Walk to Awausee
October 14, 2015 The walk to Awausee.
The bear was a good
sign. Ward and I saw the dark shape disappear into the trees just as we turned
off Highway 17 North to pull onto the parking lot for the Awausee Trail. Should
we go any further? The timidity and no further sighting of the black bruin
helped us decide that indeed it would be OK to attempt the hike to Awausee’s
first look out onto the Agawa Valley.
Mind you, the thought
of my left-over-Thanksgiving turkey sandwich in my pack gave me a nanosecond of
hesitation. But I did have my Fox 40 whistle to pummel his eardrums if need be;
so off we went.
The beginning of the
trail follows an old logging road. Sunlight streamed through the yellow- leafed
maples giving everything a golden glow. Soon we left the road/trail and began
the climb. Thick flat rocks and gnarled tree roots made perfect steps. A dry
creek bed with its bare boulders and wide shoulders hugs the trail, a reminder
of the power of seasonal shifts. As the ascent increased, the faint splashes
from another creek echoed through the forest. My knees talked to me as we got
closer and closer to the top. However, I soon met the flatter, smoother, softer
walkway of auburn pine needles and rusty coloured cedar leaves (needles?). One
more little incline, then a decline and there we were at the first lookout.
The 180 degree, half-a-circle-wide,
expansive view was so beautiful it was ridiculous. To my right, silver light shone
over Lake Superior. To my left, crimson heads of hunched bulbous cliffs, left
over from glaciers, watched over this most ancient of lands. The red and gold
hills were magnificent and each of the million trees seemed to be distinct, to have
its own say. The sound of rustling dry leaves rose up from the valley floor. Breaks
in the tree line marked the path of the Agawa River. When sunlight broke
through the rolling grey clouds, the far hills had the texture of a colourful,
woolen, handmade, hooked rug.
We ate our sandwiches and
the low scudding clouds thickened. Rested, refreshed, renewed we headed back
down and got to the truck just as rain began to sprinkle the windshield. Feeling
lucky and grateful at the same time, I said thanks... for the trail and for that
very interesting, respectful bear.
The Big Feast
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| Loons enjoy a summer float |
Such a place! How did
we get so lucky? Perhaps the gods decided to rest here after all.
The joy of our summertime
is so compelling. The sun has diminished the woolly weights of winter. The
gatherings, outdoor music and picnicking at the beach or the park make us
believe we are on another planet.
A great aspect to this
summer life is the growing abundance of fresh food. Vegetable gardens are
spilling over with local lettuces and sweet green peas. The untamed fruits are
promising to be bountiful as well. The wild strawbs were as big as thumbnails.
Blueberries are crowding out their bushes. The rasps, atop those stingy, tall,
scratchy branches are starting to fatten up. The mountain ash will be heady orange
bunches this fall. Saskatoons or Service or Sugar Plums (whichever name suits
you), are a purpling tempting treat for humans as well as birds. And with the
wild berries come the wild flowers.
Waving daisy fields and bright yellow
roadsides calm and brighten the traveller’s soul. The deep white of winter
seems a millennium away.
Time does like to trick
us. Combine that with high speed travel and it’s a feat to keep your feet and
senses on the ground. This was especially true after recent space photos
captured the first close ups of our farthest planet, Pluto - a surrealistic
reminder that the earth is not alone.
The universe is LOADED
with suns, planets and other galaxies, fodder for a never ending stream of
movies and subsequent internet chatter. Conceptualizing how there can be such
vast or huge or innumerable (or whatever word humans use) an amount of “stuff”
out there often requires some kind of analogy.
The other day as I was
walking down a cobble beach, enjoying the gentleness of a calm, sunny, soft Lake
Superior summer afternoon I stopped to admire the colours and textures in the
rocks. I picked up and examined one after another and couldn’t help but notice
something. Some of the rock patterns resembled some of the photos of Pluto. Some
of the big round balls of granite even had that heart shape we saw on that far
lonely planet. It occurred to me that the countless heaps of beach boulders
could be as plentiful as the plethora of galaxies that whirl around our skies.
That made it easier to imagine the multitude of universes out there.
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| A Bud on the beach |
Universes don’t have to
be far away. Still riding the analogy train, we could say that the area north
of the Sault, the land that once held the former ACR passenger line, is another
universe too. Four universes actually. In spring, freshly opened lakes and
streams are the visible lifeblood for fishes, frogs and other aquatic life
forms. In summer, lush tree growth and long lingering days are perfect for the
outdoorsperson. In fall, colour feasts overflow with delicious eye candy. In
winter, crystal clear starry skies are a silent wonder world against the
beautiful white. But those places are becoming almost as hard to access as
Pluto! The passenger service has ended. If the writer for the Lonely Planet
declared that downtown Sault resembled a ghost town then the old ACR might be
the ghost line.
I wonder if anyone has
asked CN why it is not in the passenger train business. Freight and passenger trains
shared the ACR tracks for 100 years. Surely there must be a compromise/solution
somewhere. Can a passenger car be added to the freight train? Google gave me
some answers.
There is one mixed train ( carries freight and passenger together ) in Canada. In Northern Manitoba, the Keewatin Railway Company, in conjunction with Via Rail, operates a 400 km passenger service twice a week between The Pas and Pukatawagan.
So, how about this?
In the spring, offer a
couple of camp opening special runs. In the summer, pick a day once a week when
supplies and folks can get in and out of camp. In the fall, work with the Tour
Train. In the winter, run the Polar Express and the Searchmount Ski Train.
Why do it? Because enjoying
our natural gifts is a part of life here on earth. And we learn that after the
barbeque is over, it’s been all about sharing the feast.
This is our Only Planet
but it doesn’t have to be a Lonely One.
Ahhhhhhhhht last
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| Ice floes may 20 2015 |
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| low berg |
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| how much under water?? |
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| May 24 ...Hello says the land.Happy holiday weekend. |
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| The Agawa Dragon |
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| Fiddlin' around |
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| Temple steps |
The Watch that Ends the Ice
Watch for disappearing
acts. Magicians always get you to look at something while they pay attention to
their tricks. Then Voila! Out comes the foolery and you are left wondering how
the heck did that happen.
With playoff season all
around many wish that there will be magic tricks pulled out of hats. How far
can the Hounds go? What kind of magic would that be anyway?
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| The 2015 ice follies
One of my favourite
magical things is a book. Each one has the potential to be a treasure. A few
weeks ago, when I was in the main branch of the Public Library, a display caught
my eye. There was a table of old books that no one had borrowed for a long,
long time. The display asked people to try one of the possible “discards “.
Inside each of the almost cast offs was a thank you book mark. So I picked up a
dark blue hardcover from 1959 - Hugh MacLennan’s The Watch that Ends the Night.
The MacLennan name threw me back to high school days, however this book was
unfamiliar. But I was feeling sorry for the unwanted volume and was glad to
help out.
|
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| Locked in Agawa April 27 |
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| A Sand River run to the beach |
What an amazing read. Never
mind thanking me - thank you Library, thank you. And after reading it I
discovered that the book won the GG award for 1959! The novel centres on pre-
WW2 days in Montreal then goes on to the 1950s. MacLennan is a master. The main
characters give insight into the thirties that I knew existed but did not have
the “feel” of before. The novel put me right into that era. With clear imagery
and insightful dialogue to reflect the times, the plot intersects a physically
weak but strong willed woman with her wandering, magnetic, doctor husband, a devoted
new husband and all the individuals existing between their lives. It was so
interesting to read their take on their future, our present. And the comments
on their present is now our past. We are not such a new world after all.
By the end of The Watch
that Ends the Night I had a fresh perspective on the endings of almost all
things. It gave me a different way of looking at the natural world too. We all
have been watching the slow return of warm spring and soon-to-be summer days.
Our hyper vigilance makes the signs seem more pronounced. I heard, and then saw, a wavering line of
geese trying to keep its V shape. But the quivering lines often collapsed into
a rather wavy version of the classic alphabet letter. I felt an angst that echoed
ancient roots. There they were so high up, so vulnerable, yet they were making
it.
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| Sand River makes it to Lake Superior |
And then there’s the
lake. A few days ago we woke up to see WATER out front. The next day all the
broken bits of ice had returned. The bet is on I hear. May 1st you
say? For that bet we should ask the four leggeds. They seem to know when the
ice is the weakest or safest. They always manage to gain a bit more ice time.
About a week ago, in the very early am before things got really spongy, with
the sun lighting up the farthest half of the lake, I saw a wolf trot between
the ice build ups about 300 metres from shore. The crunch of my boots hitting
the cobbled shoreline startled the wild canine into making a bee line for the
far end of the beach. It took about five minutes for the wolf to travel about
three km. All I could do was stand and admire.
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| Montreal River mouth April 2015 |
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| Water tries to show itself |
This week the ice is indeed
very iffy - to say the least. Lake Superior is a dark grey, blue and white
quilt. Look closely and those chunks are two feet of ice sponge. The ice is decaying
from the bottom up. The chunks are so compromised that when you hit them with a
rock or poke then with a stick they immediately disintegrate into hundreds of
tinkling ice needles. Candling is the name for it and the skinny long icicles
make great ice cubes for a cold drink, but not for going on. As a friend says,
“It would be like walking on tissue paper.”
So here we are at The
Watch that Ends the Ice. We should all get an award this year. It has been a
long wait. Right now the ice is old and transparent, resembling my mother’s
hands as she was aging. One of these days it will pull a magical disappearing
act. But in the meantime what do we watch? The playoffs, the smooth talking pre-election
politicians or the real act....the grand flow of life that never stops moving.
Keep your eyes peeled. There’s more to this trick than you think.
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| I'm tree hiding till the snow's gone! |
Oh.. For the land
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Trees waiting to run |
Hey Easter Bunny! Don’t
fret. We know how to search for chocolate eggs under the snow. So please keep
‘em coming.
Mind you, I still long
for warmer Easter days, the kind where you can see and feel green ground poking
out from the snow. On those days, in the city, you can take a bicycle out for a
spin on sandy pavement watching out for a puddle or two instead of dodging ice
chunks. In the bush you can sit beside an outdoor fire and feel the warm sun on
your face while a pot of sap boils itself into sweet, sweet syrup. For those
who crave the water it is all about sliding canoe or kayak over snow into the
open lake to silently slip through silky smooth water. For those who ply Lake
Superior in the freighters or tugs, it is that glorious feeling as you leave the
St Mary’s River and head up the lake for another year.
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Ice walkers three |
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Will this sun set? |
However, we are not in
control of any season, nor can we predict anymore what is about to happen when.
Take our sugar bush stats for example. In 2004, just because we could, we made
some syrup on Feb 29. In 2010 there was
a warm spring and our first boil was on March 10th. The next year,
2011, things had cooled off quite a bit and we had our first boil on April 2.
Then came that crazy 2012. Our first boil was March 15th and the snow was all gone by March 18th!
That’s the year we were worried about lighting an outdoor fire because the bush
was so dry. In 2013 the season seemed rather normal and we made our first batch
of syrup on March 28th .
The following winter?
KAPOW! We got hit by 2014’s polar vortex. Our first boil was April 7th.
And this year, this 2015? As you all know, we got another upper cut to the
chin, another whack from the freezies. Oh well. Changes are everywhere.
The environmental changes
sometimes affect how we relate to the world, especially if there is a deep
desire to experience nature. When some folks can’t get that needed nourishment,
drastic things happen to their souls. For centuries this strong sense of abandonment
and deprivation has been the subject of poetry, music and other art forms. A
new film, a documentary called Lament for
the Land blends voices of Labrador Inuit with stunning scenery and
illustrates such loss. Researcher Dr. Ashlee Cunsolo Willox interviewed people
from five communities in Nunatsiavut, Labrador. That part of Canada is under
the influence of a warming trend and the ice is melting along the North
Labrador coast. The lack of dependable ice is creating environmental, emotional
and cultural impacts on the lives of everyone there. They are unable to get to
their traditional hunting and fishing cabins because the sea ice is so
unpredictable. Depressed about not being able to get out on the land, the
people are experiencing strong emotional reactions – grief, mourning, anger,
frustration and sadness. In a 2014 CBC Quirks and Quarks interview with Bob
MacDonald, Cunsolo Willox said, “People describe themselves as land people, as
people of the snow and the ice and would say that going out on the land and
hunting and trapping and fishing is as much a part of their life as breathing.”
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Wind ripped snow |
That kind of breath is
almost sacred. Sometimes you can get a whiff of it when you are walking out on
the ice. The sky is a brilliant blue, the ice is humming under your feet and
the day is at peace. On a windless day, when the sun is shining and you are out
on the frozen lake it is as a friend said, “There’s nothing like it in the
whole world. Why would you want anything else?”
Anyone who has
experienced the simplicity of nature in such a way can understand the need to
seek the bush, to connect with the land. I feel sorry for those who are waiting
for word about the ACR passenger train. That traditional means of getting to
the bush is in jeopardy. If the train ceases to run for them, ceases to take
them into the wonderful wild, what will they do? Depression, frustration,
anger? Or as one of the voices in the Lament
for the Land film stated, “Guess we are going to have to find another way.”
Ah, ‘tis the nature of
life, finding another way. Hey, I’ll bet the Easter Bunny can help. There’s got
to be lots of goodies in that basket.
Ice walkers
Feel like heading
south? Sick of the cold? Can’t stand the stinging wind one more day? Who knew that
we would have to endure ANOTHER polar vortex!
Some folks refuse to be
undone and devise a multitude of ways to brave the elements. Like frying fish
in a tent at a campsite in Lake Superior Park when it’s -19 (check out
lakesuperiorpark.com to see the hot tent video). Others rebel and stay inside to
cook up steaming pots of soup. How to survive it all? Well, humour helps. I
laughed when I heard last week about a jesting Facebook post from the Nova
Scotia RCMP. The faithful horsemen said that Old Man Winter was on their wanted
list for causing “numerous highway closures, excessive shovelling and visits to
the chiropractor.” I imagine that one could add disrupting water mains and
blinding snow storms to the charges. Plus, there must have been complaints
about his homegrown recruits, Willie Windchill and Frieda Frostbite. The
Mounties warned folks to not approach Old Man Winter because he was “armed with
ice pellets” and to protect themselves with sand, a snow blower or salt!
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| ice tree |
But you’d need an
infinitesimal amount of salt to eradicate Old Man Winter’s effect on the lake.
For, as of this week, ice smothers 90 to 100 percent of Lake Superior. We can see
ice on the lake straight to the horizon and beyond. That vast expanse of white
is such a compelling surface.
About a week ago we decided that it was safe
enough to hike said ice sheet. Housed in snowpants and woolen layers of
insulation under my biggest warmest coat, I ventured down to the icy lake with
scarf over my mouth and two pairs of socks in my boots. I walked like the
Michelin man. (To get to the lake we have to navigate over drifts and around
ice cliffs.) Frieda and Willie terrorized my bare fingers as I released my
hands from cosy mitts just long enough to buckle the straps on my snowshoes.
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| michelin woman |
When
we reached the shore of lake Superior, we stood there for a minute, listening
to the thundering voice of the ice. The scene was magnificent. The walk was
amazing. The sight was pure artistry. Snow resembled mounds of whipped cream.
Where the ice was clear, lines and cracks converged to create a beautiful
geometry.
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| What is all this frozen
stuff anyway? Painters and musicians and
poets often offer their insights. Scientists have their interpretations too.
They say that pure ice is white with a blue tinge. Well the turquoise hidden in
the ice caves affirmed that point. Science also says that ice is a mineral, or at
least it has the 5 properties of a mineral. The first two properties are easy
to understand. Ice must occur on its own, not be manmade. And no other organism
must be able to produce it either. The rink makers, who embrace the frigid
nights with hose in hand, know too well that their creations only result from
just the right combo of water and temperature. Next, to be a mineral, ice must
be a solid. Uhhh..I sure hope so. A lot of ice trekkers and snow machinists are
counting on that one. The last two properties deal with chemistry - a finite
number of chemical compositions and an ordered atomic structure. Hexagonal
crystals put ice straight into the mineral category. Science sure has a hoot
analysing this ever mysterious, ever changing substance. Check this out. Under
the Antarctic ice field lays the Russian-named Lake Vostok. Researchers claim
that the lake has a surface area of about 14,000 sq km and is 670 m deep. (Lake
Superior is approx 82,100 sq km and 406 m deep). The Antarctic scientists add
other interesting tidbits. They say that 3 km of ice has hidden Lake Vostok from
the sun for about 15 million years. Other discoveries include DNA from single
celled organisms encased in the ice. Scientists call them extremophiles. Yeesh. I think that some of us feel like we are turning
into one of those. |
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| snow cornice |
But take heart. Right
now Old Man Winter is using the last of his energy to make his getaway. (The
Mounties will have to nab their man next year.) The fearless frost maker is heading
to the shores of Lake Vostok on a March Break ice diving holiday. After that,
he reports back to work in Brazil, Australia and other places south of 0 (aka
t
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| Locked in to the island |
But take heart. Right
now Old Man Winter is using the last of his energy to make his getaway. (The
Mounties will have to nab their man next year.) The fearless frost maker is heading
to the shores of Lake Vostok on a March Break ice diving holiday. After that,
he reports back to work in Brazil, Australia and other places south of 0 (aka
the equator). By then, spring will be making her presence felt here. You will
find her sleeping in a sunny window, standing by a south facing wall or luxuriating
from a warm windless day on the ice. Ahh. Such is our life. For, indeed, as the
slogan goes, “We the North.”