Nature

My Drive Across Canada: Part 2—Boreal Forest

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The second leg of my drive west from Peterborough, took me past Thunder Bay, northwest from Lake Superior and into the heart of the boreal forest. Named after Boreas, the Greek god of the Northwind, the boreal forest is also called taiga (a Russian word from Yakut origin that means “untraversable forest”). Canada’s boreal forest is considered the largest intact forest on Earth, with around three million square kilometres still undisturbed by roads, cities and industrial development.

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Canaada’s Boreal Forest

The boreal forest is the largest forest region in Ontario, covering two thirds of the province—some 50 million hectares—from the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence forest to the Hudson Bay Lowlands. 

I drove the Trans-Canada Highway (Hwy 17) through mixed coniferous forest, wetlands and marsh. The highway generally marks the boundary or transition zone between true Boreal Forest and the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Forest, both dominated by coniferous trees.

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Marshy river and spruce forest, north of Wawa, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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I stopped at English River overnight and the following morning woke to the echoing calls of two loons on the lake. I left at dawn with a peach sky behind me and a dark charcoal sky ahead of me. Soon the dark clouds unburdened themselves and the rain fell in a deluge as I continued west, barely making out the dense forest through flapping windshield wipers. The forest here was a mix of balsam fir, white and black spruce, white pine, aspen and white birch.

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Spruce forest with birch and ground cover of moss and lichen, off Trans-Canada Highway, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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When the rain abated to a steady sprinkle, I ventured out to photograph the spruce-moss-lichen forest by the side of the road. I stood in the drizzle and set up my tripod and camera to take my shots, careful not to tread on the reindeer lichen. Reindeer lichen is highly susceptible to trampling. Branches break off easily and they take decades to recover. This foliose lichen is a key food source for reindeer and caribou during the winter; it also helps stabilize soil and recycles nutrients.

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Spruce-moss-lichen forest off Trans-Canada Highway, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Spruce-moss-lichen forest by Trans-Canada Highway, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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I drove into the tiny community of Vermillion Bay on Highway 17, looking forward to stopping in Quacker’s Diner for a hearty breakfast as advertised by a fetchy sign on the road. Alas, the place had closed long ago, according to the lady at the Moose Creek Trading Co., and hadn’t been replaced. And she couldn’t suggest anything else in the village. Disappointed, I felt I was truly in the middle of nowhere…

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Sign for Nowhere, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

Then, a ways down the main road, I spotted the sign: “Nowhere Craft Chocolate & Coffee Roastery” and felt like I’d entered a dream-state where the north was run by hipsters.

Benny reaches Nowhere in Ontario, Vermillion Bay (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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It was a husband and wife team who ran this wonderful craft bean-to-bar chocolate making and coffee roasting enterprise.

Filling my dark roast coffee order (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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No sooner had I started to feel like I was back in trendy southern Ontario, when I met one of the locals, Simon, who worked in the bush and was patiently waiting for some dark roasts to take back to his buddies. We got to chatting and he shared some colourful stories about ‘the bush’ and folks who live in it, reminding me where I really was.

Coffee in hand, Simon stands next to his ATV with cooler, ready to return to ‘the bush’ with coffee (photo by Nina Munteanu)

When I mentioned the experience to a friend, she made the astute comment: “It is somehow satisfying to think of loggers and trappers and campers emerging out of the forests to go have a great cup of coffee and a hunk of chocolate. Why does that seem totally normal for Canada?”

Coffees from Nowhere
Chocolates from Nowhere

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The Nowhere craft chocolate I bought—dark chocolate infused with ginger and Colombian coffee—was the best chocolate I’ve tasted this side of Switzerland. I bought some dark blends of Nowhere Coffee and continued my journey, happy despite no breakfast.

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Black Spruce Forest

The black spruce (Picea mariana) dominates much of Canada’s boreal forests, frequently occurring in the Canadian Shield ecoregion where it forms extensive stands with groundcover of various mosses and reindeer lichen. Which of the two groundcover types depends on soil conditions and gaps in the forest from disturbance or fire.

Black spruce forest with moss and lichen ground cover, east of Dryden, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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The black spruce tree thrives in acidic peatlands, bogs and poorly drained mineral soils in wet, cold environments, but also grows in drier soils. It is particularly common on histosols (soils with peat and muck) on the Canadian Shield. Fires play a significant role in its regeneration as it replaces pioneer species such as white birch and tamarack after a fire, and grows with lichen and moss.

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Marshland with black spruce, boreal forest north of Wawa, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Mosses & Lichen Groundcover of Spruce-Dominated Forest

Both mosses and lichen (particularly reindeer lichen) help cool the forest by regulating evaporation and soil temperature; they can also fix nitrogen from the air, providing this key nutrient to an often nitrogen-limited ecosystem.

Spruce-Moss Woodland

Spruce forest with feathermoss ground cover, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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This spruce-moss woodland is typified by fairly dense closed canopy of black spruce (Picea mariana), along with white spruce (Picea glauca), balsam fir (Abies balsamea), paper birch (Betula papyrifera) and trembling aspen (Populus tremuloides); this association creates a fairly shaded environment on the forest floor, inviting groundcover of various mosses such as feathermosses and Sphagnum that thrive in stable moist, shaded conditions.

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Various mosses that typify the spruce-moss woodland in the boreal forest: A. Ostrich Plume Moss (photo by iNaturist); B. Red-Stemmed Feathermoss (photo by Ohio Moss and Lichen Association); C. Glittering Feathermoss; and D. Haircap moss with sundew (photographs by Nina Munteanu)

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Common mosses in the spruce-dominated forest include Knight’s Plume Moss (Ptilium crista-castrensis), Red-Stemmed Feathermoss (Pleurozium schreberi), Glittering Feathermoss (Hylocomium splendens), and various species of Sphagnum. Knight’s Plume Moss and Sphagnum are key carbon cyclers in the poorly drained acidic boreal forest, contributing significantly to net primary productivity. They decompose slowly, leading to substantial organic matter accumulation.  Sphagnum in particular influences soil organic matter and carbon consumption during wildfires. Due to their ability to retain water, their acidity and resistance to decay, Sphagnum plays a crucial role in both the development and long-term persistence of peatlands where black spruce likes to live.

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Various species of Sphagnum: A. Sphagnum squarrosum; B.Sphagnum papillosum; C. Sphagnum magellanicum; and D. Sphagnum papillosum (photos by Nina Munteanu)

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Spruce-Lichen Woodland

Gray Reindeer Lichen (Cladonia rangiferina) colonizing granite outcrop in Catchacoma Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Spruce-lichen woodlands are characterized by an open canopy of black spruce trees, often with jack pine (Pinus banksiana) and white birch (Betula papyrifera) and a ground layer of mostly lichens, particularly fruticose species such as Cladonia rangiferina, C. mitis and C. stellaris.  This association is typically found on well-drained, often drier soils and may experience more extreme temperature fluctuations than spruce-moss associations. Through their release of acids that break down rock and organic matter, fruticose lichens contribute to soil formation.

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Close up of a similar reindeer lichen species, Cladonia uncialis with Bristly Haircap Moss, on Catch Rock, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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A dense Cladonia mat also creates a microclimate that helps retain moisture. Lichen may also inhibit spruce regeneration, maintaining the open, park-like nature of lichen woodlands through the release of allelochemicals, such as usnic acid, that inhibit growth of plants and other lichen. Spruce-lichen woodlands may represent a stage in forest succession moving toward a closed-crown forest and may result from fire and insect disturbances that create openings in the forest canopy.

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Spruce forest, showing reindeer lichen ground cover in foreground closest to the highway and moss ground cover upslope, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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This is what I observed where I’d stopped the car by the side of the road; closer to the disturbance of the open road, reindeer lichens—likely Cladonia rangiferina, C. mitis and C. stellaris—formed a thick continuous mat on the ground, which was fairly open with young spruce growing here and there. Further up the slope, where the canopy became more closed with mature trees, the mosses dominated the ground.

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Boreal Wetlands & Kabenung Lake

Wetland north of Wawa, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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On my drive through the boreal forest north of Wawa, I encountered extensive wetlands—mostly marshes, bogs and fens, forming winding networks of water habitats. These water features are key to the environment’s water regulation, excellent carbon stores and provide habitat for many species. Boreal wetlands are seasonally or permanently waterlogged (up to 2 metres deep) with plant life adapted to wet conditions, including trees, shrubs, grasses, moss and lichen. Organic wetlands (peatlands or muskegs) such as bogs and fens accrue deep organic deposits. Mineral wetlands (marshes, swamps and open water) have shallow organic deposits; these open water systems have nutrient-rich soils.

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Kabenung Lake, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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I stopped at Kabenung Lake, considered a prime fishing lake, supporting diverse populations that include Northern Pike, Whitefish, Bass, Walleye, Brook Trout, Lake Trout, and Perch. Judging by the map, I had only a small view of the large convoluted 16 km long lake from the highway. The angler’s bathymetric map suggests a maximum depth of fifteen metres near the lake’s centre.

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Kabenung Lake, north of Wawa, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Before my journey west took me out of Ontario (and the boreal forest) into Manitoba’s flat prairie, I continued on the Canadian Shield across rugged terrain dominated by conifer trees with ancient Archean rock outcrops of granite and gneiss revealed in rock cuts on the highway. I reached Kenora, a charming old town with character architecture and a vibrant downtown. The town is located in the Lake of the Woods area, near the transition to the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Forest to the south and the Aspen Parkland to the west. I saw lots of spruce, fir and pine alongside birch, maple and poplar. Lake of the Woods is a huge lake about 4349 km2 with over 14,000 islands with a highly convoluted shoreline and serves as an active hub for fishing, recreation and sightseeing.

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Lake of the Woods Brewing Company, Kenora, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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In Kenora, I made a short stop at the craft brewery Lake of the Woods Brewing Company, bought some Sneaky Peach Pale Ale to take with me, and continued west to the Manitoba border.

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Nina with her Sneaky Peach Ale, Kenora, ON

On my way, I had to stop the car to let a red fox cross the road. It looked like it owned the road, just sashaying across in a confident trot and smiling at me…Yes, smiling!

Benny on a road in the boreal forest, east of Kenora, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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References:

Houle, Gilles and Louise Fillon. 2003. “The effects of lichens on white spruce seedling establishment and juvenile growth in a spruce-lichen woodland of subarctic Québec.” Ecoscience 10(1): 80-84.

Payette, Serge, Najat Bhiry, Ann Delwaide and Martin Simard. 2000. “Origin of the lichen woodland at its southern range limit in eastern Canada: the catastrophic impact of insect defoliators and fire on the spruce-moss forest.” Canadian J. of Forest Res. 20(2).

Rydin, Håkan, Urban Gunnarsson, and Sebastian Sunberg. 2006. “The Role of Sphagnum in Peatland Development and Persistence.” In: Boreal Peatland Ecology, Ecological Studies 188, R. K. Wieder and D. H. Vitt (eds) Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg, pp 47-65.

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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit  www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press(Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

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My Drive Across Canada: Part 1—Lake Superior

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It was time to go back out west for me. So, I packed up my car Benny with my precious treasures—including all my plants—and drove west from Peterborough, Ontario (where I’d been living for a decade). My destination was Vancouver, BC, where my son and sister and good friends live.

Stone Beach, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

I looked forward to the drive through the boreal forest of the Canadian Shield—spectacular country of mostly black spruce forest, rugged billion-year old rocks and ancient inland seas. Because I’m a limnologist and ecologist, I particularly looked forward to driving along the northern shores of Lake Superior. Distinguished by iconic terraced cobble shores, vast sand beaches, steep gnarly cliffs and brooding headlands, Lake Superior was certain to be a highlight of my trip. I anticipated experiencing this Great Lake with the giddy excitement of a child.

Water-carved sandstone and granite / rhyolite boulders form shore of Stone Beach, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Sandy Katherine Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Contour and trail map of Lake Superior

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I got my first glimpses of this massive lake at Sault Saint Marie, a charming town on the southeastern shore of Lake Superior and the location of the lake’s outlet, St. Marys River. My first stop for a more immersive experience of the lake was Batchawana Bay, part of Pancake Bay Provincial Park, where I explored the mostly sand coast and shore forest. I’m told that the name Batchawana comes from the Ojibwe word Badjiwanung that means “water that bubbles up”, referring to the bubbling current at Sand Point.

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Benny, laden with my plants, parks beside Batchawana Beach of Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Batchewana Bay is not only a main access point to several trails of the Lake Superior Water Trail; it also serves as a popular place for boaters and kayak paddlers to launch their craft for water adventure. The cold water and high wind fetch often make for treacherous boating. The Lake Superior Watershed Conservancy put up a sign at Batchewana Bay warning paddlers about dangerous and wily currents, including rip currents and channel currents and effects of offshore winds, accompanied by sudden surges.

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Chippewa Falls, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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From Batchawana Bay, I continued north along the lake’s eastern shore, past Chippewa Falls, formed on 2.7 billion year old pink granite bedrock, covered by a later basalt flow; here, the Harmony River tumbles some 6 metres before emptying into Lake Superior.

I found access points including Stone Beach, Alona Bay, Agawa Bay, and Katherine Bay, variously dominated by pebbled shores with rocky granite outcrops and finely sculpted sandstone—all overseen by windswept pine, cedar and spruce. This part of the lake lies in the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Forest area, dominated by mixed forest of fir, spruce, cedar and paper birch.

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Sorted cobble shore with scupted rocky bluffs of granite / rhyolite and black spruce, Alona Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Rugged coastline of Alona Bay showing terraces of water-worn cobbles and granite / rhyolite bluffs, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Along the cobble shores of Alona Bay, I met a trio of rock hounds, looking for distinct Lake Superior agate, quite fetchy with its rich red, orange and yellow colours. I was told that the colours are caused by the oxidation of iron that leached from rocks. Fascinated by their varied colours and rounded shapes, I fell into a hypnotic meditation, picking up pebbles, rubbing them wet to reveal their bright colours and examining them close up.

Local rock hounds collecting choice pebbles at Alona Bay, Lake Superior (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Rusavskia elegans along with Aspicillia cinerea and Lecidea sp. cover granite boulder, Alona Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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On the pink granite in Alona Bay, I found some brilliant lichen, which I confirmed was Elegant Starburst Lichen (Rusavskia elegans formerly Xanthoria elagans)—documented by other lichenologists as common on Lake Superior’s granite shores. I also saw patches of Rock Disk Lichen (Lecidella stigmatea).

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Lake Superior northern shore near Rossport; top left: Encrusted Saxifrage tucked into granite crack; top right: Sunburst Lichen carpets granite boulder; bottom cobbled beach (photos by Nina Munteanu)
Shoreline of terraced cobbles in Alona Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Boulder-strewn shore of Lake Superior at Agawa Bay, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Agawa Bay and surrounding high points provide magnificent views of the Lake Superior shoreline and surrounding country. The high rising hills are easily one of the most rugged and beautiful in Ontario. The area is underlain mostly by over two billion year old granitic rocks of igneous origin that form part of a large batholitic mass formed in the Algoman period of Precambrian time.

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Trail to Agawa Rock, Lake Superior, ON

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It’s a short hike (0.8 km) through the woods on a trail that leads to the Agawa Rock Pictographs, an amazing collection of Aboriginal pictographs that sends one’s senses soaring with imagination. Beautiful representations of real and mythical animals fill the granite canvas;, one is Mishipeshu, the Great Lynx. This mythical creature is a water dwelling dragon-like animal that also resembles a lynx with horns and a back tail covered in scales. Mishipeshu is believed to cause rough and dangerous water conditions claiming numerous victims.

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Great Lynx pictograph, Agawa Rock, Lake Superior

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The trail it itself a highlight, takes you up a steep rock-hewn staircase, with steep cliff faces looming overhead, and along rocky pathways. The pictographs are viewed from a rock ledge below the 15-story high cliff that faces Lake Superior.

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Two views of the rock-hewn staircase of the Agawa Rock trail, Lake Superior, ON
Rugged shoreline of Agawa Bay with birchleaf spirea in foreground, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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My second night stop was Wawa, on the edge of the boreal forest of the Canadian Shield, known for its giant ugly goose sculptures. The name Wawa comes from the Ojibwe word wewe for “wild goose.” The town, which resembles a modern-day version of an old pioneer town included the colourful Young’s General Store, where you could purchase anything from moccasins and fishing tackle to homemade fudge and ice cream.

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Left: Young’s General Store in Wawa; Right: (in)famous goose statue (photos by Nina Munteanu)

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From Wawa, I drove west along the most northerly shores of Lake Superior, stopping at access points including Schreiber Beach, Cavers and Rossport. I found this stretch of Lake Superior’s northern coast from Terrace Bay to Nipigon particularly enchanting. Here I found several access points off the road that drew me like Alice into wondrous boreal landscapes, offering windows to an ancient time before humans walked the earth.

Near Schreiber, I stopped on the road to explore deep pink smooth granite outcrops covered in foliose Cumberland Rock Shield Lichen (Xanthoparmelia cumberlandia) and cushions of fruticose Reindeer Lichen (Cladonia spp.) where shallow soil pockets had grown. 

Granite outcrop with Xanthoparmelia cumberlandia and Cladonia spp. off Trans Canada Highway on shore of Lake Superior, near Schreiber, ON. (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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The Lake Superior shoreline at Rossport consists mostly of exposed primordial granite, worn smooth by wave action. The granite here is mostly pink feldspar, quartz, and black mica. According to E.G. Pye, this rock is called porphyritic granite, an igneous rock that crystalized from a natural melt, or magma.

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Transition Zone & the Disjunct Plants of Lake Superior’s Northern Coastline

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Though it lies in the boreal forest (typified by black spruce), the northern shoreline of Lake Superior in fact also supports species more characteristic of the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence Forest (e.g. white spruce, white cedar, red maple, paper birch). The northern shoreline of Lake Superior is therefore considered a transition zone between these two types of forest ecosystems.

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Saxifrage flowers bloom in the cracks and corners of granite / gneiss rock, Lake Superior near Rossport, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Nestled in the rocky cracks and crevices of Lake Superior’s wild rocky shores, I discovered several cold-loving plants that normally grow in high alpine areas of the Arctic. Botanists refer to them as “Arctic-alpine disjunct plants,” separated from their usual arctic-alpine habitat and regarded as possible relicts of the last glaciation. Typically, such plants grow much farther north; but these plants have adapted to the unique cold micro-environment of Lake Superior’s northern shores. Examples include encrusted saxifrage (Saxifraga paniculata), black crowberry (Empetrum nigrum), bilberry (Vaccinium uliginosum), arctic fir clubmoss (Huperzia selago), elegant groundsel (Packera indecora), and the carnivorous English sundew (Drosera anglica).

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Lichens of Lake Superior’s Northern Coastline

Rhizocarpon geographicum and Lecidea sp. on granite rocks at Katherine Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Lecidella stigmata on granite rock, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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I met old friends on the lake’s wild shores, lichens that made their homes on the water-smoothed rock surfaces and gnarly rock cliffs and boulders. Random patches of the crustose Yellow Map Lichen (Rhizocarpon geographicum), rosettes of the foliose Cumberland Rock Shield Lichen (Xanthoparmelia cumberlandia) and Tile Lichen (Lecidea sp.)—all lichens I’d encountered on my studied Catch Rock, a granite outcrop in the Catchacoma old-growth hemlock forest near Gooderham.

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Rhizocarpon geographicum and Xanthoparmelia cumberlandia on granite outcrop, near Schrieber off Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Circular patches of bright tangerine-orange Elegant Starburst Lichen (Rusavskia elegans formerly Xanthoria elegans) graced many of the rocky surfaces. I particularly noted them on the exposed granite slabs of Schreiber Beach and Rossport, often accompanied by Peppered Rock-Shield Lichen (Xanthoparmelia conspersa) and grey Cinder Lichen (Aspicillia cinerea).

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Rusavskia elegans and Aspicillia cinerea, Lichen colonizing granite near Rossport on Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)
Rusavskia elegans colonizes granite boulders on shore of Lake Superior near Rossport, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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William Purvis writes that R. elegans is a nitrophile (nitrogen lover) and is common at sites that are regularly fertilized by birds. In other words, they like bird poop. Inuit hunters knew that orange lichen meant small mammals like marmots probably lived nearby (the poop connection again). The orange colour comes from the carotenoid pigment, which acts like sunscreen to protect the lichen from UV radiation. This was the lichen that made it into space in 2005, exposed to the extremes of space (e.g. temperature, radiation and vacuum) for 1.5 years. Most of the samples continued to photosynthesize when they returned to Earth. 

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Lichen colonizing granite near Rossport on Lake Superior, ON. A. Rusavskia elegans and Xanthoparmelia conspersa; B. Rusavskia elegans and Aspicillia cinerea (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Limnology & Geology of Lake Superior & Watershed

Morphometric map of Lake Superior (image by World Lake Database)

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Lake History

Lake Superior was formed 10,000 years ago when glacial melt-water filled a billion-year-old volcanic basin. The lake is the size of Austria, covering an area of about 82,100 km3 and making it the largest lake in the world by surface area. Lake Superior holds 10% of the Earth’s surface freshwater—enough to fill the other Great Lakes plus three more Lake Eries, making it the third largest lake in the world by volume. The Ojibwe call the lake gichi-gami (great sea), which so aptly describes this inland sea.

Slabs of granite rocks scatter along the shore of Lake Superior near Rossport, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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For a comprehensive summary of Lake Superior’s geologic history and rock formations see E.G. Pye’s 1969 guidebook “Geology and Scenery: North Shore of Lake Superior.”

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Lake Characteristics

Lake Superior is considered an oligotrophic lake of low productivity, characterized by cold, deep, nutrient-poor nutrients (particularly phosphorus and nitrogen). Its mean depth is 147 meters with a maximum depth of 406 meters. Fed by 200 rivers, Lake Superior holds 12,100 km3 of freshwater—enough to cover the entire North and South American continents with 30 cm of water. The lake’s volume is sufficiently large that it takes almost two centuries for a drop of water to circulate the lake before leaving through St. Marys River—its only natural outflow at Sault Ste. Marie—which flows into Lake Huron. Lake Superior also experiences seasonal circulation; the lake stratifies into two major temperature layers in summer and winter and undergoes mixing (turnover) twice in spring and fall, making it a dimictic lake.

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Because of lack of plankton and turbidity from silt (due to cold waters low in nutrients), the lake is super clear with Secchi disk depths of 20-23 meters observed. Samuel Eddy at the University of Minnesota provided a summary of zooplankton and phytoplankton in the lake.

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Macrophytes appeared nonexistent on the wave-washed shallows, though some boulders were covered in periphyton (e.g. attached algae, mostly diatoms). I also noticed some filamentous algae on the shore rocks near Rossport, likely Cladophora and Spirogyra, known to occur in the sheltered waters of the lake.

Granite shore near Rossport with green filamentous algae (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Lake Fetch & Seiches

Seiches in lakes (image from University of Michigan)

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Because of its size, Lake Superior provides long distances for wind to push water from one end to the other; these distances, called fetches, can exceed 500 km on Lake Superior. As a result, the lake experiences ‘tides’ called seiches—essentially oscillations in water level caused by strong winds and changes in atmospheric pressure. This causes a sloshing effect across the lake (of about a metre), much like a cup of coffee as it’s being carried, and exposes shorelines to dramatic fluctuations in shoreline levels with large waves, which can be as high as 6 m during storms.

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Lake Geology

Rocky shore off Agawa Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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The rocks of the lake’s northern shore date back to the early history of the earth, during the Precambrian Era (4.5 billion to 540 million years ago) when magma forcing its way to the surface created the intrusive granites of the Canadian Shield. With a watershed rich in minerals such as copper, iron, silver, gold and nickel, the lake lies in long-extinct Mesoproterozoic rift valley (Midcontinent Rift). Over time eroding mountains deposited layers of sediments that compacted to become limestone, dolomite, taconite and shale. As magma injected between layers of sedimentary rock, forming diabase sills, flat-topped mesa formed (particularly in the Thunder Bay area), where amethyst formed in some cavities of the rift. Lava eruptions also formed black basalt, near Michipichoten Island.

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During the Wisconsin glaciation 10,000 years ago, ice as high as 2 km covered the region; the ice sheet advance and retreat left gravel, sand, clay and boulder deposits as glacial meltwater gathered in the Superior basin

Although the lake currently freezes over completely every two decades, scientists speculate that by 2040 Lake Superior may remain ice-free due to climate change. Warmer temperatures may also lead to more snow along the shores of the lake.

Rock-strewn Katherine Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Lake Superior & Watershed Characteristics
ParameterValue
Age10,000 years
Trophic StatusOligotrophic
Visibility (Secchi Depth)8-30 m
Thermal Stratificationdimictic
Length563 km
Breadth257 km
Mean Depth147 m
Maximum Depth406 m
Volume12,100 km3
Lake Surface Area82,100 km2
Watershed Area127,700 km2
Shoreline Length4,385 km
Water Residence / Flushing Rate191 years
Fetch500 km
OutletSt Marys River

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Viking cruise ship from Minnesota off sandy shore of Terrace Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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References:

Brandt et. al. 2015. “Viability of the lichen Xanthoria elegans and its symbionts after 18 months of space exposure and simulated Mars conditions on the ISS.” International Journal of Astrobiology.

Purvis, William. 2000. “Lichens.” Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, D.C. 112pp.

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Stone Beach, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

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An Autumn Walk in an Ontario Forest

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Gnarly branches of black locust trees overhang a trail in Trent Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

It was a late October morning and I had chosen a less walked trail in the Trent Forest. It was a cloudy day that promised rain from the northeast with dark clouds; but the sun still shone in the southeastern sky through a thin screen, giving everything a bright and soft ethereal quality.

Deeply furrowed trunk of black locust on trail through black locust grove, Trent Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

The main walk went first along a lowland of marshy swamp forest, mostly cedars and poplars. The less travelled trail veered up a steep incline and eventually tapered to another drier mini-ecosystem. I felt like I’d entered an enchanted grove with tall and crooked black locust trees, some very thick (a metre or so in diameter) and no doubt quite old. Vines of creepers tangled down from gnarly branches, forming intriguing webs of colour and texture. I adore the bark of the Black Locust tree; It is deeply furrowed and resembles entwined rope. When I touched the craggy light bark of a large tree, I felt its corky lightness. The bark was covered in small moss patches and tiny foliose and crustose lichen in shades of pale green and deep yellow. An entire ecosystem.

Old black locust tree showing rope-like bark covered in lichen, Trent Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

Not another soul came by during the time I was there in the black forest grove. In fact, I didn’t encounter anyone on my entire walk in the forest. It was so quiet in the black locust grove. Except for some bird calling—possibly a woodpecker—and the soft trill of several little songbirds, chickadees and warblers, my constant companions.

Trail through black locust grove, Trent Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

I felt a quiet calm descent on me like a soft blanket and I didn’t want to leave. But I was keenly aware of the coming storm as the dark clouds billowed closer in gusts of fresh wind and a few raindrops started to spatter down on me. Yet I lingered.

Gnarly branches of black Locust tree arc over the trail, Trent Forest, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

I got home just as the dark clouds opened to a hard rainfall. The rain turned to hail. it came down in thick sheets, bouncing hard on the pavement. By then, I was glad to be indoors with my cup of hot tea.

Upland trail through black locust grove, Trent Forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

Returning Home…

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Nina stands next to a giant redcedar, BC (photo by Anne Voute)

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It’s been a few months since I moved back to British Columbia from Ontario.

I don’t have a place to live yet (currently crashing at a friend’s place, thanks to her kindness), but it feels right. And, more importantly, it feels like home.

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Nina, early days in BC (photo H. Klassen)

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I first came to BC over five decades ago, shortly after I graduated from Concordia University in Montreal. I started my first teaching job at the University of Victoria on Vancouver Island, first worked as an environmental consultant in Richmond, met my husband-to-be in Vancouver, wrote and published my first novel in Delta and raised my son in the village of Ladner, overlooking the Fraser River Estuary. I have deep nurturing roots here with family and friends. And wonderful memories.

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Various winter scenes in Ontario (photos by Nina Munteanu)
Nina ‘snowbear’ enjoys a winter storm, ON (photo by M. Cox)
Hayes Line Road in the colours of autumn, ON (photo by NIna Munteanu)

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As the seasons progress, I find that I do miss aspects of Ontario. I left behind a rich environment that closely reflected where I’d grown up as a kid, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec: the cold crisp snowy winters and colourful windy autumns of maple-beech forests. These feel like home too. I spent many days driving the country roads of the Kawarthas without a map, looking for adventure and a cup of good coffee at the end of it. In winter, I daily walked through knee-deep snow in magical forests, snow glinting under the moonlight. I frequented several favourite forests over the seasons, some old-growth like the Catchacoma old-growth hemlock forest, the Mark S. Burnham Maple-Beech-Hemlock-Cedar forest, the pine-cedar mixed forest of Jackson Creek, the Trent Nature Sanctuary cedar-pine mixed forest and the South Drumlin Maple-Beech forest. These, I will miss. They were a life-line to a sacred and holy part of my existence.

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Nina studies a lilac bush, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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I am building new memories of this new-old home, with more mature eyes and mind. When I left BC 15 years ago after my divorce, and son studying at university, to seek adventure across Canada (I spent several years on the east coast in Nova Scotia), I finally settled in Ontario, where I found fulfillment teaching at the University of Toronto. It was there, in Ontario, where I honed my ecological knowledge and rekindled my love for lichen and fungi. I immersed myself in their study and rediscovered a fascinating miniature world. I studied trees with more diligence, identifying virtually all the key species in the Carolinian forests I visited—and the fungi and lichens that grew on them and around them. I’ve become something of an expert in lichenology, able to identify many of the species I encounter, and also to understand their complex and fascinating ecology.

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Various lichens, from top left: Punctellia reducta, Xanthoria elegans, Rizocarpon geographicum, Cladonia uncialis, and Cladonia pyxidata (photos by Nina Munteanu)

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I now bring that new knowledge and appreciation back to coastal BC—my old and new home— with an excitement for more adventure in its magnificent rainforests, its small rural communities and coastal villages—and the cup of coffee at the end of it.

Port Renfrew, BC (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Nina checks her camera, Highland Creek, ON (photo by M. Cox)

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p.s. When you know what to look for, you will see it; not before. That’s likely a tautology; but I found that it has applied to me over the years. And nowhere has it been more obvious to me than in my travels across Canada. My first trip across Canada was five decades ago, as a young sprite, heading west to do my PhD. I went by train and, though I saw much beauty, it passed me at speed. When I drove east to the coast, I recall lots and lots of trees, little else. But, my recent trip west from Ontario was landmarked with a new knowledge and appreciation for so many more layers of my environment; it became eye-opening. What I’d only remembered in the past as “so many trees”, became a fractal journey through boreal layers. I saw so much! I discovered so many ‘friends’: lichens, trees, rock formations, environments that I’d identified in my previous adventures. I became excited by it all. I was in a constant state of wonder. This was how I needed to see Canada. With a wide-open mind and the spirit of adventure.

I look forward to re-immersing myself in these coastal BC ecosystems with that same new understanding, and better informed eyes and mind.

Let it be.

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Heron oversees activities in Ladner Marsh, BC (photo by NIna Munteanu)

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Nina walks Highland Creek, ON (photos by M. Cox)

Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit  www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press(Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her latest novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

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The Soothing Magic of Lavender

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The lavender fields at Laveanne, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Two years ago on this day, I tracked down Laveanne the lavender farm I’d heard about near Campbellcroft, Ontario. I’d seen the sign somewhere and just had to remind myself where that was. It was a sunny hot day in July and I was ready for adventure. My memory served me well and in no time I was driving east on Country Road 9 (Ganaraska Rd.) from Highway 28. The turn off to Gilmour Rd. came soon, well signed, and I was eventually driving a road that more resembled a lane until I arrived at the purple fields of the farm.

The 1.6 hectare family-run farm was started by partners Sabena and Gary in 2013 and now includes a lovely outdoor café and gift shop offering a wide diversity of lavender-related products. You can also buy a lavender plant from their nursery. When I asked her about the name they chose—Laveanne—for their enterprise, she explained: “lkjlkjlkjl”

I came to experience the lavender fields; so, relegating the café and gift shop for later, I set out into the undulating aromatic fields. As I inhaled a complex mixture of alluring mystery, I felt like I was entering some paysage Provençal painted by Annie Rivière, embraced by an arcane beauty of colour and scent and sound that conspired into an abiding sense of calm and joy.

The lavender fields at Laveanne: top left, rows of English lavender; top right, lavender labyrinth; bottom left, bumblebee in flight among lavender blooms; bottom right, Red Admiral butterfly settles on a lavender influorescence. (photos by Nina Munteanu)

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The Smell of Lavender

The aroma was subtle yet lingered as I walked the four acres of lavender, along stubby rows of deep purple that snaked up and into a rolling horizon. It was early enough for many of the flowers to still be in bud, displaying an intensely deep purple. This colour grows brighter as more flowers burst into bloom later in the month, attracting more and more honeybees. I was in a kind of aromatic heaven, accompanied by the constant hum of honeybees buzzing from flower to flower and the occasional flutter of a Red Admiral butterfly, flashing its bright blue-orange wings as it stopped briefly to gorge on the lavender’s nectar. The scent was an airy symphony of sweet floral with herbal, camphor-like woodsy undertones. I detected the mildest hint of rosemary and coriander.

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Chemistry of lavender smells (image by Andy Brunning / Compound Interest)

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I’m told that lavender’s aroma comes mainly from linalool and linalyl acetate, both part of the terpene family. Linalool, which helps repel mosquitos, is widely used in fragrances as well as many personal care products and aromatherapies. This terpene also found in mint, cinnamon, coriander, and citrus fruits; it is the chief chemical responsible for the recognizable spicy floral smell of marijuana (the skunky smell of cannabis is from another terpene, myrcene). Linalool is of course known for its calming and soothing effects. It reduces stress and anxiety, helps relax the body and enhance sleep quality, and helps provide relief from pain and inflammation. Two other terpenes, 1,8-cineole and camphor add some hint of scent as well as having insecticidal and repellent properities (such as repelling moths). These terpenes are also found in rosemary, hence the hint of rosemary scent in lavender. I’m told that over 300 compounds exist in lavender’s essential oil, though not all contribute to aroma. Two enantiomers of linalool include the enantiomer licareol, responsible for the scent of lavender, and the enantiomer coriandrol, also found in coriander seed oils and sweet orange flowers.

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Lavender Labyrinth

Reflection Labyrinth at Laveanne lavender farm, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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In the middle of the field I even found an over 30 metre diameter nine circuit modified Neo-Medieval labyrinth. Laveanne tells us that labyrinths are designed following sacred geometry and, unlike mazes that are built to challenge and confuse, are designed for meditation and relaxation. I walked the Reflection Labyrinth, among aromatic lavender and buzzing bees, feeling very content and relaxed.

I asked Sabena about what got them started farming lavender and she related the story of her son’s herb business “Grow Tasty”, which started a lavender collection. It went from a private collection to a larger enterprise after they saw a brochure from a lavender farm in Quebec and, after visiting the farm, were inspired to start their own lavender farm.

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Bench faces the labyrinth at Laveanne lavender farm, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Growing Lavender  

Lavender is indigenous to the mountains of the Mediterranean region of western Europe. The plant spread rapidly to other parts of the world with travelers and by the sixteenth century, lavender was gracing English gardens. The first lavender plants made it to America with the European settlers. Lavender has been used medicinally for several millennia. It was used in ancient Egypt for mummification and Romans scented their public bathhouses with lavender. The name lavender comes from the Latin verb lavare—to wash.

High Country Gardens tells us that lavender “is known for its soothing, relaxing qualities and has been used to treat hyperactivity, insomnia, headaches, toothaches, sore joints, and rumbling digestive systems.” They add about early cleansing uses of lavender that “Early household use started with lavender strewn on the floors of castles and sick rooms as a disinfectant and deodorant. It was sold in bunches by street vendors and placed in linen closets as an insecticide to protect linens from moths.” 

Sabena tells me that growing lavender successfully can be a challenge in Ontario. Given that lavender is not native to Ontario, it’s important to make it comfortable here. All species of lavender are sun lovers. These semi-woody and semi-evergreen perennials thrive in well-drained soil. They are drought tolerant and pest and disease resistant, but unless they are happy, they won’t do well. Summer pruning, after they have flowered, keeps them vigorous. They also need wind protection; being semi-evergreen makes them susceptible to windburn or drying out.

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The Lavender Experience

At the outdoor café, which faces the fields, I treated myself to some lavender shortbread cookies with a refreshing lavender iced tea and sat to enjoy the glorious view.

Their shop offers a wonderful selection of lavender-infused products (from soaps to moisturizers, bath products to mists and essential oils), culinary goods such as spices and teas, as well as local jewelry and lavender treats. In the shop, I had to restrain myself, but managed to come away with a few prizes: homemade lavender shortbread cookies; lavender soap, and lavender essential oil.

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A few lavender products from Laveanne (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Lavender Essential Oil

Leveanne’s essential oil is steam distilled from English lavender (Lavandula angustifolia), the preferred species for the oil’s healing properties and consists of a complex mixture of phytochemicals. Sebena mentions being inspired by René-Maurice Gattefossé, the father of modern aromatherapy, who widely experimented with English lavender oil in 1910 after he suffered severe burns in a laboratory experiment fire. Gattefossé found that the oil helped with so many body functions, the brain, nerves, paralysis, lethargy and rheumatism. He found it also effective in helping against stress, insomnia, headaches, acne, infections, and calming to skin irritations (burns, eczema). The oil also promotes healing and prevents scarring by stimulating the cells of a wound to regenerate more quickly. I keep my bottle handy and apply on wounds with good effect. Lavender essential oil is antibacterial, antifungal, antiseptic analgesic, anti-anxiety, antidepressant, calming, anti-inflammatory and an immune stimulant.

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Lavender field, Laveanne, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

Thompson Creek Marsh in a November Mist–Art by Lorina Stephens

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The Photograph:

A November mist settles on Thompson Creek marsh, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

In January of this year, I posted a shot I’d taken in early winter of a marsh I often visit. That morning was cool and a thick mist lurked in the marsh like a shadow, giving it a mysterious timeless quality. A quiet stillness had settled like dew on everything, muting both colour and sound into a hush of anticipation. The stillness made me feel as though I’d entered a John Atkinson Grimshaw painting. A moody darkness pervaded the bare braided trees and the marsh oozed the scent of humus and wet vegetation. I inhaled it all deeply.

The image I posted caught the attention of colleague writer and publisher Lorina Stephens, who is also a superlative artist and painter. Inspired, she responded to my image with a painting.

The Painting:

Lorina Stephen’s ekphrastic painting entitled “Fog on West Grey Pond”

“I very much wanted to create that feeling of dreamscape that often happens in still waters, of there being something out there in the mist, of that sense of wonder and mystery. So, for this painting, it meant employing a gentle hand, allowing pigment to flow and pool, waiting until water had evaporated slightly, and then using a small, natural sponge to dab out areas to allow the white of the paper to shine through, then as the paper dried in an hour or so, or in some cases the next day, brushing in details little by little, from soft washes to hard lines, in order to create depth and definition. 

It always amazes me when depth of field happens on the two dimensions of paper, that in this flat, thin sheet of paper I can take my viewer out and away into the distance, through a portal to another place, and in this case perhaps create that sense of the dampness and chill of a foggy day.”

Biography of Lorina Stephens

Lorina Stephens has been painting since the age of 14 when she studied under well-known, award-winning Ontario landscape artist, Dorothy Milne-Eplett. In those days it was oils and mostly copy-painting, although there were originals. Most of those paintings ended up in a collection under patreon, Oscar LaBerge, who was a construction worker in Newmarket, Ontario.

In the 1980s, Lorina rediscovered watercolours during an intensive 12 week Georgian College course, during which time the Tottenham Art Association was formed, and juried shows ensued, as well as solo exhibitions in galleries in Central Ontario. 

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Then the recession of the 1990s happened, and art became a way to stretch the family budget by way of hawking wares at the Orangeville Farmers Market, what Lorina came to call “painting pretty pictures for tourists”. These days Lorina paints simply as a way of expressing her love of the land, the ineffable communication that exists in the vast expanse of Canadian geography. 

Lorina inherited from her mother a lifetime supply of watercolour paper. Among all those papers is a block of 7″ x 10″ Arches 140 lb hot pressed paper. That began a journey of studies.

Hot pressed paper has its own set of demands, having a very smooth finish and thus doesn’t absorb water the way of cold pressed, and the weight also means it tends to buckle and warp easily in larger sizes. Lorina addresses that by using a tempered glass painting desk, and creating a suction seal with water between the glass and paper, rather than the frustration of stretching paper onto a surface with masking tape. Using hot pressed paper also allows for some pretty interesting results by way of sponging and wiping out areas, and accepting precise detail work when the paper is dry. Her palette of colours is mostly transparent, with the addition of some pretty aggressively staining bullies added in. 

Thompson Creek marsh on a foggy November morning, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

My Photograph Featured in 2025 Wild Canada Calendar

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Nina Munteanu holding 2025 Wild Canada calendar

I recently received my copies of the 2025 Wild Canada calendar put out by WildernessCommittee.ca. The calendar has 12 months of gorgeous images of wild and sacred places throughout Canada; heartfelt and informative stories accompany each image.

2025 Wild Canada calendar featuring January spread

My own photo of an old-growth hemlock in Catchacoma Forest, Ontario, is featured for January! Go check out the Wilderness Committee site then go to their store to see the whole calendar. It’s worth buying for its beauty and its meaningful narratives. And it is an excellent way to support a worthwhile cause.

Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

An Early Winter Walk in the Forest

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Marcescent oak leaves tremble in the cold wind of November, Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

I parked my car by the closed gate and walked inside along the road. The park was closed but not for me, I thought. The walk through this magnificent pine forest with its fresh pungent aromas of coming winter, invigorated me with thoughts of hope and wonder. I felt at home in this unviolated forest. It felt natural and I realized that I was desperately seeking “natural”…

Oak leaves blaze in the grey-green hemlock-pine forest, Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

I live close to a riparian forest and a large river. But there is little natural about it. Despite supporting an abundance of wildlife (e.g., squirrels, chipmunks, muskrat, skunk, groundhog, mink, ermine, voles, and red fox), the forest is disturbed and infested with invasive species. When I walk through this forest, the sounds of traffic are never far away, and I yearn for the sounds and smells of Nature inviolate.

Small trail through pine and aspen to the meromictic lake in Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

Petroglyph Park lies in the Kawartha Region of Ontario and is an hour’s drive north of where I live. Here, the sounds of Nature prevail: the wind raking through pines, the shrill haunting cry of a bluejay or aggressive chittering of a red squirrel. Nothing else. It was gloriously silent; except for the sound of my boots crunching along the trail or when I scared up a deer that scampered with the rush and rattle of leaves through the anonymity of the brush into a deep silence.

Road through tall red pine forest, Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

It was a crisp and fresh November day. I’d packed a lunch and my camera and set off down the road and along various trails to explore the park, not worried about getting lost.

Forest fades from single oak tree into a fog of grey-green pine and hemlock, Petroglyph Park (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

And I did get wonderfully lost, particularly when I ventured off the main trail, seeking adventure. I didn’t mind being lost; when you lose yourself you find another part of you through adventure…

Marcescent beech and oak trees add bronze colour to the grey-green of the pine forest, Petroglyph Park, ON (Photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

It’s early winter, when the chill winds carve through mixed forests in a restless howl, snatching leaves of deciduous trees and sending them flying. But in this primeval ancient forest of evergreens, the few deciduous trees mimic their conifer cousins by stubbornly clutching their leaves. In winter, the leaves of oak and beech trees cling to their branches, marcescent. To the silver greens of pine and hemlock, they add flames of copper and gold

Red pine trees tower over a deer trail near the lake, Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

I found myself walking on the spongy ground, a carpet of leaves, needles and debris, not far from Gilford Lake, among a tall stand of red pines, whose thick canopy created a green ceiling overhead. Breathing in the strong scent of pine and loam, I set up my camera and tripod to capture the mood of a natural path through the forest. I’d just set up the camera, hand poised on the shutter, when a deer wandered in front of me—just three metres away! It saw me and stopped mid-step. We stared at one another in a halting pause, a moment made eternity. Then the deer leapt gracefully away, disappearing within seconds into the dark forest and leaving me in the silence of rapture. I felt laughter tease up my throat; I hadn’t taken a picture.

Road winds through the mixed forest in Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)
Winding road through mixed forest in Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

My walk through this natural forest is both thrilling and comforting, uplifting and restful. I am living outside myself, sensing the textures, sounds and tastes of the forest—in sublime discovery. It is here, where the sounds and smells of the natural world abide, without regard to me, that I feel most at home.

I am simply being…

Mixture of oak, beech, pine and hemlock conspire in a wash of colour and texture, Petroglyph Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)

Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

Ironic Tragedy of Forever Chemicals & Growing Infertility: Are We Solving Our Own Population Explosion Through Toxicity?

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In the passage below of my eco-fiction dystopian novel A Diary in the Age of Water, the year is 2065 and the diarist Lynna (a limnologist at the University of Toronto) reflects on the steeply growing infertility in humans and our tenuous future. Lynna draws on the factual study published close to fifty years earlier (in 2017) by Hagai Levine and others at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, who found that sperm counts among western men had reduced close to 60% in four decades:

Back in ’49, Daniel and I had several discussions about the environmental triggers and epigenetic mechanisms of infertility in humans. Daniel went on about how it was all about the men. While women showed signs of increased infertility, men’s rate of infertility was more than double that of the women, he said. Taking an inappropriately gleeful tone, Daniel cited the classic 2017 paper by the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, the one that started it all. Their findings were startling: men’s sperm count in North America, Europe, Australia, and New Zealand had diminished by sixty percent in forty years, between 1973 and 2011. The scientists predicted that by 2060, virtually all men in these parts of the world would have little to no reproductive capacity.

It’s 2065 and they’re right. Only it’s worse. Before the twenties, only the developed countries seemed to be affected, but then sperm counts started to plummet in South American countries, like Argentina and Brazil, where GMO, pesticides, and solvent manufacturing were exploding.

You get out what you put into the ground. India and Asia—where endocrine-disruptive chemicals are finding their way into the water—are reporting very low sperm counts in their men as well as higher incidents of intersex humans.

You get out what you put into the water. We are over two thirds water, after all. I find it a little ironic that we’ve inadvertently produced a non-discriminatory way to control the problem of humanity’s overpopulation. Infertility. And that infertility results from defiling the environment we live in.

But now climate change is shouldering its way in. Climate change is shutting us down.

Is this the first sign of our impending extinction?

–excerpt from “A Diary in the Age of Water”

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That environmental perturbations impact our ability to reproduce has been proven. In their 2017 article, Levine et al. write that:

“Sperm count and other semen parameters have been plausibly associated with multiple environmental influences, including endocrine disrupting chemicals (Bloom et al., 2015; Gore et al., 2015), pesticides (Chiu et al., 2016), heat (Zhang et al., 2015) and lifestyle factors, including diet (Afeiche et al., 2013; Jensen et al., 2013), stress (Gollenberg et al., 2010; Nordkap et al., 2016), smoking (Sharma et al., 2016) and BMI (Sermondade et al., 2013; Eisenberg et al., 2014a). Therefore, sperm count may sensitively reflect the impacts of the modern environment on male health throughout the life course (Nordkap et al., 2012).”

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This rain falling on an Ontario marsh most certainly contains forever chemicals (photo by Nina Munteanu)

Thanks to chemical companies such as DuPont and others, forever chemicals are currently in rain water globally, and in many places in unhealthy concentrations. These endocrine-disrupting and cancer-causing chemicals often end up in drinking water and include PCBs, phthalates, PFAS, BPAs (used in pesticides, children’s products, industrial solvents and lubricants, food storage, electronics, personal care products and cookware).

If you observe a terrible irony in this short list, also know that the chemical companies, such as DuPont, have known about the dangers posed by these products for decades and decided to keep it a secret.

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Heavy rain in Mississauga, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

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Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.

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Climate Change and the Colour of Resilience

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I’m an ecologist; I study environmental relationships. Something you’d think is easy to learn and very accessible; we’re surrounded by it, after all. We live, work and play in it. While I learned about environmental relationships with my eco-minded parents, I didn’t learn it or experience it in my school growing up. With the exception of some indigenous schools (which teach respect for the spirit of wildness), most of us certainly didn’t learn about environmental relationships in our schools.

Earthstar sits on moss-covered rotting cedar log as new cedar roots take hold, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

Most Canadians live in a city; we don’t really understand what the natural environment is. Many of us have learned to ignore it, stop recognizing it, pocket it away as we go about our busy lives in the city. A park is a bit of greenery. A tree is a decoration that provides shade. Shrubs border a mall.

Walk through urban forest along the Credit River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

But if we can’t even recognize the natural environment, how can we understand its functional role in the intricate well-being of this entire precious planet and ultimately ourselves?

It is no wonder then that most Canadians—though we may intellectually accept climate change and its effects on this planet (because we’re smarter than some)—likely do not viscerally understand or appreciate why and how it will drastically change our lives. For most of us, climate change—as with Nature—is something that is happening to someone else, somewhere else. From those far away calamities to the quiet struggles no one talks about. We hear and lament over the flooding in Bangladesh or the Maldives. Or the wildfires in northern British Columbia. Or the bomb cyclones of the eastern seaboard.

Meanwhile, the polar bear struggles quietly with disappearing sea ice in the Canadian arctic. The koala copes quietly with the disappearing eucalyptus. Coral reefs quietly disappear in an acidifying ocean. Antarctic penguins silently starve with disappearing krill due to ice retreat. And while jellyfish invade the Mediterranean, UK seas and northeast Atlantic, the humble Bramble Cay melomys slips quietly into extinction—the first mammal casualty of climate change.

Yellow Creek flows through an urban forest in the heart of Toronto, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

So, those of us who are enlightened speak of climate resilience and adaptation. We talk of arming our cities with words like green infrastructure, stormwater management, urban runoff control, flood mitigation. Ecological literacy. But what are these things to us? They are tools, yes. Good tools to combat and adapt to the effects of climate change. But will they create resilience? I think not.

I’m a limnologist and I’ve consulted for years as a scientist and an environmental consultant. I played a role in educating industry, in the use of mitigating tools, in changing the narrative even.

Trail through urban forest on a foggy winter day in Peterborough, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

But I’ve come to realize that resilience comes only from within and through a genuine connection with our environment. Tools, no matter how proficient, are only as good as how they are used based on intention from a deep understanding. It isn’t enough to achieve the HOW of things; we must embrace the WHY of things. And that comes from the heart. We must feel it in our hearts. Or it won’t work. And we quite simply won’t survive.

Various flowers and trees of Ontario (photos by Nina Munteanu)

Canadians celebrate our multi-cultural heritage. We pride ourselves in our tolerance and welcoming nature. Our national anthem speaks of our land. Our national symbols embrace nature with the maple, beaver, caribou and loon. Yet who of us knows the habitat of the loon—now at risk, by the way (climate change will impact much of its breeding grounds). Who knows what the boreal forest—which makes up over half of our country—is? How it functions to keep this entire planet healthy, and what that ecosystem needs, in turn, to keep doing it? How to help it from literally burning up? 

Ecology isn’t rocket science. Ecology is mostly common sense. Ecology is about relationship and discovery. Ecology is a lifestyle choice, based on respect for all things on this planet and a willingness to understand how all things work together.

Various mushrooms in Ontario forests (photos by Nina Munteanu)

Here’s what I’ve learned to keep me caring and remain positive and not become apathetic or fall into despair:

I’ve learned to open myself to discovery. To find Nature, even if it is in the city. To connect with something natural and wild and to find and savour the wonder of it. All that matters will naturally come from that.

Become curious and find something to love.

When you do, you will find yourself. And that is where you will find resilience. What colour is it? It doesn’t need to be green…

Throughout this article I’ve shown you some of my colours…

Red fox skull emerges on a leaf-strewn icy bank of Jackson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

Here are the steps I taught myself toward healthy resilience (the first two steps are both the hardest and the easiest):

Step 1: Slow down, pay attention. Give yourself the time to relax and look around your local surroundings. Until you slow down to actually look, you will not really take in your surroundings. You need to be in the moment. Only then can you take the time to use all your senses to take in your environment. Try to look at it from a different perspective. Notice the light, the smells and sounds. What is different? What is the same?

Step 2: Lower your guard, open yourself to curiosity. Rely on as many senses as you can (sight, hearing, smell, texture, taste) to sample your environment and show some humility to ask questions. Whenever I go out, particularly in Nature, I make a point of coming home with three gifts, discoveries that make me smile or think and wonder. I’m hardly ever disappointed.

Step 3: Process what you’ve seen and discovered. Do some follow-up research to questions that may arise. Look at consequences. Share with others, discuss. From there it will be easy to ‘take responsibility’ for some section of nature that you really like; perhaps a particular tree in a park or a short path through an urban forest or stretch of urban stream. This can easily lead to good stewardship.

Step 4: Take responsibility for your chosen part of Nature. Get to know it well, how it works, what it needs, what’s right and what’s wrong. Do something about it and share with others.

Step 5: You’re there. You are resilient.

Barred owl hiding in plain sight in an urban forest near Peterborough, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)

Nina Munteanu is a Canadian ecologist / limnologist and novelist. She is co-editor of Europa SF and currently teaches writing courses at George Brown College and the University of Toronto. Visit www.ninamunteanu.ca for the latest on her books. Nina’s bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” was published by Mincione Edizioni in Rome. Her non-fiction book “Water Is…” by Pixl Press (Vancouver) was selected by Margaret Atwood in the New York Times ‘Year in Reading’ and was chosen as the 2017 Summer Read by Water Canada. Her novel “A Diary in the Age of Water” was released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in June 2020.