My Drive Across Canada: Part 1—Lake Superior

November 9, 2025October 4, 2025 / thealiennextdoor / 1 Comment

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)

*Sandy Katherine Bay, Lake Superior, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Contour and trail map of Lake Superior*

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.

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

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.

*Chippewa Falls, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

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.

*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)*

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)

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

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).

*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)*

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.

*Trail to Agawa Rock, Lake Superior, ON*

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.

*Great Lynx pictograph, Agawa Rock, Lake Superior*

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.

*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)*

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.

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

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)

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.

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

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.

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

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).

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)*

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.

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

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).

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)*

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.

*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)*

Limnology & Geology of Lake Superior & Watershed

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

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)

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.”

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.

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.

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)

Lake Fetch & Seiches

*Seiches in lakes (image from University of Michigan)*

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.

Lake Geology

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

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.

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)

Lake Superior & Watershed Characteristics
Parameter	Value
Age	10,000 years
Trophic Status	Oligotrophic
Visibility (Secchi Depth)	8-30 m
Thermal Stratification	dimictic
Length	563 km
Breadth	257 km
Mean Depth	147 m
Maximum Depth	406 m
Volume	12,100 km3
Lake Surface Area	82,100 km2
Watershed Area	127,700 km2
Shoreline Length	4,385 km
Water Residence / Flushing Rate	191 years
Fetch	500 km
Outlet	St Marys River

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

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.

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.

How Climate Change Is Altering My Winter

January 28, 2024February 28, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Cedar-pine forest covered in new snow of winter, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I’m Canadian, and I love the snow. When I grew up in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, we enjoyed a brisk cold winter with deep snow for a good six months of the year. I’ve since lived in Vancouver, British Columbia, which experiences a milder regional climate; I now live in the Kawarthas of Ontario, which has a similar regional climate to what I experienced growing up in Quebec. Living in the Kawarthas reminds me of my childhood days with winter snow.

*Heavy snowfall in Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I love how the first snow of the season often comes from the sky in a thick passion. Huge flakes of unique beauty would settle on my coat sleeves and within minutes I’d be covered in snow. I would stand enraptured, arms out to catch snowflakes, and study each individual with admiration.

*Farm and road in winter in Kawarthas, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Young locust trees covered in new snow, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Snow wraps everything in a blanket of soft acceptance. It creates a dazzling face on a dark earth. It refuses to distinguish between artificial and natural. It covers everything—decorated house, shabby old car, willowy trees, manicured lawn—beneath its white mantle. It quiets the Earth.

*Trees and shrubs covered in new soft snow* *during snowfall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I often walk a trail through the forest after a fresh snow has fallen and the sun reveals itself on a crisp day. Like a balancing tightrope walker, the snow piles itself on everything, from fat fir branch to thin black locust twig. The snow then gives itself to the vagaries of a playful wind. Occasionally, a gust would send a shower of glitter snow dust raining down on me.

*Snow-covered branches overlook path in show, ON* *(photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Twigs piled with snow on a calm morning, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I particularly enjoy walking a trail in the evening light after a fresh snow. Boots crunch on the fresh crisp snow that glistens in the moonlight. Each step is its own symphony of textured sound. A kind of collaboration with the deep of the night and Nature’s own whisperings.

*Jackson Creek after a snowfall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Since moving to the Kawarthas, close to the Otonabee River, I walk daily along the river and its riparian forest. Winters here have graced us with a variety of typical winter morphology: thick and copious snowfall, enduring fog, imaginative ice formations on the river, and glittering hoarfrost and rime everywhere else. The first snowfall can come in November, large flakes falling on still fully-clothed shrubs and trees, creating a painter’s landscape of reds, yellows, and greens dusted in a white blanket. This is when, some mornings, mist will rise like a cold breath from the river or flow and pool in depressions of the rolling Kawartha drumlins.

*Thick first snowfall on Thompson Creek marsh in early winter, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

On cold nights in December, hoarfrost will form filigreed ‘leaves’ over everything—ground, sticks, ice and even snow. For a brief magical moment, this miniature crystal forest glitters like a field of jewels in the morning sun before vanishing by coffee break time. The river ices up in December, first with frazil that froths and fizzes as it coagulates into grease ice then shuga and finally to ice pancakes that crowd the shore, nudging each other like suburban women at a sale, then stitching themselves together into solid ice sheets attached to shore. By January and February, all is in place and the deep winter is upon us until ice break up and snow melt in late April into May. The river ice extends out from the bays in vast thick sheets where people can skate. The snow forms deep banks and drifts everywhere through which only snowshoes or skis can penetrate.

*Mist off the river rises like steam on a cold day in winter,* *ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Old shed by the Otonabee River during a snowfall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Lately (in the past few years) I’ve noticed that this pattern has become interrupted by extremely mild weather throughout the winter season. January can look like November, with the exception of the absence of leaves on trees and shrubs; the greens and browns of other vegetation such as grasses, forbs and forest litter can still be revealed. The fogs of early winter may also return. The river ice sheets may fragment and flow downstream, only to reform as waters refreeze. The formerly uninterrupted reign of winter is waning and this saddens me with feelings of solastalgia. The Kawarthas still get good dumps of snow and magical frost. But for each champagne powder snow day, and hoarfrost glitter, there is a melt day, when snow melts and it rains, turning the parking lot into a skating rink as temperatures plummet with nightfall.

*Snow melt on the side of a country road, ON (photo and* *rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I grew up in a part of Canada that experienced four distinct seasons. While spring and fall exemplify transition into and out of the two stable seasons of summer and winter, this is no longer the case in many parts of Canada, where formerly well-defined and uninterrupted winters and summers could be predicted. Now all the seasons experience transition and unpredictable phenomena. Winter temperatures in the Kawarthas were often stable at just below zero Centigrade to minus 20°; they now fluctuate more highly from minus 20° to +10.

*Author’s car parks on a country road after a snowfall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

A report by NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies released in 2022 confirmed that global temperatures in 2022 were 1.6 degrees Fahrenheit above the average baseline period of 1951 to 1980 and 2 degrees warmer than the late 19th century average. They reported that the past nine years have been the warmest since modern record keeping began in 1880.

*Teenagers walk the Rotary Trail after a snowfall, ON (photo and rendition by* *Nina Munteanu)*

The winter that I grew up with is changing into something else. It, like the changing world, is in transition. There is no denying that global warming is upon us and each region is uniquely experiencing its effects. Climate is changing and the environment is adapting to that change.

*Thompson Creek after a snowfall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

While solastalgia creeps into my psyche at times, I am assiduously learning to pace myself with my changing environment. As the regional weather adapts to the warming climate, I am learning to adapt too. One way is through the equipment I use: I still use my snowshoes (a recent gift from my son) in winter; but, more often, I use snow/rain boots with crampons for terrain that includes wet snow, slush, and ice. Being prepared for change allows me to accept it with grace. I have learned to cherish those moments when fresh snow falls from the heavens like confetti. I charge outside in my snow gear and enjoy it while it’s there. I have learned to live in discovery and to thrill in the unpredictable. Each day is a gift of unknown and thrilling surprise.

*First snow in early winter at Thompson Creek, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

I have learned to live in the moment and to cherish that moment as a gift.

Because, even change is a gift.

*Partially iced over Otonabee River, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Article originally published January 2023 in Rewilding Our Stories (edited by Mary Woodbury) then January 2, 2024 on Dragon.eco.

*Trees and dogwood shrubs in winter by the Thompson Marsh, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Woman and her dog walk among giant cedars after a snowfall, 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.

Walking the Autumn Verges

October 15, 2023February 20, 2024 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Fall colours of maple trees in the Mark S. Burnham Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

For the past few days, I’ve been wandering, entranced, in the various forests, swamps and marshes of the Kawarthas. I found myself inspired by the autumnal light and organic scent in the air.

They pulled me into the verge…

*Poplar trees in the fall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

It’s the time of “the verge,” when the seasons collide in the wake of the equinox and anticipate the unruly winds of change. A moment of stillness before the Earth shifts, relinquishes, and embraces.

In the hush of a great threshold, Nature holds its breath and a leaf settles in the arms of a cedar root…

*Largetooth aspen sits on a cedar root in the pine forest of Warsaw Cave Park, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Ancient pine, cedar and hemlocks in Jackson Creek forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

There I was, eyes and ears–all senses–wide, taking in Nature’s gifts of the verge. The rustling leaves in a cool wind. The musky smell of swamp water and the sweet rot of vegetation. The lazy gurgle of shallow creeks around smooth rocks. The halting shrill of a Blue Jay.

*Jackson Creek in October, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

On one walk, a giant toad—the biggest I’d ever seen!—waddled across my path. I think it was an American toad, mottled and rough with warts. He looked rather grumpy and took his time, somehow confident—or not caring—that I could step on him and squish him easily. He was rather jiggly as he lumbered on. I did not take his picture; I don’t think he wanted me to, so I didn’t.

*Fallen hemlock tree in Mark S. Burnham Park, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

Soon after, a small garter snake slithered across my path, less confident of my steps. It froze once it was safely out of my way. Good snake…

The forest was alive with the domestic chaos of wildlife busy with itself. Chipmunks chugged and squirrels scolded from the tree tops. Surely not at me! I climbed out of the lowland of old-growth hemlock-beech swamp forest to the top of a drumlin of maple-hop hornbeam-ash forest and then descended again into the dark hemlocks and pines.

*Maple tree showing deep colour in the fall, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Red and sugar maples and aspens flame in the fall by the Otonabee River near Trent University, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

The colours of sugar and red maple blazed in the canopy above, frothy clouds of bright orange, red, yellow and everything in-between under a deep blue sky. I wandered, camera in hand, and found treasures everywhere—from blue fungi to tiny bright red maple leaves freshly fallen.

*Various mushrooms in the forests of Ontario (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

I have a silly habit of picking up leaves and pressing them when I get home; my books are repositories of colourful prizes from years past.

*Small red maple leaf sits beside a hemlock sapling amid white fungi a*nd moss *on a nurse log in Mark S. Burnham forest, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Marsh in Ontario in the fall (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

In the marsh, I encountered a green frog, sitting in the mud. It decided to pose for my camera. And I obligingly took its picture. My new best friend.

No, I did not take him home. I left him there, lollying in the mud, looking very content.

*Green frog poses for the author’s camera*

For all I know he’s still there, presiding over the autumn verge…

*Jackson Creek reflects the gold hue of largetooth aspen in October, 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.

Smoke on the Water … When a Northeastern Blows

June 11, 2023June 12, 2023 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*The Otonabee River under rosy haze from northeastern wildfires, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

It was pleasantly cool yesterday evening during my walk along the Otonabee River. Over the day, the smell of ‘campfire’ smoke from the raging northern wildfires intensified and the sun became an eerie copper disk in the peach-coloured sky. The river had gone still, as if hushed and waiting beneath the cloud of haze. Houses along the shore had become fluid watercolour paintings, colours and textures blending in a soft fabric of grey and green. As I set my gaze on a favourite cottage by the river, its reflection caught in the still waters, I thought the scene beautiful…

My heart then reminded me that this wasn’t a mist rising off the river but the yellow-brown dust descending from the corpses of millions of burnt trees, sent here by a cruel northeast wind.

Map of Ontario wildfires June 5, 2023

Today, the Ontario government reported heavy smoke conditions in the Northeast Region due to a large number of fires in eastern Ontario and Quebec—with fires worse than usual this year in Quebec. More than 160 fires are burning, most out of control, in Quebec. Smoke drift is travelling as far as just north of Timmins, down through Sudbury and past Parry Sound. Environment Canada issued Air quality warnings today for Peterborough, where I currently live.

Global News reported today that “relentless wildfires have devoured 3.3 million hectares of land across Canada so far this year—roughly 10 times the normal average for the season.” In the last 24 hours, 21 new fires were discovered across Ontario, amounting to 159 active fires provincially. According to Global News, “Searing hot, tinder-dry conditions, similar to what was seen in western Canada, has only worsened the situation in Ontario.” And Quebec.

Map of Quebec wildfires June 5, 2023

*Sun setting over smoky Otonabee River, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

There is an old willow tree on the river bank by the path I walk daily. Its massive arms stretch out over the water and one arm leans low over the path so you must bend down to walk under it. The derecho last May had cracked the tree open. But the sturdy willow continues on, undaunted, as all Nature does, thrusting up suckers from its large limbs toward a future of many more willows. It’s a favourite tree of many a walker who like to sit on its generous arms and look out over the river. Each day I touch its bark and say hello.

*Old willow on the path by the Otonabee River, the glow of smoke-sun on its generous arms (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*New suckers burst out of the leaning willow limb (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

I think of my old friend. How a fire would take it.

First its leaves would sizzle and take flight in a requiem dance. The trunk, a funnel of fire and smoke, would sway and groan then crack with a final death shout to the roaring hissing fire. Like flying kites, leaf corpses would join embers of curling bark and soar in a vortex of billowing coal black fury. The river would flow through a killing field, black stumps and burned debris flying with the vagaries of a mischievous wind. Covered in a film of thick and oily debris, the lonely river would grow dark and surly, smothering its own aquatic forest—the algae, benthic invertebrates and fish.

And I would weep…

*Sun setting over hazy forest at mouth of Thompson Creek, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

Nina Munteanu is an ecologist and internationally published author of award-nominated speculative novels, short stories and non-fiction. 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 recent book is the bilingual “La natura dell’acqua / The Way of Water” (Mincione Edizioni, Rome). Her latest “Water Is…” is currently an Amazon Bestseller and NY Times ‘year in reading’ choice of Margaret Atwood.

The Ontario Derecho: When a Disaster Brings Out Kindness

May 25, 2022 / thealiennextdoor / 1 Comment

*Cars trapped when a sugar maple snaps and falls on them in Saturday’s Derecho, Peterborough, ON (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

It’s Wednesday and parts of the city still have no power since Saturday’s storm swept through like a ferocious lion. We got our power yesterday. We’d relied on our kind neighbours, who had a barbecue, to cook up some suppers. The power has come back in stages depending on where lines were brought down by trees or the violent wind microbursts.

*A string of power poles and lines downed by the violent winds of the derecho along Highway 29 near Lakefield, ON (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

Environment Canada calls Saturday’s storm a derecho: a long line of very active and violent thunderstorms or microbursts that include winds of at least 93 km/h with focused gusts of 121 km/h or greater. According to Environment Canada Senior Climatologist David Phillips, the storm spanned about 1,000 kilometers from Michigan to Maine as it went across Ontario and Quebec. Derechos typically contain numerous downburst clusters (families of downburst clusters) that, in turn, have smaller downbursts, and smaller microbursts. These tight, often cyclic tornado-like bursts within larger linear downbursts are what likely created the random devastation seen in Peterborough, where one tree was entirely uprooted and the tree beside it left untouched.

*Birch uprooted on Auburn Street, Peterborough (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

A true ‘herald archetype’, environmental disasters incite change, often through disorder. In doing so, they can bring out the best in us. The true mettle of a person is often revealed during such times, through the emergence of compassion and kindness.

I live just off the Rotary Trail in Peterborough, facing a mixed riparian forest of mostly black walnut and locust trees, with some silver maple, willow, Manitoba maple, oak and ash. The trail is well used every day by cyclists and walkers. The tornado-force winds and deluge rains singled out a few trees on the forest edge and flung them across the trail. A quick inspection shortly after the storm revealed that several trees formed obstacles to those using the trail: a silver maple just in front of my good friend Merridy’s place; an old half-dead elm; and a large Manitoba maple whose upper canopy had gotten tangled in the telephone wires.

*Various damaged and uprooted trees in Peterborough, ON (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

When Merridy and I decided to attempt clearing the Rotary Trail of strewn maple limbs and branches, we weren’t there more than five minutes when a cyclist stopped and without a word helped us; he grabbed large tree limbs and hoisted them aside like Superman then got on his bike and took off without a word—like Spiderman. After more dragging of tree limbs and my deft hand at the tree clippers and the broom, we cleared the trail for walkers and cyclists.

*Before (left) and after (right) we cleared the Rotary Trail of downed silver maple from the derecho (photos by Nina Munteanu)*

And then there was Charlie … a fashion-savvy quasi hipster-hippy who came cycling in with his chainsaw and hand saw on his back; he’d been all over the trail clearing tree debris just because he could. Charlie set to work on the huge Manitoba maple that had fallen across the trail and was leaning heavily on the telephone wire. Charlie proceeded to climb the tree and saw branches here and there to lighten the limb on the wire before cutting it. Two of us ladies became his cleanup crew, hauling big tree sections off the path as he downed them. By the time he got to the main tree limb on the wire, a group of cheerleaders had formed to watch. We all clapped when the big branch came off the line. One elder lady on two walking canes hobbled out from her home and handed Charlie a Bobcaygeon Petes Lager as thanks.

*Charlie sawing off branches from Manitoba maple tangled on telephone wire (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

*Charlie saws the remaining tree trunk to clear the trail (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

At first it was just me and Charlie. Watching him set up, I’d asked him if he was from the city and in the same breath knew he wasn’t—we both knew they were very busy getting the city’s power back on and freeing streets and getting trees off the roofs of houses; it would be a long time before they came to the Rotary Trail and other parks to clear. He responded, “well, that depends… are you a lawyer?” I laughed. We both recognized that Charlie was a rogue Good Samaritan, using less than regular protocol (no safety harness or equipment [except for goggles] and climbing shoes). When I said no, he relaxed and we introduced ourselves and exchanged stories about the storm, then got to work. I was soon joined by Susan, and together we became Charlie’s support team, hauling limbs and branches out of the tangle then rolling large tree bole sections to the side. Eventually several more walkers and nearby residents came to support the work and watch. Within an hour, the entire tree was off the path and off the wire. I felt a wonderful sense of community as people gathered exchanged names and stories about the storm. And it all started with one person’s kindness. Thanks, Charlie!

*Before (left) and after (right) Charlie and his gang cleared the way (photo by Nina Munteanu)*

I find that we really find our humanity and sense of kindness when a disaster strikes… one of the ‘good’ things about them.

*Derecho damage to trees in the forest in Peterborough area, ON (photos 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.

Nature as Poet … The Forest in Winter

February 14, 2021March 14, 2021 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

*Woman and her dog walk the cedar swamp forest, Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo and dry brush rendition by Nina Munteanu*

*Trail through cedar forest in first snow, Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo and dry brush rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Moss covered roots and trunk of yellow birch after snowfall, Jackson Creek Park, ON (photo and dry brush rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Young marcescent beech tree among moss covered glacial erratics in Jackson Creek Park, ON (photo and dry brush rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Snow-covered marcescent beech leaves in Jackson Creek Park, ON (photo and dry brush rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Heavy snowfall at bridge in Trent Nature Sanctuary, ON (photo and rendition by Nina Munteanu)*

*Cedar pine forest after first snow, Jackson Creek Park, ON (photo and dry brush 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.

Word Is Wild Literary Festival in Ontario’s Near North

November 2, 2019March 29, 2020 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

presenters Nina Munteanu, Merridy Cox, Sharon Berg, Albert Saxby, Carol Williams, Dallas Ray Bader, and Honey Novick

I was recently invited by organizer and poet Kathy Figueroa to participate in The Word Is Wild Literary Festival III in Cardiff in Ontario’s northern community. I joined poet and author Sharon Berg from Sarnia, poet and vocalist Honey Novick and poet naturalist Merridy Cox from Toronto, singer / songwriter Albert Saxby from Essenville and other locals for a day of readings, musings, and singing.

I’d not yet ventured to this northern part of Ontario, so I was excited to drive there. I caught a ride with Merridy and Honey and the three of us took turns driving north from Toronto into the rolling hills that blazed in a chaos of fall colour. Dominated by the bright orange of the Sugar Maple, the hills formed a rolling carpet of coppers, yellows, reds and greens of American Beech, Yellow Birch, Red Maple, Eastern Hemlock and White Pine.

Cardiff is a tiny village-suburb of Highlands East, and is a former mining community. The township is located between Haliburton and the old mining town of Bancroft to the north. Bancroft was purchased from the Chippewa and Mississauga First Nations in the 1850s by Irish and English settlers who logged and mined the area for gold and other minerals.

Not far north of Bancroft, Algonquin Park—a provincial park that spans over 7500 km² between Georgian Bay and the Ottawa River—beckons. Established in 1893—making it the oldest provincial park in Canada—Algonquin Park was frequented by several artists of The Group of Seven, including Tom Thomson. His oil painting entitled The Jack Pine remains an iconic representation of Canada’s most broadly distributed pine species and well-represents this area’s landscape.

oil painting “The Jack Pine” by Tom Thomson

The three of us settled at the Cardiff House Writers’ Retreat, located right in the middle of Cardiff, then proceeded to the community centre where the festival was held.

Nina Munteanu

I shared how I came to write my latest book, “A Diary in the Age of Water,” coming out in 2020 with Inanna Publications. You can read about it in my post “On Writing ‘A Diary in the Age of Water’ ” I mentioned how it started with a talk by Maude Barlow in a church on Bloor Street in Toronto, which led to a short story, to my non-fiction book “Water Is…” and finally to the novel.

The festival is hosted by Cardiff House Writers’ Retreat along with sponsorship by The League of Canadian Poets & Canada Council Poetry Tours, The Writers’ Union of Canada, and the National Public Reading Program. I hope to return next year. I think I will go for a longer time and explore this spectacular countryside and provincial park.

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” will be released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in 2020.

One-Day Writing Intensive in Georgian Bay

August 31, 2019September 6, 2019 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

On June 22, 2019, I joined Honey Novick and Cheryl Antao-Xavier as presenters of a one-day writing intensive at Noël’s Nest Country Bed & Breakfast near Port McNicoll.

writing group at Noel’s Nest

A small group of dedicated writers joined the intensive and we explored topics to do with writing, manuscript preparation and submission, as well as publishing models. This included meaningful discussions and writing exercises, readings and sharing.

I talked about the importance of theme to help determine a story’s beginning and ending. We also discussed the use of theme in memoir to help focus the memoir into a meaningful story with a directed narrative. I discussed the use of the hero’s journey plot approach and its associated archetypes to help determine relevance of events, characters and place: all topics explored in my Alien’s Guidebook series.

As part of the intensive at Noël’s Nest, a magnificent lunch was served along with refreshments. The day was sunny and warm. And perfect in the shade. We ended the intensive with a short nature walk led by naturalist Merridy Cox.

While everyone left at six, I stayed on with a friend. I’d booked the night and looked forward to a restful evening among deer, rustling trees and a chorus of birdsong. The owner had left us some leftovers for supper, and, as we dined on a smorgasbord of gourmet food and wine, I reveled in Nature’s meditative sounds. The night sky opened deep and clear with a million stars.

The next day we enjoyed exploring southern Geogrian Bay, which included the small towns of Port McNicoll, Midland and Penetanguishene. Georgian Bay is part of Lake Huron, one of the Great Lakes.

Pine Island by Tom Thompson

The bay itself is quite large, comprising about four-fifths the size of Lake Ontario. Eastern Georgian Bay, where we were exploring, is part of the southern edge of the Canadian Shield. Granite bedrock exposed by the glaciers at the end of the last ice age about 11,000 years ago, forms a rugged coastline dotted by windswept eastern white pine. The rugged beauty of the area inspired landscapes by artists of the Group of Seven.

The shores and waterways of the Georgian Bay are the traditional domain of the Anishinaabeg First Nations peoples to the north and Huron-Petun (Wyandot) to the south.

Georgian Bay at Port McNicoll

The bay was a major Algonquian-Iroquoian trade route when Champlain, the first European to explore and map the area in 1615–1616, arrived and called it “La Mer douce” (the calm sea). Originally named Waasaagamaa by the Ojibwe, the bay was renamed Georgian Bay by Lieutenant Bayfield of a Royal Navy expedition after King George IV.

After driving through Port McNicoll, we drifted into Midland, where we enjoyed a delicious crepe at La Baie Creperie. On the recommendation of a local, we then moved on to Penetanguishene to the Dock Lunch for the best ice cream in Southern Georgian Bay.

La Baie Crêperie in Midland

Upon leaving, I realized that I’d only seen a small portion of the Georgian Bay area and vowed to return soon.

Eager writers work on an exercise I’ve given them

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” will be released by Inanna Publications (Toronto) in 2020.

Limestone Genre Expo—May 2018

June 24, 2018March 30, 2020 / thealiennextdoor / Leave a comment

2018 was the fourth year for Limestone Genre Expo, Kingston’s only genre writing festival. I’ve been to the expo each year from its inaugural festival in 2015. The festival gets its name from the city’s moniker, based on the many heritage buildings constructed there using the local limestone.

In 2016 I was delighted to be the science fiction guest of honour. In 2017, the expo was held at the Saint Lawrence College campus.

This year, the expo was held at the Holiday Inn, right on the waterfront and literally a staggering distance from the Merchant Tap House, one of the greatest pubs and eateries of the town.

Merchant Tap House, Kingston (photo by Nina Munteanu)

As before, the festival covered several of the major genres such as fantasy, science fiction, horror, romance and mystery, with representation by well-known authors in each. Organizers offered a triple track program from 10 am to 5 pm that included panels, informative workshops, readings, book launches, and novel pitch sessions with Bundoran Press.

Liz Strange and programming organizers had me in several panels throughout the two-day expo.

Panels I participated in and in some cases moderated included:

“Mental Health Representation in Fiction: More than Villains” with Michael Slade, Therese Greenwood, Ada Hoffmann, Matt Moore and Madona Skaff. I really enjoyed this panel discussion that explored our evolving perception and representation of mental health in story and in our real lives.

Matt Moore, Nina Munteanu, Madona Skaff, Michael Slade, Theresa Greenwood (photo by Marlene Smith)

“Why Do We Love a Good Whodunit?” with Michael Slade, M. H. Callway, Katherine Prairie, Jim Napier, Melissa Yi, and Rosemary McCracken. The panel and I had fun with this discussion as bizarre real-life stories were thrown into this mix.

Katherine Prairie, Michael Slade, Melissa Yi, M.H. Callway, Rosemary McCracken, Nina Munteanu

“What Makes a Great Hero?” with Kate Heartfield, Tobin Elliott, Theresa Greenwood, Kris Jacen, Donna Warner, and Douglas Smith. The panel debated what makes a hero, then anti-hero, then sad and terrible hero, then non-hero…and ultimately to the journey of our at times miserable but great hero.

Douglas Smith, Theresa Greenwood, Nina Munteanu, Donna Warner, Tobin Elliott, Kate Heartfield

“Dystopian Fiction: How to write when the world is falling apart” with Una Verdandi, Robin Timmerman, Brad Baker, Tapanga Koe, Hayden Trenholm and Ursula Pflug. In this rather passionate discussion, we debated the state and shape of dystopia in both the real world and the fiction world and how they inevitably bleed together for the writer.

Nina signs “The Last Summoner” for colleague and reader Agnes

“Women of Science Fiction” with Hayden Trenholm, Laura Baumbach, Ada Hoffmann, Tanya Huff, Tapanaga Koe, and Nancy Baker. Hayden emerged amid his female colleagues to astutely discuss the reason we are still discussing this topic.

I also sold a number of books, including Water Is… (a Margaret Atwood favourite), my journal and fiction writing guidebooks (The Journal Writer and The Fiction Writer), Reality Skimming’s Water Anthology, for which I was editor, and The Last Summoner.

authors Agnes Jankiewicz and Nina Munteanu

One of the key charms of this small venue is that it still provides an intimate setting for great networking. I had a chance to meet many of my old friends and to make new ones. Thanks to Liz, Marlene and wonderful volunteers for another great writing festival!

Nina Munteanu is an ecologist, limnologist and internationally published author of award-nominated speculative novels, short stories and non-fiction. 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.