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A Snooper’s Guide to uncovering the whole story How can a pine with a hooked root and a core sample from a 110-year-old cedar be fundamental to good detective work? “It’s elementary, my dear Henderson.” Story by Bob Henderson Winter 2004/05 Issue Everything fell into alignment when we found the white pine tree that was hooked at its roots in a peculiar fashion. The pine was just like the one in the 1940s photograph of Lake Opeongo’s Sunnyside Shelter Hut in Ontario’s Algonquin Park. In the photograph, the white pine was to one side and in front of the Shelter Hut. Now, at least sixty years later, what remains is the white pine with the hooked root, a depression roughly in a square shape — and the same glorious view down the south arm of Lake Opeongo that early visitors wrote of in their journals. The Sunnyside Shelter Hut was once part of a system of huts used by park rangers. In the early 1900s, there were over thirty huts throughout the park. Most were burnt down when the huts were no longer necessary. On previous canoe trips to the Sunnyside campsite, I had explored over a wide area for remains of this hut and had assumed this location must be it. Now I could prove it, thanks to the photo and matching white pine. But this discovery was merely step one. Renowned snoops A curious entry in a 1903 canoe trip journal mentions the remains of an old Indian trading post “just” behind the Shelter Hut. We had no photographs to help us with this search, our main quest of the day. We, a group of Smoke Lake Algonquin cottagers, were led that day by George Garland and Craig Macdonald. George is a long-serving Algonquin historian (see Glimpses of Algonquin, published by The Friends of Algonquin Park). Craig is also a park historian and currently, a Park recreation specialist. Both George and Craig are renowned snoopers, expert at ferreting out the location of old trails and former dwellings. I was more than happy to tag along with them in hopes of finding some evidence of the old post and at the same time, learning a few tricks of the trade. What would these detectives do when the evidence got particularly scant? Elementary, my dear Henderson! Now — back to the journal’s description: the Indian trading post was just behind the Shelter Hut. On previous searches I had assumed “just” meant … well … just: that is, five to ten metres behind the Shelter Hut. But the slope is significant back there and we could find no evidence of cabin remains. Craig quickly surveyed the overall scene and suggested “just” could mean as much as two hundred metres behind the Shelter Hut — which could put the old trading post from the 1800s on the opposite shore facing the East Bay of Opeongo. Hmmm, I had never considered such a possibility. Lesson number one: “just” and words like it can mean many things. Sure enough, when we visited the site and climbed up and over a rise, we found an extremely flat, long stretch of shoreline with a fine beach perfect for landing canoes and an equally fine vista over Opeongo. The puzzle started to come together. Craig noted that at least forty tents could stand comfortably on this site. We crossed a well-used, clearly evident animal trail leading to a major animal crossing on the big lake. In fact, in the early 1800s before water levels were altered with dams for the spring logging drives, Opeongo was considered two separate lakes divided at this age-old animal crossing. The beach here was sandy, not gravel as on the south-facing Sunnyside shore. Better for birch bark canoes, we thought. And while both shorelines had a great view, the East Bay shore was certainly well sheltered from the dominant westerly winds. The Sunnyside site would make a fine summer dwelling place, but could be miserable with the stormy westerlies of November to April. While a canoe tripper might consider the summer first and only, a year-round dweller would certainly have the winter season centrally in mind when selecting a site. Today, the pine trees on this flat terrace “just” up from the shore help make the site a stand-out. I wondered if these were small trees when trading negotiations were common on these shores. We ran out of time to locate the site of an actual cabin, but did note an odd, square-shaped depression. This large depression was an interesting find, but oddly anti-climactic! The excitement, for me, lay in piecing together the evidence to construct a full story of the landscape. Lesson number two: always consider the whole story! Consider the logical, practical evidence that can help you build a picture of human activity in the setting. Finding the story So did we find the “Old Trading Post” mentioned in the 1903 journal? Well, yes and no. We found the story of the place. The specific site is another search. Next step: archaeology proper on the terrace. A satellite operation? The story becomes even more interesting with each new piece of information. Here’s one last thread of evidence. Recently, remains of a trading post were discovered on Lake Lavieille, complete with nails that prove the structure was pre-logging: from the trading post era. I wonder if the infamous 5-km Dickson to Bonfield portage is originally a traders’ route. Could this be the first evidence of an Opeongo base and a Lake Lavieille satellite operation? Perhaps an archaeology dig at Opeongo some day will discover nails of the same type and validate this theory. Tales contain the real world ... My interest in such detective work on Canadian travel ways is pure imaginative curiosity. I love a good story. As we pushed off the beach on East Bay of Opeongo, I thought of trading activity and birch bark canoes pulling up to camp. In a flash, I was able to picture it – my personal version only, of course, but that’s plenty for me. When the story is sketched in, the land comes alive with a vital energy that makes the bush and travel magical. I like the way Wayland Drew put it in his novel, Halfwayman: “… the real world is not substance but story ... tales contain the only real world we will ever really have.” Four rock-lined relics Another time, friends and I were sea kayaking in the Mingan Islands of Quebec’s St. Lawrence North Shore, hunting for relics. The original “hunt”, like my search for the Sunnyside Shelter Hut, was narrowly focussed. We were looking for Basque stone ovens, or “tryworks,” built between the 1400s and 1500s. The rock-lined ovens rendered whale blubber into a valuable commercial oil. In the Mingans that time we did find the central, man-made feature. In all we found four ovens, evident as large grass mounds. On closer examination we found they were simply collections of large boulders covered with grass turf. The ovens were separated such that teams of fifteen men could work at each oven without interfering with the others. (By the 1600s, the technology had developed so that this work could be carried out on the ship). Now – 500 years later – one of the ovens has been dissected by erosion, and we found Basque red roofing tiles lying about. It was a wonderful find, but we found – just as I had at Lake Opeongo – that we were less fixated on this one, human-made feature, than on the landscape, which told us a much more complete story. We could see the full operation: the shallow harbour the Basques needed to drag the whale onto shore, the offshore island that provided the shelter they needed to safely anchor their sailing ship, and the raised land close to the beach, allowing them to transport the stripped blubber to the oven sites easily. The raised land was high enough to avoid extra high tides and storm waves. Again, it was wiser (and more fun) to focus on the full landscape. Stories on a grand scale Treading the Sweetgrass Hills In southern Alberta, this “whole story view” can be experienced on a grand scale. The Montana Sweetgrass Hills are about 2,000 metres above sea level. It’s a big climb up from their prairie base. When soil scientist and avocational archaeologist John Dormaar and I climbed West Butte, we were searching for a big view and for the vision quest locations that indigenous peoples have used over the centuries — perhaps even to the present. It appeared, given the presence of prayer flags and other evidence of recent visits, that the sites are still in use. We trod very lightly and with respect. The U-shaped rock pile walls faced the east for the rising sun. At one site, a cedar tree oddly blocks a perfect view to the east. John wondered how long the tree had been there, and on a previous visit, took a core sample from the cedar. He learned that the tree was over 110 years old. The vision quest site clearly predates the growth of this tree. All this, however, is only half of the story. Looking north into Southern Alberta just a few kilometres away, you see the dynamic Milk River valley, home to hundreds of carved images in the “writing-on-stone” petroglyphs. The varied style of images suggests that a variety of peoples — Blackfoot, Shoshoni, Kootenays – used the site to record important events, images and dreams. Many scholars surmise that the Sweetgrass Hills served as a vision quest site where youth came to gain an adult identity and a guardian spirit, and then recorded their story in the soft stone of the river valley below. An elegant practice! We paddled the Milk River with the Sweetgrass Hills glowing in the evening light. It is important to explore the petroglyph sites and the hills together. To explore one without the other is to miss the richness of a “whole” story. There is a logical puzzle-piece quality to these three detective stories. As exciting as it is to find a relic, satisfying exploration isn’t just a matter of finding concrete evidence: a stone fireplace, a raised mound, a cabin foundation complete with nails, a petroglyph site or non-indigenous plant species or other “give-away” features. Rather there is a whole story to piece together! With an imaginative gaze, you can paint your own picture or film your own internal video, and recreate the stories told by the land. Bob Henderson, the KANAWA heritage specialist, teaches Outdoor Education at McMaster University. Email him at bhender@mcmaster.ca Suggested reading Sir Alexander MacKenzie Historic Waterways in Alberta, Recreation, Parks & Wildlife Foundation of Alberta. Paddle Canada Sale $5.95 Missinaibi: Journey to the Northern Sky, by Hap Wilson. $24.95 (mem $22.46) Rivers of the Upper Ottawa Valley, by Hap Wilson. $24.95 (mem $22.46) Or buy Hap’s original version for $8.00, available only through Paddle Canada.