Granite Ridge

You know when you have found a place of peace. The iconic Canadian painters who belonged to the "Group of Seven" came here often for the white pines bent by the prevailing westerlies, and an undulating landscape provided their canvases with rich visual elements. That abstraction rather than precision was the result best communicates the motion of the wind, the passing of the seasons, and the underlying geology . The lakes are that deep blue that is almost black, and each one is different from the next. The reach of roots in the pockets of soil, and cracks in the white granite and quartzite hills are vivid reminders of how nature will establish, persist and even thrive in the harshest conditions.

Killarney Provincial Park is a jewel in the Ontario network of wild spaces. Far enough from the big cities the air cleanses your being. Granite Ridge is just one of many hikes available.

Originating from the parking lot at George Lake you travel south through forests filled with trilliums and bird arias. A single woodpecker sends out Morse Code from the tip top of a dead and dry maple. The hammer is not merely the search for insects but a declaration of his being here. Migration has also brought a chorus of returnees to the woods. Well worn paths have newly installed wooden walkways through the worst of the wet areas. It not only is more pleasant but the impact on the land is reduced. Ascent is not thousands of feet, but a doable few hundred; eastern Canada doesn't have the peaks of the west, but this still is eye candy.

Up a bit further the path gives way to rock ridges and platforms framed by feathery green of the contorted pines. Krumholtz is the scientific term for these stunted, twisted, and shaped trees. They look like some giant Japanese gardener decided to bonsai the vegetation.

The views across the valley to the west , north, and east have height and depth. Patterns of poplars, birch, hemlock, wear the palest greens, while maples splash rosy flowers the same colour that will be repeated come the autumn. To the south Georgian Bay stretches to the boundary of the horizon and its blend with Lake Huron. Hundreds of islands lay scattered along the coast as if the land could not give up its dominion. In fact it was the age of the glaciers that scooped and sculpted, smoothing the rough lithology.

The breezes kiss the tree tops and not only does the forest dance in celebration of spring but you can hear it sing with joy.