Spring Arrives
Emerging from a winter of discontent
Prologue
My wife Ruth got sick last September when the sun was still warm. The leaves had begun to turn, but summer seemed to hang on as if waiting for her. The night she slipped away from me, a storm came up. You know the type. It was a pleasant day, sunny and warm for the time of year, but the skies turned dark and night fell upon us like a thief. The skies opened and a short torrential rain soaked the ground. Lightning crackled the air and thunder crashed around the house as she lay in bed in our living room unable to pay much attention. We had already said our goodbyes.
We always loved storms like these and would stop whatever we were doing to watch them together. Now I watched this one for both of us. A little over twenty four hours later she was gone. She never spoke that final day and for me, the storm that came and went that night before had carried her away from me. The weather turned after that. Fall came in earnest and winter behind it. I struggled to make sense of it, the suddenness of it, the surprise, the finality. I am still struggling, but I am coming to accept it. Our life together was coming to an end.
And now Spring has arrived and I must carry on.
The First Day of the Rest of My Life
When death finds you make sure it finds you alive
- African Proverb
Yesterday was a good day. It found me alive and open to the world around me. I awoke as the sun rose. I wandered about, feeding the cats and tending to their needs. I started to get my breakfast ready when I noticed the house surrounded by white tailed deer. There must have been a dozen or more of them and they were spread out all around the house. I watched as a group of three headed from the old apple tree in the east yard towards the back of the house.
The deer were excited. The last few days have seen most of our snow cover disappear and now they were gathering and moving in numbers I hadn’t seen since the first snows of December. They seemed more interested in each other than the person standing at the back door holding a camera out with one arm to get a clearer view. They must know me by now. I’ve been photographing generations of these wild creatures and I’ve never once threatened them. On this day they seemed to accept my presence but kept an eye on me all the same. You can never be too sure, they reason with natural logic.
Notice how alert they are. Heads up, ears poised for reception. Having silent conversations with the deer just out of frame. All of them anticipating a sudden change of mood. Duncan and Katie, two of our cats, are out in their yard west of the house and have become another centre of attention for the skittish creatures. And then one deer raises an alarm and they’re off.
Tails up, they shuffled to another part of the yard, but they don’t go far. Seems it was a false alarm. Moving just enough to err on the side of caution, they began to gather south-west of the house.
This dance between flight and observation continued for several minutes as they arranged themselves for the next part of the day’s journey, headed down the back lane still covered in snow, and down to the large agricultural fields south of us. Much of the running seems to be the young ones expressing joy at their new found freedom away from endless drifts of snow. I know how they feel. The night before I was out there myself walking between patches of snow in moccasins no less, no longer encumbered by winter boots. It’s very liberating.
Only a few missing now. They wait at the edge of the forest for the stragglers to catch up. When they do, they slip quickly and quietly down the laneway out of sight. Time to head back inside to finish my breakfast and take care of emails and other work related tasks left over from the day before. I have a day planned ahead of me and I know I must get some work done so I will be free to meet up with Northumberland Photography Club members down in Port Hope for lunch and a photo walkabout.
Port Hope Walkabout
The meetup in Port Hope is scheduled for 2 PM. There wasn’t much of a plan other than to go for a walk together. The meeting point was the Dreamer’s Cafe at the corner of Queen and Walton, a stone’s throw from the Ganaraska River. The clouds from earlier in the day had largely subsided leaving blue skies with wispy white clouds. The day was turning warm and the forecast was delightful with highs close to 20 degrees expected. While spring officially arrived today, yesterday felt welcoming enough not to split hairs about it. Jackets were coming off. I even saw some shorts and t-shirts about. Clearly I was not the only one basking in the warmth of the day.
I spotted these young folk playing with a remote control car inside the bandshell in the park next to the town hall where I parked for the day. They seemed to move about like a single unit, much like the deer I had observed earlier.
One young man was so full of energy he wouldn’t stop for even a fraction of a second. Bouncing up and down. Running circles around his friends. He was literally bouncing off the wall. Only a high speed shutter could freeze this kinetic energy.
When I arrived at the meeting point, noone was there. The farther one has to travel, the earlier one tends to arrive and I had about twenty minutes to kill. I took a short walk to the bridge and back, stopping to photograph some painted stones next to Queenie’s Bake Shop. On the east side of the building facing the river, there is a little rock garden. These are some of the gems I found planted there.
I love how expressive these rock paintings are. And some of them were deeply moving.
With rendezvous time approaching, I took a seat at one of the tables outside the cafe and had a brief chat with the only other club member to have arrived. While I still don’t know many of the members, the camera she had in hand was a dead giveaway. Across the street from where we sat is 33 Walton, currently unoccupied and patiently waiting for its next tenant in a history that stretches back to 1845. I was greatly attracted to the round corner on the building with it’s curved windows and fancy trim near the roof line. I had to do some serious perspective correction in post to get the three story building to stand straight without converging lines.
Known, at least from a heritage perspective as the Gillett Paterson Block, the building has been home to many businesses over the years including a coroner and division court agent, several attorneys-at-law, a customs agent, a hardware merchant, a flour and grain merchant, and the Times printing office. In 1876, Hiram Gillett (a dry goods merchant) sold the block to Stanley Paterson, Secretary and Treasurer of the Midland Loan and Savings Company. In 1901 it became home to the Bank of Montreal and shared the building with the Mechanics Institute, a forerunner of the Port Hope Library just down the street.1 Most recently it has been home to Maggie Moose, a gift emporium and ice cream parlour.
Before long Andy Moeck, our club president, showed up on the scene. I asked him if he expected if we would have time to eat lunch before we set off and he told me he had already eaten. Ah, well I’m starving I told him and suggested I would grab something inside before the others arrived. He said he would join me for a coffee.
I was very impressed by the Dreamer’s Cafe which has a huge selection of desserts and sandwiches. I ended up having Lobster on a Panini which was expertly prepared and pared that with a hot chocolate with lots of whip cream on top. Mmm, mm good. Andy noticed a couple of other club members arriving as we sat in one of the window seats, but they had disappeared from sight by the time we came out, so we were on our own.
This seemed to please Andy who walked with me to the corner and brought me up to date on some club news. He tried to recruit me to the executive but I remained noncommittal, although I did offer some help evaluating the club’s online presence going forward. He also asked if I might give a talk to the group about my photography, which I am actually considering. I know NPC is hitting a rough patch financially and recruiting members from inside the club as guest speakers is one way to save a few bucks.
Rainbow Trout
A couple of people I had met earlier on my meander down Walton had mentioned the fish were running and that seeing I had camera gear in hand, I might want to check that out. So that’s where Andy I went next. Following the west bank of the river, we got down to the river bank and soon found the Spring migration of Rainbow Trout had begun as had been reported. By the way, Andy also has a substack and I encourage you to check it out.
The water was fast flowing from several days of melt and the fish were making their way upstream to spawn in the first of two migrations that draw huge numbers of photographers and nature lovers to the town each year. The other fish migration is the Salmon run in the fall. The Ganaraska is one of the healthiest naturally regenerating fish habitats in the Great Lakes region.
At first the trout were hard to see with few visible near the bridge at Walton, but as we walked downstream to shallower waters we found more and more of them gathered along the banks. Wherever there was an off-channel area away from white water, they were assembled in multitudes, jostling for position and getting themselves ready for the next push upstream.
Fins up in a fishy traffic jam below the next obstacle. Like tiny sharks, their dorsal fins flashed everywhere. Occasionally they would rise above the surface as their bodies bumped into each other.
While I wasn’t expecting the day to turn into a fishing expedition, I had no complaints. I’ve heard of these runs for years, but have never made it down to see one before. It’s impressive to watch the determination the fish appy to this epic journey to reproduce.
And then with a mighty push, a single trout makes it over the next rise in the river pushing hard against the fast flowing stream. Another twenty feet and the next obstacle will appear.
But the worst is yet to come. After bidding adieu to Andy for the day, I headed north towards the 401 and Corbett’s Dam where their greatest challenge awaits.
Corbett’s Dam
Nearly 9000 trout make this journey each year between late March and early May. When they arrive at the dam they face an insurmountable foe in the form of a 12 foot concrete wall that no fish could ever jump.
Of course, the fish approach the dam where the current is the lowest, but this is not the place for them to jump and so they try and fall back over and over again. Up until 1974, fish had to be manually carried to get them over the obstacle, but then a fish ladder was constructed to let the fish negotiate it themselves. 5 feet wide and 90 feet long, the ladder consists of a series of steps and pools allowing fish who enter it to jump their way to the top in stages.
That said, while I was there for quite some time I did not see a single fish enter the ladder shown above on the west side of the dam. Rubber bumpers have been erected over the concrete sides to keep fish from knocking themselves out on the vertical walls at the entrance of the ladder. Of course the run is just getting going. It’s early days yet. Hopefully I will have a chance to return to see the ladder in action.
I kind of feel sorry for them, but it’s just another obstacle that they must figure out to carry on till tomorrow. I guess we all face days like that.
And with that I’ll end this entry in My Photo Journal. As usual, I’ll leave you with a tune. This is Carry on Till Tomorrow by Badfinger from the Magic Christian Soundtrack.
29-33 Walton Street - Walton Street Heritage District - Neo Classic
A beautifully moving post John. Your images of the rainbow trout are amazing - that must be quite an experience to watch them go up the fish ladder.
Very moving. 💜 Very interesting too! (That boy literally bouncing off the wall is maybe my very favorite of your images in this group. 😊)