At least I think that’s what it was…it all happened so fast.
Coolish walk home. Had an errand to run near 109 St, so walked down the Walterdale hill to the bridge, and then up 105 St to downtown. This is the route I take in the winter when it’s dark. It’s got the hill factor, which is good, and it’s well-lit. Anyway, walked over to the Shaw Centre, and then into McKinney. Managed to avoid rain, even though the moody clouds followed me all the way home. Total time: about an hour and a half.
The river is the highest I’ve seen it for a very long time. There is no sandy shore at the moment, no little islands for the seagulls, and the water is the colour of mud. Mill Creek is running so fast I almost wish I had a raft. Even the frog bog is a lake. The duck that lives there was waddling ahead of me on the trail. It kept turning around and glaring at me, until finally, it flew back to the bog. I guess I’m more annoying than I thought.
Hope it’s sunny tomorrow. I’m sick of bad-hair days.
Several recent articles in the Edmonton Journal have addressed the dire state of Edmonton’s tree population, a consequence of ten years of drought. Hard to fathom as we face our 93rd straight day of rain, but I see evidence all around, especially in the river valley.
There are many broke-back trees along the trails, due in part to the dry conditions, but also from the hellacious wind storms that go hand in hand with drought. I hear a constant creaking in the canopy, making me wary of what’s splintering above my head. I see graveyards of branches, like blackened bones on the forest floor. Stand anywhere in the river valley and it’s easy to spot the dead spruce trees; grey and lopsided, interrupting the ribbon of green with such regularity it’s as if they’re being systematically erased.
According to an article printed in the Edmonton Journal on June 7th, many trees are experiencing dieback, a condition where ‘…living trees have an abnormal number of dead branches.’ Didn’t know it had a name, but it’s endemic in the river valley. In the park adjacent to Lavigne Road (Skunk Hollow), there is a stand of poplar trees on a hill that reminds me of a Corot painting; exceptionally tall for the area, deep green in the light of day but ablaze with gold when the setting sun streams through the ravine. One tree in particular, the tallest and most striking of the poplars, has dieback about a third of the way down from the top. It’s particularly evident on this tree, but most of them have it to a certain degree, and at least five have orange ribbons around their massive trunks. As with some of the old elm trees on Whyte avenue, an orange ribbon means death by chainsaw. Or perhaps they’ve been targeted for rehabilitation? Either way, it’s heartbreaking. These strong and beautiful trees, plucked from oil paintings, now palliative, like so many others.
don’t tie a ribbon around this old poplar tree
During another severe drought in 2002, a fire decimated an area in the north end of Mill Creek Ravine. It was a big deal in the neighbourhood, with fire trucks up and down the street, and people cranking their stereos to drown out the din of the sirens. My father called and said, “You’re not gonna walk through there, are you?” No dad, I try to avoid burning bushes, metaphorical and literal. I did take a peek a few days later, and even though the fire was relatively contained, the burn zone was extensive. A house was lost and a huge swath of the upper trail was burned to the ground. For years following the fire, that area of Mill Creek smelled strongly of men’s cologne, which is why, on occasion, a walk along that particular trail kinda turned me on. (“It’s not you, it’s the trees.”) Apparently, charcoal is the secret ingredient in grooming products.
green, formerly known as black
Eight years later, the area is lush again. The new growth is still dwarfed by the black spires of the old, burned trees, which continue to fall over as the healthy undergrowth edges out the dead roots. But, for the uninitiated, it would be hard to tell that a fire leveled this part of the ravine less than a decade ago. It didn’t take long for new life to sprout, but in those first years I remember how startling it was to walk out of the cool oblivion of overgrown foliage into the unfilitered sunlight of a burned out landscape.
There is cause for concern, but not despair. The river valley is mostly alive, moderately well, capable of rejuvenation, and at the moment, deliciously green. And on a hot day, it still smells like men’s cologne in Mill Creek.
Back to work. Couldn’t help looking out the window at the rain and wishing I was at home with a book. Not just any book. A good book, one with ‘girl’ and ‘dragon’ and ‘tattoo’ in the title. And coffee.
Now I am at home, and I have that book and it’s still raining. But no coffee.
Just a short walk today, down Saskatchewan Drive, hauling a box with three deadish plants inside. A rehabilitation project, or a funeral, depending on the greeness of my thumb (or thumbs.)
Make that three bridges. Three trestle bridges (that I know of) in the south part of Mill Creek Ravine. I missed the one right by the Mill Creek Ravine Park sign on 76th, because I came from the other direction yesterday. Amazing.
Had to walk up to Whyte Ave to return some movies, none of which were particularly good, but I returned them anyway. After I completed that task, I continued walking up to 76th and then, back into the woods. It’s stupidly nice out today, and the trail was packed. These last couple of weeks I’ve enjoyed having the woods almost to myself on weekdays, but now that my holidays are over, it’s back to shared trails and lugging my backpack around. Sigh. I suppose we all have to work, but it doesn’t say much for my job when the best part is the walk home. It’s not really the job, it’s just hard to compete with an hour or two in the river valley. Not that there’s anything wrong with cubicles.
Continued my exploration of the south end of Mill Creek yesterday. Needless to say, it’s lovely. Crossing 76th Avenue, I opted to take the unpaved lower path, thinking (correctly) that it would run parallel to the creek. Much to my surprise, but probably no one else’s, less than five minutes into this part of the ravine is a trestle bridge!
The bridge crosses over the path in two places. Happily, it’s accessible from the lower trail, so on my way back I took the trestle rather than re-tracing my steps through the woods. The view from the top of the bridge is nice, but the trestle is more visible (and impressive) from below. What an unlikely thing to find in the middle of the ravine.
The Mill Creek Trestle Bridge was built at the turn of the last century as a rail connection between Edmonton and the old town of Strathcona. According to the web, after passenger service ended in 1928, the south end of the rail line carried freight to and from various industrial locations, including Gainers packing plant. The old tracks, now paved, no longer support trains hauling locally produced wieners to faraway ports of call, but instead funnels joggers, off-leash dogs, and one very surprised walker (also locally produced), to various corners of the river valley. The trestle bridge is a rare reminder of Edmonton’s past, and an exceptionally stunning feature of Mill Creek Ravine.
The rest of the trail was nice, but fairly unremarkable. The creek on the south edge of the ravine is so miniscule it’s more of a crick than a creek. I really had to make an effort to find it in some places…and eventually, it kind of just wound itself out. I know the feeling.
Today (Saturday), I went old school and walked through Rossdale. Actually, my intentions for this walk went well beyond mere exercise; I was also checking for worms. When I walk home from work, I occasionally use the trail that runs through Rossdale, and in June (sometimes earlier), it is infested by green ash worms. They are not actually worms, but caterpillars, also known as leaf-rollers, and it’s not just one or two…more like hundreds, if not thousands, hanging from long threads in the ash trees along the river like a psychopaths sick joke. I try very hard to avoid the area for the entire month of June, because these tiny green zip-liners make me scream like a four year old. However, I only saw two, which means they’re just starting their hellish life cycle. Rossdale is probably safe for another week, maybe less. Too bad. This neighbourhood is otherwise quite beautiful, just not in June.
Today, Tuesday, on the second day of the merry month of June, from 1:30 to 3:42, I experienced the best walk of 2010, thus far. Just a gorgeousday. Warm, sunny, and waiting in front of me, an entirely new trail to explore. I’m ashamed to admit that in all the years I’ve been walking in the river valley, I’ve failed to connect with the southern part of Mill Creek, simply because…well, I don’t have an excuse. However, today…I walked up to 76th Ave (Mill Creek extends to 63rd), and took my first enthusiastic step into the southern end of Mill Creek Ravine. Have to say, and I am biased on this issue, Mill Creek is the loveliest neighbourhood in the city. Just the walk to the ravine was fabulous, once I veered off 99th street. The houses are mostly small, but incredibly well-kept and funky. Big trees. Lots of birds. And then there is the ravine…that beautiful, meandering thing steps from everyone’s door in Mill Creek. I feel very lucky to live in this neigbourhood.
There are many access points into the ravine. Sometimes they take the form of gravel or paved paths, but most often it’s a set of wooden stairs, which is what I encountered today at the end of a dead end street near 76th. Hard to explain the excitement I felt descending into an unexplored area of the river valley. As a card-carrying nerd, I spent most of my childhood indoors reading or drawing, so my particular form of mid-life crisis is all about getting lost in the woods. Maybe one day I’ll even climb a tree! Nah. Who am I kidding? Gracelessness is not something you outgrow.
Back to the trail…
Like Mill Creek Ravine north, the southern end has many little wooden bridges. Within a very short distance, I counted four of them, each one lovelier than the next. The ravine seems deeper here, or perhaps the trees are just taller. Twenty minutes into the hike, I was under the bridge on 82nd Ave, and shortly after that, Mill Creek Pool. Tomorrow, if it’s not raining, I’m going to start from 63rd.
On an adjacent path near the pool, a fellow was playing his fiddle. No, that’s not a euphemism. He had a real violin, and he was standing in full sunlight on a hill, playing a tune, and playing it very well. I’ve encountered musicians a few times in the river valley playing their instruments for the amusement of the squirrels. I understand the motivation. It’s like dining al fresco; tofu weenies, or whatever is being served, just tastes better in the great outdoors. Same with music. As a frequent visitor to the Folk Fest, I can attest to the fact that something happens to a song when it floats on a breeze and mixes with other ambient outdoor sounds, like birds, and even airplanes. I can also attest to the fact that this transcendent experience ‘on the hill’ at the Folk Fest rarely translates to the recorded version, although my skin doesn’t burn quite as badly when I listen to a CD.
After Mill Creek Pool, the trail branched off in several directions, one of which led to a familiar path. I continued walking for another hour. Why stop? It’s not like I have a job or anything. At least not this week.
