I’m drawn to the wild spaces, though harder to find in the local region. Strangely, I was late to finding Minnekhada, discovering it in 2020.
Its impact on me was instant and consistent. Each visit is special and I’ve never had the same experience twice. So, I thought this challenge would be simple. It was not. Distilling everything to 3 photos proved daunting.
There are so many micro moments of awe and wonder. As time goes on, some are cross-checks. Have horsetail shoots started? Are toadlets migrating earlier? Where are the bears? The combinations are endless.
But it is more than the sum of its parts. The best moments are near dusk in spring when most people are home for dinner, trucks no longer rumble down Quarry Road, and planes fall quiet. The park starts to pick up an energy, a hum. It fuses sight, sound, and smell. I’m no longer observing. I feel connected to it – all at once, deep in the moment, not intruding. I’m alone. Lonely? Not at all. That’s the hardest to capture in a picture. It’s magical.
But there is another experience, peak times like a Saturday mid-morning in June. These draw more visitors. People are laughing, chatting, enjoying nature, in their own ways. And I’m noticing those times are becoming more frequent – and noisier. With so many humans, some critters lay low. There is still plenty to see, but I’ve seen people miss interesting natural activity right beside them. It frustrates me. But why?
With more people, there are more signs of human intervention in the Park: more do’s and don’ts, gravel paths, fencing along the marsh. I know these are important maintenance efforts. But they are a response to that growing pressure. It breaks the spell.
What concerns me more is what comes next. New subdivisions and housing are creeping toward the entrance. The beautiful peace of true wilderness may be waning, with a more deliberate urban park emerging.
But was it ever true wilderness? Not completely. Subtle and not so subtle signs of people interacting with the park are everywhere. The Kwikwetlem hunted here. Struggling farms were followed by the long run of the Lodge as a recreation spot for the well-to-do.
This place knows impermanence. Yet I hope the evolution to come is slow, preserving its essence while adapting its edges.