I've been away from the blog for awhile and that was something I was trying to avoid. A few topics are upcoming, setting time aside to write is becoming harder find.
I've always been very civic minded, coming up with solutions that come from things that some may not necessarily see as problems. I'll get right to it then.
If I spoke with municipal managers, the first thing I would suggest would be placing speed-bumps at stop signs. My main concern isn't with people failing to yield to stop signs (although that is egregious), but rather motorists cutting the corner and crossing the stop block (the big solid white line running across the lane where your bumper is supposed to come to). I always pull right up to the stop block as one should, and for that I've often been looked at by folks making a left-hand turn that come across my lane. They've always struck me as the most clueless people, staring at me as if I am in the wrong, completely in my own lane, stopped at a stop sign. They on the other hand must believe they are correct, that the proper way to take a left-hand turn is by cutting as close as possible to the stop sign, and hence nearly into the front of my vehicle. And most people who cut the corner usually do so at break-neck speeds in order to make the light, or beat the oncoming traffic. So more to my point, if the stop block was raised by a speed-bump, a motorist who hit it would think before cutting the corner next time. Raised stop blocks would also make a motorist who ran a stop sign very aware that they had. This initiative therefore serves two purposes.
Monday, 9 December 2013
Sunday, 4 August 2013
What would happen if Hwy 534 didn't end in Restoule?
What would happen if Hwy 534 didn't end in Restoule? What would the area look like if Hwy 534 connected to the Dokis Reserve Road?
Looking at a map of the area and getting an overview, the two routes almost appear to be heading towards each other. Hwy 534 ends at the entrance to Restoule Provincial Park, and once the Dokis Reserve Road crosses the French River, it turns southwest and follows the river into the southern portion of the Dokis First Nation. The extension of Hwy 534 could cross (at two points), then follow the Restoule River before linking up with the Dokis Reserve Road. It would shorten the Lake Nipissing Circle Route, and make it more to the lake itself then extending well beyond what is even considered to be lands near the lake.
Would it change the demographics on either side of the French River? South of the French, the population is almost exclusively English-speaking Caucasians, while North of the French the population is predominantly French-speaking Caucasians, with the small population of Dokis Indian Reserve No. 9 being near 200. It could, but would most likely not. In this part of the country (and can be said for most rural areas), people usually tend to stay near home (if they don't move out to a larger city elsewhere in the province) and don't move to towns or areas that they have no connection to.
The benefits of such an extension of Hwy 534 would be the opening up of the northern reaches of Patterson and Hardy townships, which have no road access. However, this is a controversial idea. While Restoule appears to be isolated at the end of a dead-end highway, it appears many residents like that isolated and secluded feel to their locale. Recently the bridge crossing the Restoule River on Hawthorne Dr was rehabilitated, and instead of widening it to 2 lanes, as is modern common practice, it was kept as a one lane bridge as voted so by locals (the vote was apparently very close). The vote went this way because of a fear that a two lane bridge would entice logging company's to be more free to cross it and therefore there would be more logging trucks on cottage roads and the forests would be denuded of their trees. (It seems rather backwards for the 21st century to be constructing 1 lane bridges which constrict traffic flow, be it commercial/industrial, or local/tourist).
Going along with that stream, it would seem next to impossible to extend Hwy 534, as its western terminus is at the gates of a provincial park, the extension would therefore push through the park and divide it on a north-south axis (mind you, there are plenty of traffic calming options to mitigate any problems that may arise), as it is already divided east and west by the continuation of the Restoule River between Restoule and Stormy lakes. The most logical route for the expanded highway would follow the course of the Restoule River, which has become an extension of the provincial park itself, all the way to its mouth at the French River, which too is a provincial park. I can only see a hard fought battle of words between, on the one side: environmentalist, conservationists, cottagers, hunters (either side of the argument), First Nations groups, locals, isolationists; and on the other side the province(?), local businesses(?), and those looking for a new piece of land to perhaps build a cottage, or home, for themselves.
The traffic flow, or it should be said, the type of traffic that frequents Hwy 534 and Dokis Reserve Road, wouldn't change. The highway wouldn't offer a faster trade route between Barrie and markets further south and Sudbury in the north. That traffic would remain on Hwy 400/69. Tractor-trailers would find no advantage to the route, unless they had deliveries in Restoule and Monetville. It would make it easier for local companies to transport goods between communities on either side of the French, and in all actuality, it would open up more markets for local businesses. Newly arrived cottagers would bring money to be spent in local businesses, which is something that cannot be denied (cottagers always need groceries, gas, amenities, etc). An extension of the highway would provide for more business opportunities, as with more people, more services are needed, so not only would already existing businesses reap the benefits, so too would those who are looking for a start-up opportunity themselves.
There would be more cottagers, which bring tax dollars for the property they own which would be funneled into the local municipalities (it should be noted that Restoule is not a municipality, but rather a local service board, which gets 50% of its budget from the rest of the province. That should irk some to know that their tax dollars paid for a 1 lane bridge). Municipalities with a larger tax base can afford more, so they can upgrade more roads, buy new equipment such as snow plows and fire engines, and provide enhanced services to their residents.
An area in need of jobs, in need of something to revitalize the local economy, is not in a position to be turning down growth or expansion. Sure some are happy to be living the life they choose, but no one can deny living a chance to live better. For those who live in Restoule, they'd have quicker access to Sudbury if they so desired to go there, for whatever they cannot find in North Bay, which is already not a fast drive. The people of Dokis and North Monetville would have a choice to take either Hwy 400/69 or Hwy 11 south. The fishing lodges along the French River would have a new direction for clientele to arrive from. Those looking for a chunk of accessible and peaceful wilderness would be able to find it, as new properties would pop up all along the route (and with Muskoka and Haliburton all but spoken for, Almaguin and the French River are the closest area with vacancies nearer to the larger markets).
The main player in this idea would be the provincial government, they'd have to be presented with a need to open up a new highway to justify the millions spent on its creation, and the spending of those millions in an area of the province it is all too easy for governments to forget about. They'd argue the added cost of paying the private contractors to maintain the highway. But on the other hand they'd be receiving their portions of tax dollars, for schools and hospitals. Opening up the province by making it more accessible is what generates long term revenue through property taxes. It might even spur the creation of a Municipality of Restoule, which would take them off the provincial dole (the permanent local population of the area already makes it larger than some existing incorporated townships).
I'm sure this entry will be greeted by a lot of flak from the NIMBY's out there, the ones who begrudge cell phone towers (even if it allows greater capability for local fire departments to respond to emergencies, and even if it allows them to be saved in potential life threatening situations. But that won't happen to them, right?), the ones who talk about the new family as though they are not to be trusted without having even met them, and the ones who, I suppose, have something to hide, and the more folks passing by their house may expose their secrets (if they are even that interested to concern themselves with the lives of people they don't know). It'll be bemoaned as the destruction of pristine wilderness, the proverbial 'paving paradise' argument. Really what it boils down to, is that some don't want others to have what they do, or to enjoy the things that they 'believe' they have exclusive rights to. Heck, the opposition could come from the local real estate sphere, who would see an expansion as flooding the market and diluting their inflated prices.
What benefits some may not always benefit all, but if the pros outweigh the cons, then there isn't much of an argument. More exposure puts more dollars in the hands of locals, and the economic prosperity of locals is something that should never be sidelined by someones self-centered agenda and ideology.
Looking at a map of the area and getting an overview, the two routes almost appear to be heading towards each other. Hwy 534 ends at the entrance to Restoule Provincial Park, and once the Dokis Reserve Road crosses the French River, it turns southwest and follows the river into the southern portion of the Dokis First Nation. The extension of Hwy 534 could cross (at two points), then follow the Restoule River before linking up with the Dokis Reserve Road. It would shorten the Lake Nipissing Circle Route, and make it more to the lake itself then extending well beyond what is even considered to be lands near the lake.
Would it change the demographics on either side of the French River? South of the French, the population is almost exclusively English-speaking Caucasians, while North of the French the population is predominantly French-speaking Caucasians, with the small population of Dokis Indian Reserve No. 9 being near 200. It could, but would most likely not. In this part of the country (and can be said for most rural areas), people usually tend to stay near home (if they don't move out to a larger city elsewhere in the province) and don't move to towns or areas that they have no connection to.
The benefits of such an extension of Hwy 534 would be the opening up of the northern reaches of Patterson and Hardy townships, which have no road access. However, this is a controversial idea. While Restoule appears to be isolated at the end of a dead-end highway, it appears many residents like that isolated and secluded feel to their locale. Recently the bridge crossing the Restoule River on Hawthorne Dr was rehabilitated, and instead of widening it to 2 lanes, as is modern common practice, it was kept as a one lane bridge as voted so by locals (the vote was apparently very close). The vote went this way because of a fear that a two lane bridge would entice logging company's to be more free to cross it and therefore there would be more logging trucks on cottage roads and the forests would be denuded of their trees. (It seems rather backwards for the 21st century to be constructing 1 lane bridges which constrict traffic flow, be it commercial/industrial, or local/tourist).
Going along with that stream, it would seem next to impossible to extend Hwy 534, as its western terminus is at the gates of a provincial park, the extension would therefore push through the park and divide it on a north-south axis (mind you, there are plenty of traffic calming options to mitigate any problems that may arise), as it is already divided east and west by the continuation of the Restoule River between Restoule and Stormy lakes. The most logical route for the expanded highway would follow the course of the Restoule River, which has become an extension of the provincial park itself, all the way to its mouth at the French River, which too is a provincial park. I can only see a hard fought battle of words between, on the one side: environmentalist, conservationists, cottagers, hunters (either side of the argument), First Nations groups, locals, isolationists; and on the other side the province(?), local businesses(?), and those looking for a new piece of land to perhaps build a cottage, or home, for themselves.
The traffic flow, or it should be said, the type of traffic that frequents Hwy 534 and Dokis Reserve Road, wouldn't change. The highway wouldn't offer a faster trade route between Barrie and markets further south and Sudbury in the north. That traffic would remain on Hwy 400/69. Tractor-trailers would find no advantage to the route, unless they had deliveries in Restoule and Monetville. It would make it easier for local companies to transport goods between communities on either side of the French, and in all actuality, it would open up more markets for local businesses. Newly arrived cottagers would bring money to be spent in local businesses, which is something that cannot be denied (cottagers always need groceries, gas, amenities, etc). An extension of the highway would provide for more business opportunities, as with more people, more services are needed, so not only would already existing businesses reap the benefits, so too would those who are looking for a start-up opportunity themselves.
There would be more cottagers, which bring tax dollars for the property they own which would be funneled into the local municipalities (it should be noted that Restoule is not a municipality, but rather a local service board, which gets 50% of its budget from the rest of the province. That should irk some to know that their tax dollars paid for a 1 lane bridge). Municipalities with a larger tax base can afford more, so they can upgrade more roads, buy new equipment such as snow plows and fire engines, and provide enhanced services to their residents.
An area in need of jobs, in need of something to revitalize the local economy, is not in a position to be turning down growth or expansion. Sure some are happy to be living the life they choose, but no one can deny living a chance to live better. For those who live in Restoule, they'd have quicker access to Sudbury if they so desired to go there, for whatever they cannot find in North Bay, which is already not a fast drive. The people of Dokis and North Monetville would have a choice to take either Hwy 400/69 or Hwy 11 south. The fishing lodges along the French River would have a new direction for clientele to arrive from. Those looking for a chunk of accessible and peaceful wilderness would be able to find it, as new properties would pop up all along the route (and with Muskoka and Haliburton all but spoken for, Almaguin and the French River are the closest area with vacancies nearer to the larger markets).
The main player in this idea would be the provincial government, they'd have to be presented with a need to open up a new highway to justify the millions spent on its creation, and the spending of those millions in an area of the province it is all too easy for governments to forget about. They'd argue the added cost of paying the private contractors to maintain the highway. But on the other hand they'd be receiving their portions of tax dollars, for schools and hospitals. Opening up the province by making it more accessible is what generates long term revenue through property taxes. It might even spur the creation of a Municipality of Restoule, which would take them off the provincial dole (the permanent local population of the area already makes it larger than some existing incorporated townships).
I'm sure this entry will be greeted by a lot of flak from the NIMBY's out there, the ones who begrudge cell phone towers (even if it allows greater capability for local fire departments to respond to emergencies, and even if it allows them to be saved in potential life threatening situations. But that won't happen to them, right?), the ones who talk about the new family as though they are not to be trusted without having even met them, and the ones who, I suppose, have something to hide, and the more folks passing by their house may expose their secrets (if they are even that interested to concern themselves with the lives of people they don't know). It'll be bemoaned as the destruction of pristine wilderness, the proverbial 'paving paradise' argument. Really what it boils down to, is that some don't want others to have what they do, or to enjoy the things that they 'believe' they have exclusive rights to. Heck, the opposition could come from the local real estate sphere, who would see an expansion as flooding the market and diluting their inflated prices.
What benefits some may not always benefit all, but if the pros outweigh the cons, then there isn't much of an argument. More exposure puts more dollars in the hands of locals, and the economic prosperity of locals is something that should never be sidelined by someones self-centered agenda and ideology.
Monday, 29 July 2013
Old Place Names
History has always been one of my passions. Digging up the obscure or seemingly lost is like a journey, and many in our age of technology figure what isn't on the Internet must not exist. Through the stories I've been told, and the old (now-outdated) maps I own or have perused, discovering the once names of places is exciting. I have written about how my hometown of Trout Creek was formerly known as Melbourne (and Barkerton), and now I'll share some other locales with alternate or all but forgotten monikers.
In 1970, Gurd Township was annexed by Nipissing Township (and depending on who you talk to, it can still be a touchy subject some 40 plus years later). The name Gurd has long been cast aside, save for my revival by placing 'Gurd Township Roads Department' magnetic decals on my pick-up in protest of the shoddy and neglectful work Lingenfelters Road (albeit all the roads in the former Gurd) received a few years ago, and the subsequent work my father and I had to do to make the road a pleasant drive once again. I have also had decals created saying 'GURD', resembling the European country decals many may be familiar with. My fathers families origins in this country lie in Gurd, and I will keep remembering it, and keep it alive, much to the chagrin of some northern councilors.
Granite Hill Road, just south of Lingenfelters Road off of Hwy 522 was once known as Westphalia Road, owing to the numerous German immigrants from that area of the old country. It can be paired with Alsace Road, named for the same geographic area of what was then German territory, when those early pioneers emigrated from there. Just prior to the First World War and with rising anti-German sentiment, Westphalia Road was changed to Granite Hill Road, giving prominence to the large hill the road climbs after crossing the Black Creek. I've seen the name written on a few pictures taken along the road, but besides that, no other record exist (as is much of the case for Gurd Twp).
Before and for some time after Nipissing annexed Gurd, the names of the roads in the township (save for a few) were numbered: Lingenfelters Road was named the 3rd Concession Road, given where it starts on Hwy 522, but to be more exact, it's southern terminus was once at the Granite Hill Road (of note, nearly all of the present road is found in the 4th Concession); Black Creek Road North and Black Creek Road South are rather unimaginative names, as the Black Creek flows under the North portion of the road within the first stretch of it, and from there after it is lined by the farms and overgrown fields. Perhaps it was named so because the Black Creek in a way influences and/or dominates much of the actual topography of the area surrounding the road from a hydrology point of view, as it does form the principle water course of the areas watershed (it is a tertiary river, the secondary being the South, the primary being the French). Black Creek Road North was more commonly known as Hurrells Sideroad and Black Creek Road South as Lavignes Sideroad, before Nipissing so named them after the waterway. While the Black Creek is unnamed by the province at the point where it crosses Hwy 522 nearer to Lingenfelters Road (a place known locally as The Twin Bridges [two single lane bailey bridges once crossed the creek here]) like it has so many other creeks and streams are across the province, perhaps in so doing, the township not naming Hurrells and Lavignes has kept the name alive. Prior to the renaming of the roads, if memory serves me correctly, they were signed as the 30th Sideroad (between lots 30 and 31).
Ponderosa Road, so named after an episode of Bonanza (or some other old time Western classic) was filmed at the ranch style farm at its western end. However, it is the now eastern portion, and once middle portion of Barrett Road, named after the ghost town Barrett settlement that can be found near its eastern terminus with Butterfield Road. Barrett Road was one of the two main routes that ran between Commanda and Trout Creek (the other being Granite Hill [Westphalia] Road), the stage coach running each of them on alternate days and in alternate directions. There was even a swing bridge where it crossed the South River.
For every hill, valley, dip, corner, bend, and flat, along Lingenfelters Road there is a name, some 17 in total (more if you count the un-assumed portion), which seems excessive for a road only 1.5 km in length. One has to be a local, very local, in order to have a familiarity with these names. I believe it was the German sociologist Max Weber who said (and I am paraphrasing) it is impossible for the urbanite to know his neighbours like country folk do. None of this should come as a shock, but the same can be said about local geography. Having someone local describe where something is to an outsider isn't always the best idea if they are too familiar and absorbed in their surroundings (this just happened to me the other day with a road worker trying to explain where refuge can be found if caught in a blizzard on a desolate highway spanning over a hundred kilometres). But I digress. Growing up where I did, and having my fathers first hand knowledge passed down to me (I am still learning in my late twenties), I have a keen understanding of every hump and hollow in the bush, and it's the names of places that guide me, and when informing my father where I have been, it is these names that I use (of note, while my mother is familiar with the names, she did not grow up with them and so attaching a specific area or place to a name is harder, given her own local knowledge lies elsewhere). Aside from myself, and to an extent my brother, there aren't many others of our generation that know of all of these places. The old names are how I understand the geography, and to an extent my history, even if they have no significance or actuality today (i.e., the actual pine stump that 'the Pine Stump' is named for, has long been removed).
I am sure that other such locales have names attached to them so intimately as well, but I am unaware. The further I get from my childhood home, the fewer place names I know (going back to Weber's theory and elaborating on it, this holds true for everyone). That does not necessarily mean that they do not exist, but as obvious as it is, the more unfamiliar one is with an area, the less they know about it.
I am always keen when in a new area to ask what certain places of interest to me are called, as I have had the pleasure to work with others who are intimately connected with their surroundings as well. While working in Callander, I asked about a small island near the towns main park, and I was informed that it is locally known as Spider Monkey Island (origin unknown).
At a community function, I overheard a seemingly newcomer talk about how the locals referred to places by the names of the former owners, and scoffed at their use of a seemingly defunct name as being a completely arbitrary practice. As time goes on and a family occupies a certain house or farm, it is only natural that that place become known by their name. And why wouldn't it continue on being known as such? After all, it has only been known as such for 'x' amount of years, and to all of a sudden change the name that it is referred to would most likely confuse most. I do agree however that the name should eventually change, but then again I knew the newcomer to be an urbanite, and as such was most likely not aware of or did not have familiarity with local names (not a rule or a stereotype, but urban areas are not known to have as many names for each and every geographic aspect, instead going by neighbourhoods and streets as locators. Example: a small hillock that a street passes over in a city may not have a name, however, I'd place the odds on a similar feature in the country having a name, even if there are numerous hillocks to be found).
For whatever reason, many of the lakes in the Almaguin Highlands once long ago had original names, often they were actual names instead of the all too familiar adjectives and nouns used now (Clear, Loon, Trout, etc). Many were named after, again, the early pioneers and settlers of the area, but perhaps, owing to what the aforementioned newcomer said, as the people moved on, the name should change. I just think some of the names, if going to change, could have been a little bit more creative (why Deete Lake was ever changed to Deer Lake, I'll probably never know).
In 1970, Gurd Township was annexed by Nipissing Township (and depending on who you talk to, it can still be a touchy subject some 40 plus years later). The name Gurd has long been cast aside, save for my revival by placing 'Gurd Township Roads Department' magnetic decals on my pick-up in protest of the shoddy and neglectful work Lingenfelters Road (albeit all the roads in the former Gurd) received a few years ago, and the subsequent work my father and I had to do to make the road a pleasant drive once again. I have also had decals created saying 'GURD', resembling the European country decals many may be familiar with. My fathers families origins in this country lie in Gurd, and I will keep remembering it, and keep it alive, much to the chagrin of some northern councilors.
Granite Hill Road, just south of Lingenfelters Road off of Hwy 522 was once known as Westphalia Road, owing to the numerous German immigrants from that area of the old country. It can be paired with Alsace Road, named for the same geographic area of what was then German territory, when those early pioneers emigrated from there. Just prior to the First World War and with rising anti-German sentiment, Westphalia Road was changed to Granite Hill Road, giving prominence to the large hill the road climbs after crossing the Black Creek. I've seen the name written on a few pictures taken along the road, but besides that, no other record exist (as is much of the case for Gurd Twp).
Before and for some time after Nipissing annexed Gurd, the names of the roads in the township (save for a few) were numbered: Lingenfelters Road was named the 3rd Concession Road, given where it starts on Hwy 522, but to be more exact, it's southern terminus was once at the Granite Hill Road (of note, nearly all of the present road is found in the 4th Concession); Black Creek Road North and Black Creek Road South are rather unimaginative names, as the Black Creek flows under the North portion of the road within the first stretch of it, and from there after it is lined by the farms and overgrown fields. Perhaps it was named so because the Black Creek in a way influences and/or dominates much of the actual topography of the area surrounding the road from a hydrology point of view, as it does form the principle water course of the areas watershed (it is a tertiary river, the secondary being the South, the primary being the French). Black Creek Road North was more commonly known as Hurrells Sideroad and Black Creek Road South as Lavignes Sideroad, before Nipissing so named them after the waterway. While the Black Creek is unnamed by the province at the point where it crosses Hwy 522 nearer to Lingenfelters Road (a place known locally as The Twin Bridges [two single lane bailey bridges once crossed the creek here]) like it has so many other creeks and streams are across the province, perhaps in so doing, the township not naming Hurrells and Lavignes has kept the name alive. Prior to the renaming of the roads, if memory serves me correctly, they were signed as the 30th Sideroad (between lots 30 and 31).
Ponderosa Road, so named after an episode of Bonanza (or some other old time Western classic) was filmed at the ranch style farm at its western end. However, it is the now eastern portion, and once middle portion of Barrett Road, named after the ghost town Barrett settlement that can be found near its eastern terminus with Butterfield Road. Barrett Road was one of the two main routes that ran between Commanda and Trout Creek (the other being Granite Hill [Westphalia] Road), the stage coach running each of them on alternate days and in alternate directions. There was even a swing bridge where it crossed the South River.
For every hill, valley, dip, corner, bend, and flat, along Lingenfelters Road there is a name, some 17 in total (more if you count the un-assumed portion), which seems excessive for a road only 1.5 km in length. One has to be a local, very local, in order to have a familiarity with these names. I believe it was the German sociologist Max Weber who said (and I am paraphrasing) it is impossible for the urbanite to know his neighbours like country folk do. None of this should come as a shock, but the same can be said about local geography. Having someone local describe where something is to an outsider isn't always the best idea if they are too familiar and absorbed in their surroundings (this just happened to me the other day with a road worker trying to explain where refuge can be found if caught in a blizzard on a desolate highway spanning over a hundred kilometres). But I digress. Growing up where I did, and having my fathers first hand knowledge passed down to me (I am still learning in my late twenties), I have a keen understanding of every hump and hollow in the bush, and it's the names of places that guide me, and when informing my father where I have been, it is these names that I use (of note, while my mother is familiar with the names, she did not grow up with them and so attaching a specific area or place to a name is harder, given her own local knowledge lies elsewhere). Aside from myself, and to an extent my brother, there aren't many others of our generation that know of all of these places. The old names are how I understand the geography, and to an extent my history, even if they have no significance or actuality today (i.e., the actual pine stump that 'the Pine Stump' is named for, has long been removed).
I am sure that other such locales have names attached to them so intimately as well, but I am unaware. The further I get from my childhood home, the fewer place names I know (going back to Weber's theory and elaborating on it, this holds true for everyone). That does not necessarily mean that they do not exist, but as obvious as it is, the more unfamiliar one is with an area, the less they know about it.
I am always keen when in a new area to ask what certain places of interest to me are called, as I have had the pleasure to work with others who are intimately connected with their surroundings as well. While working in Callander, I asked about a small island near the towns main park, and I was informed that it is locally known as Spider Monkey Island (origin unknown).
At a community function, I overheard a seemingly newcomer talk about how the locals referred to places by the names of the former owners, and scoffed at their use of a seemingly defunct name as being a completely arbitrary practice. As time goes on and a family occupies a certain house or farm, it is only natural that that place become known by their name. And why wouldn't it continue on being known as such? After all, it has only been known as such for 'x' amount of years, and to all of a sudden change the name that it is referred to would most likely confuse most. I do agree however that the name should eventually change, but then again I knew the newcomer to be an urbanite, and as such was most likely not aware of or did not have familiarity with local names (not a rule or a stereotype, but urban areas are not known to have as many names for each and every geographic aspect, instead going by neighbourhoods and streets as locators. Example: a small hillock that a street passes over in a city may not have a name, however, I'd place the odds on a similar feature in the country having a name, even if there are numerous hillocks to be found).
For whatever reason, many of the lakes in the Almaguin Highlands once long ago had original names, often they were actual names instead of the all too familiar adjectives and nouns used now (Clear, Loon, Trout, etc). Many were named after, again, the early pioneers and settlers of the area, but perhaps, owing to what the aforementioned newcomer said, as the people moved on, the name should change. I just think some of the names, if going to change, could have been a little bit more creative (why Deete Lake was ever changed to Deer Lake, I'll probably never know).
Saturday, 27 July 2013
Boundary markers
Boundary marker between Nipissing and Gurd townships, eastern edge of Ruth Lake
Boundaries and borders are those lines drawn on paper and converted into reality by placing posts in the ground, demarcating the end of one domain and the beginning of another, or vice versa. By trade, my father is a surveyor, and I suppose early on in my life it was his pointing out what the metal bars in the ground were that started my fascination. From the Standard Iron Bar's (SIB) that surround the lot that my parents house sits on, to the oft-forgotten and unused Hub On Transit's (HOT) that line the provincial highways, I've found and documented many.Wherever I go I usually have my GPS in hand and my camera hanging around my neck, and aside from taking the odd photograph of a scenic vista or sight, my camera is usually angled down taking a snapshot of a piece of iron, a concrete pillar, a cairn, or a Bench Mark (BM). Each and everyone I stumble upon, or go looking for, is cataloged in my GPS, some of the more obscure ones include Canadian Water Survey markers, a red hard plastic cap held to bedrock by an iron rod that has been drilled into the earth's surface.
Hub-on-Transit along Ontario Secondary Highway 522
HOT's were once used to 'tie-in' the highway, meaning these square concrete pillars with a serialised metal cap on top were used to make sure the highway was placed where it was supposed to be. They are located at the edge of the right-of-way (ROW), the allowance given to provincial highways. Some have been removed by expansion, others covered over, and a few vandalised or severely neglected, while most HOTs that I have come across are where they are supposed to be, still standing upright, in perfect form. One could, I suppose, liken them to mile posts. They are a thing of the past, long forgotten and not used at all anymore. However, that does not mean that they are not protected by legislation, stating that the removal of HOTs is illegal and punishable by law. They played an integral part in the early years of highway construction, and paint a historical picture of what it was like to survey for a new road. They are a physical reminder of historic practices, and while not used anymore, they actually still hold significance, as they still demarcate the edge of the ROW.
An example of a Standard Iron Bar, with locating stake behind
SIBs are just that, standard. They are the square iron bars that are usually anchored in bedrock, measuring about 1"x 1", and can any number of inches or feet above the ground (I use the Imperial system of measurement here as nearly all surveying in Canada was done before the adoption of the metric system). Chiefly found on properly lines, they are also found along road allowance, and at the convergence of two perpendicular road allowances there is added a metal ring with the concession and lot numbers stamped on it, almost like a washer, held on by the hammered-out edges of the top of the SIB. Some modern SIBs have plates or plaques added to them with small pieces of information.
Alberta Survey Marker with additional information, St. Albert, AB
Bench Mark No. 158448, Ministry of Transportation & Communications (now MTO)
Bench Marks are possibly the most legally binding marker in the ground, placed, documented, and administered by either a provincial or the federal government. They are not only tied to their coordinates, but to that very minute locations elevation. Only until recently with the advent of satellite topographical technology, have they become somewhat obsolete. BMs are still used for determining grade on highways, surveyors taking their 'shots' for elevation from an established BM. The serialised data found on a BM can be found in the numerous pages in the federal archives. BMs were used to determine the topography of the country, to measure the height of mountains and the depth of valleys. One can navigate across country by accessing their databases that has been digitized by the archives.To put these markers into a contemporary perspective, they are a great resource for geocachers and waypointers.
A property marker placed by my father
To elaborate on my fascination, markers paint a picture, or tell a story of the land they are located in. There was some sort of negotiation, or understanding, a treaty even, that led to their placing. I imagine the intrepid surveyor hiking or canoeing to a spot, pulling the rod-and-chain, measuring lengths, and establishing the point at which a marker is to be placed. Discovering interim markers, or markings such as blazes on the sides of trees is also fascinating to me, fascinating because something so temporary and easily overgrown or removable is still present. Standing over top of a marker, you find yourself in the same footstep as possibly the first person to ever stand there, or at least in a certain manner, the first person ever recorded to have stood there.I suppose I envision the work that was necessary to plant a marker, as I am humbly told by my father, of the arduous yet adventurous work it was to survey some of Ontario's highways (like canoeing through Central Ontario to get from point to point while connecting the two ends that would become Hwy 522 around the Ess Narrows; or, taking from camp (Camp Benny) a Power Wagon, then argo, then boat, then hiking back to where they left off the day previous while surveying Hwy 144 from Sudbury to Timmins).
Quinn's Ale House
In an age when we are all connected, Quinn's brings a nostalgic feel to the modern pub scene, after all they don't even have a website. This little (and I mean little, maximum capacity is probably about 40, if even) ale house is located in Old Ottawa South, a stone's throw from the Bank Street Bridge over the Rideau Canal and the trendy neighbourhood of the Glebe. Attached to the Mayfair Theatre building and separated by Opus Barbershop, it is a short walk from the Carleton University campus on Bronson, and so enjoys a mix of the eclectic, young, and local. Quinn's is so small that there is no getting around admitting that it is cozy, making every conversation and encounter an intimate one. The side patio, which one has to walk onto the adjacent sidewalk to access (special permit), is tucked along the side street, Euclid Avenue.
The pints are served well, and the appetizers and entrees are your standard pub fare done proper. The decor is typical of a British themed pub, with local flavour. Rugby jerseys, flags, pictures of patrons.
My connection to Quinn's is that I used to live but a few metres from it's doors. During my second year at Carleton, I lived in the basement of a converted house. The backyard had a gate leading to the 'back alley' of the Barley Mow (another pub), all that stood between my dwelling and Quinn's. I often boasted that I could crawl home drunk, and it'd be near impossible not to make it.
The service at Quinn's is superb, probably owing to the intimacy I described earlier, as the staff have nowhere to hide and are therefore part of the conversation and atmosphere (walking to the washrooms or to the patio, one passes what it seems like through the kitchen).
If you are in Ottawa, I suggest you stop by for a pint and enjoy one of the last 'hole-in-the-wall' pubs before they are all eaten up by the franchised and somewhat tacky chains that are mimicking the nostalgic charm that is embodied fully by Quinn's.
The area's ties to Australia grow stronger
On Hwy 534 between Nipissing Village and Restoule, the route passes through the once panhandle of Gurd Township. In the middle of the panhandle is a road named Barber Valley, owing to the original family that settled the low lying area to the north of the highway. It's southern terminus is at 534, and it is this place that is known as Hotham. I've always found this to be a peculiarity, driving past Barber Valley Road on Hwy 534 there are no signs indicating the presence of a hamlet, nor is there a substantial number of houses that would lead one to believe they are in a town. However, on maps, even to this day, the place is marked as Hotham. I never gave the name much thought, other than it is English in origin. So recently I typed that name into a search engine, and followed the links, discovering its true origin.
Hotham is a small town in the East Riding of Yorkshire in England, boasting a population of 233. To leave it there would not inspire intrigue, so further on I go. If one recalls my earlier note about Trout Creek's connections Australia, particularly sharing the same name with the city of Melbourne for a period following the towns founding, then this next part will strengthen connections with the island continent.
In 1853, Sir Charles Hotham was appointed lieutenant-governor of Victoria, Melbourne being it's capital. Hotham's tenure was not long (2 1/2 years), nor was it overly popular (he enacted policy to balance the budget and end corruption), although he was initially greeted with much support. This appointment predates the founding of Trout Creek (then Melbourne), Ontario by 15 years, which leaves plenty of time for a supporter of Lt. Gov. Hotham to have lived in Melbourne, Australia under his rule, emigrate to Canada, and venture on to the present sites of Trout Creek and Hotham.
If we are to entertain the possibility that Trout Creek's founders were Australian, then you'll allow me to indulge in a theory, or say, a creationist story of sorts. Perhaps having enjoyed their time under Lt. Gov. Hotham in Melbourne, and feeling somewhat like outcasts once he fell from favour, the eventual Australian founding fathers of Trout Creek ventured out, and came to Canada. Perhaps it was a group of people, settling Trout Creek first (the area of Hotham was not settled until after the Chapman family has settled at what is called Chapman's Landing just north of Nipissing Village on the South River), arriving by wagon (Trout Creek's founding predates the building of the rail line). Perhaps after a few years there, some ventured out further, to a place 30 km by road (or 20 km as the 'crow flies'), to Hotham, naming it after their beloved Lt. Gov. (the Barber Valley is a somewhat fertile farmland, something or a rarity in the Almaguin Highlands, as is the area surrounding Trout Creek).
This may all seem too flimsy, or too transparent of a theory for some for it to be substantiated. However, it seems more than just coincidental that two named places in Canada, in close proximity to each other (Trout Creek being in the former South Himsworth, and Hotham being in the former Gurd, two neighbouring townships), share those names (or history), with a city in Australia and the man who governed it.
There will never be a conclusive answer to this, as all those alive then have since past, unless somewhere in some dusty attic lies a book written of such accounts. I believe there is enough evidence to suggest some kind of link between the two, but we are perhaps at the extent of drawing it.
Trout Creek, a possible connection to Australia, and southern bias
I’m sure everyone who hails from Trout Creek has been subject to some sort of abuse about the town’s name, the most common derivative is Sucker Ditch, I’ve also heard many that need not repeating. I’ll have to admit, that I too have thought the name a little guttural or even humorous, but the townsfolk have adopted it, and even embraced it (the unofficial logo of the Trout Creek Fire Department is a stylized fish wearing a helmet and bunker pants while holding a fire hose). But the history of the town’s name leads to some interesting avenues, and some age-old territorial animosity.
Using the book Place Names of Ontario by Alan Rayburn, I have educated myself on the meanings and origins of many of the place names in the Almaguin region, its surrounds, and even Ontario. The entry for Trout Creek is as follows:
“Situated on a tributary of the South River, in Parry Sound District, 37 km south of North Bay, this town (1913) was first known as Little Bend of the South River and Powassan as the Big Bend. It was called Melbourne after the pioneer settlers arrived in 1868, possibly for Melbourne, Australia, itself named in 1835 for Lord Melbourne (1779-1848), the British prime minister in 1834-41. However, its post office was called Barkerton in 1887. Three years later it was renamed Trout Creek.” Pp 349
As my title suggests there is a connection to Australia, but just because one well cited book says ‘possibly’ does not make it so. None the less, this is the initial piece of evidence in the connection, a simple matching to a much larger and well known locale with the same name (when the history of a towns name [in Ontario, and Canada] is lost, all one has to do is find the equivalent name in England, Scotland, Ireland, or another English speaking country and you’ve most likely arrived at its origin. Most town founders named their new town after the place they came from: an example is Callander being named after founder George Morrison’s parents birthplace in Scotland).
Another reason why towns choose names, or are forced to choose names, is because the name they have selected and submitted is already taken, and therefore have to decide on a replacement. So I delved deeper into the book, looking for a reason why Trout Creek may have changed its name. I discovered a Melbourne, in Middlesex County, and the entry for it is as follows:
“This place in Ekfrid Township, Middlesex County, 32 km southwest of London, was the site in 1832 of Ekfried post office, later corrected to Ekfrid. The name was changed to Longwood in 1857, to Wendigo in 1882, and finally to Melbourne in 1887. It was probably given for Melbourne, Australia, which had been named in 1835 after William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne (1779-1848), British prime minister, 1834-41. There was, however, a miller called Walter Melbourne, who was living in nearby Appin in the mid-1800s.” Pp 217
Here lies a compelling theory on a possible scenario: this Melbourne (Middlesex) was named so in 1887, the same year that Trout Creek changed its name from Melbourne to Barkerton. In order to become a named place and gain some sort of recognition, said place had to apply for a post office. In most cases the postmaster chose the name of the town (they were often the most educated persons in the vicinity), and submitted his proposal to the postal board, essentially the naming committee for the province of Ontario. What most likely occurred was that Melbourne (Middlesex) got it’s application in before that of Melbourne (Parry Sound) and thus had claim to, and was granted the name, forcing the people and postmaster of Melbourne (Parry Sound) to search for a new name. They likely chose Barkerton as a quick fix, Barker was the name of a mill and some stores, and followed by –ton, being a suffix denoting town. Obviously this was a consolation name, as it only lasted 3 years before it fell into disfavour and the people chose the final name for the town, that of Trout Creek.
There is a bit of a legitimacy claim here however, as the history shown indicates that the people of Melbourne (Middlesex) were fickle towards the name of their town, changing it 4 times in 55 years, while those living in Melbourne (Parry Sound) retained that name from inception until they were forced to change, a period of 19 years. Could this be one of the earliest south vs. north battles in Ontario’s history? Could the southern bureaucrats at the postal board have sided with the people of Melbourne (Middlesex) against those of Melbourne (Parry Sound)? Communications weren’t what they are today, and so many towns sprung up across Ontario with the same name, and to end the confusion one or the other were forced to change. However, in most cases it was the town which had the more legitimate claim that was given precedent in the matter, and in this case it would have been Melbourne (Parry Sound). The decision usually went in favour of the town which had been called the name in dispute for the longest period of time: Melbourne (Middlesex) only named so in 1887, by that time Melbourne (Parry Sound) had been named so for 19 years. Even population is against Melbourne (Middlesex), it was neither then, nor is now, larger than Trout Creek.
Now that we’ve discovered a potential history of the naming of Trout Creek, we’ll go back to the connection with Australia. The simple fact that Trout Creek once shared the same name with Australia’s second largest city is hardly a reason to associate the two, after all Melbourne’s origins lie in England. The next piece of evidence is a street in Trout Creek: Adelaide Street. Adelaide is also a city in Australia, in fact that countries fifth largest. This naming could have been just an ode to the old name of the town, in fact there is also a Melbourne Street recalling this history. But that doesn’t sit well with me, place names usually have deeper meanings and are not concocted on whims. Perhaps some early settlers in Trout Creek came from Australia, naming the place after the city they came from, and a street after a city where perhaps others had once lived. Both Melbourne and Adelaide are found on Australia’s southern coast, and while they are over 700 km apart, they are the capitals of neighbouring states, Victoria and South Australia respectively. The presence of these two names in a small community with very few foreign ties otherwise, should indicate some sort of connection. We may never know what it was, or who it was, for all I know it could have been some early town founder with a fascination for the land down under.
An interesting note is that there existed an Adelaide Township, it too in Middlesex County, and the entry in Place Names of Ontario is as follows:
“This township in Middlesex County was named in 1831 after Amelia Adelaide Louisa Theresa Carolina (1792-1849), the eldest daughter of George, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Meiningen, and the wife of William IV, who became king that year.” Pp 4
This is more of a coincidence than anything, since Adelaide Township was named in 1831, and Melbourne (Middlesex) wasn’t named so until 1887, a full 19 years after Trout Creek had initially been named Melbourne. None the less, it presents an interesting dynamic (it should also be noted that Adelaide, Australia was named after the same person as Adelaide Township).
While I haven’t exactly proven anything, I have drawn some strong conclusions. I believe from my research that my theory is plausible. I am also sure that some in Trout Creek would rather hail from Melbourne, Ontario, than Sucker Ditch, but that is neither here nor there.
The Nipissing Township surveying error
Introduction: This is something that I have been working on for many years, combining my love of maps, local politics, boundary markers, and the attitudes and emotions that all of those bring and those that I grew up with. I'd like to dedicate this one to my father, Harold, who has always been insightful and honest, and to the late Vic Kelly, the historian of Gurd Township.
Call it eagerness, but the fact that Nipissing Township was surveyed before the other townships around it set in motion a series of compromises that either benefitted or hindered their neighbours.
Nipissing Township, Parry Sound District
Dimensions: Lots running east to west, concessions running south to north: 30 lots wide from concessions I to XXIII. Nipissing proper, that is 1874-1970, before the annexation of Gurd, is to use the cliché, one of those things that are not like the others. When the townships of Parry Sound District were being surveyed in the late 1860’s and early 1870’s, the standard size was 35 lots wide (east-west) and XIV (14) concessions long (north-south), with a few exceptions. The logical way of surveying was to start where the last survey left off, which would mean that Parry Sound District was surveyed from south to north, extending from Muskoka. However, Nipissing village had been settled before the surrounding area had been surveyed and so in 1874 their own survey had begun, one year before that of Gurd (to its south and west), and two years before Himsworth (south and east) and Patterson (west). Thus the early surveyors of Nipissing Township had no reference point upon which to base their survey. So instead of continuing with the quilt-like, or checkerboard-resembling, square townships of the rest of the District, Nipissing resembled a rectangle, centered around Nipissing village and South Bay (Lake Nipissing), moved further east (10 lots) and south (6 concessions) than it should have lied. This created a dilemma for the surveyors that laid out the plans for the adjacent townships: how would they be accommodated?
Gurd Township, Parry Sound District
Dimensions: Lots running west to east, concessions running south to north: 35 lots wide from concessions I to VIII, and 14 lots wide from concessions IX to XX.
What should have been Nipissing’s southwest quadrant, was given to Gurd, to make up for what should have been Gurd’s northeast quadrant, resulting in Gurd having a panhandle (the hamlet of Hotham is located here). The area that Gurd was given is almost exactly what was taken, minus a few square kilometres because of another error of those early Nipissing surveyors; the positioning of the boundary one lot too far to the west. This resulted in the road allowances not running fluidly like they do across the rest of Parry Sound District (again with a few exceptions). When the roads running north-south meet at the Nipissing-Gurd Boundary, one has to follow the boundary road allowance 440 yards (the east-west length of one standard lot) either way (depending on what direction one is travelling: head east if heading south, and head west if heading north), to match up with the nearest road allowance running in the same north-south direction.
Himsworth Township, Parry Sound District
Dimensions: Lots running east to west, concessions running south to north: 37 lots wide from concessions I to VIII, and 28 lots wide from concessions IX to XXVIII.
Himsworth was surveyed as a single township in 1876 most likely because the northern half was missing a considerable area and was possibly deemed too small to eventually become a functioning township (early townships were laid out with a certain size taken into account to adequately provide enough land area to accommodate a certain number of farms that could then be taxed in order to create an incorporated township; essentially a standard set for self sustaining rural population by density, townships neither too large nor too small). Himsworth was surveyed with XXVIII (28) concessions, the exact doubling of one township, and varying from 37 lots wide in the south to 28 lots wide in the north. Himsworth was then divided ten years after its initial survey, in 1886, into a North and South, the modern equivalents of Callander and Powassan, respectively, but instead of the division occuring between the XIV and XV concessions, it was surveyed 3 concessions to the north, between XVII and XVIII, and not along a road allowance. This exact location may have been picked for one, or a combination of the following two reasons: 1) while North Himsworth was already missing an area of 10 lots by 11 concessions, a near equitable area of 28 lots by 3 concessions would be taken to make North Himsworth best resemble a square (all extreme points of the township are equidistant from the centre of the township); and/or 2) the southern half of North Himsworth is dominated by an area colloquially known as The Brouley, a near impassable area of rock outcroppings surrounded by numerous swamps, bogs, marshes, and muskeg. What should have been the northwest quadrant of South Himsworth was surveyed as part of Nipissing, as was the entire western edge of North Himsworth, to sum up the above.
Patterson Township, Parry Sound District
Dimensions: Lots running west to east, concessions running south to north: 35 lots wide from concessions I to VI, 49 lots wide from concessions VII to XXIV.
Patterson lies to the west of Nipissing, and while already extending to XXIV concessions, was given an extra area measuring 14 lots by 15 concessions (an area that held what should have been Nipissing’s northwest quadrant). In fact, the additional area granted to Patterson encompassed a portion that would have been more northerly than Nipissing’s northern boundary altogether, measuring 14 lots by 7 concessions (Perhaps this area combined with Patterson’s initial northerly extension which would total 50 lots (keeping in mind the east-west one lot error) by 9 concessions, equaling 450 lots, could have constituted a township that would have roughly resembled the size of a normal 35 lot by 14 concession township, equaling 490 lots). Not taking into account Patterson’s extra long north-south length as a result of being the furthest north township in Parry Sound District and the surveyors not wanting to create a township measuring 35 lots by only 10 concessions, the addition of what should have been Nipissing’s northwest quadrant plus, essentially made Patterson the size of two full townships.
Chisholm, Nipissing District
Dimensions: Lots running west to east, concessions running south to north: 29 lots wide from concessions I to XVIII.
Chisholm is found in Nipissing District, not to be confused with Nipissing Township, which is found in Parry Sound District, and separated by Himsworth Township from Nipissing and Gurd townships. The fact that Chisholm is 29 lots and not 30 lots wide is most likely not a result of Nipissing’s surveying mistakes, but perhaps why it is not 35 lots wide. The boundary between Parry Sound and Nipissing districts extends to the east by 7 lots where Laurier (Parry Sound) and Ballantyne (Nipissing) end, and where Himsworth (Parry Sound) and Chisholm (Nipissing) begin. Himsworth could have been only 30 or 32 lots wide, however, in an attempt to make up the territory lost to Nipissing, the boundary of Himsworth was pushed eastward another 5 lots to the next road allowance, and thus the present boundary. This forced Chisholm to be granted 4 extra concessions, extending it northerly, and thus surrounding Wasi Lake entirely (if it were not for this extension, Chisholm would only have half of the lake in its jurisdiction, the other half being in Ferris). The area that Himsworth thus inherited from what should have been Chisholm measures 5 lots by 14 concessions equaling 70 lots, while the area that Chisholm inherited from what should have been Ferris measures 29 lots by 4 concessions equaling 116 lots.
Ferris, Nipissing District
Dimensions: Lots running east to west, concessions running south to north: 29 lots wide from concessions I to X, 41 lots wide from concessions XI to XVIII.
Ferris was divided in 1921 into East and West, the latter and the smaller of two was subsequently annexed by the city of North Bay in 1968. The contiguous Ferris was long on its north-south axis with an extension to the northwest (this extension is what later became West Ferris). However, Ferris was roughly fifty percent larger than a standard township as a result of its north and northwesterly extensions. As like Chisholm, Ferris’ southerly half measured only 29 lots wide, a result of losing its 5 western lots to Himsworth. Had Himsworth not inherited these additional 5 lots on its eastern edge, and Chisholm not inherited 4 concessions on its northern edge, rather they be granted to Ferris, Ferris would have been divided into two townships rather than surveyed as one entirely, similar to this situation of North and South Himsworth. East Ferris would have been South Ferris and measured 34 or 35 lots by XIV concessions, and West Ferris would have been North Ferris and measured 41 lots by XIII concessions (328 lots).
Those exceptions I’ve been talking about…
Not all townships are the standard 35 lots by XIV concessions, instead there are some that exist, and not by error, that measure 32 or 37 lots by XIV concessions. That would suggest that some townships have a deficit of 3 lots, or an additional 2 lots. To explain this a little further, road allowances occur every 2 concessions north-south, while occurring every 5 lots east-west. This is because a standard 100 acre lot measures 440 yards (east-west) by 1100 yards (north-south). Thus the distance between road allowances is as follows: 5 lots east-west, and 2 concessions north-south, to create a block measuring 2200 yards by 2200 yards, or a mile and quarter by a mile and a quarter, and giving all 10 lots encompassed access to a road allowance. To explain the 32 and 37 lot wide townships, there exists what I have dubbed a ‘ribbon’ running in a north-south fashion across East Parry Sound, or Almaguin. It starts with McMurrich (now McMurrich/Monteith) being 32 lots wide, followed by Armout, Strong, and Laurier all measuring the same. When the ribbon meets Himsworth, and because of the additional 5 lots given to it from Chisholm and Ferris, Himsworth then measure 37 lots wide. To explain the 28 instead of 27 lot wide portion of Himsworth, well that answer reverts back to the result of Nipissing being one lot too far to the west, thus adding that lot to Himsworth, while taking it away from Gurd and the Patterson extension.
Advantages, Disadvantages, and Humour
Nipissing placed itself strategically cupping South Bay, having a territory equidistant from its shores. While the western shore of South Bay is virtually uninhabited, the eastern shore which makes up part of the South Shore of Lake Nipissing is a booming cottage area with easy access to transportation connections, i.e., Highway 11 and the Canadian National Railway. In the area that it took from Himsworth, is located Nipissing’s community centre and Fire Station #1, only 1300 metres from the boundary between modern day Nipissing and Callander (not exactly centered or equidistant, but close none-the-less to the more so populated, and in some opinions, heavily favoured, South Shore). Had Nipissing been surveyed properly, it would have only had a sliver of are on the eastern shore of South Bay, between what is today lots 10 and 11. The area that was taken from what should have modern day Powassan, is the area known as Nipissing Ridge, the eastern reaches of Alsace Road, and the southern portion of Christian Valley, where exists prime agricultural lands.
Possibly the most lucrative lands taken in today’s terms, is that from what should have been Gurd’s. The area surrounding and including Ruth, Wolfe, Gerber, and McQuaby lakes should have been completely inside of Gurd, with the exception of McQuaby, which should have reverted from being 95% in Nipissing and only 5% in Gurd, to the exact opposite. This would have resulted in Gurd being much more manageable, possibly becoming an organized township all on its own instead of being annexed by Nipissing in 1970, and it would not have had the burden of having an exclave of sorts in the cut off hamlet of Hotham, which would have been part of Nipissing. It is not erroneous or foolish to think that Gurd would have benefitted from the taxation of cottagers on those lakes, and the farmland along the Alsace Road.
Another error that occurred because of the Nipissing survey, was the continuation of the Rosseau-Nipissing Colonization Road. The road was part of a series of roads built to open up the interior, before the adjacent land was surveyed into townships. It’s starting point was the town of Rosseau at Parry Sound District’s extreme south, and the end point was supposed to be the village of Nipissing. When the surveyors of the road met the boundary of Nipissing, they had to chart a new path to the north, and so the colonization road is disjointed at the Gurd and Nipissing boundary (it was seemless for nearly its entirely). While the road was pushed through across lots already surveyed in Nipissing, and some sections in other townships having fallen into disrepair, half of the distance in Nipissing fell to the same fate. It was none-the-less an extremely important road in opening up East Parry Sound and points beyond.
Patterson is at what is the beginning of what can be called, and not offensively, being separated by distance from the Highway 11/CN corridor. It’s mammoth size encumbered it, and while it’s extensions are not populated by any permanent residents, there is still the illusion that it is much too large (Patterson’s populated area is contained to what should have been southeast quadrant, and thus it is not unfathomable to conceive it becoming organized).
Had Himsworth not been given the extra 5 lots along its eastern edge, the town site of Callander would have been in South (East) Ferris, which is neither here nor there, but would have presented an interesting dynamic. This would have left North Himsworth with an actual exclave on the north shore of Callander Bay, a chunk of land around the Cranberry Bog, that most likely would have been given as an extension to either North (West) or South (East) Ferris. The portion of the South Shore belonging to Nipissing would have been in possession of North Himsworth. As well, had North and South Himsworth been made of equal size, the boundary between the two townships would have been along Lindquist Line, just north of the town of Powassan (which would have presented another interesting dynamic).
If you are wondering where the townships should have met up, where the four corners should have been, the answer is Christian Valley, on the line between lots 10 and 11 and concessions VI and VII of Nipissing. This falls right on Highway 534, 440 yards east of Stillar Sideroad and 440 yards west of the intersection with Armstrong Road, the centre line of Highway 534 and a line drawn between the fences that separate lots 10 and 11 would be the exact spot. Instead the townships meet up at a series of three corner intersections, nearly all found deep in the bush.
One of the more humorous parts about the surveying error is that most people who find themselves living in Nipissing’s portion of the South Shore often affiliate themselves with Callander (North Himsworth), the jurisdiction with who they should have been part of, and the same can be said about Nipissing’s southeast area being affiliated with Powassan. As for Gurd, the southeastern half has always felt more closely partnered with Trout Creek (part of South Himsworth), the southwest with itself in the hamlet of Commanda and by extension neighbouring Pringle Township, and the panhandle being closely affiliated with Restoule (Patterson). However, Gurd has had to heed to the hegemony of Nipissing since annexation.
I hope you enjoyed my deductions and anecdotes.
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