I would say that I’m the luckiest kid in the world to have grown up on the River, but my grandmother didn't like the word “lucky” – “blessed,” is the word. My family’s Thousand Islands’ story began in 2001, with a military-style tent and a beat-up pontoon boat named the “El Gato.” Just over the Canadian border on Hill Island, my Dad and four of his siblings bought adjacent plots of rocky, forested land with plans to build, a skill learned from their father, a carpenter. For the first couple months, while trees were being cleared and bunkhouses were being built, we truly camped: sleeping under the stars, bathing in the River, and using a renowned outhouse. Those months fostered a spirit that never really went away, and today, we still call our cottage “Camp.” Nonetheless, construction pursued. The bunkhouse went up quickly. A quaint cabin, it featured a single room and a loft. With just two sets of bunk beds pushed together, with queen sized mattresses to bridge the gap, ten of us slept under that roof – although, I’m not sure how much sleep we actually got. Between six noisy kids, babies, and my deaf mother – who liked to put away the dishes early in the morning – things got loud – and eventful – pretty quickly. Looking back, that time is remembered fondly and gratefully.

After years of hard work, my family's cottages began to pop up along the shore, turning the strip of island into our own little village. In 2004, we moved into our main cottage. The walls of our cabin – which, this time, surrounded bedrooms and bathrooms. As kids, with the exception of a rainy day meant for board games, the majority of our time was spent outside those walls – nature was our playground. We spent our days exploring the forest barefoot, building stick forts and treehouses, on the water, paddling through swamps and scouting surrounding islands for new cliffs to jump. Excited to tell our tales and journeys to the adults when everyone gathered later on. 5 o’clock happy hour on the porch was — and remains – a tradition, bringing together the entire shoreline to share appetizers, drinks, and good company. Family dinners were an extension of this time together, typically serving some kind of fried fish – Northern Pike, Walleye, Bullhead, Perch – whatever the previous day or night’s catch was. Once the sky turned dark, the kids were deployed to find kindling and smores sticks for the upcoming campfire. As the heat warmed our mosquito bitten feet, ankles, and legs, we roasted marshmallows and exchanged stories – most ending in some kind of punchline that prompted a laugh or a smile nonetheless. 

In 2022, I graduated from SUNY Binghamton, and decided to move up to the River for the summer. I got a job at Boldt Castle as a deckhand, catching bow lines and tying down tour boats as they came in. Everyday I would boat across the border to work in my older cousin's 12 foot Lowe. On the job, I met three Canadian girls who worked on a tour boat that came in regularly from Gananoque. They were referred to as the “Gan Girls.” The first time boating over to hang out with the “Gan Girls” was also my first time wrecking a prop, learning the hard way that Gananoque is a minefield of shoals. Throughout the rest of the summer, I continued to hang out with the “Gan Girls” – though, from the first time on, with attention to the shoals. After a day's work on the boat/dock, they would invite me to join them at bars and parties in Gananoque. In addition to appreciated company, they showed me an entirely new side of the River. That summer when I wasn’t working at Boldt Castle, hanging out with the “Gan Girls” or getting boarded by Canadian Customs, I was fishing, snorkeling, and helping my Uncle build his new cottage next door. It was the perfect summer.

Growing up, every weekend on the River was a family reunion. Outside of my immediate family of six, there were eight aunts and uncles, nine cousins, and a dozen dogs that have come and gone. Our experiences on the River shaped us, bonded us. Despite the change that comes with getting older – going to school, getting jobs, in some ways creating entirely new lives – Camp in a sense has stayed the same. A perfect place to escape to for the weekend. Appreciation has grown with the size of our family as we’ve welcomed in-laws, second cousins, and friends so close they’re granted honorary “Evans” status. Camp is held near and dear to our hearts – an increasingly nostalgic sentiment as adult responsibilities have interrupted plans to spend time at the River.

The Thousand Islands is my favorite place in the world. It has provided me with endless memories, lessons, friendships, family; it is part of me. I carry the River – and the people, experiences, and place that it represents – with me everywhere I go. I wanted to create something to show this. So I made this brand, this collection. I am so excited to share it with everyone that loves the Thousand Islands, in the same way that I love the Thousand Islands. Thank you for your support! 

A fellow River Rat,

Ryan Evans