Some people might call it the woods, but our family has always called it the bush. Rolling granite, moss, and long grasses topped with juniper bushes, birches, maples, and pines extend for many kilometres from my parents’ place across Crown land.
I remember going blueberry picking in the bush near the cottage in Britt when I was eight or nine. Mom carries baskets. Dad carries peanuts in shells. We always bring Princess with us, my great-Aunt Irene’s German Shepherd. Princess leads the way over the granite and moss, into the desolate, dense back bushes on the coast of Georgian Bay, guarding us from the possibility of walking into sleeping black bears or sunning massasauga rattlers.
A couple times a summer dad takes me out for a sunset cruise on Georgian Bay. Every year it looks different. I wonder if it is me that has changed so I see the water and land and sun setting differently or if the bay is changing (for example: time of day, water level, location, weather). Last year we went out by Gereaux Island Lighthouse. There is something about the architecture of a lighthouse isolated on an island with the grand sky and big water that calms me. (Do all people feel a connection to lighthouses?) So every time we go out into the bay I always look for the lighthouse.
I’ve spent time in Britt every summer for over 40 years. It always feels like a homecoming. On July 29, 2016 I had my first boat ride of the year (Which is shameful. Boat rides should begin far earlier in the season). Mom and dad took me out in the bay for swimming and a picnic, visiting many of our regular spots. We started on the north shore. We swam in Sand Bay and cruised by old picnic rocks, visiting all my favourite windblown trees. This landscape inspires reflection while it serves as a living definition of resiliency.
The Lamondin family has lived in Britt, Ontario since the beginning of Britt’s history. I’ve heard stories about when Britt was a logging town, when the coal docks were the centre of activity, when the railway was installed, when electricity arrived, and when the lighthouse became automated and no longer required a keeper. As my parents drive up and down the Britt road, they recite histories of the buildings and the families, sometimes going back a hundred years.
Dad took us out on a beautiful August evening for a sunset cruise around Gereaux Island Lighthouse. What makes the water look like a mirror? Why do sunsets feel so much like coming home?
Another gorgeous day in Northeastern Georgian Bay on the water. Today I wondered if clouds could be as diverse as snowflakes.