I remember a friend saying that kids are special when they’re little, but that every age holds the promise of something new. My eldest son, D, now twelve years old, and I headed out for a seventeen kilometre roundtrip hike to Grey Owl’s cabin in Riding Mountain National Park, Manitoba, something he wasn’t ready for until this year. What a treat to be able to divide up the family and not be dragging unwilling hostages behind for a change.
We set out with a light daypack and plenty of water, not knowing exactly what to expect. I have my bear bell and jangle it constantly, even more constantly when we meet with clumps of fresh berry jam on the trail. “Jing-a-linga-ling!” the bell rings out. It puts me in mind of the Gary Larson cartoon explaining what you say to a dog and what he actually hears (quite a significant discrepancy, in case you haven’t seen it). I feel like the black bear tribe’s personal Good Humour Man: “Jing-a-ling-a-ling! Git your Humansicles here! Jing-a-ling-a-ling! Git your fresh, warm Humansicles here! In the next two hours, two for the price of one! Jing-a-ling-a-ling!”
You get the picture.
There’s something ridiculously romantic about Grey Owl’s story, which combines the fantasy of running away from it all with the utter reinvention of oneself. I hold the promise of someday having a yurt of my own, preferably deep in the forest, dear, and so I am beguiled by this curious white man and the desire to see his cabin for myself.
Grey Owl, the man, was actually born Archibald Stansfeld Belaney in Hastings, England in 1888. In 1906 he set sail for Canada in search of adventure.
Belaney emigrated, ostensibly to study agriculture. After a brief time in Toronto, he moved to Temagami (Tema-Augama), Northern Ontario, where he worked as a fur trapper. Fascinated with the Anishinaabe Ojibwe, he set about learning their language and lore. On August 23, 1910, he married Angele Egwuna, an Ojjibwa woman from whom he learned much about the people. They started life together in a tent on Bear Island (Lake Temagami). Soon Angele gave birth to their daughter Agnes. Angele’s uncle called Belaney “Little Owl”, because he watched everything carefully. Belaney claimed he was adopted by the tribe and given a name meaning “Grey Owl”.
Belaney worked as a trapper, wilderness guide, and forest ranger. At first he began to sign his name as “Grey Owl”. Then he created a full-blown Native identity, telling people that he was the child of a Scottish father and Apache mother. He claimed to have emigrated from the U.S. to join the Ojibwa in Canada. (( (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grey_Owl))
Although the Historica-Dominion Institute describes Belaney as having “perpetrated one of the 20th century’s most convincing hoaxes”, they acknowledge his sizeable contribution to the ultimate conservation of significant tracts of Canadian wilderness.
Known to the world as “Grey Owl,” he convinced everyone that he was a Canadian-born first nations author. In this persona, he became one of Canada’s most popular and famous personalities. Grey Owl’s British origins came to light shortly after his death and the ensuing public outcry ignored his significant contributions as a conservationist. A generation after his death though, Grey Owl is remembered as an effective public champion of our natural heritage, and his writings still carry an important environmental message for today’s world. Without Grey Owl’s efforts and passion towards the wilderness, Canada may have lost a better part of its natural beauty. He helped create a legacy of awareness and protection for Canada’s forests and wildlife.
The hike itself is rather mundane and I keep waiting for the “ahhhhh” moment when the birches and shrubs part, making way for a salutary view. But that view fails to materialize. We momentarily stop to pick berries and chug water but otherwise keep putting one foot on front of the other. I am simply happy to be out hiking but wonder if I have oversold my son on our adventure.
D. seems happy to arrive and flops down in the shade with a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. Three baby barn swallows, tucked in their mud nest under the eaves, strain for food while their anxious mother swoops and dives around us. Prehistoric-sized dragonflies hover and land all around and on us. The door is propped open by a rock and the cabin contains a play of bright midday light and deep shadows. A scrapbook is open on the table, containing copies of old photographs, letters and bills of lading recalling Grey Owl’s preparations for living on this site. Some of the logs are defaced with carved initials and proclamations of so-and-so’s youthful visitations, but mostly the cabin at Beaver Lodge Lake looks as it did when Grey Owl, along with two beaver kittens named Rawhide and Jellyroll, moved there in 1931.
The Park staff provided the necessary supplies to insure that both Grey Owl and the beavers were content in their new home. A special chestnut canoe was purchased so Grey Owl could paddle around the lake and watch for beaver activity.
Now that Grey Owl and his beavers were settled Grey Owl began his work with the beavers and the public in earnest. His job was to reestablish beaver colonies in areas where they were exterminated. It was also thought Grey Owl would attract visitors to this new park with his tame beaver and his dynamic personality.
(http://www.pc.gc.ca/pn-np/mb/riding/natcul/natcul2.aspx#go)
oehttp://www.nfb.ca/film/Beaver_People
In 1932, citing insufficient water levels both for beaver migrations and for reasonable travel by canoe, he moved on with his beloved Jellyroll, Rawhide and other kits to Ajawaan Lake in Prince Albert National Park, Saskatchewan. In 1938 he died of pneumonia and was buried there.
I photograph, of course, and join D. for a leisurely lunch. After a time we pack up, refreshed, and head back into the shimmering heat.
Although the views may not have been spectacular, I was grateful to be deep in our Canadian woods on a gorgeous summer day, discover a piece of Canadian history, compliments of Parks Canada, and to enjoy the uninterrupted company of my son. I hope he will deem me a worthy hiking companion again as he quickly grows and finds his own way in the world.