By Pamela Goldstein
Nature reserves the right to inflict upon her children the most terrifying jests.
~Thornton Wilder
The United States is known as the melting pot of humanity. Canada, on the other hand, is called the mosaic of cultures. Is there a difference? Yes. In the U.S., people who immigrate try to blend in and absorb that wonderful American heritage of baseball, apple pie, picnics and July 4th.
We Canadians love being Canadian and we're proud of our country, as well. But we've never given up the culture from our previous homes. So, for example, when you go into the Grey-Bruce peninsula of Ontario and visit towns like Kincardine and Lion's Head and Tobermory, you find men looking as if they have just walked out of eighteenth century moors. And often wearing kilts.
Nature reserves the right to inflict upon her children the most terrifying jests.
~Thornton Wilder
The United States is known as the melting pot of humanity. Canada, on the other hand, is called the mosaic of cultures. Is there a difference? Yes. In the U.S., people who immigrate try to blend in and absorb that wonderful American heritage of baseball, apple pie, picnics and July 4th.
We Canadians love being Canadian and we're proud of our country, as well. But we've never given up the culture from our previous homes. So, for example, when you go into the Grey-Bruce peninsula of Ontario and visit towns like Kincardine and Lion's Head and Tobermory, you find men looking as if they have just walked out of eighteenth century moors. And often wearing kilts.
When my boys were five and three, and I was pregnant with my daughter, we went camping in the peninsula.
Joshua, my eldest, had learned about caves from a TV show and desperately wanted to see one. Much to his delight just "a wee bit east of Lion's Head" were the Greig's caves.
It turned out that "wee bit" meant forty-five minutes. No matter, we made it.
"Hallo, lass!" said a kindly elderly gentleman in a red plaid kilt. "What brings ye to my woods?"
I told him we wanted to see the caves.
With a twinkle in his eye he said, "It'll cost ye two dollars a head."
I paid the man.
"Just follow the path down there a bit. It'll take ye around the mountain and into the woods on the other side. 'Tis a small hike, shouldn't take ye but an hour."
Forty-five minutes into the walk and we came to the first bend on the path. It was then that I noticed we were very high up and overlooking a lush green valley with ribbons of yellow wheat and wild purple lavender trailing through it. The morning mist was just clearing and the remaining glistening threads gave this pastoral scene an ethereal quality.
"He's so pretty," whispered Josh. He was staring into the face of a huge harrier hawk, not even ten feet away from him.
"Yes," I murmured as I slowly moved between Josh and this magnificent bird of prey that was eying his blond hair.
Now, I suppose at this point another more observant person would have noticed that there were no safety fences or guardrails along the way, but hey, this is Canada, the rough and wild country. It didn't even occur to me to question this.
After a while, the wide path suddenly turned into a ledge that was eighteen inches wide if we were lucky. I debated going back but reasoned that we only had a few more minutes to go. After all, the man had said it was only an hour's hike.
We put our backs to the wall and inched our way along. This wasn't a problem until I foolishly looked down at the tree tops a hundred feet below. I gasped with terror.
Did I mention I'm afraid of heights?
"It's okay, Mom," said Josh. "I know being high up scares you, but I'm not afraid. It's a good thing I'm leading."
Right. Being led by a five-year-old made me feel a lot better.
Another ten feet and we almost fell into an enormous cave that had partially collapsed.
"Whoaaaaa! This is awesome!" shouted Josh with glee. "Look at all those rattlesnakes. They look like Mississaugas. They're so cool."
Cool? Are you kidding me?
"Where did you learn about snakes?"
"The Discovery Channel," Josh replied. "Cartoons are boring."
He immediately started throwing stones into the cave.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Scaring them away. See? They're slithering to the back of the cave so we can go along the front."
Well, God bless the Discovery Channel.
We forged across four more gigantic caves, every time throwing stones to clear the way of snakes. At one point I forced myself to look at the view and I stopped moving. Now that the mist had evaporated I could see the vastness of the tranquil blue water of Lake Huron.
"It's so still," murmured Josh. "I never saw somethin' so pretty."
"Me neither, sweetie."
Finally, the path widened again. I could see a forest in the distance. A small glen nestled in front of it.
We were going to be okay.
Just had to get by the adolescent black bear that stood a hundred feet away.
"What'll we do?" whispered Josh. "I didn't see any shows on bears yet."
"We're going to sit behind this rock until he moves on," I replied, sounding braver than I felt.
"Awwwww, bear!" shouted Ben, my three-year-old.
"Shhhhh!"
At that moment I heard voices coming from the woods. Frantic men.
A large Scotsman in his kilt suddenly strode out of the forest and onto the path. Not a man to reckon with that was for sure. The bear seemed to agree. He scurried away when the Scot bellowed at him. At that point I think I was more afraid of the man than the bear.
He spotted us sitting on our rock.
"Oh glory be, praise God!" he cried. "I found them!" he shouted to the other men who were now entering the glen.
I smiled at him as he rushed over to us. "Good morning," I said as cheerfully as I could. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
I rose to my feet to shake his hand.
"Oh mother of God she's with child!" he cried. Then he noticed Josh and Ben. "Ach! And she has wee bairn with her! I'll kill him for this."
The man was nearing seventy and he was out of breath. I began to worry that he was having a coronary. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"Am I all right?" he shouted. "Jeezus, Mary and Joseph!"
He finally calmed down enough to speak to me. "I was scared out of me wits. No one has taken that trail for years. Since the side of the mountain sheared off. Are you sure you're all right, miss?"
"We're fine," I replied with a grin. "We had a great time."
Just then the elderly gentleman arrived. "It was a grand view, wasn't it?"
I noticed some of the other men mopping their brows with handkerchiefs. They had been terrified for us. "Indeed it was, sir," I said. "Worth every penny."
"I knew you'd fancy it," he chortled.
"What?" cried his son. "You charged her money for this torture?"
"Of course I charged her. Two dollars a head."
"I swear I'll be putting you in a home if you do anything like this again!"
Sean, the son, insisted that we all had to have tea and baps to make up for his ninety-four-year-old dad's "error" and listen to a few tunes from the bagpipes. (He was the leader of the town's pipe and drum band and they had been at practice.) Then we bid farewell.
T'was a grand day, indeed, in the Bruce Peninsula of Ontario!
Joshua, my eldest, had learned about caves from a TV show and desperately wanted to see one. Much to his delight just "a wee bit east of Lion's Head" were the Greig's caves.
It turned out that "wee bit" meant forty-five minutes. No matter, we made it.
"Hallo, lass!" said a kindly elderly gentleman in a red plaid kilt. "What brings ye to my woods?"
I told him we wanted to see the caves.
With a twinkle in his eye he said, "It'll cost ye two dollars a head."
I paid the man.
"Just follow the path down there a bit. It'll take ye around the mountain and into the woods on the other side. 'Tis a small hike, shouldn't take ye but an hour."
Forty-five minutes into the walk and we came to the first bend on the path. It was then that I noticed we were very high up and overlooking a lush green valley with ribbons of yellow wheat and wild purple lavender trailing through it. The morning mist was just clearing and the remaining glistening threads gave this pastoral scene an ethereal quality.
"He's so pretty," whispered Josh. He was staring into the face of a huge harrier hawk, not even ten feet away from him.
"Yes," I murmured as I slowly moved between Josh and this magnificent bird of prey that was eying his blond hair.
Now, I suppose at this point another more observant person would have noticed that there were no safety fences or guardrails along the way, but hey, this is Canada, the rough and wild country. It didn't even occur to me to question this.
After a while, the wide path suddenly turned into a ledge that was eighteen inches wide if we were lucky. I debated going back but reasoned that we only had a few more minutes to go. After all, the man had said it was only an hour's hike.
We put our backs to the wall and inched our way along. This wasn't a problem until I foolishly looked down at the tree tops a hundred feet below. I gasped with terror.
Did I mention I'm afraid of heights?
"It's okay, Mom," said Josh. "I know being high up scares you, but I'm not afraid. It's a good thing I'm leading."
Right. Being led by a five-year-old made me feel a lot better.
Another ten feet and we almost fell into an enormous cave that had partially collapsed.
"Whoaaaaa! This is awesome!" shouted Josh with glee. "Look at all those rattlesnakes. They look like Mississaugas. They're so cool."
Cool? Are you kidding me?
"Where did you learn about snakes?"
"The Discovery Channel," Josh replied. "Cartoons are boring."
He immediately started throwing stones into the cave.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Scaring them away. See? They're slithering to the back of the cave so we can go along the front."
Well, God bless the Discovery Channel.
We forged across four more gigantic caves, every time throwing stones to clear the way of snakes. At one point I forced myself to look at the view and I stopped moving. Now that the mist had evaporated I could see the vastness of the tranquil blue water of Lake Huron.
"It's so still," murmured Josh. "I never saw somethin' so pretty."
"Me neither, sweetie."
Finally, the path widened again. I could see a forest in the distance. A small glen nestled in front of it.
We were going to be okay.
Just had to get by the adolescent black bear that stood a hundred feet away.
"What'll we do?" whispered Josh. "I didn't see any shows on bears yet."
"We're going to sit behind this rock until he moves on," I replied, sounding braver than I felt.
"Awwwww, bear!" shouted Ben, my three-year-old.
"Shhhhh!"
At that moment I heard voices coming from the woods. Frantic men.
A large Scotsman in his kilt suddenly strode out of the forest and onto the path. Not a man to reckon with that was for sure. The bear seemed to agree. He scurried away when the Scot bellowed at him. At that point I think I was more afraid of the man than the bear.
He spotted us sitting on our rock.
"Oh glory be, praise God!" he cried. "I found them!" he shouted to the other men who were now entering the glen.
I smiled at him as he rushed over to us. "Good morning," I said as cheerfully as I could. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
I rose to my feet to shake his hand.
"Oh mother of God she's with child!" he cried. Then he noticed Josh and Ben. "Ach! And she has wee bairn with her! I'll kill him for this."
The man was nearing seventy and he was out of breath. I began to worry that he was having a coronary. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"Am I all right?" he shouted. "Jeezus, Mary and Joseph!"
He finally calmed down enough to speak to me. "I was scared out of me wits. No one has taken that trail for years. Since the side of the mountain sheared off. Are you sure you're all right, miss?"
"We're fine," I replied with a grin. "We had a great time."
Just then the elderly gentleman arrived. "It was a grand view, wasn't it?"
I noticed some of the other men mopping their brows with handkerchiefs. They had been terrified for us. "Indeed it was, sir," I said. "Worth every penny."
"I knew you'd fancy it," he chortled.
"What?" cried his son. "You charged her money for this torture?"
"Of course I charged her. Two dollars a head."
"I swear I'll be putting you in a home if you do anything like this again!"
Sean, the son, insisted that we all had to have tea and baps to make up for his ninety-four-year-old dad's "error" and listen to a few tunes from the bagpipes. (He was the leader of the town's pipe and drum band and they had been at practice.) Then we bid farewell.
T'was a grand day, indeed, in the Bruce Peninsula of Ontario!
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