Solstice Mountain Tour
For those of you who have never taken a mountain tour, I can't wax eloquently enough to express my enthusiasm for exhaust and excessive mileage. (Apologies for the alliteration.) I should explain something first. The mountain is not really a mountain. The word mountain is really just the vernacular of folk who live in the vicinity of the Niagara Escarpment. You'll hear of Hamilton Mountain, and Blue Mountain specifically, but I'm certain that people who live along the length of the escarpment refer to it as just "the mountain." None of this goes to diminish the beauty and ruggedness of this massive geological formation. It's just not a real mountain.
I was taught early on in life to appreciate traveling the less beaten path by my mum. She was born and reared in the Beaver Valley. It's a majestic place and a brilliant feature of the escarpment, located a few miles west of my hometown. All of this terrain is in some way influenced by the Niagara Escarpment and glaciation during the last ice age. At the end of the last ice age, the valley would have been a large fjord on the now long gone Lake Algonquin. Geographers would say that the current Beaver River is an erratic stream that merely follows the channel carved by a much mightier river. This is likely true, but my mum wouldn't hear any of it. She's a staunch defender of the beauty and importance of Beaver Valley, and will certainly bristle at any attempt to downplay either. The Beaver Valley is one of the most beautiful places I know, and I can thank my mum for instilling an appreciation for it. We have travelled quite a bit along most of the backroads between Collingwood and Owen Sound Ontario. The challenge nowadays is to see who gets lost first when we go on our grand road trips. It happens once in a blue moon, but it's hard to stump either of us on the unmarked roads of Grey County.
Driving in the country is a rare treat these days, and my pal Sass needed to get her skis, so I eagerly offered to head out for a cruise. Sass has had the good fortune to live in the valley, and I happily found that she resided in the shadow of my mum's former school. Mum attended this one room schoolhouse way back in the late 30s and early 40s. Long before roads and mechanized transport had improved enough to centralize schools like we see nowadays in rural areas. Sass' actual abode in the valley was just around the corner from where we stopped to take a few pictures. The Epping Swamp lies a few kilometers downstream from Kimberley Ontario. The river rushes down from Eugenia falls at a hurried pace, and then it gradually slows as the valley broadens at Epping. There are several square km of wetland, and yesterday the wet was rapidly becoming solid at 20 below Celsius. Even at this temperature, a few flakes of snow were coming amongst the sunbeams making for a beautiful but frozen display.It was nice to see the old neighbourhood.
Mountain Touring or Gravel Running, or whatever else it has been called is good for the soul. Getting out of the urban rat-race even for a short period can work wonders. I keep returning to places in the Beaver Valley because I've known them all my life, and yet I never lose fascination for them. After several generations of my family living there, I suppose it's no wonder. Long live the Mountain Tour.
I was taught early on in life to appreciate traveling the less beaten path by my mum. She was born and reared in the Beaver Valley. It's a majestic place and a brilliant feature of the escarpment, located a few miles west of my hometown. All of this terrain is in some way influenced by the Niagara Escarpment and glaciation during the last ice age. At the end of the last ice age, the valley would have been a large fjord on the now long gone Lake Algonquin. Geographers would say that the current Beaver River is an erratic stream that merely follows the channel carved by a much mightier river. This is likely true, but my mum wouldn't hear any of it. She's a staunch defender of the beauty and importance of Beaver Valley, and will certainly bristle at any attempt to downplay either. The Beaver Valley is one of the most beautiful places I know, and I can thank my mum for instilling an appreciation for it. We have travelled quite a bit along most of the backroads between Collingwood and Owen Sound Ontario. The challenge nowadays is to see who gets lost first when we go on our grand road trips. It happens once in a blue moon, but it's hard to stump either of us on the unmarked roads of Grey County.
Driving in the country is a rare treat these days, and my pal Sass needed to get her skis, so I eagerly offered to head out for a cruise. Sass has had the good fortune to live in the valley, and I happily found that she resided in the shadow of my mum's former school. Mum attended this one room schoolhouse way back in the late 30s and early 40s. Long before roads and mechanized transport had improved enough to centralize schools like we see nowadays in rural areas. Sass' actual abode in the valley was just around the corner from where we stopped to take a few pictures. The Epping Swamp lies a few kilometers downstream from Kimberley Ontario. The river rushes down from Eugenia falls at a hurried pace, and then it gradually slows as the valley broadens at Epping. There are several square km of wetland, and yesterday the wet was rapidly becoming solid at 20 below Celsius. Even at this temperature, a few flakes of snow were coming amongst the sunbeams making for a beautiful but frozen display.It was nice to see the old neighbourhood.
Mountain Touring or Gravel Running, or whatever else it has been called is good for the soul. Getting out of the urban rat-race even for a short period can work wonders. I keep returning to places in the Beaver Valley because I've known them all my life, and yet I never lose fascination for them. After several generations of my family living there, I suppose it's no wonder. Long live the Mountain Tour.
posted by othercat @ 6:00 p.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home