Co-owner, Chad Clifford, was interviewed on Lake 88.1 FM in Perth, Ontario for his role as Sound Technician for the Mississippi Madawaska Land Trust’s Soundscaping Initiative. He also runs his own business, Wilderness Rhythms.
Have a listen (please click on the logo or the direct link below):
http://lake88.ca/2015/09/16/in-focus-wed-september-16-2015-mary-vandenhoff/
Howard as “John Muir”
MMLT is hosting its annual Spring Walk to Blueberry Mountain on May 10, 2015. We take delight and count it a privilege to dedicate this year’s walk to John Muir, considered by many to be the foremost naturalist of the past century. This year marks the 100th anniversary of his death. His life story continues to inspire and he has become the unofficial patron to cliffLAND.
Come and hear some of his stories about how his nature experiences became so internalized into the fabric of his personality that when he spoke many felt he was the voice of nature. Though he was far ahead of his own time, his voice is still in the forefront, calling us to greater aspirations, greater dreams.
You may be surprised how directly he speaks to today`s societal issues and to our individual and personal challenges. The issues may appear very different but at the most fundamental core level of the human condition nothing has changed.
Who of us have never:
John Muir faced these issues and more – head on. What makes Muir such a powerful influence was his ability to combine science and his intellectual giftedness with an unsurpassed deep, extended immersion in nature experiences. The synergy between the intellect, the emotional, and spiritual perspectives arising out of these experiences made for a profound authentic voice, rarely encountered.
Blueberry Mountain is located near Flower Station in Lanark Highlands. Click on the link for directions to cliffLAND. Registration is at 9:30 and the Nature Walk starts sharply at 10 am. `John Muir` will appear at 11:15 at the top of Blueberry Mountain, weather permitting. If the weather is not cooperative he will appear in the in-door classroom at 12:15. Bring along your lunch to enjoy in this beautiful spot. Desserts, tea and coffee will be served. The entrance fee is a $10 donation to the Mississippi Madawaska Land Trust. Entrance for children under 12 is free. For more information, please contact Howard or Jean Clifford at 613-259-3412.
(submitted by MMLT)
On the morning of November 19, 2014, with Jean and I by his side, Pepi passed peacefully away. Anyone who knew him understood he was an embedded part, heart and soul, into the fibre of the cliffLAND story. He lived his 16 years at cliffLAND and knew it like the back of his hand. Times when I was turned around after bushwacking into remote parts of the property not visited in years, somehow he invariably knew the way home.
Just one month ago I sat alone with him at the top of Blueberry Mountain. He seemed to be enjoying the view as much as myself, seemed at peace, and seemed equally engrossed in thought. I asked him the question I have been so often asked and could never answer. “How many times have you hiked to Blueberry?” There have been times when I was two or three years younger and led as many as three trips a day to the top. Almost always Pepi tagged along. Now, like me, his spirit still longed to do so but his body could not. One thing I know, Pepi and I have made this journey more than any other human. I am convinced he loved it too.
Following his death I couldn’t help but reflect on his life. I recalled Tania making us laugh by relaying the words of a lady at our annual walk: “Why would anyone bring a Chihuahua for such a long hike?” If only she knew the half of it! Except for Newfoundland, Pepi has tented and hiked in every province and in remote areas of the Yukon and N.W.T. He climbed mountains in Alaska, visited Glaciers, hiked parts of the Appalachian trail, hiked and kayaked Walden Pond (of Henry David Thoreau fame), hiked to Grey Owl’s cabin in Manitoba’s Riding Mountain Park, and kayaked to Grey Owl’s cabin in Prince Albert National Park. He visited the haunts of John Muir in California. Probably the most amazing feat was hiking a return distance of 28 km up Mount Robson when he was well into his second decade.
But without a doubt, cliffLAND was his turf. He seemed fearless – not afraid of the dark, thunder, or lightning. He once chased a bear and sent a pair of moose running. Both times swaggering back with the look of “You don’t need to worry about them anymore!” He brought to our attention things we would otherwise missed including the first sighting of a Blanding’s Turtle, a new born porcupine who’s bristles were still soft, snapping turtles and much more.
Always reserved with other people, I was surprised by an event on Blueberry Mountain while performing a John Muir story to an adolescent group. One of the supervisors told me how helpless she felt when she observed a girl, who had recently attempted to take her own life, brought out a knife. Afraid to make a sudden move, she noticed Pepi get up and walk over to the girl and climb on her lap. The girl visibly relaxed, put the knife away, and petted him. I knew he was astute and sensitive but this was a side I hadn’t seen before.
Two days following Pepi’s death, Stan Errett, who has a special place in his heart for Pepi, made a motion that Pepi be made an Honourary Director on the Board of MMLT. He related that Pepi had actually attended board meetings in my shoulder-bag, he had attended al the Nature Walks, and was a wonderful ambassador. The motion was warmly and unanimously passed. I noted I was not the only director fighting back tears. PEPI MUST SURELY BE THE FIRST DOG EVER TO BE SO HONOURED BY A LAND TRUST.
I think Pepi would want me to thank them. He might add: “I loved and guarded this wilderness paradise all of my life – I now must pass on the torch. Please let there be many places like cliffLAND forever protected! Please make it happen!”
His shallow grave within earshot of those climbing to the summit, serves to make this spot even more special to Jean and me – may I say even more sacred. As I laid him gently into his final resting place I was at loss for words. Silently I said – WELL DONE – PEPI – WELL DONE!
Some of the Lanark Wild Food Club visited on Sunday, November 16th, 2014 to collect wild garlic mustard. A tasty pesto was made and sampled.
Last year Dr. Faye Goldman, with five of her Ottawa running friends, ran to the top of Blueberry and I was pleased to learn they were to do it again this year on July 19th. Imagine my surprise when 16 runners and one cyclist arrived. What a jump in numbers. Faye explained, “Yes, my fellow club members were jealous and didn’t want to be left out.”
A half an hour later they returned and were photographed by Tania Marsh. I saw no huffing or puffing. 
Just look at the photo – a picture of vitality and health, both physically and emotionally! I doubt they felt extraordinary, but I suggest less than 1 percent of any age category could have managed this feat. We know the research literature is exploding with evidence proclaiming the benefits of recreational nature experiences, including improved memory and attention span, increases in front-line immune defenders, and mood enhancement.
Researchers documented runners reporting less fatigue following a run on nature trails compared to a run on an outdoor track. Benefits are not limited to athletes. Kindergarten children playing in a nearby forest had much better motor skill development than their peers who were restricted to a fenced-in play area. The case is being made that nature is crucial to the development of gross motor skills such as agility, coordination, balance, and for nurturing aptitude.
Certainly I appreciate the affirmation provided by researchers, but must say I am partial to first hand experiences. Before all the research, testimonies by credible witnesses touted the healing benefits of nature. John Muir suffered a gas attack while digging a well that almost killed him, and which did leave residual damage to his lungs that plagued him for the rest of his life. Yet there were few, if any, who could keep up with him as he reached the peak of one mountain top after another or on one of his leisurely 50 mile week-end jaunts. When he spent extended time in San Francisco or even in his own orchard, his lung infections worsened as did his emotional state. During these times he went to the healing fountain of mountain and forest air. He thought there was no ailment physical or mental that would not be alleviated by these nature exposures.
His good friend Galen Clark was one of a select group who could keep pace with Muir while they enjoyed many wilderness outings together. Yet when Galen was 42 years of age, his lungs haemorrhaging from Consumption (T.B.), was given days to live. He felt his only hope, albeit a long shot, was to go to Yosemite. Not only did he recover, he discovered the Mariposa Grove, was appointed guardian of Yosemite when it was given park status, and was said by Muir to be the best mountaineer he had ever met. He died at the age of 96.
Perhaps not quite as eloquent as Muir, Clark was equally convinced of the healing powers of nature. He stated: “Nature …exhilarates and thrills through every nervous fibre of the body, and makes the old feel young again. THE BRAIN BREATHES AS WELL AS THE LUNGS.”
I recall Faye saying a similar thing: “A vital part of my running is my mind becomes emptied of all cares and distractions. Unfailingly this void is soon filled with creative thoughts as the forces of inspiration flood my consciousness.”
The parting words of one of the runners: “I see this as an annual event!” May it be so!
I add my testimony. Nothing gives me greater joy, peace of mind, or inspiration than to spend time in the wild. I add my voice to that of Theodore Roosevelt who argued in later years that “parents had a moral obligation to make sure their children didn’t suffer from nature deficiency.”
David White’s 2013 edition of Plants of Lanark County has included Blueberry Mountain as one of the 17 areas “considered to be the best examples of botanical diversity and rare native plants concentrations in the county —- plant ‘hot-spots’, if you like.” (p. 10 of the report)
The following description is given:
BLUEBERRY MOUNTAIN
Blueberry Mountain is the local name given to a high ridge near the northwest corner of the county in northern Lavant Township. The panoramic view from the hilltop is unmatched in the county. The ridge is part of a large, diverse, and undeveloped property that is home to [cliffLAND] the former Alba Wilderness School. In 2008, the property was voted “one of the Seven Wonders of the County”. This area has become the first property to be protected under a conservation easement with the Mississippi Madawaska Land Trust Conservancy. With the agreement, this forested tract will be allowed to develop naturally and to be enjoyed by the public for the next 1000 years. Blueberry Mountain can be found on Hills of Peace Road, east of Flower Station. See Howard Clifford’s website (www.cliffland.ca) for more information.
This property has been little-explored botanically, compared to many of the other areas highlighted in this section. Potamogeton spirillus (Northern Snailseed Pondweed) and Salix eriocephala (Missouri Willow) are known in the county only from this site. Other rare plants include: Carex scabrata (Rough Sedge), Eriophorum tenellum (Filiform Cotton-grass), and Platanthera orbiculata (Round-leaved Orchid). There are also eight species rated as sparse known from this site. No doubt, further exploration of this area will add to the list of significant species. (P. 11)
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The following articles have been featured in various publications regarding the former Alba Wilderness School. For information on courses now, visit Chad Clifford’s bio under “About” from top menu.
Nature’s Classroom
By Yvonne Jeffery Hope, The Ottawa Citizen, Saturday 22 May 1999, Also published in The Calgary Herald
Alba Wilderness School in the Lanark Highlands teaches largely forgotten skills needed not only to survive in the wilderness, but to reconnect with it, writes Yvonne Jeffery Hope.
It’s as if we’ve reversed reality. Outside the low, domed structure that we built just hours ago, the spring sun is shining on a cool, dry morning, the temperature not even into double digits. Inside the outdoor sauna, however, where the four of us — two students and two instructors — are seated on the ground, only enough sunlight filters in to create the barest of silhouettes.
Fire-heated rocks in a dug-out hole in the centre emit the only other illumination, a confined, crimson glow. With every sputtering ladle of water over rocks, steam rises to the sauna’s roof just inches from our heads, tangling in the cedar branches, then rolling over us in a sage- and sweetgrass-scented cloud.
I shield my lungs by breathing through the sleeve of my T-shirt, letting the darkness and the heat override all other sensations. When I’ve reached my limit, I stand outside, shoulders steaming, my pulse quick, every nerve-ending reawakened, cleansed.
Fifteen minutes ago, just the idea of taking off my hiking boots made me shiver. Now, I’m comfortable in shorts and a T-shirt, my feet bare.
Carrying my sweatshirt to ward off any chill, I clamber to the top of the small hill that overlooks the sauna, to where the creek becomes a meltwater-swelled cascade.
For the past three days, the creek has formed a pleasant backdrop to the outdoor classroom at Alba Wilderness School in the Lanark Highlands about 90 minutes west of Ottawa.
Now, as I sit beside the creek, eyes closed, it becomes my focus, no longer a single rushing note, but an interweaving of chords: the deep peals of water hitting a hollowed-out rock, the light, almost chime-like current over a series of flat stones, the gentle bubbling of an eddy.
The breeze stirs the sweet scent of decomposing leaves, brushing a branch softly against my arm and sending light drops of the creek’s spray to my face.
Of all the lessons I’ve learned at Alba, this is most precious: the ability to watch nature with all five senses instead of just my eyes … the willingness to sit and be still.
I’ll admit to having had doubts about coming here. Not when I signed up, of course. Then, the prospect of a four-day wilderness awareness course had intrigued me. But as the course dates drew nearer, and the weather forecast grew wetter, my enthusiasm faltered. The raindrops spattering the windshield as I drove west from Ottawa towards Flower Station didn’t reassure me.
I needn’t have worried. Although the folks at Alba are the least likely to cancel a course due to weather, they’re also the most likely to keep you comfortable despite rain, wind and damp. Their warm welcome was an excellent start.
I soon met Howard and Jean Clifford, who moved their family to this 1,250-acre wilderness in 1981, and Alba’s founders and instructors: the Cliffords’ sons, Chad and Barrie, and Tania Marsh, plus sectional instructor Michele Copeland.
They believe in passing on the largely forgotten skills needed to not only survive in the wilderness, but to reconnect with it. The courses combine practical knowledge, like the survival priorities of shelter, water, fire and food, with the spiritual teachings of nature-minded figures like writer-philosopher Henry David Thoreau and conservationist John Muir.
“It’s more of an appreciation, a deeper respect for nature,” explains Chad. “A lot of sports are taking place in nature now, but the interpretation skills are gone.” Alba focuses not on distance covered, but on the journey itself.
Fellow student Brian Simser and I learned how to build a debris shelter, a surprisingly cosy, leaf-filled cocoon. (As you can imagine, we gathered our materials wisely, avoiding damage to live plants.) We discovered the bow-drill method for starting fires when matches aren’t an option. We made rope from cedar bark.
And, in a feat not achieved either by my early years in Girl Guides or my later years in the army, Alba’s instructors taught me how to properly use a compass.
We tested our knowledge with a triangulation exercise, in which the instructors took us to a high point on the land, identified two features on the map, and had us guide ourselves back to the main house. Nope, no one got lost.
And should our compasses fail, we can even read south using the sun and a watch’s hour hand, or shadows from sticks placed in the ground. (Yes, despite the wet start, the sun did grace most of our days.)
Above all, however, Alba’s instructors taught us to become aware of our surroundings: to be silent and calm. “When the mind is uncluttered, it raises your perception,” says Chad. “It’s the stilled mind that gut feelings, that inspiration, come from.”
So we practised walking silently, we cupped our hands around our ears to strengthen our hearing, and we used peripheral, or wide-angle, vision to notice more of our surroundings. Through slides, discussions and walks, we also learned about edible and useful plants, birdwatching, journal-keeping and animal-tracking.
Along the trails, we spied turkey vultures soaring above us, and the tunneling tracks of mice and voles at our feet. When a rustle of debris beside me turned into a garter snake, and my first thought was how beautiful its vivid emerald and gold markings were against the papery leaves, I knew I was making amazing progress.
Howard gave us two riveting performances, in the guise of Grey Owl, then John Muir, providing a unique insight into how we as a society began to evolve from using the land to protecting it.
On our last morning, before the outdoor sauna rewarded our efforts of the previous days, I slipped out alone into the dawn, heading towards a beaver-flooded meadow.
Hoping for a muskrat sighting, I fox-walked to the bank and waited, still and silent. Nothing. Suddenly, I knew that I needed to turn around. As I did, a large white hare bounded off into deeper brush.
It wasn’t the muskrat I’d hoped for, but it didn’t matter: Before this course, I’d have completely missed the hare. I’d only seen it because, that morning, I was aware of the journey.
If You Go Getting there: Alba Wilderness School and Nature Experiences is located 90 minutes west of Ottawa near Flower Station. Courses: One- to 10-day courses cover such topics as wilderness living skills, tracking, wild plants and finding inspiration in nature. Shorter workshops focus on plants and crafts such as making paper and soap. There are minimum age requirements for some courses, but families and groups are welcome. Costs: A four-day wilderness awareness course is $240. I highly recommend the $20-a-day food plan: Jean’s tasty, home-cooked meals include omelettes, chili, lasagna, soups, pineapple chicken and pie that you definitely need to save room for. (It’s impossible to leave Jean’s table hungry.) Note: Whether you sleep in the indoor classroom, the on-site prospector’s tent or your own tent, you’ll be camping; washing facilities are limited.
Love for Nature and Observation Skills Taught at Wilderness School
By Debora Dekok, Almonte Gazette
Lanark Highlands- With the fast paced industrial world, few of us have time to look around us, much less smell the roses. A new school near Brightside (west of Almonte) is teaching people to do just that.
Since May, Alba Wilderness School has been teaching people how to enjoy the wilderness.
Tania Marsh, Chad Clifford, his brother Barrie and Michele Copeland started the school on 1250 acres owned by the Cliffords. Naturalist groups, boy scouts, outdoor education classes and people interested in the outdoors have learned to live and survive among the trees, nature, animals and fresh air.
“We teach the skills that enable people to leave the manufactured goods in the urban centres” explained Chad Clifford.
But more than learning the how-to methods of wilderness survival, the school emphasizes the benefit obtained by wilderness outings.
Clifford explains that a backpack or a canoe are merely vehicles to get one out into nature to enjoy the beauty. “However a lot of people are interested in going from point A to point B and miss a lot in between” said Marsh.
“It’s the journey that matters”, emphasized Clifford.
Passing their love of the wilderness is natural to Clifford, who has a degree in the sciences and outdoor recreation form Lakehead University.
Marsh’s background is in the arts, Barrie Clifford and Michele Copeland specialized in horticulture.
Experiencing Nature through the Alba Wilderness School
by Nancy V. Sont
When the wind blows and howls through the trees, bending them almost to breaking, when the rain and snow pummel the earth, mankind generally seeks the shelter and warmth of home fires, but not Henry David Thoreau. To him a storm was a time to capture the essence of what life was like for the forest and its inhabitants. It was a time of exploration, and of sitting quietly listening to the movements in the trees, and the descent of the elements that surrounded them. Only when nature is experienced by sitting alongside those whose growth covers the planet, can real empathy for the wilderness be achieved, he felt. So too do those who have started Alba Wilderness School near Flower Station.
“If you can’t hear your surroundings over the sound of your own footsteps, you’re walking too fast,” Chad Clifford one of the founders and instructors of the school said. “You won’t hear a deer leaving as you arrive.”
Twenty two kilometers from highway 511, down a winding hilly road through rugged territory, lays Alba Wilderness School and Nature Experiences, 1250 protected acres of rolling hills surrounded by thousands more acres of picturesque wilderness. Lakes line the horizon, including the tip of Calabogie Lake in the distance.
Howard Clifford and his wife Jean bought the homestead in 1981. The family dream was that the acreage would be left in trust as a wilderness preserve, a heritage for years to come. They believed that nature is the greatest healer, and that people have more need to get back and discover themselves.
They opened their doors to many groups over the years. Scouts, cubs, women with their children from Interval House, D.A.R.E., Christie Lake Camps, environmental and native groups and individuals have been welcomed to share the powerful experience that a remote wilderness offers.
Desiring to pass on the skills, knowledge and philosophies that connect people to nature and the wilderness, they opened the Alba Wilderness School this summer. Alba is a Spanish word that refers to the earliest moments of dawn when the night and the day touch for a fleeting moment before parting yet again. Desiring to share what they have learned about life and communing with nature on a personal level, they are teaching and continuing to develop courses that will not only help people survive in the wild, but feel comfortable and at home in any natural setting.
In the Wilderness Courses, students are taught survival skills outside or sheltered in secluded tents. They are taught how to construct shelter from the branches and foliage around them that will keep out the elements.
In September, Oliver Paugam of Ottawa learned and made a debris hut. “I spent half the night in it, but it began to be pretty windy since it didn’t have a door yet. It rained that night, but there was only one drip inside,” he said.
Chad and Barrie Clifford have spent years growing up in the wilderness, and seeking out knowledge. They took tracking and survival courses over the years, including instruction near Ashbury, New Jersey with Tom Brown, Jr., one of America’s most acclaimed outdoorsmen and naturalists, and author of seven best-selling survival, tracking and nature observation field guides.
Cycling over 1600 kilometers across Canada, kayaking through icebergs, climbing mountainous rock faces, and engaging in many outdoor experiences, they come fully trained to impart of their expertise. Chad recently graduated with degrees in natural science and outdoor recreation from Lakehead University in Thunder Bay where he has taught advanced students tracking and other related skills.
While some survival books emphasize how to care for matches and lighters, Alba teaches instead how to make a fire in three minutes by rubbing two sticks together with a bow-drill, I.e., how to make a piece of string from plants and find the right sticks to use, and what kindling holds the spark best.
Tracking is taught mainly in the wild, but also with the aid of a large sandbox. Wild animals are enticed by leaving an apple on the smooth sand. Students are taught to study the differing indentations made by each animal. Not only do the species leave different tracks, but the shape of each track differs depending on the speed and weight of the animal as it crosses the terrain.
Their wealth of hands-on instruction is augmented by more than 2000 slides they have taken of local flowering plants and animals, as well as more than 200 of insects.
Along with the Cliffords, Tania Marsh is a co-founder and teacher. Her focus is on the connection between art and the environment, specifically how we are influenced by it. She advocates writing down thoughts and feelings. “The word ‘journal’ comes from the root word ‘journey’, or a day in the life of your journey. Thoreau’s writings were journals, step by step deep thoughts, looking into your daily life,” she said, “Journaling opens up the creative mind, it brings out ideas. It is a form of getting to know yourself better. You can see yourself, the more you write.”
Emily Carr a west coast artist who did as much writing as painting, suggests in her book, The Artist’s Way, doing morning pages. Tania agrees, “When you wake up, write three pages. In time you begin to look back on these and discover things through your writings you never knew. Writing is a stream of consciousness.” She feels that nature inspires the words to flow onto the paper.
In October, after taking an advanced wilderness group along a leaf covered path through the canopy of bare branches, Barrie stopped and asked the group if anyone knew where they were or how to get to the large cedar tree. When no one did, the instructors commenced their ‘lost-proofing’ lesson. “We’re not lost, lost is just a state of mind,” Barrie said, smiling. He taught the class how to find south without a compass by using the slowly moving shadows of the sun, and by using the hands on a watch. The group found their way south over rugged ice storm damaged terrain to a narrow road.
Students were taught to trust their inner feelings when they get lost. They should clear their mind until it contains only one thought, which direction to take. Then as they face each direction around them, they can try to feel and to trust the inner answer, the uneasiness and disharmony when they face a direction that is incorrect, or the comforting feeling of peace and harmony when they are facing the right one, the direction into which they should head. Some members of the group had experienced and followed that guidance from within before, while others had not.
Upon arriving at their destination, the group sat under the canopy afforded by the other cedars that grew near the ancient cedar tree. The group was met by Henry David Thoreau, played by Howard Clifford. He told of his life, and the way the wilderness touched him. He related how it was always changing and how the early morning ghostly mists stirred him. Each day as he walked he took a notebook, pen, spyglasses and tea. He found that it was healthy to separate himself from others to be alone in the wilderness. When his legs were moving his thoughts flowed. He found nature to be a friend that teaches on whatever subject he wanted to know. He realized that nature didn’t exist simply for our comfort, it had its own agenda, and that everything was better alive than when it was dead.
The group was told that Thoreau taught others to strive for an inward experience with nature. “As you commune with it, it grasps you and takes you into itself, it expresses itself to you. If you can’t commune with a tree, you don’t know it,” he continued. He spoke of sauntering, having no destination when in the woods, but making every spot become your home.
The group was introduced to the great old cedar. “It was here before we were born, before Canada was formed. It knew the ancestry of the animals, the wolverines, the deer, the fishers, it was part of the habitat and has many stories to tell,” Howard said.
On the walk back to the house to eat, students were shown edible plants, and overturned rocks that could have been rolled over by a bear looking for grubs.
Shirley Young from Montreal who found Alba’s webpage on the internet said, “Every time I come here I learn something. I don’t know what it is, to put it in words, it’s beyond me at this point. I feel much more comfortable being in the woods than before,” she said as she whittled a piece of wood, clamped in a handmade wooden vise, into the shape of a frog for a fishing lure.
She came before with her two children. “It was really fun. My son who is six made a birch bark canoe, and my daughter made a basket with roots. Every time I come they want to come too. They have been dying to come back ever since. They are now doing all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do. We just got some land ourselves, they’re really comfortable there. They have a great time,” Shirley said.
Taking wilderness courses at Alba Wilderness School has broadened Oliver Paugam’s feelings about the wilderness. “Now I am trying to remember and identify the names of the plants. Tracking is still difficult. I’m always trying to find and identify tracks when I’m in the forest. I didn’t look for tracks in the woods before. I was aware there were animals but I didn’t look for clues. I have seen clues now, lots. I feel more comfortable with being out in the woods. I will take more courses, maybe this winter when they do winter camping or snow huts,” he said.
Eight courses are now on the Alba Wilderness School curriculum, ranging from four-hour workshops, to the extensive ten day workshop. They include Wilderness Awareness, four days of observation skills; Wilderness Solitude which deals with the myths and inhibitions of wilderness experiences and offers an optional twenty four hours in the woods alone; The Art of Tracking; Wilderness Philosophy; Winter Camping; The Naturalist ten day marathon of instruction; as well as advanced courses in many of them.
School Teaches People to Keep Track of the Wilderness:
Students taught to read animal’s silent signs and respect nature
By Shandley McMurray, The Kingston Whig-Standard
Whether you’re an avid outdoors person or someone who is simply curious, you’ll find a three-day course this weekend intriguing.
Alba Wilderness School is offering an intense three-day course on the art of tracking at the school, which is situated on 500 hectares of wilderness in the Lanark Highlands.
Established this summer, the school is run by four instructors and two honourary staff members, all of who share a love for and intimate knowledge of the wilderness.
The tracking course, says Clifford, teaches students to become familiar with the wilderness and to respect animals and nature.
Participants also learn how to identify different animals’ tracks and they are taught to establish an approximate date the track was made.
The training consists of nature appreciation exercise, where trackers will learn to “develop awareness in the wilderness”, Clifford said.
Students will make use of their vision and hearing while attempting to locate tracks in nature. They will also learn to recognize “disturbances in the wilderness”.
For example, Clifford said, “a chipmunk chattering could mean a fisher [weasel] near by”.
Participants will also engage in tracking box exercise where trackers use a sand box to practice activities such as running, walking and weight shifting.
Participants’ footprints-or gates as they are called by the pros are left in the sand to be studied by other students.
Through exercise such as this potential trackers learn how to identify ” the different speeds of walking and how tracks change.
Students then will study the aging process.
For instance, they “make a mark in the ground and six hours later make another mark…[to see the difference between the fresh mark and the six hour old one”, Clifford said.
Group members will track each other through the grass, then wander down to the swamp where they will use Plaster of Paris to preserve tracks they find in the mud. At night there will be slide shows, night walks and star interpretation.
Like a modern Cinderella story the little known hemlock has taken a backseat in the public consciousness to the official tree of Ontario, the stately white pine. I, too, love the white pines – often standing tall like sentinels guarding the wilderness. It is easy to understand why this majestic tree is sometimes referred to as the king of conifers. However if the white pine is king I would nominate the feathery, lacy, hauntingly beautiful hemlock as queen.. Hemlocks are the most exquisite and elegant of all our eastern conifers. Needless to say I along with many others have fallen under its spell!
For reasons that are not clear there are few pure stands of hemlock left in Ontario. Therefore I was thrilled when along with members of MMLTC we came across a substantial stand of hemlock from saplings to old trees in a wilderness property that has been generously donated to us for future protection. Each time I go for a walk at cliffLAND I feel compelled to stop in their presence and be thankful for their existence.
I first made their acquaintance over thirty years ago. I was horrified with the thought that this beautiful tree was under siege by insects but I was soon to learn that these orderly small holes encircling the whole tree was the work of Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers who come early in the Spring to tap their favoured species. It turns out I was not alone in my ignorance, as the majority of those I have taken on guided walks jump to the same conclusion. Often this is their first exposure to a hemlock and inevitably someone asks if this is poisonous. No, our eastern hemlock is completely unrelated to the poison drank by Socrates.
Horace Kephart, the well known outdoorsman of the late 18th and early 19th century, found that of all of the nature cues used in the forest to predict direction, the hemlock was the most reliable. The long and slender terminal shoot points just a little south of east. In his travels he determined that this compass was right at least three-quarters of the time. Pretty good odds if you are lost.
From a less utilitarian perspective the ecologist John Theberge speaks glowingly about the beauty of the hemlock:
Uncut, undefiled old-growth hemlock stands are north-country cathedrals. Graceful limbs, bowing branches, fluted trunks. Tiers of delicate dark-green archways filter the sunlight like a stained-glass window.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow immortalized the hemlock in a poem:
“This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks. Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight stand like the Druids of old.”
Theberge and Longfellow were describing old-growth hemlock stands. Such stands were once prevalent from Ottawa through eastern and central Ontario. Many now fear they may be irretrievably lost. Hemlock can live to be a thousand years of age but the oldest known one still left in Ontario is located in Algonquin Park. It is 454 years of age and towers at 30 metres in height. This is a bitter-sweet treasure because it also reminds us of what has been lost.
Michael Henry and Peter Quinby in 2010 remind us that hemlock has been declining across most of its range. In Michigan they have decreased by an amazing 70% in a short 20 year span between 1935 and 1955 and have also dramatically declined across most of Ontario. Once hemlock forests covered about 41% of the land area of the Bruce Peninsula and is almost non-existent today. In our area of Darling Township, hemlock-dominated forests declined from about 20% to 0% of the landscape. A recent report by the Community Stewardship Council of Lanark states that Lanark has relatively few eastern hemlocks, perhaps due to early over-harvesting or to forest fires.
Michael Henry and Peter Quinby believe that the loss is largely a result of human activity.
Hemlock has declined by at least three-quarters outside Algonquin Park and even the park itself has not escaped. Hemlock avoided major hits during the river drives of the 1900s because hemlock wood due to its density and weight did not float long distances as easily. Once the railroads opened up access to the forests, hemlock too were decimated with the final hit coming when hemlock timbers from Algonquin Park were used to build the Toronto subway system.
Dan Strickland, an authority on Algonquin Park, agrees with their assessment and explains that when hemlock is cut it is rarely succeeded by other hemlock. In almost all the hemlock stands left in Algonquin Park there are very few young hemlock beneath the old trees. Although there are some seedling-size hemlocks, upon closer inspection they are found to be old as well. The Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources states that hemlocks in the shade can take 250 to 300 years to mature.
Old growth hemlock forests left undisturbed are extremely stable but very sensitive and vulnerable to disturbances by man. Their requirements for regeneration are very precise and difficult to achieve. If the existing stands do not regenerate then their long term future is bleak.
Dan Strickland poignantlydescribes hemlocks contribution to richness of diversity.
When you walk into a hemlock grove you immediately leave the Red-eyed Vireo and the Least Flycatcher behind and start hearing the songs of the Blackburnian and Black-throated Green Warblers. Or if you visit in the evening you may be serenaded by a Swainson’s Thrush – a bird you would never expect to find in the hardwoods just a hundred yards away.
In our area, and I suspect in most of Ontario, you will seldom find large stands of pure hemlock and they are now generally only found in small patches and/or intermingled among other species.
Let’s hope society will find the resources, the will, and the expertise to regenerate hemlock stands so that eventually old-growth stands of hemlock may yet be inherited from us to future generations.
In the meantime I take great pleasure each time I come across these elegant and beautiful trees. Sensing what we can lose, I hope we will all commit ourselves anew to preserving the little that still exists. The sapsuckers, the Ruby-throated Hummingbird who delight in the treats left by the sapsuckers, the songbirds that depend on the fact that hemlocks release their seeds intermittently from late Fall to early Spring, the Ruffled Grouse and the deer who seeks their protection in deep snowy winters will all be grateful. Last but not least are the yet unborn children who like us may still fall under the magic spell of this most elegant conifer and Cinderella will regain its rightful place in our rich and diverse wilderness.
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