A Wonderful Week in Sudbury, Elliot Lake, Massey, and White River - July 27, 2019
A Wonderful Week in Sudbury, Elliot Lake, Massey, and White River
My hubs Laur and I enjoyed a wonderful week in Sudbury, Elliot Lake, Massey, and White River. OK, I enjoyed the Sudbury part more than my hubs and he enjoyed the six hour drive to White River more than I did. And both of us enjoyed some silly situations.
Feeding the Local Wildlife
On Monday, having arrived Sunday night, Laur picked us out a hike near Halfway Lake. My mother would call this Halfway to Nowhere, but I digress. It’s located quite a distance north of Levack, the town where Laur spent his first five years.
You could easily have identified us a southerners. On the one hand we had on bug jackets – which we would sorely need – and we were wearing short pants. What part of mosquitoes, deer flies, scrappy plants and poison ivy didn’t we get?!
Still – the hike went very well. The blurb says, “The trail meanders east through mossy clearings, forests and along cliff tops to the edge of Antrim Lake. The Osprey Heights Lookout provides a superb view from over 50 metres above Antrim Lake. This is a great photo opportunity and an ideal place to stop for lunch.”
Given the cloud of bugs finding us and following us, you can be sure we didn’t stop! At the end of it Laur said to me, “You’re bleeding!” The mark of a good hike.
*****
Finding a Dog in the Woods
On Thursday, we did what we call an “exploratory hike.” This means that Laur has a general idea about where we are going but there are few parts that are missing on the map or don’t make sense. I truly don’t mind these because I’m not all that worried about seeing new stuff. I just like going for long walks and listening to podcasts.
We started out in a suburb not far from our Airbnb – it’s called Vintage Way. The homes are huge and beautiful, and the streets are named “Merlot,” “Cabernet,” “Pino,” “Napa Valley,” etc. Laur and I got a fit of the giggles dreaming up what we would call it. We thought “Wino’s Way” might be a good start for the name of the subdivision. And we could name the streets such charming names as “Gut-Rot Gully,” “Come-Alive-for-a-Buck-Five Drive,” “Two Buck Chuck Blvd,” and “Plonk Pathways.”
Hmm, perhaps a future in subdivision development ought not to be in our plan.
After some further tromping across the Trans Canada Highway (I kid you not,) and stumbling upon a deceased ski-lift (we like this stuff,) Laur finally found what he was looking for. “Le chien qui voit tout” or “the dog that keeps watch.”
Not having any artistic sensibilities at all – all I saw were four boulders lying beside each other. But “non, non” – this is…well you have to read this description yourself.
“In this «rock event» sponsored by Galerie Nouvel Ontario, four glacier-licked rocks – the largest weighing thirty-three tons – were bulldozed to the top of a hill, to become a permanent installation. Conceived by local artist and community activist MG, Le chien qui voit tout (The Dog That Sees Everything) is a giant stone dog which marks its territory along the Sudbury bypass linking Highway 69 with Highway 17 (about two kilometers east of the Long Lake Road intersection).
G wanted this sculpture to symbolize the need to protect and defend the cause of personal creativity and imagination in Sudbury. «A sculpture formed of glacier-licked rock, a muse hiding in the landscape to preserve art. A sign of nature tinkered with but not tamed.»
In creating this work of art, G managed to involve the community, including the mechanical assistance of two rock-moving specialists.”
And just when you think it could not get any funnier… “A video documentary of the installation was made by artist LF.” I can just imagine the raucous laughter of the two dump trucker drivers. “Eh Jean-Guy, Ils appellent cet art, non? “Oui oui mon ami. Je suppose que nous sommes des artistes urbains! Haa haa haa!!!”
*****
Fandom
Everywhere we go on our northern holiday, I bring my box fan. I am always 10 degrees warmer than anyone else in the room and I love the feeling of air blowing on my face. And, more importantly, I need something that drowns out background noise. I’m a light sleeper. The gentlest snore and – egad - I’m wide awake.
Thursday night as I was going to bed, my fan died. What?! I suggested we could go to Canadian Tire. Laur, who already had his northern Ontario pjs on, suggested we could switch rooms. His room had an overhead fan. And that was tempting except the fan was very quiet. Que faire? I looked up “fan noise video” on my computer and – eureka – there was a you tube with 11 hours of fan noise. I could make it as quiet or as noisy as I liked. I like the noise level of a helicopter. It wasn’t as good as my box fan – no air blowing on me – but I could make do until the next day.
First thing Friday morning after packing up the van, we headed to Canadian Tire. There were many fans to choose from. Towers, rotating, stationary, you name it. And all of them promised less noise. WHAT!? No! After some digging around I found a box fan. If we hadn’t found one there, we’d have had to go to every hardware store and thrift shop until we did.
I told Laur we have to keep the box and receipt. Why? In case it didn’t make enough noise. I plugged it in at Laur’s Mom’s house. It did not disappoint. In fact it likely exceeds the decibels of my old fan. I was concerned that it might have kept Marg awake. No, she had an AC unit in her bedroom. Phew.
I call my new fan “Boxy.”
*****
White River Wandering
I truly love White River. If our kids settled out there, I could live there very happily. We arrived at the White River motel around 3:45 pm on Saturday afternoon. The gal at the front desk was born in Nepal and finds living in White River a bit of a challenge. It’s not just the cold – though White River can be one of the coldest places in Canada. It’s the lack of food she can eat. She and her hubs are vegetarians and eat foods with particular spices. I’ve known Sudburians who go to Toronto regularly to get their spices. I cannot imagine making the trip from White River.
It was grand walking around town. I love all things trains and there was a train station to make my heart go pitter-pat. My Dad drove trains – in Northern Ontario, at one point! We went to the White River Heritage Museum – it was the size of a living room and had mostly Winnie the Pooh stuff – for good reason. It was in White River that this story began.
In 1914 a soldier, Harry Colebourn, bought a bear cub for $20 in White River. Apparently this was not uncommon back in the day. He named her Winnipeg – after his hometown. He brought Winnie, as she came to be known, to London, England with him where she lived with Harry and his troop. When Harry was called to France, he knew he could not bring Winnie with him, so gave her to the London Zoo.
According to a White River website, “this little bear captured the hearts of many visitors to the Zoo, among them A.A. Milne and his son Christopher Robin Milne. They became frequent visitors and it was Christopher who added ‘Pooh’ to Winnie’s name. He got the name from his pet swan named Pooh. Christopher had a bear given to him on his first birthday on August 21, 1921 which he first called Edward Bear, but soon changed to ‘Winnie-the-Pooh’ after the playful Winnie at the London Zoo. A.A. Milne started to write stories about a loveable bear in his children’s books based on that bear in the Zoo.”
Laur found his old home. It was originally a United Church with a small manse attached to the back of it. (His Dad was a United Church minister.) It looked like it had seen better times. A lot of his old haunts did. We asked a lad – an Indian from India – who was just coming off his shift at the A & W about some trails and stuff. He said we needed to talk to the folks who go to the A & W every morning for coffee between 7 and 8 am.
I pushed Laur into doing this and we arrived at the A & W at 7:45 am. He asked the server if there were any “old timers” in the restaurant he could ask things of. She pointed to a tableful of people our age. We introduced ourselves and Laur started firing away questions – and getting answers! Laur was in his element.
Off we went following some old roads into the hills behind his old house and tromping through the woods looking for vestiges of his life 60 years ago. We did find part of a make-shift “ski lift” that his buddies had set up. They ran it using the back wheel of a running panel truck on blocks. Not the kind of thing you could get away with these days. But it passed as good parenting in White River in the early 60s.
*****
I am always very sad to leave Northern Ontario. I love it so much up here. But I am also delighted to be with my Southern Ontario framily. I figure a week a month for the time we’re in Canada should do it. And when we can’t go to Arizona anymore, we could go up North for the winter!
Laur figures that P.E.I. has 300 km of rail trail, and NO TICKS! Plus ocean. Me, the ocean does nothing for me, but anything to do with trains – even if it’s only rail trail – puts me in my happy place.
My hubs Laur and I enjoyed a wonderful week in Sudbury, Elliot Lake, Massey, and White River. OK, I enjoyed the Sudbury part more than my hubs and he enjoyed the six hour drive to White River more than I did. And both of us enjoyed some silly situations.
Feeding the Local Wildlife
On Monday, having arrived Sunday night, Laur picked us out a hike near Halfway Lake. My mother would call this Halfway to Nowhere, but I digress. It’s located quite a distance north of Levack, the town where Laur spent his first five years.
You could easily have identified us a southerners. On the one hand we had on bug jackets – which we would sorely need – and we were wearing short pants. What part of mosquitoes, deer flies, scrappy plants and poison ivy didn’t we get?!
Still – the hike went very well. The blurb says, “The trail meanders east through mossy clearings, forests and along cliff tops to the edge of Antrim Lake. The Osprey Heights Lookout provides a superb view from over 50 metres above Antrim Lake. This is a great photo opportunity and an ideal place to stop for lunch.”
Given the cloud of bugs finding us and following us, you can be sure we didn’t stop! At the end of it Laur said to me, “You’re bleeding!” The mark of a good hike.
*****
Finding a Dog in the Woods
On Thursday, we did what we call an “exploratory hike.” This means that Laur has a general idea about where we are going but there are few parts that are missing on the map or don’t make sense. I truly don’t mind these because I’m not all that worried about seeing new stuff. I just like going for long walks and listening to podcasts.
We started out in a suburb not far from our Airbnb – it’s called Vintage Way. The homes are huge and beautiful, and the streets are named “Merlot,” “Cabernet,” “Pino,” “Napa Valley,” etc. Laur and I got a fit of the giggles dreaming up what we would call it. We thought “Wino’s Way” might be a good start for the name of the subdivision. And we could name the streets such charming names as “Gut-Rot Gully,” “Come-Alive-for-a-Buck-Five Drive,” “Two Buck Chuck Blvd,” and “Plonk Pathways.”
Hmm, perhaps a future in subdivision development ought not to be in our plan.
After some further tromping across the Trans Canada Highway (I kid you not,) and stumbling upon a deceased ski-lift (we like this stuff,) Laur finally found what he was looking for. “Le chien qui voit tout” or “the dog that keeps watch.”
Not having any artistic sensibilities at all – all I saw were four boulders lying beside each other. But “non, non” – this is…well you have to read this description yourself.
“In this «rock event» sponsored by Galerie Nouvel Ontario, four glacier-licked rocks – the largest weighing thirty-three tons – were bulldozed to the top of a hill, to become a permanent installation. Conceived by local artist and community activist MG, Le chien qui voit tout (The Dog That Sees Everything) is a giant stone dog which marks its territory along the Sudbury bypass linking Highway 69 with Highway 17 (about two kilometers east of the Long Lake Road intersection).
G wanted this sculpture to symbolize the need to protect and defend the cause of personal creativity and imagination in Sudbury. «A sculpture formed of glacier-licked rock, a muse hiding in the landscape to preserve art. A sign of nature tinkered with but not tamed.»
In creating this work of art, G managed to involve the community, including the mechanical assistance of two rock-moving specialists.”
And just when you think it could not get any funnier… “A video documentary of the installation was made by artist LF.” I can just imagine the raucous laughter of the two dump trucker drivers. “Eh Jean-Guy, Ils appellent cet art, non? “Oui oui mon ami. Je suppose que nous sommes des artistes urbains! Haa haa haa!!!”
*****
Fandom
Everywhere we go on our northern holiday, I bring my box fan. I am always 10 degrees warmer than anyone else in the room and I love the feeling of air blowing on my face. And, more importantly, I need something that drowns out background noise. I’m a light sleeper. The gentlest snore and – egad - I’m wide awake.
Thursday night as I was going to bed, my fan died. What?! I suggested we could go to Canadian Tire. Laur, who already had his northern Ontario pjs on, suggested we could switch rooms. His room had an overhead fan. And that was tempting except the fan was very quiet. Que faire? I looked up “fan noise video” on my computer and – eureka – there was a you tube with 11 hours of fan noise. I could make it as quiet or as noisy as I liked. I like the noise level of a helicopter. It wasn’t as good as my box fan – no air blowing on me – but I could make do until the next day.
First thing Friday morning after packing up the van, we headed to Canadian Tire. There were many fans to choose from. Towers, rotating, stationary, you name it. And all of them promised less noise. WHAT!? No! After some digging around I found a box fan. If we hadn’t found one there, we’d have had to go to every hardware store and thrift shop until we did.
I told Laur we have to keep the box and receipt. Why? In case it didn’t make enough noise. I plugged it in at Laur’s Mom’s house. It did not disappoint. In fact it likely exceeds the decibels of my old fan. I was concerned that it might have kept Marg awake. No, she had an AC unit in her bedroom. Phew.
I call my new fan “Boxy.”
*****
White River Wandering
I truly love White River. If our kids settled out there, I could live there very happily. We arrived at the White River motel around 3:45 pm on Saturday afternoon. The gal at the front desk was born in Nepal and finds living in White River a bit of a challenge. It’s not just the cold – though White River can be one of the coldest places in Canada. It’s the lack of food she can eat. She and her hubs are vegetarians and eat foods with particular spices. I’ve known Sudburians who go to Toronto regularly to get their spices. I cannot imagine making the trip from White River.
It was grand walking around town. I love all things trains and there was a train station to make my heart go pitter-pat. My Dad drove trains – in Northern Ontario, at one point! We went to the White River Heritage Museum – it was the size of a living room and had mostly Winnie the Pooh stuff – for good reason. It was in White River that this story began.
In 1914 a soldier, Harry Colebourn, bought a bear cub for $20 in White River. Apparently this was not uncommon back in the day. He named her Winnipeg – after his hometown. He brought Winnie, as she came to be known, to London, England with him where she lived with Harry and his troop. When Harry was called to France, he knew he could not bring Winnie with him, so gave her to the London Zoo.
According to a White River website, “this little bear captured the hearts of many visitors to the Zoo, among them A.A. Milne and his son Christopher Robin Milne. They became frequent visitors and it was Christopher who added ‘Pooh’ to Winnie’s name. He got the name from his pet swan named Pooh. Christopher had a bear given to him on his first birthday on August 21, 1921 which he first called Edward Bear, but soon changed to ‘Winnie-the-Pooh’ after the playful Winnie at the London Zoo. A.A. Milne started to write stories about a loveable bear in his children’s books based on that bear in the Zoo.”
Laur found his old home. It was originally a United Church with a small manse attached to the back of it. (His Dad was a United Church minister.) It looked like it had seen better times. A lot of his old haunts did. We asked a lad – an Indian from India – who was just coming off his shift at the A & W about some trails and stuff. He said we needed to talk to the folks who go to the A & W every morning for coffee between 7 and 8 am.
I pushed Laur into doing this and we arrived at the A & W at 7:45 am. He asked the server if there were any “old timers” in the restaurant he could ask things of. She pointed to a tableful of people our age. We introduced ourselves and Laur started firing away questions – and getting answers! Laur was in his element.
Off we went following some old roads into the hills behind his old house and tromping through the woods looking for vestiges of his life 60 years ago. We did find part of a make-shift “ski lift” that his buddies had set up. They ran it using the back wheel of a running panel truck on blocks. Not the kind of thing you could get away with these days. But it passed as good parenting in White River in the early 60s.
*****
I am always very sad to leave Northern Ontario. I love it so much up here. But I am also delighted to be with my Southern Ontario framily. I figure a week a month for the time we’re in Canada should do it. And when we can’t go to Arizona anymore, we could go up North for the winter!
Laur figures that P.E.I. has 300 km of rail trail, and NO TICKS! Plus ocean. Me, the ocean does nothing for me, but anything to do with trains – even if it’s only rail trail – puts me in my happy place.