Peterborough Collegiate and Vocational School - Echoes Yearbook (Peterborough, Ontario Canada)

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The Isle of Man by RUTH KINGAN, V A That small island, the Isle of Man, once the home of the Druids of early Britain, and now one of the most famous summer resorts in the British Isles, lies in the storm waters of the Irish Sea, into which it fell from the hand of the Great Giant of Ireland who, according to the legend, picked up a lump of Ireland and hurled it at the giant of England. A lake in Ireland is the same shape as the island and from this fact comes the legend. This island of sandy beaches, cliffs, mountains, and glens, is indeed the playground of the British Isles, a miniature Switzerland. From early May to late September people flock there, some to rest and admire the beauty of the place, others to spend their holidays in sport and fun. The way to this isle of rest and sport is through the air and over the water. The island boasts of four air ports to which aeroplanes come daily, bringing the more venture- some visitors. For those whose motto is slow but sure the means of travel is small daily steamers which come to the port of Douglas, capital of the island, in three and a half hours, compared with the aeroplanes thirty minutes. As many as fifty thousand people come in one day. The craggy coastline is one of hrst beauties of Isle of Man. Most of the shore is ragged cliff, broken now and then by deep sandy inlets into which the foaming sea rushes, wearing the inlets ever deeper and smoother, making small caves larger, and filling in others with loose rock and sand. Thrilling is it to see the waves throw themselves on the beach, roll closer, then ebb away again. In such an inlet, protected from the lashing sea, there is Groudle Aquarium, natural pit where sea lions make their home the year round. Then there are the Pirates' Caves at Port Soderick where once Norse pirates had their headquarters. With ropes tied about their Waists to prevent themselves from becoming lost, Lake Louise, Near Banff, Alberta people can wander far into these caves, the magnifi- cent work of nature. There is the Calf of Man, a small rocky island to the south of Man. This deso- late isle is used as a bird sanctuary, where many unusual birds, which cannot be found elsewhere in the north, flock in countless numbers. The sea front of Douglas is the finest part of the coast. Powder sand fills the entire distance from Onchan Head to Douglas Head three miles apart. The beach is the delight of all visitors both old and young. The young play in the sand and bathe in the sea, while the old take chairs and gain full benefit from the soft rays of the sun. Behind the beach is a promenade which acts as a break-water and as an avenue for walking and driving. Huge modernistic gardens extend from one end of the promenade to the other. Farther inland are the hills and mountains. VValki11g is the greatest pleasure in these hills, green and fresh, covered most of the year with gorse and heather. Always are they a mass of colour, always do they tempt people to walk up them to gaze at the plains of heather to the north, to look far out to sea on clear days and see the famous mountain of Morn in the blue mists of Ireland. Snaefel, the highest mountain on Man, soars far above the others, enveloped in mist most of the time. The North and South Barrule rank next to their sister, their beauty attracting many enthusiastic climbers. Among the hills are numberless glens, deep and shaded, winding curiously. Always a small stream bubbles over the rocks on its long arduous journey to the sea. Small rustic paths and bridges h ve been built to enhance the singular beauty of the shaded vales, overhung by sweeping branches, through which the sun lilters and plays on the shimmering water and on the clusters of flowers which cover the sides of the valley. In Groudel glen, CC07Zfl'7ZM6d 011 Page Q32 Photo by FLORENCE TREBLICOCK, IV A Page Thirty-five

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'BAVEL Alaska by R. ROBINSON and F. TREBLICOCK, IV A Come with us to mysterious Alaska, Land of the Midnight Sun. First imagine yourself sailing out of Vancouver harbour on the summer evening of July 14. VVe soon leave the harbour lights behind us and proceed northward under the shadow of night. Our first stop is at Alert Bay a little Indian village on the north-east shore of Vancouver Island. We Walk up the one and only street passing many little Indian and japanese children who beg to have their pictures taken. At the end of the street we find our- selves in a Weird old Indian grave-yard which is full of genuine family totem poles. The whole place is very rough and unkept and has an appearance of general desolation. Throughout the cemetery, on the topmost branches of many of the tremendously tall trees can be seen little wooden boxes which contain bodies of babies who died before they were a year old. All aboard! and in a little while we are sailing northward once more. We now cross Queen Char- lotte Sound which is the first stretch of open Water encountered by us and which tests our sea-legs. However, this is soon left behind and the boat docks once more-this time at Prince Rupert. This is our last Canadian port-of-call and here all Cana- dian passengers must make out their immigration cards which are to be presented to the customs ofiicers who board the boat at Ketchikan, Alaska. As Ketchikan is the first Alaskan town we im- patiently wait to get through the customs formali- ties. The first thing that impresses us is the main street which is built of planks. Now let us follow the crowd into a curio shop on the main corner. Our attention is immediately drawn to the thousands of trinkets and Indian tokens which are laid out on the counters and hung up on the walls. There is an exceptionally fine display of rare furs in an ad- joining room, the most outstanding of which are the fine ermine skins. Later we go up to an Indian school on the moun- tain side. Our guide is a little twelve year old Indian boy. He takes us first into a classroom where there are several Indian women weaving baskets. Then we go across the hall into a room where there are many Indian children carving out their family totem poles. On leaving we all gather round the little boy and have our pictures taken on the steps of the school. As we return to the ship we pass a part of the fishing fleet which has put in to harbour for the night. The greater part is, how- ever, too far away to come in daily and only returns at certain intervals. Most of the inhabitants of Ketchikan are fishermen and thus the village is rather deserted in summer. Ketchikan's total population is, at the most, one thousand. Page Thirty Four Talezi Glacier, Alaska. lzzjiaiz Grave- yard, Alert Bay, B. CT. .Medenlzall Glacier at JHIZGCZII, A laska Family Totem Pole Hear Ind- ian Cemetery, Alert Bay, B.C. F isliting Fleet at Ketclz ilaaaz, Alaska. On the following day we reach the famous Taku Glacier. Before the glacier comes in sight we can feel the air getting colder and colder 'and then a blue haze appears in the distance. Soon we can fC0ntinued on Page 90,

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GRADE IX coRNER Off To Scotland By MARGARET LANGLEY IX F It was a bright. sunny day when we left Belfast for Larne. VVe motored along the coast road until We reached Carrickfergus. Here we stopped, in- tending to see the famous Carrickfergus Castle, once besieged and captured by Bruce. It was in this vicinity that William of Orange landed to start his conquest of Ireland. In one of the rooms King john once slept, in the roof over the entrance to the keep I noticed some holes. These, I was told, were to pour boiling lead and oil on the unfortunate heads of the enemy as they passed under. Soon after leaving Carrickfergus We arrived at Lame. As our boat did not sail for about two hours, we wandered around the village looking for a place to eat. It wasn't as attractive as most of the villages I had seen in Ireland. We had our tea in a small, upstairs room where there was a small, round table. The Irish are very trusting, for, as we went out, the proprietress asked us how many cakes we had eat- en and charged us only for those. When we went back to our boat we found that the ship authorities were having a hard time. They were trying to load a cargo of sheep and pigs which simply would not go where they were supposed to. After a while we started. All of the family stood on deck until Ireland faded from view. At dusk we reached Stranraer, which is on the south-west coast of Scotland. When we disem- barked my father went to see about the unloading of the car. Night drew on and still no car. After A Summer Day By DOROTHY PARKHILL lXl The stately maple shakes her tousled head, Early in the morning when all the world seems dead, VVakes and sees the red sun waking, To tell the world a glorious day is breaking. As the sun comes up from its invisible bed, It plays with the dancing waves that have fled From the wild night's tossing wind That blew when the moon had slowly dimmed. Then giving the earth a dazzling smile, It climbs on its upward journey, mile after mile, And with one last, long, lingering ray, It sinks at the end of a summer day. O 0 waiting for about two hours, we could dimly see it being lifted high into the air by a crane and lowered to the dock below. Soon we set off for Ballantrae, where we were to spend the night. After driving for twenty miles along a dark coast road with only the dull sound of the ocean in our ears, we arrived at our destination. Although it was about midnight a welcome a- waited us. The proprietress of the spotlessly clean Scottish hotel had thoughtfully prepared warm food and drinks for us. Soon after we were sleep- ing soundly-our first night in Scotland. Mysterious Night By NORMA RAY :xi O Night! Night! mysterious Night! Why do you hide and lurk in the dark? Tell all your secrets and mysteries to me, What does the pine tree whisper ?-Hark! Do you not hear it behind your cloak? Can you not tell me the song of the sea? Where are the sailors who died in ships? O Night! Night! Tell your story to me. And, Night, tell the moon and the stars also That I'd like to know where they sleep all dayg And why do you creep, like a big, black ghost, From way over there across the bay? Page Thirty-six O Night! Night! mysterious Night li Don't stand, so still, so black, so dead, But tell me the mysteries you hide 'neath your veil, And don't make that oak tree creak o'er my head. Way over there, the cemetery lies. O Night! hearltess Night! Your secret is there, You are the symbol of death, of hateg O Night! wicked Night! let the sunlight glare. But ah, you just laugh and shriek through the treesg You're dead as a ghost, you wonit answer me, As I stand like a fool, begging answers from stone, And you hoard your secrets and howl with glee. al '1