Heading Out To The Sugar Bush Is A Spring Ritual In Muskoka

THE HERITAGE AURA OF THE MUSKOKA SUGAR BUSH - IN THOSE WARMER DAYS OF EARLY SPRING

IT'S THE BEST OF HISTORY AND NATURE, IN A MOST SPLENDID ACTUALITY - OF BEING THERE FOR THE MAKING OF MODERN HISTORY

     It wasn't exactly a sugar bush, by strict definition, but there were a lot of maples in the few modest urban acres, of Bamford's Woods, on Alice Street, and then over in The Grove, on Bracebridge's Hunt's Hill, two of my favorite haunts as a wide-eyed local urchin, looking for places to shed adults. I spend half of my youth hiding-out in semi-wild places like this, somewhat explaining why I find myself wandering through The Bog, in our Gravenhurst neighborhood, to this day. Yes, by all means, it's a convenient sanctuary, re-charging my reserve of inspiration, for doing stories just like this. I needed it as a kid, but I didn't know why. I retreat to the woods today, but now I know why its important. I fled the city a long time ago, because it didn't have what I needed. Like a sugar bush for one thing!
     Back a few decades, although it seems like many more, when Suzanne and I operated our Manitoba Street antique shop, in uptown Bracebridge, our business partner at the time, Sharon Milne, a descendant of a well known local family, said one day in passing, that seeing as I used to talk frequently about wanting to own a sugar bush, one day, I might wish then to immerse myself in a contemporary sugaring-off operation. She thought I might like to join with her husband, Brian, and her father, Jim (James), on their spring treks back to the Hillman family sugar bush, just off Golden Beach Road, not far from the former Bangor Lodge on Lake Muskoka. I knew the property, but just from seeing the closed farm gate, on my drives by, when we were living on the same road, but closer to Bowyer's Beach. I had been trying to convince Suzanne for years, that we needed to have a maple grove of our own, to make maple syrup like her ancestors did, in the Three Mile Lake area of Muskoka, in the hamlet of Ufford. Being in control of the accounting books, year after year, we failed to build the kind of slush fund we needed, in order to finance a sugar bush, for our great spring-time escapes. But this trip back into the Muskoka wilds, was going to be free. And so was the dreaming that would be associated with such a remarkable place, and for such a close-up glimpse, at a traditional enterprise, practiced originally by the people of the First Nations.
    I was all ears. I was writing a weekly column beneath the heading "Muskoka Sketches," for the Muskoka Advance, at that point in the early 1990's, and I was always looking for interesting feature stories. There was no hesitation on my part. "Where do I sign up," I asked her. "I'm in!" I had wanted to do such a feature story for years, and although I did have some close-up visits, such as travelling to the V.K. Greer Public School sugar bush, on school trips, courtesy outdoor education instructors, John Duncan and Mr. George Anderson, and did a number of stories on the Bill Veitch Sugar Bush, in Watt Township; and the famous multi-colored sugar shack, part of the Don Goltz farm near Milford Bay, I hadn't really been able to spend serious time investigating the whole sugar bush experience. Jimmy Hillman, and his son-in-law, Brian, were about to give me that amazing opportunity, for one beautiful, sunny, warm day, amidst roaring fire, sunlit maple forest, and the sweet vapor of boiling sap, steaming with upward spirals, from those huge rectangular metal, trays being licked by the hardwood flames.
     I took Robert out of school for that morning adventure, and Brian drove him into the property, off Golden Beach Road, by ATV, and I really didn't mind the fact there wasn't any room for old pop onboard. I got to walk the distance into the sugar shack, and it was a wonderful way to get the full feeling of the spring morning, and the pleasant enclosure of the thick maple woodland. When we began our trek to the interior, it seemed as if it would be a very dense environs, with lots of saplings thickening the woodlot, making it a somewhat difficult to navigate, especially seeing as there was still quite a bit of snow on the ground. Once we got closer, and could smell the wood fire in the simple lean-to shelter, of the vintage, paintless sugar shack, as humbly appointed as it was, the forest was much thinner in terms of trees, with clearly defined trails for hiking, and of course, accommodating the ATV's sometimes used to transport the buckets of sap. Much was still hauled from the buckets, to a larger carrying vessel, to the holding barrels, by walking it from tapped trees, to avoid spillage; because the trails were rough, with a lot of dips and obstructions that shook up the riders and passengers, not to mention the sap buckets hauled behind.
     It was the first time I had been able to actually help at a sugar shack, as I was given various jobs to assist sap-boilers like Brian Milne, Bill Thompson, and Mr. Blanchard, who had been working with property owner, Jim Hillman, for many springs in the past. Jim kept some of the maple syrup-making antiques on hand, to show newcomers like me, how the sap and syrup were handled in the past, from the great, heavy iron pots once used to boil the sap, to the wooden molds for the hardening of candy in various shapes and designs. He even showed me some of the well conserved wooden sap spiles, and the early metal ones, that replaced the primitive open grooved spiles. He even had some of the old, long-style tin sap pails, which he showed me as a comparison, to the modern fasten-on containers, that are covered to keep out snow and rain; and pesky critters, like inhabitant deer, curious about what is being held within.
     Standing by the fire was incredibly relaxing, as it had gotten quite chilly walking around the maple grove, as the snowscape was cooling down the atmosphere. There was actually a cold mist hovering just above the forest floor, and then the variable plume of woodsmoke, trailing off whatever way the morning breeze was pushing over the hilly terrain. I watched as they were breaking eggs into the maturing sap on the verge of syrup, boiling-off in the pans, which apparently helped, (or at least I think it did) remove some of the floating sediments, ash and other contaminates, rising from the fire, and settling down into the frothing amber liquid.
     After most of the work for that early spring morning was done, I took a long, slow walk along the pathways, part mud, part ice, enjoying the ambience of sunlight trickling down its illumination, through the bare boughs of towering, venerable maples, fringed by lush evergreens against the horizon sky. It was an enchanting place with all the activities going on, in and around the sugar bush, the sounds of conversation echoing off the hillsides, and rock outcroppings, exposed from the snow canopy by the warming sunglow. If you listened carefully, you could hear the sap dripping into the newly emptied pails, and the sound of melt water, snaking its way undetected, except for the tell-tale trickle, beneath the snow cover, declining into the black shallow pools of the property's watershed, where the creek begins its flow downward to the shore of the lake. Looking up, you could see the dazzling, diamond glow of sunlight, through the upper branches, providing a strange, nostalgic melancholy, to the woodland below; such that it gave the yellow tint of a vintage photograph; yet it remained vibrant and exciting in its actuality, of fire, boiling sap, woodsmoke, and maple vapours, wafting through the alluring spring atmosphere. I was in a folk historian's paradise. It was all here at this moment. The history of pioneering Muskoka was being re-enacted, but not simply for the voyeur's benefit. While the ATVs were a necessary convenience for the veteran crew, tending the sugar shack and sap collection, pretty much everything else about sugaring-off, was done the old fashioned way. They didn't use plastic collection tubing, to gather the sap, to drain it to a central storage barrel. Ninety percent of the operation was done as the homesteaders would have collected the maple sap every spring, from as far back in Muskoka, as the early 1860's. Living history was unfurling moment by moment in front of me, and Robert and I were right in the middle of this reclaimed heritage. Robert's great, great, great grandfather and family, of the Shea clan, of the 1860's, would have been in a sugar bush just like this, but a few miles north, in Watt Ward, of the present Township of Muskoka Lakes, making their annual store of maple syrup, used for sweetening dishes throughout the year. I'm sure Robert, at his young age, didn't fully appreciate what this all meant, but suffice to say, we've reminded him of this ever since. What a thrilling part of Muskoka and Canadian history, to be connected, by family chronology . It was a wonderful morning spent in the sugar bush, courtesy our kind host, Jim Hillman and gang. I promised I'd come back to the sugar bush for a second installment story. Jim unfortunately, passed away, before I could fulfill this promise.

SERENITY NOW - OUT TO THE SUGAR BUSH

I can place myself in this painting quite easily. (A bald, portly guy, likely coming out of the sugar shack licking his fingers). One of my favorite March feature news assignments, was to visit a number of Muskoka’s sugar bushes, to watch the gathering and the boiling of the sap. This painting, an oil on masonite, by Dan Titman, we believe, holds a special place for me, because I have never found a more serene place anywhere on earth......than a grove of maples bathed in spring sunlight. The sugar bush has always been my writer’s sanctuary. A woodland paradise that is as invigorating as it is relaxing. This is “serenity now,” as far as I’m concerned.

I purchased this little gem of Canadian art, on Friday, at a wonderful antique and collectable shop, which has only recently opened, on Mississauga Street E., in Orillia, known as Carousel Collectables. I’m an impulse buyer and this one was an impulse purchase. I have always been interested in historic themes, which shouldn’t surprise any one, and most recently I have acquired a wonderful watercolor depiction of a steamship (paddle-wheeler) from the early 1800's known as the Royal William. This is still being researched with the assistance of a Maritime Museum on the East Coast. Another attractive watercolor, purchased recently, is a waterscape of “Fairy Point,” and numerous boat houses, but we’re not sure whether this location is on one of Muskoka’s lakes or not. We’re thinking it might be Lake Joseph where there is a Fairy Island. Or a point of land on Huntsville’s Fairy Lake. We think it has too many structures to be Fairy Point in Algoma. Research is ongoing, as with many of my paintings collected for over thirty years. I’ll be running a picture of this in the near future.

But of all the art pieces overflowing the realm of sensible proportion, here at Birch Hollow, I adore this sugar bush painting the most. It profiles a parallel woodland setting, to what I have experienced many times before, here in the hinterland of beautiful Muskoka. My wife’s relative is Bill Veitch, who has been a legend in maple syrup making in the Ufford, Three Mile Lake, Windermere area for decades. I love venturing out to his sugar bush for the annual two day Pancake festival in April. A walk in the woods there, and like a sweeping time warp, you’re back in pioneer times. And it’s great if you’re a history junkie like me.

I greatly enjoyed accompanying my son Robert on a trip to the V.K. Greer Public School, in Port Sydney, a few years back, where they have a small but scenic operation. The tour was given at that time by John Duncan, a former outdoor education co-ordinator, and George Anderson, well known and respected amongst outdoor education students in our region.

My most fascinating sugar bush adventure, with son Andrew, was courtesy Jim Hillman and his son-in-law Brian Milne, who took us back to the maple grove off Golden Beach Road, not far from the former Bangor Lodge on Lake Muskoka. It was just a few miles from Bracebridge. I could have spent the rest of my life in and around that magnificent sugar bush, so hauntingly beautiful in the March sunlight. I sat on a stump and wrote an entire feature article for the Muskoka Sun, and the Muskoka Advance, two publications I penned features for, back in the 1990's. Jim was a grand old chap who adored any opportunity to get outdoors, and this was an absolute haven for anyone needing inspiration....... and who quite enjoys the spirit of co-operation. Operating the sugar bush, as they did, without the plastic lines running from tree to tree, was the way Jim and crew liked it......hard work but rewarding in so many ways. Watching the gathering of the sap, and then the sugaring-off, was right out of the pages of Canadian history.....right before my eyes. I was witnessing a cultural folk-art and it tasted pretty good as well. There’s something powerful about the smell of woodsmoke, the scent of thickening maple syrup, and the spring melt, that brought out the Thoreau in me......and what a Walden Pond it was. I sat there watching the steam billowing out of the shack and looking up into the dark web of overhead boughs, watching the sunlight blotching down onto the old decaying snow, melting away into the forest soil. If heaven could be half as nice!

Jim was happy to show me all the old tools and artifacts he had collected, and conserved over the decades, from when he first began tapping the maple grove. He had numerous wooden spiles and treenware, molds all over the place, for shaping the syrup into sugar candies. He had a marvellous little museum out there in the Muskoka woodlands, and I’m so glad I had this opportunity to visit. Jim passed away shortly after my visit, and I have often wondered whether his buddies still venture out to the property, and fire-up the pit below the large tin trays. I think it has probably ceased operation but I’m very much honored that Jim would have thought to invite me out to his paradise. I had an up-close and personal opportunity to record history, and capture this folk art at its purist, while Jim was still in his heyday. He loved that place. It was a precious sanctuary that’s for sure. His generosity made us Currie lads pretty happy that day. Andrew still talks about it. He got to ride an ATV while I walked to the sugar shack.

This little painting reminds me of my numerous outings to regional sugar bushes. It incorporates a little from each that I’ve visited. I have it illuminated on a stand now, and in the recent blustery evenings here at Birch Hollow, it has been so wonderfully relaxing, just to sit back, with a buffalo robe (we have two) over my legs, and admire the history of maple syrup making in Canada.

We haven’t been able to situate the painting or the artist, as of yet, but we believe it is the work of a regional artist from Quebec. If you know anything more about the painting or know the work of the artist, please let me know.

I wander from antique shop to antique mall, thrift shop to yard sale, auction to estate sale, looking for art pieces that inspire. I got lucky this past week. I visited the right antique shop at the right time. I had a few dollars tucked away, just in case I found something for the permanent collection. What perfect timing for a sugar bush celebration.