Algoma ~ Where Heaven and Earth Meet ~ by Kaija Savinainen
I had dreamed for many years of going on the Agawa Train Tour, - a vintage 1960’s train operated by the Algoma Central Railway that winds through the monumental grandeur of the granite Shield country northwest of Sault Ste Marie.
I wanted to see and experience the landscape I had caught glimpses so many times as I drove along Lake Superior to and from family visits in Thunder Bay. Over the years driving the Trans Canada Superior route I had always hoped to get back into the rising, undulating hills, the Boreal forests that cover that rugged landscape, and to get close to the rocky outcrops and the rushing rivers and streams that empty out into Lake Superior. Each time I saw Montreal River, Agawa Bay, and Bachawana Bay I promised myself I would go. I could feel it in my bones that I needed to go, a soft haunting whisper that would not cease. But each fall something managed to take precedence over my much-wanted trip. This fall we went!
I was giddy with excitement for days before our trip. I could hardly get through a day with rattling on about our upcoming trip to anyone who would listen. Finally, the day arrived. On a bright, sunny autumn morning we hit the road westward. The colours in Eastern Ontario were spectacular as we began our journey. Along the highway giant white pines greeted us. They are the sentinels of the forests; tall, erect, magnificent guardians of our land. They are mystical creatures, awe inspiring. I wondered out loud what they had seen over the years, what stories could they tell? I wanted to stop and touch each tree, to connect with the inner being of their spirit. To hold her in my embrace if only for a moment. I know I am a total romantic at heart when it comes to “Mom Earth” and all she bestows upon us.
That night we arrived in Sault Ste Marie, and made it to the hotel. I could hardly sleep I was so excited. My mind was racing.
Trying to sleep, my mind drifted back to earlier years in university. I found myself in art history class listening to Jeffery Spalding speaking about the Group of Seven, about Algoma country. Spalding’s specialty had been Canadian Art History. He brought to life the works and stories of the Group of Seven, Emily Carr, Scandinavian painters and so many other artists never mentioned in earlier classes. His lectures were inspiring, insightful, informative. Those art history lectures served to awaken a desire to breath that very same air, to feel that landscape beneath my feet. I knew at that time painting was the direction I was headed in. I sought to connect with the spirit of nature, to hear her voice. She was calling, whispering to come.
On my very first trip to the old National Gallery of Canada, the first painting I came face to face with was JEH Macdonald’s Tangled Garden. I stood there spellbound, tears flowing down my face, so great was my reaction to meeting some of these incredible paintings in the flesh. A security guard asked if I was, ok? “Mmm, yes” I mumbled wiping my eyes. Those landscapes, with their colors, and the movement of the composition in front of me, touched me deeply.
Morning came. I was up, packed, and ready within moments. The few blocks we drove to the train station seemed to take forever; the parking lot was filling up so fast, was there space for us? Lunch in hand I was ready to vault over people hopping onto the waiting train. At long last we boarded, found our seats, settled in and met our neighbors for the day. The train car was filled with anticipation for the upcoming trip. It was a sold-out event with 875 people aboard 17 coaches! Slowly the train cars began to move through the early morning mist and fog. We were on our way. The city lights, the urban landscape soon faded away. The rhythmic movement of the train had a calming effect. I turned my gaze to the passing landscape away from the surrounding conversations.
I was mesmerized, spellbound, breathing in the landscape, absorbing her DNA. The rugged Algoma archipelago is spectacular especially in autumn dress. Trees dressed in brilliant reds, oranges, yellows intermingled with deep greens, blues of spruce and pine were magnificent. The rich colours of the undergrowth, the small meadows, dark pools of beaver ponds, creeks and rivers filled the landscape. The rocky out crops protruding, jutting out of the forested hillsides were sublime.
As we travelled along a vista would open along either side of the rail corridor. Conversations would come to an abrupt halt as people scrambled to photograph the scenery. Nature was teasing me. The incredible view toward Lake Superior of Montreal River sent a chill into my very being. She burned into my psyche. I knew instantly that was a painting. I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of what was to come around the next bend. It was nothing short of stunning imagery. And I was there!
At the rail’s end at Agawa Canyon the train halted and everyone disembarked. Energized I swiftly walked past everybody and strode up the 321 steps to the canyon lookout platform. Next I strode along the trail wending beside the Agawa River and stood exactly where Lawren Harris stood in 1919 when he painted the aqua splendour of Bridal Veil Falls.
I was exhausted by the end of the trip. How on earth would I paint this? Could I do this landscape justice? Did I have the courage to try, to find nature’s voice, her essence? Could I paint where heaven and earth meet? Did I dare try?