George, From On High

I have often wondered how to honour my friend George Caesar, who’s a remarkable person and a dedicated canoeist. I’ve always regretted that he’s largely unrecognized as a devotee of our natural environment.

This month I decided to act on my admiration.

On a sparkling fall day, Esther and I travelled to Elora to photograph George near his home on the Grand River.

We set out by water. He travelled in his light kevlar canoe. His wife Joan, Esther, and I were in a larger canoe, along with the drone. A kilometre upstream we beached near a quarry, and walked in to this stunning location.

You can see George in the top left corner.

I often think about what George has accomplished by canoe. Every summer for the last quarter century, he and his dog have set out alone to paddle the rivers, lakes, and seas of Canada.

His trips have been as long as 1550 kilometres and lasted up to seven weeks. They’ve taken him to the Arctic Sea, the coast of Newfoundland, the Great Lakes, and the big rivers like the Nahanni, Churchill, Mackenzie, and St. Lawrence.

Often he’ll return to the spot where he ended the previous year’s paddle, to go further still. He estimates that he and his canoe have travelled over 18,000 kilometres. Along the way, he shows great reverence for the environment and respect for the people he encounters.

Although the location we visited this month is not far from his home, its chiseled cliffs are wonderfully reminiscent of some of the dramatic scenes he has passed through.

The Elora quarry is sunk deep below the cliffs, so they block the wind. That meant that the drone had little turbulence to contend with, and the surface of the water was almost still, reflecting the face of the limestone. It was ideal.

When George launched his canoe, we put both our phones on speaker, so I could suggest where to paddle to make the most of the photographic possibilities.

At first, his canoeing companion, a West Highland terrier called Kate, seemed spooked by presence of the drone, but she soon emerged from under George’s seat to enjoy the experience.

Although the afternoon sun cast deep shadows, George kept his canoe in the light, so it stood out against the cliffs. I made the drone follow him as he paddled, to capture images from the front, side, and behind. We took photographs from a height of 120 metres, and from near the surface of the water.

During that lovely afternoon, I captured over 90 shots. Once I was satisfied, we watched George return to shore and carry his canoe back to the river.

Then we four set out on the Grand again, with the current pushing us downstream toward a nearby weir.

George paddled above the white wall of water that splashed over the side of the weir.

Again, we shot from all angles until I felt done. We repaired briefly to George and Joan’s porch nearby for a socially distanced chat, then returned home.

Looking back on that special day, I continue to feel a deep awe for George’s determination and courage at age 80, canoeing through some of the wildest, untouched places in this land. I hope you too will feel a connection with his reverence for our precious waterways.

By Timothy Bentley