Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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Why I Like Canoeing It happened in an examination room. My mother, who would rather remain anonymous, was writing her B.A. English paper a couple of years ago, when a rather unusual thing happened. “A person ”, she recounts, “who had been perhaps over-nervous about the exam he was to write later that day, took an excessive amount of uppers. As a result, instead of writing an intellectual composition on various Chaucerian or Shakesperian works, he bent his mind to the writing of an essay entitled “Why I like Canoeing ”, for two hours. This paper was, unbelievably, a two hour major work, apparently eloquently written, but on what the title suggested — canoeing. ’ I don’t want to be particularly inane, or naive, but canoeing is the topic I plan to write about. I have an un- ' equalled love for this sport, and it has given me many experiences, one of which I shall tell now. Once upon a time, about eight or nine years ago. Mother and Father decided that they didn’t want any- thing to do with Junior during the month of July, so they sent me off to camp. My luggage was packed, and i one sunny day, I was taken to the bus. This was the first time I had ever been away from home, and naturally, j I was deeply grieved. I was to take a three hour bus trip up into the wilds of Haliburton. It took me quite a while to shoulder my sorrow for the departure, but having done so, I thoroughly enjoyed the remaining two hours and fifty-nine minutes of the trip. Upon arrival, I instantly began to have fun. I proved an interested archer, an avid marksman, an able swim- mer, a spastic diver (you can’t excel in everything — it looks too good) but most of all, my memory of canoe- ing is the clearest. Ever since the beginning of camp, I completely detested canoeing! ! As I grew more mature (?) however, my sentiments changed, and I became an enthusiastic fan of the sport, exercising every opportunity to venture out into the deep, man fighting against lake, armed only with paddle and life jacket. Unfortunately the lake almost a lways won, but I persevered until I became a master canoe- ist — I no longer needed to wear a life jacket. Five years, seven canoe trips, approximately twenty (twenty too many) overnights, and innumerable God-awful hikes later, I went on the canoe trip of all canoe trips — the culmination of all my knowledge and experience. It was a ten day affair in Algonquin Park, starting at the uppermost reaches of civilization and end- ing at the main outpost at Canoe Lake. My superior (?) experience enabled me to take the helm, and for an enjoyable nine days, we laboured, and occasionally lazed our way to the place that was to be our campsite for the last night. We had planned the trip well enough, so that we spent our last nocturnal visit with the park ! on Lake Tanamakoon, the home of a girls’ camp of the same name. We stayed at a campsite directly across from the camp, and notorious for its use, called “White Rock’’. It was there that I had my most memorable ; experience. Another adventurous soul and I set off that night across the bay, to pull a boyish raid on the girls. This was about as late as I had ever been up, but at the time it seemed well worth the effort. We noiselessly crept out : of our tent, tiptoed down the bank to the canoes, put a canoe into the water, and quietly pushed off the shore. ; The night was as black as pitch, and the stillness of the moonless night seemed unfairly broken by the soft, ! constant splash of our paddles, as they dipped into the water. We made our way slowly across the bay (the sky j being black, which impeded our progress) so as to be able to distinguish any markers to aid our attack. I was J I helmsman again for the journey, and so it was the other chap, in the front of the canoe, that spotted the camp s ; dim light first. Apparently someone was still up, as we had hoped. Our goal was in sight! !

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The Future of Farmland? In my opinion all farmland in Southern Ontario should be frozen as of this moment. I say this for several reasons: it will solve the housing problem in Southern Ontario, it will cut out sprawling un- planned housing developments, it will halt the tremendous centralizing of Toronto, it will force other centres to grow; and finally there simply isn’t a better solution to the problem of Southern Ontario’s disappearing farmland. This disappearing farmland frightens me be- cause I can actually see it happening. A hydro station five miles away and a garbage dump two imiles away have both cut out acres of farmland. A new road will, if successful, pass out where I live Staking even more land, just as the 401 and the sub- division around Port Hope have done. I can re- imember passing the Channel 9 television station and ithinking that we were almost there. Today as isoon as you pass Pickering the highway splits into eight lanes and you are practically into Toronto. It [is obvious that something has to be done. Unfor- tunately nothing is being done and this is why I sug- I gest a total ban on the sale of farmland for any other purpose than farming. Although many people feel that such action will create more problems than there are at present, I feel that it can only be bene- ficial. A freeze on farmland will solve the housing pro- blem in Southern Ontario. There is a tremendous demand for housing in this area and at present houses are springing up everywhere. Rather than solving the housing problem this new house build- ing is increasing the problem. The answer is, to go to the other extreme. Stop all house building. By freezing farmland I think you will force in- dustries and people to other communities: This will halt the big centralization of Toronto there- by helping other centres to grow outside Southern Ontario. A halt to the centralization of Toronto will solve a problem that as yet has been unsolved. A plan such as this will also stop sprawling un- planned housing developments and that certainlv would be a good thing. I also honestly feel that there is no better solu- tion to the problem of Southern Ontario’s disap- pearing farmland. Government ownership of large tracts of land and community simply will not work quickly enough. Urban expansion is happening so fast that I feel this total freeze of farmland is the only solution. 15

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Just as the Pilgrims must have felt upon sighting Plymouth, my bow man got a bit over zealous, and in a liolent swing of the paddle, pointed to the dimly lit cabin, and exclaimed, “Hey look, over there!” All you dlow canoeists will know that any quick movement made in a canoe, if not completely counterbalanced by In equally quick movement in the opposite direction, will cause an upending. Newton’s Laws were certain- ly not suspended on this occasion, and my friend and I promptly found ourselves bobbing in the water be- tide an upturned canoe. For those who have not had the distinct pleasure, the water in Algonquin Park is [specially cold at 1:30 in the morning! Despite our efforts, neither the mysterious person in the dimly lit [abin, nor the campers who were busily sawing logs on White Rock heard our laments, and we were forced |b swim our cold way back to the tent. Over the years, I have derived many pleasures from canoeing, but none perhaps more ‘ennobling’ than on bat memorable night in Algonquin Park. It may not have had the drama of “The Cremation of Sam McGee ”, I: or was it the first time I’ve been warm , but it did nothing to reduce my love of a great sport. Look fast Look fast Look fast. People Look Look Don’t waste Waiting for It may never come. m the blossoms bloom, Let the smiles bring laughter. Don’t look now, It’s too late. Now you look straight up, As you fall right down . . . They’re laughing but don’t look now. 17