People have to live
Somewhere. Home varies from a parent’s basement, a castle in Ireland or a tent
outside of town, each with some kind of visible and non visible support network.
But networks do much more than hold up walls.
Canada is experiencing
a strong network right now. Recent wildfires in Fort Mac and beyond have turned
our country into one gigantic village, bound together by a universal desire to care
for each other. This need to connect goes much deeper than doubling up for the
Red Cross. Signs of a collective soul have always been everywhere. Check out
the 2013 lyrics in Eddie Vedder’s compelling raspy baritone in Future Days by Pearl Jam. “You came deep
as any ocean, did something out there, here. And I believe ‘cause I can see our
future days, days of you and me”.
The intrinsic threads that
weave connections wound around the life of American born writer and activist Jane
Jacobs. She spread her belief in community via her now famous 1961 book, Death and Life of Great American Cities.
In it she challenged the urban planners who wanted to remove people from the
heart of the city. Then in 1968, frustrated with what was happening in the
United States, she moved New York to Toronto. Jacobs made the Annex, a downtown
area of the Big Smoke, her lifetime home and continued her work for positive community
development. By the time she passed away in 2006 at the age of 90, she had
become a celebrated Canadian - so much so that each year thousands of folks hold
an annual “Jane’s Walk”. And this year in the Sault, on May 4, on what would
have been her 100th birthday, people took to the sidewalks and explored
local downtown neighbourhoods.
I take to the hiking
trails for similar reasons. The paths and shoreline of Lake Superior are part
of my community. And one of my very favourite spring neighbourhoods is the Towab
Trail. This primo Lake Superior Park hike leads from Frater Road five km to Burnt
Rock Pool on the Agawa River and another seven km further to the mighty Agawa
Falls.
To access the trail you
have to drive 3.5 km up the Frater Road, which begins at Highway 17 North at
Agawa Bay. (BTW the Frater Road is in pretty good shape this spring. Thanks to
whomever has been taking care of it.)
There is a map beside
the parking area. It describes the route but the experience is almost
indescribable. The trail begins with tree art. Twisting roots of a yellow birch
wrap themselves down the sides of a head high boulder, an erratic, a leftover from
glacial days. If you get to the trail before leaves and bugs make their mutual
entrance, you’ll see a land where time takes a nap. Little wonder! Those
mysterious flowers, the spring ephemerals - the trout lilies, spring beauties,
blood root, yellow violets, Dutchman’s breeches and trilliums that fill the
wide bright green spaces between the leafless hardwood trees - have fluffed up
the forest floor. Songs in the clear, clean, shining creek soon become a
soothing lullaby. And the precious warmth of a May afternoon is your soft
blanket. This is a safe place. Delicate yet enduring connections emerge. The
forest canopy protects the flowers from too much undergrowth. The stream
provides water, light and sound to birds, moose and people. And ancient trees
lie down to make a home for mosses and young trees. This forest village holds
all the elements of a thriving community – protection, sustenance, knowledge.
By the time you get close to the rushing sound of the Agawa River you are deep
in a peaceful green valley of hope.
Other beautiful spring
hikes have called me from the park, have made me explore community. We took the
trail north of the Agawa River mouth to
discover what once was a small village of people from the 1930’s to the 1960’s.
We bushwhacked along the shore to follow the outline of old foundations and
crunched over leaf strewn decaying can dumps. We marvelled at the fine shape of
a huge rounded tire fender. But nothing speaks of interdependence, of the need
for each other as the play of flower and fern by rock and water. They are
powerful teachers and holders of truths.
Their gift is community
and we have taken it to heart. Be it a quiet stroll through downtown Queen
Street, a loud cheer for the Raptors at a sports bar or hot handed applause for
an encore at Toronto’s Pearl Jam concert, the joy of sharing is fundamental.
So, thanks Nature for helping
us realize that we need each other - and for showing us the way home.
TAWAUB’S TRAIL
A frothing river bed
Became a lush forest floor.
Maple towers
Gazed upon glacier’s boulders.
And then he made a path, a trail, to lead
to the beckoning
Burned Rock Pool of the Agawa River.
This valley home for
Moose, bear, bird,
Violet, lily, bloodroot,
Was his domain.
This Hercules of the Northwoods,
This myth of the forest,
This Tawaub
He with the infectious grin and
reverent smile,
He who poles a canoe upstream,
He who carries a 50 lb pack on his back
and a canoe on his shoulders,
For 4 hours, nonstop, up the hills!
Is our wonder.
Tawaub embraced Batchawana to Agawa
But his name goes around the world.
To walk his trail leads you to the
river.
To learn Tawaub’s path
Never look back to see who is
following.
Never pause until Rest Time.
Never offer to do any part of another’s
work
But always, always help those you can
like.
Oh Tawaub,
He-who-walks-by-moonlight
He-who-comes-tomorrow
Do you rest now?
Or do your moccasins still trod the
endless trail?
Tawaub was an Ojibway guide who excelled in the ways of the woods.
His name graces the 5 km hike from the Frater road to the Agawa River.
