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By Howard Clifford

I think most of us have these inner intuitive experiences that direct one’s life. Experiences that are difficult to rationally explain but at the time feels “right” or “wrong”. Sometimes we listen and sometimes we don’t. The agreement to purchase this wilderness property was one of these experiences. I could think of numerous logical reasons why we shouldn’t be committing ourselves to what could prove to be a financial disaster, but this inner voice had taken precedence.

Following this inner voice does not imply, at least in my experience, that the path will be easy or trouble free. I continued to worry about the tightness of our financial situation. At this very juncture, the Martins made a statement that changed our lives. I was completely taken back when he told me they were considering moving to the property, and since they had the larger family if we would mind them living in the larger back part of the building.

Immediately I began to wonder about our moving there as well. It now took us about a half an hour to commute to work, but this with add more than an hour each way. How to pitch this to Jean!  I knew she loved the place we were in and our two children were in hockey and other sports. Without the Martins living there, the move would have been unthinkable. Our kids, Chad and Barrie, were good friends with the Martin kids so they would not be as isolated.

Jean was dismayed. I don’t know what all went through her mind, but I suspect that the enthusiasm of the Martin’s, as well as that of myself, Chad and Barrie were contagious and overcame whatever barriers were there. Always the realist, she suggested we rent our home for a year or two in case livingat Flower Station didn’t work out. I loved our home as much as she did and I readily agreed to her proposal. We could not have foreseen how well this decision worked out. As of this date we have had the same renter for over 25 years.

Although both families had a love of wilderness and shared many values neither were sure of how best to care for the land. We were agreed on the principle of applying ecologically sound principles to the management of the forest and to allow others beyond ourselves to benefit its enjoyment. From the beginning we allowed scouts, youth groups, Christie Lake Camps for disadvantaged Children, and others to run their programs on the land.

Bob was active in the Ottawa community and volunteered time to various organizations. This included work with the Aboriginal community and out of this came what I consider to have been a spiritualexperience. Bob told me that the Aboriginal community had indicated they were looking for a place where they could hold a ceremonial sweat lodge. When their elders came to Ottawa for discussionwith political leaders, they would like to have a sweat lodge experience before entering negotiations. Bob wondered what I thought of allowing them to use our land. I had very little knowledge about sweat lodge activities, but could see no reason that we couldn’t make the property available. He indicated that his contact would like to discuss it with me.

I telephoned the person and upon my statement they were welcome to us the property and to just let us know when they were coming, was somewhat taken back by the unexpected response. “Hold on a minute, we can’t decide just like that.”  The person went on to explain that they knew the property had been cut and that the earth might be grieving and if so it might not be suitable for the kind of experience they needed. The person then asked if it would be possible for some of their elders to come and see for themselves.

When they arrived I was curious, but didn’t ask, about how they could tell if the land was grieving. I took them on a tour and kept back a ways so they would be free to talk about what they experienced. I could tell from their body language that they seemed pleased with the land. Then suddenly they stopped in their tracks and a solemn silence fell over them. I wondered what had taken place and then glanced upward. An eagle was circling overhead!  This of course had special meaning in their culture. Neigbours told me that Eagles had in earlier times been part of the landscape. This was the first I had seen. Since then they have slowly returned.

A few minutes later one came back to me and said: “Howard, everything is perfect except for one thing. We need cedar boughs for our ceremony and we haven’t seen any cedar on the property.”  I knew of a cedar swamp not far from where we were that I had not yet ventured. I followed them into the grove and again they stopped in the tracks as if spellbound. I turned the corner and saw the largest cedar I have ever seen. Later I had a forester look at the tree and he said he had seen taller cedars, but never one as large in diameter. His bore was not long enough to reach the centre to make a ring count. Instead he did a bore of a nearby cedar that was old, but obviously much less so. This cedar was about 130 years old and he said the old cedar is at least twice that if not three times. We have had estimates ranging from 250 years to 450 years.

Needless to say finding this ancient cedar combined with the Eagle soaring overhead was much more than they or myself could have expected. Sometime later they got back to me. It was not to run a sweat lodge for leadership coming to Ottawa. They had invited a ‘healer’ to come from northern Ontario to conduct one for Aboriginals who had not experienced one before. It was a way to introduce them and or perhaps their non-Aboriginal spouses to their traditions. I was pleased and honoured when they asked Bob and I to participate as well.

On Friday at work I mentioned the sweat lodge to a colleague at work who had a spiritual bent. She burst out delightedly with “Howard, you are going to have a revelation!”  “Oh yeah, Sure!” On Saturday twenty or more people arrived. Besides Bob, I recognized one Aboriginal lady who worked in the same Federal Government building. We didn’t know each other, but would nod or say hello in passing. In addition to Bob there may have been two or three as old as myself.

The sweat lodge was made from saplings covered with blankets. In the middle of the lodge was around hole in which hot rocks would be brought from the outside fire pit and then water would be poured on the rocks to create the hot steam. Each was given a cedar bough to cover our mouth and nostrils so the hot steam wouldn’t scald our lungs. This unsettled me somewhat as I had a good internal furnace that got me through the coldest weather, but I never liked hot weather. Nevertheless I entered the lodge with anticipation thinking if the rest can take it so can I.

We sat two or three deep crowded tightly together. It happened that I was seated next to the lady who worked in the same office building. Then the blanket was draped over the opening and it was pitch dark. Outside were a couple of helpers who attended the fire and were to bring in the hot rocks as needed.

The healer started off with by telling the group the history and purpose of the sweat lodge experience. She talked about the importance of the four directions in their traditions and how sweat lodges were used for physical and emotional and spiritual healing. The cleansing of the body through the outpouring of sweat would help to make our minds alert and more sensitive to whatever message the ‘Creator’ had in store for us. This part I was somewhat familiar with. What came next totally surprised me. She said that they believed that life and death were part and parcel of the same experience and that their ancestors were very much aware of what we were doing and that they would be pleased that we were partaking of the traditional ways. What surprised me was her statement that not only would they be aware of our ceremony, but may well make contact with us. She said one of the common ways they made contact was through the rushing of Eagle wings. My mind began to race. Was this to be some kind of séance?

Should I even be here? It was almost as if she read my mind. Perhaps others had similar concerns. At any rate, she said anyone who is uncomfortable with this kind of thing need not to worry. The ancestors would never intrude where they were not welcomed.

However if we felt the brushing or an Eagle wing or hear it, we were not to be surprised and to recognize it for what it was. Suddenly in the pitched darkness I heard the sizzling sound of hot water being poured on the rocks and the hot steam was soon penetrating my being. It was hotter than I expected and quickly began to breathe through the cedar bough I had placed over my face. The healer continued to talk and then more rocks were brought in. This took place several times and I soon felt I could not take the heat. We were so tightly packed together there was no way I could make an exit. I suffered in silence and was close to panicking. The only thing that come me was the sense of personal embarrassment I would feel if I interrupted the proceedings. Again it was almost as if she read my mind. She quietly asked if there was a problem over there?  I wasn’t about to admit that I was at my limit if no one else was to admit the same. The lady sitting next to spoke up and said I think Mr. Clifford is feeling a little claustrophobic.

The healer quietly said, “It’s okay, he will be alright.”  It was not with any accompanying feeling of anger or irritation, but my immediate thought was “You don’t know me. How could you possibly know I’ll be alright when I feel I am at my wit’s end?” I withdrew into myself desperately hoping it would be over before I crossed some unknown threshold. Thankfully it was over. Yet I knew it was not over. She had told us there would be three sessions. Following each session we were to walk in a circle around the fire and then come back in. How could I gracefully get out of this?  I was disappointed with myself. I felt like such a wimp. How could the rest tolerate the heat when I couldn’t?

The healer stayed in the lodge and then sent out word that there was someone with a terminal illness and she only wanted a few people back in for this particular session. I had mixed feelings. I was sorry that someone there was so sick and yet could hardly contain myself with the relief I felt in not having to face another.

Soon the half dozen or so that she wanted in had regathered and I stood talking with the others around the fire. Then someone stuck their head out of the lodge and said: “Mr. Clifford, she wants you to come in as well.”  Every fibre within me said No! No! No! Yet there seemed no way out of it. I took my place in the small select circle. The healer turned towards me and said: “I guess you are wondering why I wanted you to come” I replied that I supposed it was like falling off a horse if you didn’t immediately get back on you would never do it again. She smiled and said: “No. I sensed you have a spiritual quality that would be helpful. I want you to join us in sending your prayers and positive thoughts towards the sick person.”  I felt humbled and troubled at the same time. I braced myself to do the best I could. She then assured us that this session would be much shorter. I felt a sigh of relief. This quickly dissipated when she added: “However it will be hotter.”  Hotter!  How could it be any hotter?

For the next couple of minutes I did my best to send positive thoughts, but the heat became so unbearable I lost my concentration and forsook the sick person. I just turned into myself hoping for personal survival. Again as I crawled out of the lodge I felt this deep dissatisfaction with myself. I always felt I was reasonably robust and couldn’t accept this inability to tolerate the heat. The healer came out last and I felt her eyes on me. I looked up and offered a weak apology for not being able to do what she had asked of me. She smiled and said: “You must not feel that way. You did very well for your first time.”

Following the sweat lodge they gathered at the Martin’s section of the house for a potluck. Some were upstairs and some of us sat around the downstairs room. A young man who was a Director of an Aboriginal agency turned to his girlfriend, a university student, and asked her what she had experienced. She replied that it was primeval and had wondered if she was going to survive the heat. My ears picked up. Ah, perhaps I was not alone. “No, I mean what did you experience besides the heat?”  “Nothing, I felt like a prune being dried up.”  He pressed further and said, “Didn’t you hear the Eagle wings?”

At this moment a middle aged man who had to this point been silent looked up in shock and asked: “You too?”  He went on to say that the noise of the wings were so loud he first wondered if the healer had actually brought wings into the lodge, but then felt the wings brush his ear as it flew past. Now my interest was totally aroused. Years of social work practice automatically kicked into gear. Neither appeared emotionally disturbed or to be the type whose imagination would run wild. My initial conclusion was that this was part of their cultural and spiritual tradition and perhaps consciously or unconsciously they were turning to their traditions in search of meaning. It did not matter to be whether what they experienced was objectively true or an internal happening. It was obvious it had been adeeply moving experience to both of them.

A short time later I was approached by a lady, who pointed across the room to a very elderly woman, who I had not seen before and who had not been part of the sweat lodge ceremony. I was informed that she was a highly respected elder and she had asked if I would take her to the top of Blueberry Mountain. I said that the hike was at least 40 minutes each way and the last part was fairly steep. I didn’t think someone her age could do it. I was informed that nevertheless she wanted to try.

With a good deal of skepticism on my part we started off. I offered up some small talk, but she was in her own world and conversation was not to be part of the journey. To my surprise she made it to thetop of Blueberry and began to look in each of the four directions. When she was satisfied it was like she suddenly realized I was there. I still recall how penetrating yet peaceful her eyes appeared as she turned her attention to me, and how much wisdom seemed reflected in her face. I was startled by her brief comment. In a quiet, but confident voice that conveyed a tone of certainty and authority she said: “I don’t have to tell you, do I, that the Creator has given you all this for a purpose.”  It was not so much a question as a statement of fact. The power of the moment left me speechless, but I somehow knew that no answer was expected or needed.

I felt humbled in her presence and as we walked back in silence I wondered how someone from a different culture who had never met me would dare to make such a statement. Most of us do not like to talk about such things and especially not with strangers. Yet she seemed to know that deep down in my soul I already believed that what she said was true.

Monday morning, as I walked into the office, my colleague rushed up and asked if I had received a revelation as she had predicted. I smiled and was about to say: “Yes, I found out what a wimp I am!” Instead I heard a voice coming from within me that I recognized as my own saying: “Yes, I did.”  I couldn’t believe I was saying this. Where in the world was I going with this?  Then just as quickly my mind seemed to empty and replaced by insight. As a social worker I had believed that I didn’t have a prejudicial bone in my body. Now I saw that when I had invited the Aboriginal community to use our property that I simply saw this as offering them a favor. It was the kind of thing we wanted to do with our property and nothing more. It had not even remotely entered my mind that they might be offering me something more importantly to me.

Then I recalled how badly I felt about myself when I was not able to handle the heat or to be much assistance to the healer who had asked that we concentrate our thoughts toward the ill person. Who did I turn to?  Not to Bob. It was the person sitting next to me that tried to keep my anxiety in check.

It was the healer who looked at me in a non-judgmental manner and assured me that I had done fine. No I had not heard or felt Eagle wings, but had new insight about myself. I had also taken baby steps at least to realize that nature was there to teach all of us. I was not to think of myself as teacher. Each person or ‘student’ would bring something special and we are all on the learning journey together. To me this was a revelation and in terms of my own needs perhaps more importantly than if I had heard Eagle wings.

By Howard Clifford

As far back as I can recall, I have felt the tug of wilderness. The first four years of my life was spent, first on a farm, then in the small hamlet of Ribstone, Alberta near the Saskatchewan border. It is strange why some early experiences rather than others retain their vividness into adulthood. The details may have faded but the broad outlines of the experience and its emotional components are still with me. I was visiting my cousins about a half-mile down the road from our house and my attention became fixed on a trail leading into the woods that I had heard went past our home. Dare I? It was a forbidden trail. I knew my parents would have heart failure if they knew what I was contemplating. I can still feel my heart in my mouth as I started down the path and around the first turn. To my young eyes the trail seemed awfully long and I began to worry that I was lost. It was with decided relief accompanied with a feeling of pride in my accomplishment that I finally stepped onto the gravel road and saw our house. To a three year old this was high adventure. I couldn’t share it with my parents for I knew I would be punished if they knew what I had done. It wasn’t that I was a disobedient child -the call of “wilderness” was just too strong.

This identification of nature with high adventure was reinforced when my mother, following our supper, took me and a wagon to find firewood. This was not something my mother would have done if it had not been for the fact my father was in Edmonton about to be shipped overseas for World War Two duties. Sure enough my mother’s sense of direction failed her and she was soon turned around. As evening shadows cast a somber mood upon the woods, I sensed she was lost. Secretly I was delighted. Imagine being able to stay out all night in the bush! I would have been afraid if I was alone but felt safe on my mother’s company. However picking up on her gathering fear, I too began to worry. May be it is not safe after all or else why is my mother so fearful? I recall putting my hand in hers and saying “Don’t worry I can find our way back.” I still remember my own anxiety, as I was a lot less sure than I let on and was almost as relieved as she was when my sense of direction proved accurate. It was with certain pride that I heard my mother repeat the story on different occasions always ending up with ‘I don’t know how a three year could be so at home in the woods’.

At about four years of age we moved to Edmonton and some of my favorite recollections involved sneaking away to the forested Saskatchewan River valley. The ravines became a sanctuary for me. Never did I feel more whole or freer than when I wandered those forested trails.

This love of nature never diminished as evidenced by the numerous vacation times I spent as an adult traveling remote northern rivers. To this day these trips remain indelibly imprinted in my mind.

Jean shared my love of nature and motivated us in 1978 to start looking for wilderness property in the Ottawa vicinity. The plan was to use the property for recreational purposes while securing a spot where we could build a home when we got nearer to retirement age. We had found nothing of interest on our country excursion Sunday afternoon, January 7th. It would have been long forgotten if it hadn’t been for two unexpected events. We were on our way home driving through Richmond and for some unexplainable reason decided to stop at an open house. An agent for Glengarry Realities pulled up at the same time and we told him what we were looking for. He gave us his book of listings to look at while he prepared for the open house. There was nothing that struck our interest but we did notice a home on Dwyer Hill that we had just driven past. For some strange reason both Jean and I seemed drawn to it. The realtor said he knew the people and was sure they wouldn’t mind if we came by for a look. Neither of us knew why we agreed to go as we were not in the market for a home. We walked into the house, stopped and looked at each other. Both of us had instantaneously fell it love with it. We walked outside and discussed it for a few minutes and impulsively made an unconditional offer.

What had we done! Our plans for a wilderness property put on indefinite hold!  We took possession on April 2, 1979. On Sunday, April 14th I saw an ad for a 100-acre bush lot about a fifteen minute drive from our new home. The low asking price was due to the fact that there was no road access. Just an old trail containing beaver floods. What depressed the value of the property was just the thing that attracted us. A remote inaccessible wilderness a few minutes away. The best of both worlds! Needless to say our financial situation was now stretched to the limit.

We were completely happy with our choice. So out of this background of contentment how did what we now call the Alba Wilderness Property come into our possession? It happened this way.

I was home alone with our youngest son, Barrie and was reading the Ottawa Citizen. It was an early autumn day, 1980, a full a year and half since I had searched the newspaper for properties. Absolutely no need nor  interest in so doing. I still am without answer for whatever moved me to glance at the Out-of-Town properties. I was only flipping through the pages when an ad ‘a lodge on 10 acres’ barely registered. However the next line suddenly caught my eye ‘or will consider selling it with 1250 acres and part of a small lake’. The price was extremely reasonable but also far beyond my means. I remember thinking ‘if I had the money I would look at this’.

Suddenly and inexplicably I was overcome by this urge to take a look. I had less than five hours before Jean would be back. If I hurried I could take a quick see. All the way I berated myself with the absolute irrationality of what I was doing. Each time I considered turning around something prompted me to keep going.

Upon arrival I realized why the asking price was so reasonable. There was a 5-year logging lease allowing the total property to be clear-cut. The loggers were about to start their third year of the lease and already the property looked like a war zone. The only saving grace was the Ministry of Natural Resources would not allow the picturesque high ridges to be cut nor deer yards located in the low areas. Neither could they take cedar or pines, which had been previously reserved to the crown.

As my eyes took in the desolation, I felt like crying. In the midst of this devastation, how can I explain the feeling that swept over me that this was home? My natural eye could still see immense beauty in the landscape and in my mind’s eye I could see down the vista of time to the return of the forest in all its majesty.

On the way home my mind struggled with the impossible dream. How could I acquire the property? Perhaps if I gathered a number of like-minded friends to collectively purchase the property with a covenant to let nature restore itself without further intrusion or development. We would use it only as a recreational area.

This option crumbled before me as one friend after the other told me that the timing was wrong for them. Although I had ran out of options, the property still had a hold on my soul.

Bob and Lorene Martin came by for supper. I knew they were not in a position to become involved and I suppose I only mentioned the property because I found it difficult not to talk about it. It didn’t surprise me when Lorene said: “I would love to have such a property”. It was not with any thought that this would lead anywhere that I suggested we drive out and take a look. Neither did it surprise me when she quickly responded: “Oh no. We have only debts. We have nothing to contribute to a down payment!”  What did startle me was what came out of the Jean’s mouth. She laughed and said: “Let’s take a look for the fun of it. We don’t have any money either but that has never stopped Howard before.” I was floored. Jean is the stable, cautious person in our family. Never in a million years would I have anticipated her making such a statement. Perhaps she thought there was no way on earth we could acquire it so she would not have to worry about her compulsive husband.

An hour later found us at the property, which we walked for about an hour. They were able to look past the ugliness of what man was doing to the property and see it both for its current beauty and its potential.

Back at home and over coffee we light heartedly talked about what it would be like to own it. Out of the blue I said ‘let’s phone him’. As Mr. Brian Clements answered the telephone my head was swimming. Why on earth am I bothering him? The conversation went like this: “We don’t want to waste your time. You will have to come down at least $20,000 or there’s no point in discussing it further.” A long pause was followed by “Maybe we can talk.” “Well you will also have to take a couple of properties in trade as we have no down payment.”  “Are you Crazy?  I am in the logging business not real estate. Why do you think I’m selling it in the first place?”   Then just as I thought the conversation was over he asked in passing: “What do you have?” “A small cottage on the Madawaska River near Calabogie.” A long silence followed. “You might not believe this but last week a friend knowing I was working in the area told me to keep an eye open for cottage on the Madawaska.” Following some discussion he said, “well the cottage might be a possibility.” My heart leaped with a surge of hope. Then with great trepidation I nervously added, “I told you we had two properties.” He groaned and asked where the second property was located. I told him we had a lot in the Gulf Islands. (We had bought this when we were in Edmonton thinking we might retire someday to B.C.)

“Where is the Gulf Islands?” “In B.C.” “Out of province, that’s ridiculous!” My heart sank. Then he asked “Where ‘bouts’ in B.C.” “Near Nanaimo.” Another agonizing long silence. He started to laugh. “My mother-in-law lives in Nanimo and she’s always talking about wanting an Island lot.” He seemed quite non-committal when he said he was pressed for time but could possibly meet with us tomorrow at a restaurant in Calabogie.

Although the Martin’s and Jean were listening to my end of the conversation, I had no idea what they were thinking. If Mr. Clements could be persuaded to accept the two properties, the down payment would be covered but we would still have to secure a sizable mortgage. I could hardly expect the Martin’s or Jean to agree to something this quickly and I had visions of having to telephone Mr. Clements back to cancel the appointment.

I think all of us felt surreal as we discussed the matter. No matter how we sliced it, it would be difficult for both families. We ended up agreeing that the two families would share mortgage payments.

The next day found Bob and I meeting with Brian Clements and we left with an agreement to purchase!

When we took possession several of the neighbors came by to introduce themselves. Most started with the same statement; “So you purchased the house and ten acres.” “No, the whole 1250 acres.” Inevitably this was met with disbelief. It turned out that the only day that Mr. Clements had advertised the possibility of including the rest of the property was the one-day I looked at the ad. He had intended to wait for the logging lease to be over and sell the land at that time. However since he had been unsuccessful at selling the house and had run into a serious cash-flow problem leading to a crisis with Revenue Canada, he advertised the total package. A number of the local residents said they would have bought the land but didn’t think it was for sale.

To this day I still can’t explain the mysterious chain of events that made the purchase possible or the power of the feeling that came over me and kept me going when it seemed to be an impossible dream. To this day it just seems “right” – “Meant to be”. We feel truly blessed!