Balm Beach, Ontario October 12-14, 1978

Sitting on a deep maroon coloured, frayed-at-the-edges, cut corduroy sofa in a turquoise-walled room with lime green floors and the oddest assortment of furniture I have ever seen. I’m in one of the many 'cabins’ for rent here at Balm Beach. This cabin has three bedrooms, so hopefully I may find one comfortable bed.  I’ve got cold running water, an electric stove, and the bare necessities of comfort.  There’s also a surprising amount of kitchenware -- all odds and ends, nothing matching, no lids to fit pots, etc. Still, the place may provide me with a metal fork, which I have gone without for quite some time now.  The gal running the place – a big old mama – told me where all her kids now live (Calgary, Kamloops, Hope) and why this place is so dirty – “we’re closed!”  Still, despite the dirty lime green floors and the generally run-down, broken and tattered look of the place, I think I’m better off here than in Awenda Park, which was sealed up tight, with no way of even getting to a campsite. The wind is really blowing and I expect it's going to rain tonight.  Hard.

 

I’m ‘in the vicinity’ here because I wanted to visit two of Ontario’s provincial historic parks: Discovery Harbour in Penatanguishine and Sainte Marie Among the Hurons, near Midland.

 

I went to Discovery Harbour first.  It’s an old (ca 1820) British Naval base, best known for the two beautifully crafted replica ships – the HMS Tecumseth, a warship, and HMS Bee, a supply schooner.  After visiting those, I spent the rest of the day meandering through the many restored buildings on the site: the commanding officer’s house, the naval surveyor’s house, the officers’ quarters, the surgeon’s house, and the cemetery.  As in many of the other historic forts and parks I’ve visited, the park’s ‘staff’ were all in period costume and played their roles with a wonderful mix of fidelity and fun.  What a great job!

 

 

 

Note:  For more information on Discovery Harbour go to: http://www.discoveryharbour.on.ca/dh/en/Home/index.htm

 

The next day I visited Sainte-Marie among the Hurons, a recreated site, originally the home of Ontario’s first European settlers – French Jesuit Missionaries who worked among the Wendat Huron people.  The site again includes many historic replica buildings, and staff who dress in period costumes and re-enact the times.  I find myself very drawn to these historic sites, and the the educational work that goes on within them – not just the people in costumes, but the people who work behind the scenes creating the programs and organizing the site’s activities. I went into the administration centre to find out more about what goes on ‘behind the scenes’ and met with a woman who invited me to come back the next day to observe a typical session with a group of school kids.  She also encouraged be to consider attending an upcoming conference about the role of ‘interpreters’ – people who work in parks, historic sites, museums – anywhere the public visits where educational programs are offered.  I was intrigued.  Might this be a new vocation for me to explore?

 

Note:  For more information on Sainte Marie Among the Hurons go to:  http://www.saintemarieamongthehurons.on.ca/sm/en/Home/index.htm

 

 

Outside the site’s centre I met a guy who was operating a tractor, doing some heavy-duty ‘landscaping’ at the park. He’d been playing with Dusty all afternoon while I was inside the centre.  I never worried about Dusty as he was always right there when I came back from wherever I’d gone, whether it was minutes or hours later.  Anyway the tractor operator asked me about my ‘yellow lab’, and said he was looking for a dog like Dusty for his kids.  The guy was warm and friendly and had a nice twinkle in his eyes. And he obviously really liked Dusty.  So I took his name – Dave – and his address.  Just in case… .

 

I spent the next couple of days thinking about my options – I could start working here, or elsewhere, in a new field, or keep driving, and head down to the southern USA where it’s warmer, or… go to South America.  It was a matter of deciding what I really wanted to do.  And the more I thought about it, the more inclined I was to really step off the edge, out of my ‘comfort zone’, and head, solo, to South America. 

 

But what to do about/with Dusty?  I thought about all we’d shared together over the past few months – the happy walks in the mountains, playing with sticks on beaches, relaxing by fires, and cozying up in the tent.  He’d been a good friend and a great traveling companion.  But I can’t take him to South America.  

At the same time, I could see the eyes, and the expression on Dave’s face as he told me how much he liked my ‘yellow lab’.  And so, stealing myself for what was to come, I went with Dusty to the park, hoping to catch Dave there.  As Dusty and I were walking towards the centre a friend of Dave's spotted us and yelled: "Hey Dave! Your dog is back!"  Dave came over, smiling with those eyes of his and said: "I was hoping you'd come back today. I told my wife and kids about him and they were so excited.”  We stood and talked awhile, and I could see how fond Dave was of Dusty, and how happy he was at the thought of taking him home to his family. And I knew I’d made the right decision.

 

 

 

We transferred Dusty's belongings -- his blanket, his bowl, his yellow nylon rope, his chewing sticks -- from one car to another. Then Dave opened his car-door for Dusty. Dusty stood and looked at me, not moving. I just looked at him and said 'Oopsala, Dusty, copsala, it's time to go now.'  So in he jumped, and the door was closed.  And as they drove away all I saw were Dusty’s two big eyes, two big eyes staring at me from behind the window, his little head turning round to watch me as the distance between us widened.  And then he was gone.  And my heart broke, just a little.