Runners return to Blueberry Mountain

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. Runners1Just 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.

Runners2Researchers 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.”

We’re in Plants of Lanark County 2013 Edition

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 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 ( 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)

Online Website Comments

Due to the overwhelming amount of spam on our blog posts, we have removed this option. If you have a legitimate comment that you would like to make or discuss, please feel free to email us directly. Thanks for your interest.

A Tribute to the Eastern Hemlock

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. 

Newly Designed Website!

Welcome to the new cliffLAND website. Please browse our site for information; and if you have any comments, changes, or suggestions, please let us know so we can improve  your visitor experience.

The Chickadee

In late March, a thrilling, unmistakable sound stopped Jean and I in our tracks and turned our eyes heavenward to sight Canadian Geese. Think back to the times you were mesmerized by the distinctive honking of geese provoking feelings of connections to eons of bygone ancestors equally mesmerized by the sound and sight.

Think too of how the haunting, primitive call of the loon make you feel. How soulfully important these experiences are to us. To lose even one of these notes from the wilderness orchestra is too sad to contemplate. One cannot isolate or elevate one voice without decreasing the glory of the whole. Yet, we can appreciate the indignant trapper railing against the decision to honour the loon on our currency. “Where is the loon when I am trying to keep warm by a fire at 40 below. He is laughing his head off in Florida. Who comes to cheer me – the chickadee, that’s who. He is the true symbol of Canada!”

How does such a tiny, delicate bird abide our winters? It is their remarkable capacity to lower their body temperature. To help survive freezing nights they each excavate their own cavity in rotten wood or other cavity.

I imagine them kin to the wolf family. Often in a pack, occasionally alone. When a loner finds me on the trail with a pocket of sunflower seeds, he seems to summon his social family to the hunt. They have a pecking order and the Alfa chickadee deals aggressively with out-of-line subordinates.

Each is unique. Some are timid and cautiously watch their colleagues take seeds from my hand. Some are cunning appearing to be either sloppy or picky eaters spitting seeds to the ground but later seen to be retrieving them. If I don‘t heed their call they fly in front of my face as if to say “I hope you are not as blind as you are deaf!” They typically take a seed to a nearby tree where they hammer it to break through the shell. Braver ones have hammered the shell against my thumb. Some land on my hand, cock their head and eye me closely as if trying to decipher my soothing words. Their language is complex. Listen closely. As perceived threat increases they add additional ‘dee‘ notes to their ‘chickadee-dee-dee’ call.

How do their small brains manage to recall a thousand or more caches containing a single seed? They do so by shedding brain neurons containing outdated information and replace them with new ones ready for action.

I have seen chickadees appearing to eat a dead chipmunk, but assumed they were scavenging insects off the body. However, this January Jean photographed a chickadee pulling off strips of meat and fat from a bone. A literature search indicated that 50 % of their diet in the winter and 60 to 90% in the summer consists of animal foods – insects, spiders, meat and fat from carcasses.

What I love most about chickadees is how wonderfully they reflect the healing and therapeutic nature of wilderness. Old or young never fail to have their spirits lifted when a chickadee land on their hand to take a seed. I don‘t have space to relate many wonderful experiences, so I will let this one suffice. A special needs child had a look of horror as a chickadee landed on my hand. I asked if she would like to try. She recoiled in fear, but observed closely as the chickadee continued to visit the outstretched hand of her mother. Finally she agreed to try. What a transformational experience! What would have taken 45 minutes to get to Blueberry Mountain took a couple of well-spent hours. As a social worker I know no human therapist could have had such an impact on this child. A moment to be savoured. None of us remained unmoved. I know this transactional moment brought tears of gratitude to my eyes. (originally posted April 2013)