For some reasons, I always think that this sign says, "You are in BEER country"!
The bear is examining our neighbor's bench
At the end of June 2022, my two friends
and I went camping for a few days to Grundy Lake Provincial Park, 330 km north
of Toronto. Over the last 25 years I have stayed in this park many times; on a
couple of occasions I spent one night before and after canoe trips on the
French River. The park has several lakes, hundreds of camping places and just across
the park entrance there is a General Store that also rents canoes (and even
delivers them to the park) - that's where we bought our canoe in July 2010! By
the way, a few years ago the whole establishment had relocated a kilometer to
the east because the new Highway 400 will pass through its former location
soon, replacing the existing two-lane Road #69. In fact, a new stretch of Highway
400 had already been built near my favorite restaurant, “The Hungry Bear”,
located north of the French River. Unfortunately, accessing roadside businesses
- restaurants, shops, motels, and marinas - has now become more difficult and
complicated, as drivers have to take the appropriate exit from the freeway and then
drive on the secondary road to their destination. If they miss such an exit,
the next one may be a few or even a dozen or so kilometers away, so probably a
lot of people will just continue driving on.
The bear strode a few meters from me and again paid a visit to the campsite on the other side of the park road
Our campsite #318 turned out to
be quite private, especially since the two adjacent campsites remained vacant.
However, the highlight of our trip were numerous visits of a black bear – in fact,
upon arrival at the park, the staff warned us about “active bears”. On the
first day, a bear walked to the campsite across from ours and after carefully examining
the table, it vanished in the forest, apparently not finding anything of
interest. On the second day, while we were absorbed in a lively conversation,
my friend suddenly said that there was a bear behind me — and indeed, it strode
a few meters from me and again paid a visit to the campsite on the other side
of the park road. But the most memorable encounter occurred the next day.
As I was enjoying my coffee, the bear appeared and walked around my tent
Of course, at night we locked all
the food in the car, yet I have to add that this did not protect it against
bears 100%: a few years ago, in Killbear Provincial Park, one smallish bear mastered
the art of breaking into cars by pushing his rump against cars’ windows! Eventually,
he broke into 27 vehicles. Well, the park had to do something about it ... and
now park visitors can admire the stuffed bear in the park's museum...
After a while the bear grabbed the whole bag full of food with its teeth and ran into the woods
In the morning I took bags with
food from my car and placed them on the table, as well as made a delicious cup
of expresso coffee. My friends had just left to buy wood and ice, and there
weren't any other campers around. I sat down at the table and just as I began
enjoying my aromatic coffee, the bear appeared. First it walked around my tent
(luckily it didn't enter it - I'm afraid it would NOT have used the door, which
was zipped up anyway!), then approached the table where I was sitting, about to
have my breakfast. Completely ignoring my presence, it began consuming MY bran cheerios!
It didn't help that I shouted at the bear, banged on the table and on the car with
a stick, and finally honked a few times - it glanced at me curiously, keep devouring
the food and after a minute grabbed the whole bag full of food (!) with its
teeth and ran into the woods - luckily it dropped the bag and I was able to
quickly retrieve it and put it in the car. After 10 seconds the bear reappeared
and commenced eating my breakfast again (I didn't have the time to grab it). It
was simply surreal — I was practically standing 2 meters from the bear,
screaming at it, hitting the table noisily with a stick, and basically nudging the
bear with the stick — yet it didn't care at all. I had a bear spray with me,
but never once did it show any aggressive behavior or gestures towards me.
Finally, it grabbed a large package of breakfast cereals and walked a few
meters into the woods, where it consumed them for a few minutes, and then
walked away towards other campsites.
I was practically standing 2 meters from the bear, screaming at it, hitting the table noisily with a stick, and basically nudging the bear with the stick — yet it didn't care at all
While the presence of this animal
did not bother me too much - it was a typical campground bear that had learned
to steal food from tourists in the park and otherwise was completely harmless -
my friend did not feel very comfortable, especially in the tent at night. On
the last day of our trip I woke up at 10 am and was surprised to see that my
friend, his tent and his car had been gone—apparently he had left for Toronto early
in the morning. Since he’d usually go to bed very late (or rather early in the
morning) and would frequently wake up in the afternoon, I was quite curious
what prompted him to leave so early and abruptly. It turned out that at six o’clock
in the morning he heard some noise — when he looked out, he saw "our"
bear wandering on the campsite. As soon as the bear left, he packed up his tent
in a record time, got into the car and drove off to Toronto!
I managed to create a short
video, showing the bear on our neighbor’s campsite and later on our campsite.
Of course, I have seen quite a
few black bears on our campsites in Canada — once we were camping on a large
island and four bears were rummaging on and around our site; one of them hanging
around for several hours every day. However, it was quite easy to scare it off,
and as long as we were occupying the campsite, it stayed away from us and our
belongings, patiently waiting for us to leave (and when we eventually did, it caused
a bit of a mess, but that's another story.) It was in Grundy Lake Park that for
the first time I came across such an arrogant and fearless bear that could not
be driven away! Most likely the park will try to trap the bear and relocate it
over 100 km to more uninhabited areas. However, some evicted bears were sometimes
able to return and ultimately had to be put down.
The bear apparently considered the park and its campsites its own domain!
On Sunday, August 15, 2021, I
spent a couple of hours perusing various newspapers online and watching the
news, as the headlines proclaimed a supposedly surprising and unexpected news:
“Afghanistan’s Government Collapses,” “Afghan Leader Flees Country as Taliban
Take Over Kabul,” “Insurgents’ Advance on Capital Triggers Western Evacuation
Efforts,” “President Ghani Flees as Insurgents Enter Capital.”
For me the news
was NOT surprising at all and I found it extremely shocking that the CIA and
similar intelligence agencies had not realized the inevitability of this
happening, instead predicting that Kabul would be able to defend itself for
several months. Many commentators said this event resembled the fall of Saigon.
Indeed, it was difficult not to draw comparisons between the two occurrences. While
so many people in Afghanistan were desperately trying to flee the country, the
next day, August 16, 2021, I left for Six Mile Lake Provincial Park for my
week-long camping trip... That’s life!
On the same campsite in October, 2012, with Gabby the dog and Cathy the human! In 2021 the beaver lodge is gone, as are several trees
I was very lucky to get my
favourite campsite on a beaver pond/marsh, on which I had camped numerous times
with Chris, Catherine and even Gabby the dog (in 2021), who upon spotting first
time in her life a beaver swimming in the water, jumped into the pond and was
totally perplexed when it suddenly vanished!
It was on that very campsite in
September, 2012, that I made a short video, solving the mystery of our missing
food!
The whole pond had not changed
much for the past 12 or so years; however, one object was missing—the beaver
lodge that for many years had been an integral part of the scenery. Perhaps
beavers had relocated it to a different part of the pond? In the past, I had
seen plenty of beavers, some even clumsily wandering on my campsite. During my
stay I did not see or hear any beavers, yet the beaver dam, just meters from the
campsite, appeared to be quite solid and well-maintained.
The Great Blue Heron was there almost every day
Upon arrival at the campsite I
saw a majestic great blue heron! It was standing in the water, where the beaver
lodge used to be, no doubt trying to catch fish or frogs. Although it kept
changing its hunting spots, I saw it almost every day. One evening, when it was
almost dark, I saw the blue heron majestically fly from the lake and land on a
tree branch on the other side of the pond, where he probably spent the night.
The Great Blue Heron probably spent the night sitting on this tree
A semi-submerged stump several
meters from the shore made a great spot for turtles (Midland Painted Turtle, Chrysemys picta marginata) to climb on
and rest, basking in the sun. Two holes in the ground on the campsite probably
meant chipmunks’ habitat—soon after my arrival a chipmunk showed up and quickly
climbed on my table, looking for food. There were also small birds, incessantly
flying over the water in search for food. I would often sit at the edge of the
water, relaxing, reading books and observing the turtles, blue heron and birds
flying over the pond. It was a perfect spot to enjoy nature! Since the campsite
was quite exposed, the sun was all over my tent at 8:00 am and I was thus
forced to wake up and get out of the tent—or suffocate! At least I did not need
an alarm clock.
Midland Painted Turtles
The park was quite busy and
sometimes on the noisy side, but it did not bother me. From time to time I saw
the park’s truck drive by—and the park even had an electric vehicle! The new
comfort station was certainly a welcome addition; it offered a number of
showers. There were two electric vehicle charging stations nearby—Patrizia, who
spent a few nights in the park, naturally took advantage of them, charging her
Tesla. The noise from Highway 400 was pronounced, but since it was continuous,
after a while I just stopped noticing it.
The weather was perfect and it
did not rain, yet I set up a very primitive and small tarp. The beach was OK
and we even went for a swim. And probably the most important thing: there were
no mosquitoes whatsoever; I NEVER had to use the mosquito spray. I had never
experienced such a mosquito-free summer in my over 30+ years of camping!
My campsite!
Of course, I spent plenty of
time reading books. For a long time I had wanted to read “American Sniper. The
Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U.S. History” by Chris Kyle and
finally had a chance to do so. Quite a good book… but could have been better. So
shocking that the author eventually he was not killed in Iraq, by the enemy,
but by one of his own in the USA, a 25-year-old U.S. Marine Corps veteran with
post-traumatic stress disorder, whom Kyle was helping. The second book I read
was “The Chamber” by John Grisham. Some 20+ years ago I had read a few of
Grisham’s books (“The Street Lawyer”, “The Brethren”, “The Firm” and “The
Client”) and then for about 15 years I never touched another book by this
author. For some reasons I have been bringing this kind of books on my
vacations—perhaps because at home I mostly read non-fiction, which often is
totally unsuitable for camping. “The Chamber” was about the death penalty, race
relations and the intricacies of the legal system to save a convict from being
put to death. It was certainly one of his better books and I enjoyed reading
it! And then I read the third book by Grisham, “The Testament”, which was very
good.
View from my campsite, probably in 2010-the beaver lodge was quite big, and there were many beavers swimming in the pond then, In 2021 the beaver lodge was gone, and so were the beavers-or at least I did not see any
POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER
When I found out that
Chris Kyle was killed by a marine veteran suffering from post-traumatic stress
disorder, I immediately thought about a very tragic story which happened to my
acquaintance from Poland.
The Palace of Culture and Science in Warsaw. Nr. 1-the Youth Palace, where the swimming pool was located. Nr. 2-the Congress Hall ("Sala Kongresowa"). Nr. 3-the main entrance to the Youth Palace. Credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:PKiN_widziany_z_WFC.jpg
In the 1970s and early
1980s the heart of Warsaw was dominated by the Palace of Culture and Science
(“Pałac Kultury i Nauki”) — 237 meters tall (with the spire), at that time the
tallest building in Poland (currently the second-tallest), with 42 floors and
the floor area of 123,084 m2 (1,324,865 sq. ft.). This grandiose
building—or monstrosity, depending on who you spoke to—was a “gift” from Joseph
Stalin. It was built in 3 years by 3,500 Russian workers and finished in 1955.
Originally it was named after the benefactor and was officially known as Joseph
Stalin’s Palace of Culture and Science; after the period of destalinization,
Stalin’s name was removed [once inside the building I found old forms still
bearing the original name (“Pałac Kultury i Nauki Józefa Stalina”) and I regret
I did not keep them]. At that time it housed various public and cultural
institutions such as 3 movie theaters, museums, libraries, 3 theatres,
restaurants, offices and authorities of the Polish Academy of Sciences. There
was also an auditorium hall for 3,000 people called Congress Hall, Sala Kongresowa, where many concerts and
performances took place, as well as Poland’s Communist Party (PZPR) Congresses
were held inside (during one of them, in December, 1975, the drunken leader of
the Soviet Union, Leonid Brezhnev, conducted delegates and the leader of the
Polish Party while they were singing “The Internationale”). Go to 0:50 to see that amazing scene!
And its famous
terrace on the 30th floor, at 114 meters (374 ft.), with a panoramic
view of the city, was for many visitors to Warsaw a major tourist attraction.
The Palace of Culture and
Science also housed the Youth Palace (“Pałac Młodzieży”), a huge community
center for school children, offering numerous interest sections &
workshops, like photography, music, dance, gymnastics, ham radio, fencing,
sailing and many more. I became a member probably in 1974 and joined the
swimming section: yes, there was an impressive 25 meter long swimming pool,
with 4 diving towers (3 meters, 10 meters and two 5 meters).
This is how the swimming pool looked in 1955 and during the 1970s. Source: Nowa Warszawa w ilustracjach, Warszawski Tygodnik Ilustrowany "Stolica", Warszawa 1955, p. 75. This photograph is in the public domain
By the way, the pool had been
featured in Agnieszka Holland’s movie “Europa, Europa”—after all, imposing
socrealism architecture was not that different from the German Third Reich
architecture. Besides, the whole building had been prominently featured in countless
Polish movies of that era.
Usually the swimming pool was divided into two
parts—while we were training in one part, the other one was used by the diving
club. Divers would climb one of the towers, dive and repeat the whole process
numerous times. Many dove from the 10 meter tower—we were really in awe of
them, as some, if not most of us, would be just too afraid to climb the tower,
let alone dive from it! Once I dove from the 3 meter platform—and it was my
first and last dive there! Since at that time Poland did not have too many such
facilities (even in Warsaw there were very few swimming pools), many divers
training in the pool were champions of Poland and often participated in
international competitions, including the Olympic Games. And one more thing,
just to (again!!!) prove that the world is a small place: my first family
physician in Toronto, Dr. Jerzy Kowalewski, had belonged to the diving section
in the Youth Palace, had been Poland’s champion in diving numerous times,
participated in two Olympic Games (Rome, 1960 and Mexico City, 1968) and knew
his friends, as some of them had become trainers and coaches in the Youth
Palace!
Probaby this is the only photo of me taken in the Youth Palace's swimming pool, in 1976 or 1977
One of the top divers was
Krzysztof Miller, who had been a Polish diving champion many times and who
frequently trained there. I still remember that he was even able to do
handstand dives from the 10 meter tower, which was absolutely breathtaking!
Since we were age-mates, we talked to each other on a few occasions, as well as
had a couple of mutual friends. Once I attended some kind of ceremony in the
Youth Palace and his name was mentioned, as he had recently won a (gold?) medal
in a diving competition held in Havana, Cuba. When in 2009 I was in Havana, the
guide pointed to a seemingly dilapidated and semi-abandoned swimming pool with
diving towers and said that indeed, there had been some international diving
competition held in the mid-1970s. I immediately thought of Krzysztof
Miller—perhaps it was that very diving tower he had dove from and won the
medal?
The Youth Palace's Hall. Credit: Adrian Grycuk/CC BY-SA 3.0-pl/Wikimedia Commons.
Over 10 years ago I
incidentally discovered that after his diving career was over, he became a very
good—some people said the best in Poland, or even in the world—war photographer
& photojournalist. He visited over 60 countries, some 10 or more times
(Afghanistan, Rwanda, Chechnya, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Rwanda, Zaire, Congo,
Iraq, Macedonia, Kosovo, Sudan, South Africa and many others) to photograph
conflicts. His photographs were published in various newspapers and magazines,
as well as featured at exhibits. He even wrote a book, “Thirteen and One Wars. Authentic History of a War Correspondent.”
Krzystof Miller's book, "13 and one wars. Authentic History of a War Correspondent"
He said that he had seen
things even few soldiers saw. Perhaps he witnessed up close too much human
suffering and tragedies. Many of his photos had never been published, as they were
too gruesome (yet they had been used by those investigating crimes and mass
murders). Eventually he was diagnosed with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder
(PTSD) and went through a variety of long-lasting therapies in a specialized
hospital, spending there half a year. Unfortunately, the last 25 years of
covering so many bloody wars and conflicts eventually turned out to be too excruciating
and simply unbearable for him.
Krzysztof Miller committed
suicide on September 9th, 2016, at the age of 54.
The Trent–Severn Waterway is a
386-kilometre-long canal route (240 miles) connecting Lake Ontario at Trenton
to Georgian Bay, Lake Huron, at Port Severn. It has 45 locks, including two
lift-locks and the Big Chute Marine Railway. Located not far from Port Severn
and Six Mile Lake Provincial Park, is it a unique contraption that carries
pleasure boats from one lake to another over-land. It is the only marine railway
of its kind in North America.
The carriage is lowered into the
water and boats are floated onto the deck. Then it is hoisted up the slope by
wire ropes, then past the summit it is lowered into the water and the boats are
floated off.
Although the current railway was
opened in 1978, the earliest one was constructed in 1917 and there was a major
overhaul in 1923. The old railway is still visible, along with the old railway
car, which is no longer used.
There is an observation deck and
an information center, but both were closed due to COVID-19. A hydro generating station is
nearby.I spent over one hour watching
the marine railway as it was carried boats overland and exploring the area.
This is a short video I made, showing how the chute operates:
By the way, when I tell people
about the Trent–Severn Waterway, they often ask me if I have ever canoed the
whole waterway. At one point we did consider doing it, but very quickly we
realized it would not be a very good idea: we would be paddling along many
motorboats, yachts and big cruisers, it would be difficult to find camping
spots and some stretches of the waterway require paddling on the open,
unsheltered waters. However, we have paddled along some of its stretches—near
Port Severn, Clear Lake, Stoney Lake, Lower Buckhorn Lake, Canal Lake (by
motorboat, while fishing), Severn Falls and Gloucester Pool.
Sainte-Marie Among the Hurons Canadian Artist, Illustrator, Author, and Historian C.W. Jefferys The Arts & Letters Club of Toronto
Relatively close to Six Mile
Lake Park was the famous Martyrs’ Shrine in Midland , which housed the bones of
St. Jean de Brébeuf, St. Gabriel Lalemant and St. Charles Garnier. Pope John
Paul II visited the Shrine in September, 1984. Every summer numerous ethnic
pilgrimages head to the Shrine. A friend of mine, the late Tadeusz Pasek (a
well-known Polish yoga instructor and teacher, with whom I had camped in Six
Mile Lake Park in 1993), took part in the inaugural Polish pilgrimage in 1982
from Toronto to Midland and then participated in 9 consecutive annual
pilgrimages. They are still organized each August, with hundreds of
participants marching from Toronto to Midland.
Although I had visited the Shrine
in the early 1980s and then in 2012 with Catherine (and Gabby the dog), I
thought it would be a great opportunity to visit it again. Patrizia looked up
the phone number and made a quick call. Unfortunately, the Shrine was closed in
2021, the second year in a row—however, it was possible to book a private
“family or group tour” of the Shrine, which included attending a mass.
Incidentally, the priest Patrizia spoke to was Fr. Robert Foliot, S.J, whom I
had met many times during my Ignatian Retreats in Manresa (in Pickering,
Ontario)—several times he was the retreat’s facilitator. I still remember the
theme of one of the retreats he facilitated—“The Lady Upstairs.” His mother,
whenever she was going out, would say, “Don’t worry, I’m not going alone—I’m
going with the lady upstairs”. Of course, she did not mean a neighbor living
upstairs, but Mary! And certainly Mary had kept her safe and healthy for a long
time—she passed away in 2011, at the age of 104!
Map from 1657, depicting the martydom of Brebeuf and Lalemant. The map clearly shows lakes Ontario, Erie and Huron, as well as Georgian Bay
Just across the road from the
Martyrs’ Shrine is Sainte-Marie Among the Hurons—a re-creation of the first
European settlement in the current province of Ontario. Well, I have to say
that I am a little embarrassed that having lived in Ontario for 39 years, it
was the first time I visited this place!
Sainte Marie is a living museum, its employees wear period clothes, although I don't think original inhabitants wore face masks 350 years ago...
The French Jesuits began
construction of a community in 1639 which included barracks, a church,
workshops, residences and a sheltered area for Indigenous visitors. The village
existed from 1639 to 1649 and it was the first European settlement in the
current province of Ontario. Between 1642 and 1649, eight of the
missionaries were martyred in the Huron-Iroquois war. The bodies of St. Jean de
Brébeuf and St. Gabriel Lalemant are buried at the mission.
In 1649, the missionaries
decided to burn the mission, as they feared it would be conquered and
desecrated by Iroquois.
Sainte-Marie was reconstructed
as a historical site and a living museum in 1964.
Probably because of COVID-19,
there were not too many visitors and thus I was able to leisurely explore all
the buildings and talk to the friendly & knowledgeable museum employees,
who were wearing period clothing and were engaged in some of the activities the
original inhabitants of the village had performed some 360 years ago. There was
a Native lady in the St. Joseph’s Church who told us a lot of interesting facts
about history and her own life. The graves of St. Jean de Brébeuf and St.
Gabriel Lalemant were located in this church. The Jesuits sometimes celebrate
mass in that church.
The graves of St. Jean de Brébeuf and St. Gabriel Lalemant inside the church
This is an excellent place not
only to learn about history, but experience it firsthand. The museum has plenty
of interesting exhibits and artifacts. Overall, this is an amazing museum and I
am looking forward to visiting it again next year!
Inside the church was a Native lady, who told us interesting stories
While looking for more
information on Sainte Marie and the Canadian Martyrs, I ran into very amazing
paintings and writings by Charles William Jefferys, on a website https://www.cwjefferys.ca/
run by Anthony Allen. Again, mea culpa:
I had known very little about C.W. Jefferys and the only reason the name
sounded familiar was because of the location of C.W. Jefferys Collegiate
Institute (Secondary School)—at Finch and Sentinel, between Jane and Keele in
Toronto—and from 1982 to 1984 I used to live on 11 Catford Road, very close to
the school, and often passed it on my way to the “Bonanza”, a local supermarket
at 134 Hucknall Rd (demolished over 10 years ago and replaced with numerous
homes on a new street called Mantello Drive).
I spent well over 2 hours on
that website, familiarizing myself with the works of this truly outstanding
Canadian artist, illustrator, author, and historian. I found several pictures
by C.W. Jefferys on the Martyrdom of Brébeuf and Lalemant and Fort Ste. Marie
as well as his interesting notes on the events depicted in the pictures. I
decided to call Mr. Anthony Allen, who turned out to be Jefferys’ grandson and
we had a very stimulating conversation. Among other things, I found out that C.
W. Jefferys had been president of The Arts & Letters Club of Toronto in
1923/24.
Charles William Jefferys (August 25, 1869 – October 8, 1951)
This famous club has had its
permanent quarters since 1920 at St. Georges Hall, at 14 Elm Street in Toronto
(just steps from Dundas Square at Yonge & Dundas). According to the club’s
website (https://artsandlettersclub.ca/), “For more than a century the Arts & Letters Club has been an
important presence in Canada’s cultural scene. Today it is a dynamic community
of men and women of all ages for whom the arts are an essential part of life –
a place to pursue creative expression, engage in the free and vigorous interchange
of ideas and opinions, and enjoy good conversation and the companionship of
kindred spirits”. The register of current and past members reads like a “Who is
Who” of Canadian history—least to say that two members are Nobel Laureates, six
have been bestowed Knighthood, and about 200 are Order of Canada recipients.
Furthermore, the Group of Seven were all members and regularly met for lunch at
the Club—and there is a very well-known photograph of the Group of Seven at The
Arts and Letters Club of Toronto, which I post here.
Six of the Group of Seven members, plus their friend Barker Fairley, in 1920. From left to right: Frederick Varley, A. Y. Jackson, Lawren Harris, Barker Fairley, Frank Johnston, Arthur Lismer, and J. E. H. MacDonald. It was taken at The Arts and Letters Club of Toronto by Arthur Goss. Unknown source, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6489569
Since it is a private club,
open only to members and their guests, I had been unable to go inside—until a
few years ago. As I was in the vicinity, passing by the club, people were
leaving the building—an event had just ended and I just entered the premises,
eventually spending there well over one hour, undisturbed exploring every nook
and cranny! If I lived in Toronto, I would consider joining this club—not that
I am an artist, but I would love to attend many of the events taking place in
the club.
Sainte Marie Among the Hurons-painting depicting the first contact between Natives and Europeans
Mr. Allen said that he once
spoke in the club, standing at the very spot his grandfather had stood almost
100 years ago, as president of the Arts and Letters Club. It must have been
certainly a very special feeling! I also found out that C.W. Jefferys died in
1951 at 4111 Yonge Street in Toronto—remarkably, the house is still there,
albeit surrounded by plenty of new office buildings. A plaque at that house
quotes him as saying,
"If my work has
stirred any interest in our country and its past, I am more than paid".
I can unequivocally say that in
my case, his work HAS stirred a lot of interest in Canada and its past!
“The mission grew, and
many other Jesuit fathers shared the work. Small wooden chapels were built in
some of the villages, with resident priests in charge. A central station was
established at Ste. Marie, on the River Wye, near the present town of Midland.
Here, in 1639, a stone fort was built, with a chapel, a hospital, and houses
for the missionaries and workmen. There were fields of grain, fowls, pigs, and
even cattle, brought with incredible toil up the Ottawa. The future seemed
promising, but disaster was at hand. Between the Hurons and their kinsmen, the
Iroquois, existed a deadly enmity. The Iroquois, better armed and better
organized, not only infested the Ottawa route to Quebec, and the outskirts of
Huronia, but penetrated to the heart of the country. Raid after raid was made,
and in 1648, the first Jesuit, Father Daniel, was killed in the destruction of
the village of St. Joseph, near Lake Simcoe”.
Canadian poet E. J. Pratt
(1882-1964) in 1940 wrote “Brébeuf and his Brethren”, an epic on the mission of
Jean de Brébeuf and his seven fellow Jesuits to the Hurons, their founding of
Sainte-Marie-Among-the-Hurons, and their eventual martyrdom by the Iroquois. He
was awarded one of his three Governor General’s Award for Poetry the same year.
This is how Pratt’s poem describes the foundation of the Sainte-Marie mission:
“The migrant habits of the Indians
With their desertion of the villages
Through pressure of attack or want of food
Called for a central site where undisturbed
The priests with their attendants might pursue
Their culture, gather strength from their devotions,
Map out the territory, plot the routes,
Collate their weekly notes and write their letters.
The roll was growing—priests and colonists,
Lay brothers offering services for life.
For on the ground or on their way to place
Themselves at the command of Lalemant,
Superior, were (…). And so to house
Them all the Residence—Fort Sainte Marie!
Strategic as a base for trade or war
The site received the approval of Quebec,
Was ratified by Richelieu who saw
Commerce and exploration pushing west,
Fulfilling the long vision of Champlain—
‘Greater New France beyond those inland seas.’
The fort was built, two hundred feet by ninety,
Upon the right bank of the River Wye:
Its north and eastern sides of masonry,
Its south and west of double palisades,
And skirted by a moat, ran parallel
To stream and lake. Square bastions at the corners,
Watch-towers with magazines and sleeping posts,
Commanded forest edges and canoes
That furtively came up the Matchedash,
And on each bastion was placed a cross.
Inside, the Fathers built their dwelling house,
No longer the bark cabin with the smoke
Ill-trained to work its exit through the roof,
But plank and timber—at each end a chimney
Of lime and granite field-stone. Rude it was
But clean, capacious, full of twilight calm.
Across the south canal fed by the river,
Ringed by another palisade were buildings
Offering retreat to Indian fugitives
Whenever war and famine scourged the land.”
Because Sainte Marie Among the
Hurons is always associated with martyrdom, I would like to mention another tragedy
which occurred in Peru, 360 years later, but has some connection to this place.
In 2009 I met in Ontario Jarek Frąckiewicz and Celina Mróz, Polish kayakers,
who had just padded from Georgian Bay to the Ottawa River. In May, 2011 they
went to Peru and as they were kayaking on the Ucayali river, they were for no
reason murdered by local Indians on May 27, 2011 (you will find more
information in my blog, https://ontario-nature.blogspot.com/2011/07/french-river-dokis.html).
During their 2009 visit in Canada, they visited Sainte Marie Among the Hurons
and posted this photograph on their website—they were standing in front of the
chapel:
Jarek Frąckiewicz and Celina Mróz, with the employees of Sainte Marie Among the Hurons in 2009
Saint-Louis
Mission National Historic Site
Not far from Sainte-Marie among
the Hurons there is a national historic site of Canada, Saint-Louis Mission,
where Fathers Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant were captured. The historical
plaque on the cairn says:
“Saint-Louis
was the name given by the Jesuits to the stockade village of the Ataronchronon
in the 1640s. On the morning of 16 March 1649 a large Iroquois war party
stormed the neighboring village of Teanhatentaron (Saint-Ignace), then fell on
Saint-Louis. Among those captured and carried off to be put to death amid the
ruins of Saint-Ignace were Fathers Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant, who
had been conducting a mission at Saint-Luis. Within a year the Iroquois raids
had devastated Huronia and dispersed its once numerous population.”
There are also two interpretive
signs, offering the following description:
“The arrival of
the Jesuits to New France in 1625 brought a great change and created divisions
between the traditional Huron-Wendat and those who had chosen to convert.
During this time, the Iroquois Confederacy began expanding their territory into
Huronia. The expansion brought the two Confederacies into increasing conflict.
This led to the destruction of the St. Ignace II, St. Louis, and St. Marie
missions, the dispersal of the Huron-Wendat from Huronia, and the retreat of
the Jesuits to Quebec. Similar conflicts continued in the Great Lakes region
until the signing of the Great Peace of Montreal in 1701.
The historic
alliance between the Huron-Wendat and the French profoundly marked the history
of Canada. For the people of the Huron-Wendat people today, it is important
that the visitors to this site understand that the spirit of the Huron-Wendat
is forever present in the territory of Huronia.”
“In the early
1640s this site was home to the main village of the Ataronchronon people of the
Huron-Wendat (8endat) Confederacy of Huronia. The Huron-Wendat tended crops of
corn and squash, and harvested beaver, fish, deer, sunflowers, apples, plums,
grapes, nuts and berries. Villages often relocated every 8 to 12 years as the
sandy soil in the fields became depleted. The people of the Iroquois
Confederacy led a very similar agriculturally-based lifestyle in the territory
south of Lake Ontario known as Mohawk Valley. The Huron-Wendat Nation was the
first in this region to encounter European explorers, customs, weapons,
economy, religion and disease. The development of the fur trade in the 1600s
created increasing cultural pressure on Aboriginal nations as the colonies of
European nations expanded. By 1640 multiple epidemics throughout Huronia had
greatly reduced the population of the Huron-Wendat Nation from 30,000 to 10,000
people.”
“The heaviest
blow fell the next year. Early in the morning of the 17th of March, a war party
of twelve hundred Iroquois unperceived burst upon the village of St. Ignace,
about seven miles from Ste. Marie. Its defenders were slain and the village
burned. The Iroquois rushed on to the next village, St. Louis. Here were living
Father Brébeuf and his assistant missionary, Father Gabriel Lalemant, who had
reached Huronia only the year before. Lalemant was physically a striking
contrast to Brébeuf; of frail and delicate constitution, he had long been
denied by his superiors his intense desire to go out as a missionary to Canada.
But his spirit was as resolute as that of his more robust companion. Both
refused to desert their Indian flock, though the Hurons begged them to flee to
Ste. Marie. They remained in the midst of the fighting to give the last rites
of the Church to their wounded and dying converts. The Hurons, numbering only
about eighty warriors, fought valiantly, but the Iroquois soon made their way
within the defenses and captured the survivors, including the two missionaries.”
And this is how E. J. Pratt, in
his epic poem “Brébeuf and his Brethren,” described the events that had taken
place at this very site:
Less than two hours it took the Iroquois
To capture, sack and garrison St. Ignace,
And start then for St. Louis. The alarm
Sounded, five hundred of the natives fled
To the mother fort only to be pursued
And massacred in the snow. The eighty braves
That manned the stockades perished at the breaches;
And what was seen by Ragueneau and the guard
Was smoke from the massed fire of cabin bark.
Brébeuf and Lalemant were not numbered
In the five hundred of the fugitives.
They had remained, infusing nerve and will
In the defenders, rushing through the cabins
Baptizing and absolving those who were
Too old, too young, too sick to join the flight.
And when, resistance crushed, the Iroquois
Took all they had not slain back to St. Ignace.
Mission of St. Ignace II National Historic Site of Canada
A short drive away from the
Saint-Louis Mission is the Mission of St. Ignace II National Historic Site.
Following the capture of the missionaries Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant
at Saint-Louis mission, they were brought back to Saint Ignace II and killed
here.
Ground plan of St. Ignace, by Wilfried Jury, 1946
St. Ignace II was one of several
Jesuit mission sites. On March 16, 1649, it was attacked and captured by the
Iroquois, who subsequently attacked the village & mission of St. Louis.
Jesuit missionaries Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant were captured, brought
back to St. Ignace II and after undergoing horrible torture, killed the
following day. The Mission of St. Ignace II was designated a national historic
site of Canada in 1955.
Under an open shelter stands a
large cobblestone cross and altar, erected by the Society of Jesus. A marker in
the altar commemorates Alphonse Arpin, assisted by T.G. Connon, who “worked
tirelessly to find this location of St. Ignace II.” There is also a cross, at
the probably site of the martyrdom of the two missionaries.
During the months of July and
August, Mass is celebrated here every Wednesday at 3:00 PM. Patrizia informed
me that on October 9, 2021, she participated in the final pilgrimage of the
year from the Ste. Marie Among the Hurons mission to the Huron village of St.
Ignace, altogether 15 km/3.5 hours, along the path that Brébeuf and Lalemant
took to their deaths.
During my recent annual retreat
in Manresa in November, 2021, I found an article about the martyrdom as well as
a photograph of Father Pedro Arrupe, General of the Society of Jesus (Jesuits),
who during his visit to Canada in 1967 knelt in prayer at the exact place where
St. Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant were martyred.
“They were led
back to St. Ignace and put to the dreadful tortures which the Iroquois
inflicted upon their prisoners. Brébeuf suffered for four hours, when a chief
cut out his heart and ended his agony. Lalemant, in spite of his frail
physique, remained alive for fourteen hours before he, too, was released by
death. The Huron nation was scattered as a result of this ceaseless warfare,
and a feeble remnant sought shelter in the neighborhood of Quebec, where today,
in the village of Lorette, their descendants, now largely French in blood,
still live”.
Now let me again turn to E. J.
Pratt’s poem and the depiction of the events that had taken place at this very
site, after Brébeuf and Lalemant were captured at St. Louis Mission and taken
to St. Ignace II:
And when, resistance crushed, the Iroquois
Took all they had not slain back to St. Ignace,
The vanguard of the prisoners were the priests.
Three miles from town to town over the snow,
Naked, laden with pillage from the lodges,
The captives filed like wounded beasts of burden,
Three hours on the march, and those that fell
Or slowed their steps were killed.
(…)
No doubt in the mind of Brébeuf that this was the last
Journey—three miles over the snow.
(…)
By noon St. Ignace! The arrival there
The signal for the battle-cries of triumph,
The gauntlet of the clubs.
(…)
The Iroquois had waited long
For this event. Their hatred for the Hurons
Fused with their hatred for the French and priests
Was to be vented on this sacrifice,
And to that camp had come apostate Hurons,
United with their foes in common hate
To settle up their reckoning with Echon [Brébeuf].
Now three o’clock, and capping the height of the passion,
Confusing the sacraments under the pines of the forest,
Under the incense of balsam, under the smoke
Of the pitch, was offered the rite of the font. On the head,
The breast, the loins and the legs, the boiling water! (…)
The fury of taunt was followed by fury of blow.
Why did not the flesh of Brébeuf cringe to the scourge,
Respond to the heat, for rarely the Iroquois found
A victim that would not cry out in such pain—yet here
The fire was on the wrong fuel. Whenever he spoke,
It was to rally the soul of his friend whose turn
Was to come through the night while the eyes were uplifted in prayer,
Imploring the Lady of Sorrows, the mother of Christ,
As pain brimmed over the cup and the will was called
To stand the test of the coals.
(…)
In the thews of his thighs which had mastered the trails of the Neutrals?
They would gash and beribbon those muscles. Was it the blood?
They would draw it fresh from its fountain. Was it the heart?
They dug for it, fought for the scraps in the way of the wolves.
(…)
The wheel had come full circle with the visions
In France of Brébeuf poured through the mould of St. Ignace.
Lalemant died in the morning at nine, in the flame.
Thus, in one day I was fortunate
to explore three historically significant locations. I hope that the Shrine
will re-open in 2022 (although as I am writing these words—January 5, 2022—because
of the new variant of COVID-19, Omicron, Ontario has well over 10,000
documented cases per day—and the actual number is probably 5 to 10 times
higher) and I will be able to visit it again.
I had another reservation made
in Six Mile Lake Park for the first half of October, 2021, even on the same
campsite, at the beaver pond—I had been planning to spend Thanksgiving Day
there and remain until October 12, the final operating day of the park. Even
though I was so much looking forward to my final camping experience of 2021,
the weather forecast called for rain every day and it was the main reason I
cancelled that trip.
