The search for Skatepark Island

The first I’d heard of Skatepark Island came from kayak guides in Killbear. Then the kayak guides in Killarney were talking about it. They spoke of this semi-mythical island where the rock had been shaped just so, with transitions smoother than a skillfully crafted skatepark bowl. My interest was piqued and I made sure to get the coordinates of the island. This rumour had to be investigated.

Getting there

Thankfully, the guys at Georgian Bay Airways thought it was a good idea, too. And so did the guy at Killarney Mountain Lodge. The plan was to fly from Parry Sound to Killarney, hop in a 17-foot fishing boat with our bikes and rip out to the island in question. We’d spend a few days shooting and camping in the bush before heading back. It was a lot of planning based on some random kayaker’s interpretation of a skatepark, but a damn good excuse for an adventure.

The crew

The crew I’d rounded up contained some of the best skatepark mountain bikers in Ontario at the time. For Andrew Bigelow this trip would mark a number of firsts for him: first time he ate a pickle, first time he took a dump in the woods and the first time he pitched a tent. Kent Woods is a barspin master. If you want him to bar-spin something, he’s all over it. His skill with a Swiss Army can opener is appalling, though. He had to resort to vice grips whenever asked to open a can. To round out the crew, and the age gap, Owen Sound’s Mike Comello came along for support.

Geographically speaking

On the map, Skatepark Island is a small blip in amongst a thousand other blips surrounding Phillip Edward Island. The key to Skatepark Island’s rumoured smooth transitions is its geological history. With a major fault running the length of the region, pressures between the two plates a billion years ago forced the La Cloche Mountains of Killarney skywards, reaching the vertical equivalent of today’s Rockies. Lava punched through the surface and settled beneath it. A further deposit of calcium carbonate about 350-500 million years ago, from a giant sea that stretched from Mexico to the Arctic, has since hardened into limestone.

Aye aye, Captain

Once we touched down at Killarney Mountain Lodge, we loaded up a 17-foot fishing boat with bikes, four guys, 96 tallboy beers and enough supplies for a week in the bush. Surprisingly, during the rental procedures, no one asked if I knew how to pilot one of these things. Which I didn’t. And as the marina owner, the owner of Killarney Mountain Lodge and a couple of their fishing guides stood watching me back out of the complicated marina docks awkwardly, fully loaded, they realized I had no idea what I was doing. I could feel them laughing and cringing as I narrowly missed three boats, and the docks themselves.

Everyone in town already thought we were idiots for going on a mountain bike trip to the unrideable Phillip Edward Island environs, but once they saw us drive the boat, it was confirmed: we were a bunch of yahoos.

The skatepark

Upon arrival at Skatepark Island the guys immediately found a small lip right in camp. They hucked and carved the tiny transition, yielding some of the best photos of the trip almost instantly. For Bigelow, setting up his tent did not go so flawlessly.

 

The findings

For the next three days, as we explored many of the islands in the area. We discovered that a kayak guide’s idea of a skatepark is quite different from an actual skatepark. Skatepark Island’s transitions are far from perfect. What may look like a beautiful eight-foot quarterpipe has impossible run ups or roll outs. Perfect banks to walls have immovable curb-sized rocks mid-tranny and massive cracks situated in exactly the wrong spot.

That’s not to say riding here isn’t an amazing experience. One can’t help but compare the Canadian Shield to the sandstone of Moab, Utah; it is grippy like a meandering sidewalk, providing traction in the most unlikely of angles. The rock feels exactly like Moab’s legendary Slickrock trail. Without a doubt, a few dedicated trail builders could turn this into a world-class mountain biking destination, its remoteness providing part of the allure. But it would take a lot of work.

On our last morning, as I lay in my hot tent, I cursed whoever it was as they rifled through our food box noisily. And then I heard it.

“Umm, guys…there’s a bear in our camp.”

As I looked outside my tent I realized he wasn’t kidding. Six feet from Kent Woods’ tent, a black bear sat casually trying to find something to eat. Woods stood bone still in his tent, terrified. We started yelling and throwing rocks in the bear’s direction. For the rest of the morning we repeatedly threw stuff at the bear to scare him out of our camp. In essence the bear represented what we all knew. It was time to get off Skatepark Island. I know I’ll be back. I’ll definitely do a few things differently; and I’ll probably arrive in a kayak. Without my bike.