tasks while schools follow along. In Bolivia, Zahab ran with five youth ambassadors across the world’s largest salt flats. In India, four Canadian kids travelled with Zahab to the Thar Desert where they ran 270 kilometres in seven days. In between these two trips, at the height of summer heat, Zahab traversed California’s Death Valley, north to south—a distance of 250 kilometres. Next up for superman, a 1,700 kilometre run across the South America with his fellow ultra athlete Kevin Vallely.

From the June 2011 issue

RAAM denies Caroline van den Bulk

The endurance-cycling powerhouse’s quest to avenge a DNF in 2007 and a disqualification in 2008 at the Race Across America was not to be: Two days in heat stroke forced her off the bike.

From the August 2011 issue

Wild families

“Kids Gone Wild” focused on two families, those of Colin Angus and Bruce Kirkby. These seasoned adventurers shared how and why they explore with young children. When they penned the piece they were getting ready for another summer of adventure: the Angus’ were to sail across the Mediterranean and the Kirkbys’ travel by horseback in the Georgian Caucasus.

The Angus clan used a sailboat for their expedition called the Olive Odyssey. A film and a book are planned.

Bruce wrote about his adventures with two kids and a horse for The Globe and Mail.

From the October 2011 issue

Jason Kruk compresses a controversy

The Squamish climber topped out on his effort to scale Cerro Torre in Argentina’s Patagonia without using a notorious bolt ladder. While the climb was noteworthy enough, what he and climbing partner Haydon Kennedy did on the descent stirred up a frenzied debate. Read more about it in the Spring 2012 issue of explore.

From our Top 30 under 30 feature

Will Stanhope’s Prophet

In November 2011, rock-climbing titan Will Stanhope and his climbing partner—and fellow Canuck—Sonnie Trotter made an impressive second ascent of the Prophet, a 13-pitch, 5.13d test piece in the Yosemite Valley. The ascent took 25 days of work over five weeks.

Three records for Eric McNair-Landry – Read more here.

Double gold for Mark McMorris

The high-flying snowboarder from the flatlands of Saskatchewan won two golds at the 2012 Winter X Games in Aspen, winning the world championship for snowboarding. McMorris won gold in the Big Air competition and Slopestyle events by pulling off tricks in competition that no one else has ever landed.

TransCaneauda just in time

The team of eight Ottawa-based friends completed their 7,000 kilometre canoe trip from their homes to Inuvik on the Arctic Ocean on October 14, just as winter descended on the tundra.

Emily Batty looks to London

Working to make the Canadian Olympic team for the London Games, Batty had a stellar 2011 with several top 10 finishes. In her first full season racing at the elite World Cup level, she finished eighth at the World Championships and then returned home to win the Canadian Cyclo-Cross National Championships.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The first human-piloted gliders flew about 200 years ago, and when you look at pictures of them it’s clear that back then the word “glide” really meant “falling with a slight forward motion.” Modern gliders—now called sailplanes—can go more than 50 kilometres from an altitude of one kilometre above the ground, or to put it another way, have a glide ratio of 50:1. Interestingly, flying squirrels—with fur wings—and their human impersonators—with nylon wings—both have a glide ratio of about 2:1. (Insert pun about nuts here.)

My first “flights” occurred when I was a young kid on the windy plains of Calgary. I would run while my kite tugged hard at my small arms. Usually the string broke or I fell down, but occasionally I would stay in the air slightly longer than my jumping ability dictated.

In 2009, after nearly four decades of playing with ever-bigger kites, I was racing across a frozen lake on my skis while tethered to a massive kite in the sky. I pulled hard on the lines, the kite shot over my head, and I was suddenly 35 feet in the air and way, way past the point of knowing what to do in that situation. Fortunately, the resulting knee surgery went well, and I’m now addicted to kite skiing.

These days there are pilots (or are they skiers or kiters?) who kite up snowy alpine valleys, catch outlandishly huge air, and then fly hundreds or even thousands of feet above the ground, as only paragliders and hang-gliders used to be able to do. I heard of one guy who launched his kite on the water and ended up crashing at a horrible rate of speed into a brick building well inland. Was he flying or kiting? Kite surfers in Squamish often seem to spend more time in the air than on the water, and I’m waiting for the day when I’m climbing on the Squamish Chief and have a BASE jumper, kiter and paraglider pilot all fly by me at some point during the ascent.

New sports continue to evolve, as outdoor athletes combine things like climbing and BASE jumping, and alpinism and paragliding (paralpinism). The latest “my mother is gonna hate this” game is speed riding. Speed riders use a very small paraglider (or is it a kite with short lines or a parachute with a better glide ratio?) to combine downhill skiing and flying. You can ski the snow patches and then boost into the air and glide at a ratio of about 4:1 to jump the rocks. The first speed-riding video that really freaked me and my friends out was of two people bombing down the Eiger in Switzerland. That’s like playing high-speed human checkers between the white snow and black rock patches.

As if just speed riding wasn’t enough, some people are now taking terrain-park tricks and thinking large-scale. France’s Antoine Montant recently cranked it up a notch by heading to Mont Blanc and grinding his skis on the cables of the Aiguille Du Midi téléphérique while hanging from his speed wing.

Even the traditional sport of paragliding has changed massively in recent years. My modern light gear weighs less than 10 pounds, and I can fly off almost any mountain in the world with that. The paragliding distance record has gone from 423 kilometres—when I set it in 2002—to more than 500 kilometres today. And modern paragliders glide at a ratio of around 12:1, which is better than hang gliders from 20 years ago. Hang-gliders are also dramatically better, although that sport has mainly gone to Florida to retire at the “flight parks” there.
I personally have quit hang-gliding, but I still fly my paraglider regularly and I snow kite when the snow is soft enough to mask the ground. And I’ve recently ordered a speed wing. But now I’m doing something that’s really hard—learning to fly a Cessna. There are way more rules than the only one I used to have: “Don’t crash.”

Operation Unplugged is a six-episode adventure series that follows eight participants as they go on physical and personal journeys through Canada’s parks and historic sites. Host Alan Bishop guides and motivates them through competitions, team challenges, and coping with the loss of their support systems.

The show pemieres Tuesday February 21 at 9 p.m. EST on Travel + Escape.

Watch the trailer and learn more about three of the cast members: Jillian Storey, Daniel Paluzzi, and Cat LeBel.

Show handle: Intimate Internet Oversharer
Age: 20
Hometown: Creighton, SK
Studies: Nursing
Favourite website: Pinterest

Why did you want to be on Operation Unplugged?

Where I live (a small northern community) it’s very hard for people to travel. I’ve always been a traveller, I love to travel, but I got stuck in a small town. Sometimes it felt like the town was suffocating me. Being on the show was an opportunity to go on the adventure of a lifetime, the perfect way to explore Canada and not worry about what’s happening on Friday night. It was a really positive experience.

Did you find it really difficult?

At first. It was kind of a double-edged sword, I didn’t have the normal stresses or pressure, but I left my family and friends. I had these 7 strangers who became my family. I bonded with them so fast but still missed people from back home.

What was the hardest part of being on the show?

Because I worked at a mine, I was used to dealing with high-stress, physical situations so I found the more emotional situations harder to deal with. I wasn’t scared of anything physical, but not being able to share these experiences with people right away and the anxiety of not knowing what’s going to happen next was hard.

It was a really different experience. I get ready every morning and do my hair and makeup, so I had to get used to having no clean underwear or food in a fridge, and dealing with stinky socks.

What did you like the most about being on the show?

I learned to be fully present in a situation and focus on things. Before the show—I’m a really private person—I was a bit more closed off. The show forced me to open up and trust other people.

I also loved sailing. It caused so much adrenaline and we worked together as a team. It was great.

And the the scenery and the people we met! We were always meeting other tourists and hearing their stories.

What’s your favourite park?

Bruce Peninsula. Hands down. Before the show I was looking at destination islands like Jamaica and then we went to Bruce Peninsula and the water looked like the kind you’d see in Jamaica. I didn’t know places like that existed in Canada. I would have never thought to travel to Ontario and Quebec.  In Canada, we have flatlands to mountains—anything you can imagine.

Have you carried activities from the show into your everyday life?

Writing. We were forced to write and it was suggested by one of my castrates to continue writing when I got home. It helps me get things off my chest.

And being more present. Where I live, we have the Northern lights and because we see them all the time we tend to ignore them and just go inside. When you’re away from it all, you learn to take in your own scenery more so that it’s less like a wallpaper and more like something you can interact with.

What would be your advice for others who are too plugged-in?

Pick up and do it. I’m a nursing student and my classmates say they want to travel and see things, but they don’t get out and do it. You do need to use tech in nursing and people are starting to lose the ability to relate to other people and we need that.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve never hiked before or if you’re out of shape—there’s always excuses to not do things. Everywhere we went there was something for someone to do. The longer you wait the more you’re going to miss.

Operation Unplugged premieres Tuesday February 21 at 9 p.m. EST on Travel + Escape.

Show handle: Cyber Hound
Age: 26
Hometown: Ottawa, ON
Studies: Biomedical psychiatric sciences
Favourite websites: Boing Boing and Facebook

Why did you want to be on Operation Unplugged?

I was kind of stuck in a tech rut, really obsessing over my dramas and just surfing. I felt stuck and needed to switch gears and this was the perfect opportunity for that. I wanted to get outside and go to some parks, which I’d never been to.

What was the hardest part of being away from it all?

It was difficult at first—like when you’re away from your drug of choice—but after a while it felt good to be able to focus on one thing at a time. I’m the kind of the person who has a million tabs open in Firefox, so it felt good to be able to focus.

What was the most difficult part of being on the show?

For me it was about staying focused, especially during stressful situations. That’s what I have to work on the most. Whenever I’m stressed I get brain fog and it happened to me a few times during the show.

Did being out there help?

Oh yes. I brought meditation back from there and use it regularly. Especially in traffic.

Did you bring anything else back from the show?

I tried to do some cross-country skiing, which I’m horrible at, but plan to do a bit more, Most of my sports are done during the summer. [During the show] I’d write everyday in my journal and I’m forcing myself to do it. Well, at first I was forcing it, but now I like it and do it every day.

What was the best part of being on the show?

The people. The cast, we had so much fun. Being with brave people in new places really made it what it was.

What’s your favourite park?

Riding Mountain National Park because I rode a horse for the first time.

What would be your advice for others who are too plugged-in?

Going cold turkey was hard but I recommend it. Do a little trip and don’t bring your cellphone or laptop. We prepared by telling our friends not to contact us, and I’d say do the same thing. Warn everyone around you and go somewhere nice. Go to the parks, we have beautiful parks!

Operation Unplugged premieres Tuesday February 21 at 9 p.m. EST on Travel + Escape.

Show handle: Smartphone Slave
Age: 21
Hometown: Woodbridge
Studies: Pharmacology
Favourite website: notcot.com

Why did you want to be on Operation Unplugged?

I had never actually travelled before. My first time on an airplane was in the summer during the show. And my friends and family know me as a high-maintenance person—pampered, spoiled and whatnot—and couldn’t see me camping. I wanted to prove to them that I could do it, and also to myself.

What was the hardest part of being away from it all?

It was very different because the people I’d been in contact with for most of my life—I couldn’t tell them anything anymore. When I wanted to text them or let them know what’s going on, it got difficult when I needed the emotional support. Then of course there’s the random things like checking my pocket for my phone or thinking I had to charge it, that would kind of psych me out a bit.

What was the best part of being on the show?

There were a lot of things I didn’t anticipate enjoying. The one thing I really took a liking to was kayaking. We had certain challenges during which I really fell into the motion of it, being out on the open water, pushing myself to get to the next destination. It was an emotional and spiritual thing as well.

Is there anything you’ve incorporated from your experience on the show into your life?

I take bike rides with my roommate, I go the gym 4 or 5 times a week. Come summertime I intend to travel or even go back to one of the parks.

What’s your favourite place that you visited?

Motherwell Homestead. It made me feel like home and brought back memories of horseback riding and being on the farm. There were great people working there and it was very nostalgic, like a trip back to the 1880s but it was also a lot of work.

What would be your advice for others who are too plugged-in?

There’s nothing wrong with having a cellphone or using tech, but it’s all about moderation. You have to ask yourself about more productive uses of your time, stuff that you can carry through with yourself, like learning a language. Watching a YouTube video can spark maybe 5-10 mins of conversation with friends and family and you should be focusing your energy elsewhere.

Operation Unplugged premieres Tuesday February 21 at 9 p.m. EST on Travel + Escape.

Operation Unplugged takes eight self-identified tech addicts and throws them into challenge-based adventures across Canada for 30 days. In the wilderness with no Wifi, the deviceless participants must not only deal with being removed from their support networks, but also compete against each other and work in teams to meet objectives. Guided by host Alan Bishop, they journey through national parks and historic sites, learning about the value of being outdoors and most importantly, themselves.

Tune in to Operation Unplugged’s premiere on Tuesday February 21 at 9 p.m. EST on Travel + Escape.

Click here to view the embedded video.