Sunset March

The first clue was that +10 degree day. I saw a guy in the Sault wearing shorts on the seventh of March. Ol’ Petey, the Polar Vortex, must have been snickering up his sleeve.
Then he continued the joke and turned Lake Superior on its side. Remember those bone chilling winds? Well the lake sure does. Table sized ice chunks from somewhere ended up as ice mountains here at Montreal River Harbour on Superior’s eastern shore. And, thanks to the Modis satellite imagery on the GLERL (Great Lakes Environmental Research Lab) website, that somewhere was most likely  Whitefish Bay, about  65 km south of here! On March 4th, the Bay was almost full, with just its mouth showing a big crack of a smile. By March 16th half the ice was gone. Gone alright! The infamous March winds blew that flat, 2 foot thick ice field straight onto our shore.

Yoikes! Cracking, crushing! The ice pans hit shore and tumbled end over end onto each other. With nowhere else to go, they went up! I felt like I was in the movie Inception or Dr.Strange where the landscape tilts on its side. After a full 24 hours of ice meets shore, the wind eased just a bit. What was left? Ice cliffs so high that in many places one can’t see the lake!

But there is some consolation (besides great photo ops). This March ice break up is the lead up to spring. Forget about snow and ice.

                                    Turn instead to thoughts of the sweet maple syrup of early spring. 



To get a feel for how some syrup production was going I called Doug Thompson at his place on St Joe’s Island. Thompson has over 16,000 taps on his 155 acres on the island, averaging 20,000 gallons of sap a day. I tried to be quick with the questions. After all he was on his cell phone at his sugar bush. I can’t imagine how much work it must take to run his operation!
But Thompson does have some unique help. He uses some very cool computer technology to make his collection system more efficient. Like most syrup producers, Thompson uses lines and a pumping system to extract sap from the trees.  But the lines have a tendency to leak when squirrels make holes in them to get at the sap.
“Squirrels are the worst problem,” says Thompson. “All of a sudden they’re all over the country and they sure like to chew the lines.”
A few years ago, when Thompson was in Vermont, he ended up chatting about the problem of finding the leaks in the lines. Someone suggested that it would be good if there was a computer program that could help.
Thompson brought that thought back home and acted on it. “One day, out of the blue, I decided to find someone who could build the technology,” he said. “I was driving into the Sault and I had a choice. Turn right or left. So I drove left to Algoma Business Computers and found Trevor Bryant.”
Bryant, a sales person as well as programmer at Algoma Business Computers, tapped into the project and designed a way to map the route of the sap through the sugar bush.
“Doug Thompson just walked in and approached me with the idea,” said Bryant. “So I figured out how to monitor the vacuum levels across the property.”
That was six years ago and results have been great.
 “Producers have increased their bottom line since they are now able to collect more sap,” said Bryant. “The program took off.”
Bryant explained that about 20 maple syrup producers in Vermont, New Hampshire and upstate New York have purchased the program.  As well there is one in Wisconsin and also in Quebec. Of course Thompson uses his on St Joe’s, with great success.
“Now we know where to look; otherwise, you just flip a coin to find the leak,” said Thompson. “We can find and fix a leak so fast. I look at the computer in the sugar house and see a map of the lines. There’s a sensor reading at the end of them with colour coded results. Red is low, yellow is intermittent and green is a go!”
Thompson and Bryant must be pretty pleased with their efforts and their system. It’s a great addition to sap gathering technology.




I thought about all this maple syrup talk as I was wandering through our own maple bush. As I circled the trees, I noticed that each of the larger ones was showing bare ground at its base. The trees are alive, have warmth and have so much to give. I look forward to the coming days when that bare ground is everywhere and the trout lilies are brightening up the forest floor. I realized too that all barriers to growth, be it an unexpected wall of ice or an invasion of chewy squirrels, will melt, move on or be out manoeuvred. So let’s celebrate the coming season. For who knows what clues a fresh spring will be dropping our way?

the old fashioned way

fog bergs

A Long Climb to the Light

The candle holders and tree lights are back in their boxes. The darkness is receding and we’ve once again celebrated the Earth’s orbit around the Sun.

There’s no doubt that sunshine lifts up our spirits. Trips south, either real or dreamt, are tangible proof that, like plants, we cherish the feeling of sunlight on our faces.

But our collective need for light is much more than a blanket and a book at the beach. 

We need light for guidance and what better example than a lighthouse. For all around the world, from the ancient Egyptian island of Pharos, to the inland sea of Lake Superior, lighthouses have banished the obscurities of darkness. At one time they were an essential part of our journeys on water. How else to avoid rock and navigate from here to there?

Before highways altered our relationship with Superior, ship traffic was crucial. In 1901, the Algoma Central Steamship Line, which transported Helen Mine iron ore from Michipicoten Harbour to the steel mill in Sault Ste Marie, erected a navigation light atop a bluff at the northwest end of Coppermine Point, which is about 75 kilometres north of the Sault. The light rested on a four metre tower 15 m above the lake. On a clear night mariners could see the shine from a distance of 20 km.

In 1904 the Canadian Government took on responsibility for the light and hired John Joseph Roussain as the keeper. Roussain kept the lantern lit until he died in 1909.Then his son, Frank Edmund Roussain, took up the job. Frank was light keeper until 1923 when the government changed the light to an unmanned acetylene unit that could turn itself off and on. Ahhh automation!

On September 15, 1908, the Roussains got to see an enclosed lighthouse replace the original open-sided tower. The new permanent structure, 11m from base to top, cost $1200  and was quite the fancy affair. The square white wooden building with sloping sides supported a red iron lantern which housed a new French lens. And this Coppermine Point Lighthouse, standing 20 m above Lake Superior, was destined for greatness. A.Y.Jackson immortalized the structure when a calm day allowed him to sit offshore in a boat and create a painting of the wistful building.

One of the most remote light stations on Lake Superior is right in the middle of the lake. Caribou Island is magic and mystery in real time. It’s a small island, the flat top of an underwater mountain, with squeaky golden sand on the east side and layers of red sandstone on the rest of the shoreline. The navigation light for this mid lake jewel sits on a five acre islet offshore from Caribou itself. I visited this elusive place in mid-September 1984 when Bert Hopkins and his wife, Pearl, were the lightkeepers. I hiked around Caribou and even made that long climb up a circular metal staircase in the 25 m light tower. ‘Twas a beauty day topped off by a beauty meal. Sunshine, light breezes and Pearl even cooked a turkey dinner.

Caribou Island’s first light keeper was Charles Pim (of Pim Street fame). He served from 1887 to 1898. Then it was Wibord Demers’turn.He lit the lamps from 1899 to 1906 and not without incident. In December, 1904, the tug that was supposed to take Demers and his helper Fred Pelletier back to the mainland for the winter couldn’t land due to rough seas. There was panic until a rescue tug, at a cost of over $6000  plucked them away from the ice laden light station.

The romance of lighthouses will never fade. Their stories connect our collective need for drama, survival and light. Today one can see a remnant of those times past, not by braving ice-cold seas but by driving about 78 km north on Highway 17 North. On the lake side, tucked on a rocky ledge is that 1908 Coppermine Point Lighthouse. 

When the government tendered its destruction in 1968, a resourceful Ernie Demers dismantled the structure and brought it from Coppermine Point to highlight his Lighthouse Restaurant. The restaurant is gone as is the freshness of the lighthouse paint but the memories still shine through the air.

Yes Light stations do feed our imaginations. Even though they no longer house people that climb long stairs to light lamps, let’s hope that some semblance of that romance kindles our desire to embrace the light. For really, isn’t that what we all want to see at the end of the day?

Power Gifts

early morning rainbow

Power comes in all forms. In the air, through a cord or around the corner. Good thing too. During the holiday season one needs an extra fuse or two to help finish all that needs finishing.

From hanging outdoor lights to sharing soup and biscuits with a friend to chatting it up with strangers while waiting in line at the Post Office, one has to make sure that the batteries stay charged.

We know that a lack of electricity really impacts our lives. That was most obvious last week when we had two days of scheduled electrical outages. Since Algoma Power had to upgrade some of the lines leading from the hydro dams on the Montreal River, we were without the juice from 9am till 5pm. Prepared we were, but you know how early it gets dark. One late afternoon we ended up playing a game of crib by candle and kerosene light. (I almost got skunked).

I suppose that might be how some folks are feeling these days about their power bills. But what are the alternatives? Here’s an interesting phenomenon Google asked me to consider.

Agawa lagoon

We all have a built in energy source. Our own bodies generate electricity. It flows and moves through our bodies as potassium ions rush through cell walls to meet the sodium ions. Those two opposites attract and boy oh girl, when they meet is there ever a spark!  Such impulses domino and before you know it the charges are zapping our systems. Now science wants to upgrade the harvesting of all that energy.

We’ve gone beyond wrist watches that charge their batteries when you shake your arm. (ps – that is called piezoelectricity – electricity from movement). Today’s game is much more complex. We now are in the age of personal energy harvesting devices and the internet of things. Experimenters have strapped the devices to people’s knees, sent them on a walk and pow! The inventions captured enough energy to power five cell phones. Or, how about this? Put energy harvesting materials (usually crystals or ceramics) into the floor and voila! Just imagine what a crystallized dance floor, hockey rink, basketball court, football pitch or theatre stage could produce. 

This insight into harvesting energy has cleared up some of the mystery around the magic of walking. When we take a step, the rising and falling of our foot creates an electrical charge. At the same time we absorb some of the enormous electrical energy inherent in the Earth.  

fire tea

Last week, before the cold and snow of winter moved in, we walked with some friends to the mouth of the Agawa River. That day the sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. The light would show itself enough to shed warmth and then go back into a cloud to create a Lauren Harris painting. We walked down the cobbled shore, came to a familiar spot by a driftwood log and made a small comfort fire. We needed it. The north wind was being a tease, threatening to force us off the shore at any minute. Lake Superior had chosen to be calm, sending soft rolling waves onto the shore. Blue grey snow clouds lined the horizon but the perfection of the moment remained intact. Sitting on the ground with a log for a back rest, sipping a cup of hot mint green tea, was so relaxing. The walk to the river mouth was more than an opportunity for fine vistas and fresh air. It refilled the gas tank. Or to be more in tune with the current economic and environmental times, the day supercharged our batteries.

watchful

This week is a different story. Our old friend Polar Vortex is threatening to plunk onto our doorstep and steal our energy. Not to be undone by such insistence, I am going to turn the table and grab some power from the cold. I’ll gather it on sunny snowshoe trails beside deep blue Superior, under the glow of a full moon on fresh snow or in the unexpected wonders - like that early dark morning when I saw two shooting stars chase each other down the handle of the Big Dipper.

The next time there is a power outage I doubt there will be an energy harvesting device at my fingertips or kneecaps. For now candles and kerosene are fine to lighten a darkened room. And until kitchen floors come equipped with piezoelectric charging materials I think I'll get my energy from tromping around on snow crystals. I know one can always depend on them to add brightness to the season.

that beautiful blue

Happy Holidays everyone and may your energies increase with each step into the New Year.

What's a Whiskey Jack!

November 14, 2016 :

Lake Superior waves at Montreal River  November 10, 2016

We’ve all got at least one friend. Be it your best, a book or even a bird, each one gladdens the heart. Good thing too. This has been a tricky week. But then November is the trickster’s month.

This November is a far goose cry from that of just two years ago. In November of that year, 2014, we already had LOTS of snow. And it didn’t leave till late May! But for me that was ok. I am a fan of the white stuff. Fresh soft snow, reflecting its shine back up to the stars, is a peaceful thing indeed.

The same can be said for the past few weeks of golden goodness. Hikes along soft needled forest trails have such special magic. Chickadees chirp and Canada Geese share their high lonesome calls. The last of the yellowed moose maple leaves dangle from thin black branches and seem to float in the clear light air. The smell of the damp earth, the aging leaves and orange tips of cedar energize each step. Wind plays through the trees, catching and tossing light into cracks that remain hidden other times of the year. All the while Lake Superior is rumbling and rolling along the shore. No doubt it still will be a while before or IF the lake assumes a winter coat.

Early morning November gold on Montreal Island

A change to a winter coat isn’t just the work of lakes and rabbits and weasels. Some birds adopt winter plumage too. The other day we spotted a distant line of white and grey heads bobbing in north blown waves. I wondered why seagulls would want to sit facing that cold blast of wind. But then I saw them all dive beneath the water. Ahha—not gulls! Winter plumage loons!

To honour our friendship with birds, the Royal Canadian Geographical Society has been asking Canadians for their choice of a national bird. After hundreds of submissions they are down to five candidates - Canada Goose, Snowy Owl (Quebec’s bird), Common Loon (Ontario’s bird), Chickadee (New Brunswick’s bird) and the Grey (the website, for some odd reason uses Gray, the American spelling) Jay. The result will be announced at a RCGS gala dinner in Ottawa on November 16.

You can just imagine the arguing, the to and froing , as to which bird shall be chosen as The One. The chatter has been incredible. David Bird (no kidding), Emeritus Professor of Wildlife Biology at McGill University, speaks for (one of my favs) the Grey Jay AKA the Whiskey Jack (from the Cree Wiskedjak).

A Whiskey Jack looking for a handout at Montreal River On, Nov 14, 2014.

On the website nationalbird.canadiangeographic.ca, Bird lists many reasons for choosing this 70g, 33cm long, feathered pal with a wingspan of up to 45 cm. Plus,  they stay in Canada all year-round, cannot be confused with any other species and are extremely smart and friendly. I’m with Bird. Who couldn’t like this cute, friendly bird that resembles an oversized, fluffy chickadee? Plus, they’re really intelligent and creative. They are the Roberta Bondars of the bird world.

Grey Jays are AKA as “camp robbers”, flying away with bits of your food if given the chance. But people don’t mind; they love this resilient, faithful survivor. 

Check out this story from Joel Coutu in Montreal Quebec.

During the 1930s Depression his grandfather used to spend nine months of the year away from family, working in the lumber camps in Northeastern Quebec, in the Lac Saint Jean area. One day his grandfather cut down a tree that had a Whiskey Jack nest. One of the young birds survived the fall and his grandfather brought it back to the camp, fed it, took care of it and the two became BFF.The bird followed the grandfather everywhere and even played fetch! For the next three years, every fall when the grandfather returned to the camp, the jay would be there and fly onto his shoulder. The jay wouldn’t do this for any other worker in the camp!

Other folks have experienced how Whiskey Jacks like to hang out at the same locale year after year. Former Montreal River resident George Bartley likes to tell the story of snowmobiling to an area about 8 km south of the former “village” at Mile 92 on the ACR to Pike Creek, which stays open all winter. Bartley explained that he always took along extra cheese sandwiches for the large group of Whiskey Jacks who reside there.

Raven cruising over Alpha Tor

Indeed we do have a kinship with birds. They were the first singers. They have given us dreams, wonder, imagination and hope. And yes we do have them as friends. But best of all, we get to reminisce about their benefits.

Update November 17, 2016

 Last night, November 16, 2016, the Canadian Geographic Society awarded the prize to the Whiskey Jack. It became Canada's National Bird. Congrats friend! Thanks for being there.

Now we are ready for winter.

Fall Dreams

What is it about the fall that makes us want to wonder and wander? Perhaps it is seeing our world change colour and dare to exist as another self ? The reasons are too few or too many. But-- no matter what  thoughts might or might not hold onto those walking moments,there is no doubt that we witness

                                              the essence and magic of a season on the turn.

Big moon rising

for September 2016

Harvest moon over L.A.(Los Angeles)

That big harvest moon is talking to us. The evenings are lengthening and the stars are taking more curtain calls. No, I don’t mean all the movie folks at the Toronto Film Festival. (Although it would have been fun to be interstellar in the Big Smoke for a few days.)

Being star struck is something all of us experience at one time or other. While some people seek the stage their whole life, others are just fine being the audience. Actors, hockey greats, Olympic athletes and rock stars are undeniable, magnetic aspects of our universe.

The other evening I had the opportunity to cheer on some night-time entertainment. The almost full harvest moon was a bright white disc in the east, sliding up the sky as day light waned in the west. Our brightest star had slipped away to the other side of the world so the moon was left to juggle reflected sunlight. Towering pine trees stood as sentinel silhouettes, white quartz pebbles became ground stars and Lake Superior hid under its mysterious shiny blue/black self.

Crescent moon over  L.S. (Lake Superior)

This night nature is a powerful force. From the ancient star gazing Phoenicians to modern telescope laden observatories, we always have wondered about and wandered with star directives. The desire to look up and beyond will never go away. The Algoma Astronomers know this and that’s why they highlight Lake Superior Park as a go-to destination. Jeff Deans, a very active organizer in the group, visited the park on Labour Day weekend and along with about 140 people saw the Saturn Ring Nebula as well as the Globular Star Cluster in Hercules. Whew! Just those adventurous names alone make one want to peer through the lens.

Deans is working on making that a possibility. He is hoping that by next year Ontario Parks will designate Lake Superior Park as a dark sky preserve. Deans is very passionate about astronomy; a passion he learned from his father, who also loved sky watching. Dean’s father was considering making a telescope purchase, but he died from a brain tumour before he got the chance. So, about nine years ago, Deans invested a substantial sum- $4000- on a telescope. In an email he said that it was kind of a whim, but then added, “My thought was I don't know how much time I have, so it’s now or never”.

Terrence Dickenson knows that too. His column in this month’s Sky News magazine sure convinced me of the importance of preserving dark skies. Dickenson posted a Google Earth/Fabio Falchi et al map of North America Light Pollution. Wholly Lights Batman! You better stick to your cave. Flood lights fill at least half the continent. The Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico and both U. S. coastlines are under the glow.

Dickenson also mentions Helen Sawyer Hogg (1905-1993). I Googled her name and discovered that she was an astronomer who pioneered research into globular clusters and variable stars. Hogg embraced the stars so much that she became one herself. A leading authority in astronomy, she published over 200 papers and wrote a weekly column in the Toronto Star for 30 years. She supported women to pursue science and helped make astronomy popular. Her book “The Stars Belong to Everyone” was a hit.

As I continued on this investigative trek, another chance encounter offered insight. Sasha, a young high school student came with his dad for a visit. Sasha, who has spent considerable time hiking and camping, was wearing a blue T-shirt with a logo from the Wolf Ridge Environmental Centre in Finland, Minnesota. On the back of the shirt was a starry scene along with a quote from Francis Clark, a famous innovative music teacher. She said,

“There wouldn’t be a sky full of stars if we were all meant to wish on the same one.”

No wonder Wolf Ridge chose her words. The Centre follows the philosophy of Richard Louv, the author who, in 2005, wrote “Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature - Deficit Disorder. Louv believes that passion is what ultimately motivates change. He says that passion is lifted from the earth itself by “the muddy hands of the young; it travels along grass – stained sleeves to the heart.” But, as Deans has learned, passion doesn’t stop there. It moves from the heart to the stars. 

The Canadian Oxford Dictionary defines a star as “a body so far removed from the earth it appears motionless.” But, we know about those deceptive appearances. We’ve always known that the stars move. As ancients, we sat up all night and watched them slide across the sky as the cosmos led us to exotic and familiar places. Today’s observers have a much easier way to check out the movement of the solar system. Folks can put their cell phones on time lapse and catch star spin.

No matter how or where we do it, seeing the night skies will always be vital to our well being. Star worlds are the delicate threads that bind us together. We might try and exist as a “Globular Star Cluster in Hercules” but one thoughtful stare into space lets you know that those billions of lights are all equal, all waiting for a wish. So let’s hope for some clear, star-filled fall nights. Then we’ll have a better chance to hear what the universe has to say.

Ethel 

Gather up

for August 2016

Maybe the birds know best after all. And I don’t mean their twitter. I refer to their marvellous ability to gather.And they share that need; for there is something about August that makes us want to gather too. 

Maybe the need to connect is glued to our psyche. There are the obvious places to come together, like fields and folk festivals. And this year we’re extra lucky as we can share Olympic celebrations. You go Penny Oleksiak! Congrats. Four Olympic medals and she is just entering grade 11! Aside from medal counts we have many other ways of collecting things. True we can gather dust or gather thoughts but nature often calls us to step outside and gather up something more tangible. Like berries.

Picking can be a delight if you are so inclined. Stand up raspberry picking is easiest. The red clumps of flavour roll off the branch into your palm and promise not to juice up - as long as you don’t force too many into the container. Blueberry bushes are more of a challenge on the back and knees, but the berries do stay firm .And if you find a patch that has turned the ground blue, that hour or so of rotating from sit (watch out for the ants) to crouch ( it’s ok knees) to bending over (soo..how far can I reach) is worth it. At first the task of filling the container might seem formidable. The berries thump into the bottom and it seems like it will take forever before the cup filleth over. However, before long you’re looking at the ingredients for a pie or muffins or jam. Yumm! And let’s not forget the bruins that like to pick-er-lick the berries too. There are berry filled clumps of bear poop to step across from time to time. You just have to watch where you’re headed.

Lake Superior offers up a different kind of fruit. When moisture ripens, it rises up and gathers into grand clouds. That’s when the party starts. They must invite some pretty fancy guests because the gnarly faces and wispy forms against those mountainous backdrops are as varied as the world itself.

One of my favourite gatherings in August is the coming together of the loon families. On the still evenings you can hear their encouragements as they begin to congregate. Soon the whole group is swimming as one, then fanning out to dive in all directions as they spot a school of minnows. They are fun to watch .The other very warm evening, as the loons wailed far off in the distance, I heard Lake Superior’s promise of coolness and slid into the smooth calm water. The sun was sinking into the horizon, shining pink and gold reflections onto the silky surface. For a few moments I floated there, just listening to the music in their plaintive voices as I stared up into the darkening sky.

As I think about gatherings I have to include Gord Downie and his Tragically Hip Man Machine Poem concert. The last night of their tour will be at Kingston’s 5,600 seat Rogers K-Rock Centre, on the evening of Saturday, August 20. And while Downie, Paul Langlois and Rob Baker are stirring up all the arena fans, the rest of Canada will be sharing the party on little and big screens across the country. Downie is well known for his cryptic lyrics. About this latest offering to the music world, Downie has said that his wife is the poem and he is the machine! Even if you’re not a “Hip” fan, there is something special about this last hurrah for 52-year-old Downie. He has glioblastoma, an invasive brain cancer. Downie’s physician says that the level of strength and courage, the energy that he needs to do the tour is well beyond what most people can do.Maybe Downie’s energy can help us keep going as we prepare to move into the next season, the glorious fall. Why might we need it?

Well, there’s another meaning for gather. “Gather Way” is a nautical term that describes when a ship is beginning to move. As soon as we gather our strength and thought, as soon as our basket is full, momentum compels us to move on. No sitting around with the goods.  Another pool awaits. The medals need a shelf. That pie has to be baked. Those birds have to leave for the south. And soaked clouds have to let go.

So let’s gather gladly and take it all up very lightly. For no one flies very far with heavy wings.