It gets its start in Hurd’s Lake, and from there it winds and m wanders its way through McNab-Braeside and Horton Townships, before entering the jurisdiction of the Town of Renfrew and eventually emptying into the Bonnechere River across and just downstream from Air Force Memorial Park.
Smiths Creek — aka Smith’s Creek — is one of those things that you see just about every day, but the familiarity of it allows you to just walk on by, or drive on by, without giving it a thought, much less a second one.
My doctor told me to start walking routes that are different from my go-to route, something to do with mixing things up being good for me, especially if, while mixing things up, I incorporate some hills and terrain into my walk.
Never one to dismiss the advice of my doctor, I did just that, mixed it up a bit.
So I decided to park my car at Ma-Te-Way and take the Millennium Trail downtown, then loop back along Patrick Street and go through McConnell Park, one of Renfrew’s hidden little gems.
As I trudged along the Millennium, I was re-acquainted with something that I had totally forgotten about. The Millennium Trail is at elevation, once a track bed for the the old K&P Railroad — Kingston to Parry Sound — but now a multi-use trail for people like me and people a lot better looking than me.
As I walked along the trail, I came upon a spot to my left where you could see down the embankment, a rather significant embankment, and pick out Smiths Creek through the trees, winding its way serenely behind a number of homes on Ross Street. There was even a little waterfall that was part of this idyllic scene, and it appears the property owners along that stretch of creek have done a marvellous job of incorporating this small but vibrant watercourse into a near-urban landscape. And if not the work of property owners, then full marks to whomever is responsible. I’d guess it’s the work of the town, although there’s a yellow Muskoka chair down there at water’s edge, right where the creek does one of its course changes, and it just seems like a really cool painting. I don’t know if the Town of Renfrew does Muskoka chairs, but no matter, it looks really serene down there, the kind of place where you could spend an afternoon in absolute tranquillity, if it weren’t to be wrecked totally by every blackfly and mosquito in Eastern North America. Nevertheless, very pretty to look at.
I was so impacted by this, that I stopped, unleashed my phone camera, and took a shot, really for reasons unknown, but just feeling that I should. I did so and returned the phone to its place.
I continued walking and, less than twenty yards away, on the other side of the trail, you could look down and see the creek in all its majesty making its way through the woodlands down there, equally beautiful to come across, just no Muskoka chairs. Out came the phone again.
All this got me thinking of how many times I had walked this stretch of trail in my over thirty years of residency in Renfrew. Hundreds? And yet, as much as I like to appreciate the beauty of nature, I looked at these spots, appreciated them somewhat, but I never saw them really, as in stopped to really take them in, to absorb them. Looking and seeing aren’t necessarily the same things, but now I was doing both, and it stunned me how this much beauty could be right there in front of me all this time but I never really stopped to take it in as much as it deserved to be.
I continued the walk, doctor’s orders and all that, and eventually arrived at McConnell Park, the spot that was going to serve as the uneven terrain my doctor was talking about.
And there it was again! Smiths Creek!
Now, I knew that Smiths Creek was in the middle of a ravine in the middle of the park, where you walk down a hill and then cross a little bridge before climbing back up the other side to end up on Joffre, or Haig, or Vimy, or some other street named after a World War I French or English general or Canadian battlefield.
A pretty little creek winding its way in myriad directions, now gurgling its way through this park before crossing underneath Highway 132 at Farewell Avenue on its way to its destination where it dumps into the Bonnechere River.
As the crow flies, it’s not very far from the Millennium Trail to McConnell Park, something I’m sure all the neighbourhood kids then and now could tell you. But if you’re doing your Tom Sawyer / Huckleberry Finn thing in your little raft or whatever, you probably travel 300 miles between these two spots, because the creek’s in no hurry to get to the river, and takes every corner, twist, and detour available to it before ending its journey somewhere behind Farewell where the river is. Makes me wonder if the street, Farewell, was named by sentimentalists as a way to bid adieu to this pretty little creek. But it’s Renfrew, so I should get a grip.
The creek has been a part of Renfrew’s story for longer than Renfrew has. And while the Bonnechere River gets all the glory when it comes to Renfrew’s origins. Smiths Creek has had its moments as well. At one point, in the heyday of the old lumber barons, the creek, at the point where it crosses Raglan Street, was once the scene of Friday night skating parties where lines of lights would be draped over its frozen surface. It was nothing short of a big deal to be out there skating at night, men, women, and children. Although I should say, to be as historically accurate as I can, I’m not talking about the hard men who were getting all blotto at one of Renfrew’s many hotels/bars. I’m talking about the men who preferred to spend quality time with their families.
Pretty picture, to be sure, both then and now.
But it wasn’t always that way, not always that pretty. People have a way of doing that to innocent things of beauty.
When I first arrived in Renfrew and first took note of Smiths Creek, its simple natural beauty was evident and obvious. So, too, was the complete disrespect shown to it by people right here in our little slice of paradise. You know the people I’m talking about, the folks who have no problem dumping their old and rusting appliances and garbage into the creek, something I witnessed at maybe four locations that I can think of. I’m happy to say that, at those exact same spots yesterday, there was no such human-created refuse in the water. Whether that has to do with better people generally or speaks to the actions of the many people who have made independent efforts to keep the creek clean, I have no idea.
I remember one such group a couple of decades ago, though it may have been more recently. A colleague of mine, Dave Rowat was part of this “community” effort. Dave, a teacher at St. Joseph’s High School, is an indefatigable spirit when it comes to this sort of thing. And honestly, when he’s involved, the chore of creek-preservation becomes less a chore I’d imagine, especially if he brings along his whistle, flashing briefcase emergency lights, and his harmonica for, well, just in case. Like where would be without our harmonica?
Anyways, Dave is more than just a periodic effort to walk along the creek bank picking up garbage and litter. He took it upon himself to research the type old tree that would thrive and give beauty and presence to the creek, and he went about planting said trees both on the campus of St. Joe’s and at places along its course. There was once a marker denoting the efforts made by people like Dave, where the creek crosses Raglan by M&R Feeds, but I didn’t see it there yesterday, probably because it’s been obscured by a couple of decades of vegetation growth. Or maybe it’s not there at all. Either way, groups and individuals like this are the difference-makers, the stewards of precious things, at least until the correct authorities take on the mantle of stewards, which was always part of their responsibility envelope anyways.
It’s unfortunate, but there’s a large measure of truth behind the statement that the creek fares poorly when school-aged children are transiting nearby. Especially high school kids, because, well, just because. I guess they get busy and forget all their Lucy Litter lessons from back in elementary. But, happily, the local schools get all animated by Earth Day, where they head out with the Zamboni and collect all the crap thrown down by their peers. Sadly, though, Dave Rowat has retired, and the whistles and Professor Gadget emergency lights are no more.
Some people take their creek-littering mission pretty seriously.
Behind the high school, there’s a culvert bridge that crosses the creek and leads to pathways heading in two directions, both feeder paths and collector lanes for the Millennium Trail, a trail that either follows or crosses the creek at several points. That culvert/bridge was the designated smoker’s pit, where high school kids could go and spark up a dart to take the edge off math class. They smoke other stuff down there, too, probably in an attempt to make English class come to life, but that’s a tall order that may require stronger drugs. That is until recently, when vaping allowed the high school crowd to do their puffery in the washrooms, despite the often futile attempts of school administration to prevent it.
In any event, there appears to be a relatively strong correlation between smoking and creek littering, with some items even loaded with dirt or rocks to ensure that they stay down, as in underwater. These are the kind of disruptors who take their societal anger seriously enough to make sure that once something gets tossed in the creek, it stays tossed in the creek. Makes one wonder what such motivation might yield in geography class, but that would be a positive thing, and these types I’m describing don’t do positive, at least in any context not involving themselves.
One day I went out with five students on a spare, donned my hip-waders, and went about the counter-mission of cleaning up the creek so that smokers could enjoy their darts while flaura and fauna traipsed about them, and a pretty creek gurgling past and under them. We even pulled a Metro shopping cart out of there. I had the event captured via video and then posted the exercise on the school social media sites. It received plenty of positive feedback, except for one guy, an ex-student and troubled human being, who went out of his way to ridicule us a a group and single me out as an individual for physical threats. I blocked him from the school page, but he borrowed a buddy’s Facebook account to come back for another spin. Blocked that account too, and haven’t seen or heard from him since, so I don’t know entirely whether or not this guy’s gonna jump out of a dumpster someday to get his face all-prettied-up by Yours Truly. More than likely he’ll fall all over himself trying to get out, since he wasn’t the most athletic of our former charges, and maybe we can all have a good laugh before we push him back in and close the doors on top of him, so he can continue to eat take-out at his leisure.
I’m going to close more positively here, and just say that I’m absolutely delighted that the creek is apparently thriving, and reclaiming its status as a thing of natural beauty that winds its way throughout town, to be discovered and enjoyed at many spots along its course.
Somebody, or a lot of somebodies, has and have put in a lot of effort to ensure that Smith’s Creek is allowed to make its inexorable journey to the Bonnechere unmolested by the worst instincts of humans, instead benefiting from the community stewardship of people who care.
Whoever you are, thank you. And please don’t stop.
NEWSMAGRENFREW 