Friday, July 21, 2017

The Lansdowne Letters: An Ever-present Concern



This will be a quick and dirty northern post
because I am leaving to fly to Canada in four hours.
Terry will be manning the home front while I'm gone.

I don't know how much I will get to use my computer while I am away,
because internet access is a challenge in Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia.

April 1961 was racing by in Lansdowne House,
and my family was settling into a northern routine.
But even ordinary events are not always routine
in the isolation of a northern village.





On Thursday, April 20, 1961
My mother wrote to her mother-in-law
Myrtle MacBeath:

Dear Mother:
Nothing very much
has happened this week.

Poor Mike had quite a time
last Friday.

Milt's teeth were bothering
him so much,
he had to get Mike
to pull five of them out.



Sara Margaret (MacDonald) MacBeath
Acadia University, Wolfville, Circa 1950
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved






Mike froze his teeth and pulled them,
and then Milt went over to visit Duncan and then home.
When he got home he passed out.

He had a bad reaction to the needle.
It happens in one case in a million I guess.
He was unconscious for half an hour.

Poor Mike, at one point he thought he couldn't save him.
Milt went into shock, his blood pressure shot up, 
and I guess his heart missed a beat.
However Mike saved him.


The Causeway to the Father's Island and the Ice-Bound Lake
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
Painting by Don MacBeath, March 1961
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


Don received a letter about the position in Sioux Lookout,
but won't know until spring whether he will get it or not.

Maureen and Duncan were over for bridge last weekend.
Maureen and I beat Dunc and Don by thousands.
I never had such beautiful hands,
especially when my partner had the same luck.

We went over to Maureen's and Dunc's Monday night
to listen to the Academy Awards.


Best Picture 1960
April 17, 1961, at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium
in Santa Monica, California.


Don has been painting pictures like mad and doing a wonderful job of them.
He paints lovely snow scenes and just painted a beautiful one
of the island across the way from our living room window.


Out Our Living Room Window 
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
Painting by Don MacBeath, March 1961
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




I wish you could see Roberta now.
She is putting on weight now,
eats like a horse,
her cheeks are rosy,
and she is tanned.

She is outside every day,
almost the whole day.
It's a fight to get her in to eat.

Louise (Me) and Bertie
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





I imagine you will soon be planting your gardens and getting the cottages open.
It seems hard to believe up here with all this snow.
The weather has been beautiful, mostly sunshine.
I keep wondering if the daffodils I planted in the Cove will bloom.

I guess that you have had a very bad winter,
and you will be glad to see the spring.




Barbie is learning to read.
She is so proud!
Whenever she is home,
she insists on reading
out of her book to me. 

Barbara MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved











Little Daisy, who is in
the same class as Barbie
and about the same age,
insists on taking
her reader home too, like Barbie,
so she can read to her mother.
Her mother can't understand
a word of English.

Little Daisy, on the left
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




The children are all outside all the time playing witch,
and Don got them a ball.
They all love going to school to Don.
They find him much more interesting
than any teacher they ever had.

The days seem to be long here.
There is so much to do,
but we are really enjoying ourselves.

There doesn't seem to be much to write about,
for this last week was quite uneventful,
so I will close for now.

With love,
Sara

P.S.
Don says you won't have to open the cottages this spring.
It must be a relief.
They were so much work.

Love,
Sara.


The MacBeath Cottages 
Brighton, Outside Charlottetown, 
Prince Edward Island, Canada
Painting by Don MacBeath, March 1961,
as remembered from his childhood
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


Milt's tooth-pulling issue highlights an ever-present concern
in remote communities throughout northern Canada.
No one ever knew when they might be hit by a dental or a medical emergency,
and the adults were always aware that they might not be able
to get to a hospital or other emergency location Outside.
Lansdowne House was fortunate in that it did have a nurse and nursing station.
Northern nurses had to handle all kinds of emergencies.

Planes were still flying in and out of Lansdowne House
prior to the spring break-up when no one could get in or out,
but for whatever reason, probably extreme pain,
Milt couldn't wait for a plane to come and take him out to a dentist.
So Mike did the best he could filling in for an emergency dentist.



From Lansdowne House 
to Charlottetown
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved






Till next time ~
Fundy Blue


Bay of Fundy out of Westport, Brier Island
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved






Notes:  
1.  Mike O'Flaherty was the nurse at the Nursing Station.
  
2.  Milt MacMahon:
     Milt was one of the two Department of Transport employees in Lansdowne House,
     and his duties included running the weather station.

3.  Duncan and Maureen McRae:
     Duncan was the other Department of Transport employee.
     He and his wife Maureen were good friends with my parents.

4.  The 33rd Academy Awards were held on April 17, 1961, at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in Santa
     Monica, California.  Bob Hope was the MC.  This was the first Academy Award ceremony to be aired on 
     ABC television.  "The Apartment" was the last black and white film to win the Best Picture Oscar during a
     time when black and white movies were common.  Wikipedia
  
5.  Painting:
     Both of my parents were painters.  My father preferred oils and my mother watercolors.  Unfortunately 
     the responsibilities of working and raising and educating five children made it difficult for my parents to 
     pursue their passions.  I am humbled by the sacrifices they made for my brother, sisters, and me.  

6.  Cottages:
     My grandmother MacBeath owned several cottages in what once was Brighton outside of Charlottetown.  
     Charlottetown grew into the Brighton area, and the cottages are long gone.  My brother Roy and I had spent
     the summer of 1960 there.  The cottages were right in the middle of the outlined area below.  

     This morning  (7/21/17) in Calgary, I found a pile of family paintings, and low and behold, there was one
     my father had painted of the cottages in Brighton.  The memory was from his childhood, and the small trees
     along the dirt lane grew up into beautiful lime trees that my brother and I loved to climb in.


Brighton, Charlottetown, P.E.I.



7.  Personal Note:
     This post was a rush job, and I've only scanned the preview.  I apologize for any mistakes in advance.
     I don't know if I'll be able to get any more northern posts done until I return home.  We shall see ...


For Map Lovers Like Me:
Route Map for Austin Airways, 1985
with Lansdowne House West of James Bay
Nakina is near Geraldton.



Location of Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia



Canada   Wikimedia




Friday, July 14, 2017

The Lansdowne Letters: Everyday Lessons in Our Common Humanity


When my father taught at the Church of England Indian Day School
in Lansdowne House in 1961, he met the Ojibwa people for the first time.
During his time in the isolated northern community,
my father came to know the local Ojibwa well
and appreciated them for the wonderful people they were.



Church of England Indian Day School
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario
Photo by Donald MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



When my mother and we five children joined him in the North,
we were the only white children, except for three other white babies.
My father encouraged us to become friends with the Ojibwa children.
On our first full day in Lansdowne House,
my father chased all five of us outside to make friends with
and to play with the neighborhood kids.

Neither of my parents had any problem
with us visiting our Ojibwa friends in their homes;
and we were warmly welcomed, especially Barbie and Donnie
because they were so young and cute
and the Ojibwa love children dearly.



The Five of Us in the Summer of 1961
Barbie (left), Me (Louise) with Bertie, Roy, Donnie (right),
and Lake Trout 
Lac Seul, Northern Ontario, Canada
Photo by Sara MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


In school my father treated us the same as his Ojibwa students, 
with the exception that he had to provide 
my brother and me with a more advanced curriculum
because we were academically ahead of his students;
and in my case, I was the only student in Grade Five.



He went so far as to enroll
my four-year-old sister Barbie in kindergarten,
so she could become friends
with her fellow kindies and first graders.

He hoped that she would help him
teach his young Ojibwa students more effectively
by talking with them in English
and by modeling what he wanted them to do.


Barbie
Sioux Lookout, Northern Ontario, 1961
Photo by Donald MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




At recess he expected us to go outside and play with our classmates,
and he left us on our own to work out any squabbles and problems that arose.

There was no special treatment
because we were white and my father's children.
We used the same outhouse behind the school,
and we drank the same wretched powdered milk
and ate the same yucky nutritional biscuits
that the government required the Ojibwa children to eat daily.
We had to wash and brush our teeth along with our classmates.

When the nurse came to treat the students with a louse-killing, powdered drug,
my father made sure nurse Mike O'Flaherty deloused me first.
Lord help me, I think it was some form of DDT, 
and Mike thoroughly applied it to my scalp before tackling any of the others.



Some of Dad's Ojibwa Students
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario
Photo by Donald MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


My father's one concern about the Ojibwa was something he hadn't anticipated.
The Ojibwa girls were a little unsure about me as an older, assertive white girl
(likely I was the only one they had ever met),
and they preferred to play with Barbie and Donnie who were younger and oh so cute.

So with the exception of our next-door neighbors, Fannie and Nellie,
I played with the boys.
As a matter-of-fact, I found the Ojibwa boys fascinating,
much more so than the boring, regular white boys I had known.
My parents were quickly deciding to send me out to boarding school the next year.


Our Neighbors, Fannie and Nellie
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario
Photo by Donald MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


My father considered the Ojibwa and other "bush Indians"
cheerful, loyal, faithful, and honest.
But the quality he considered their most delightful
characteristic was their sense of humor.
The following anecdote was one of my father's
favorite stories about Ojibwa humor:

"When I was at Lansdowne House,
I lived with the Catholic teacher at the mission,
because the Protestant residence had burned down the previous year.
The mission was on an island, and my school was on the mainland.
It was therefore necessary for me to commute by canoe
four times daily across about six hundred feet of water.

This was quite a chore for a person who had never seen a canoe before.
I must confess, my daily commuting was remarkable,
not for the skill which I displayed in canoeing,
but for the frequency and variety of accidents and mishaps
which were the result of my abominable canoemanship.



The Strip of Water My Father Had to Commute Over by Water
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario
Photo by Father Maurice Ouimet
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



The population used to take great delight
in gathering on the shores every morning
to see what new trouble Shawganish could think up for himself.

Shawganish means soldier or policeman,
and the Indians bestowed this name on me for the following reason.
I had just been released from the R.C.A.F.,
and I frequently wore air force battledress and greatcoat
in an effort to save my other clothes.

When I left Lansdowne House, Old Costar Wapoose, the chief,
was down to the plane to see me off and to say goodbye to me.
He spoke through an interpreter, and I was quite flattered
when he said that I was the first teacher who had been able to show him
and a lot of the other Indians many things which they had not known previously.

I was actually getting a swelled head, until Old Costar said
with a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face,
"Teacher, during last fall and this spring my people and I
learned nineteen new and different ways of upsetting a canoe."



A Rock My Father Grounded His Canoe On
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario
Photo by Donald MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


Later when my family lived in Sioux Lookout, Ontario,
I was shocked by the way the First Nations people
living in the town were treated with a damaging and demoralizing prejudice.
That was not how we had been taught to treat any people anywhere.
The stunning unjustness and unfairness of what I saw has never left me.

I have shared a lot about my father's thoughts on the Ojibwa people,
but very little about my mother's.
My mother spent many, many hours during my upbringing discussing with me
the inherent value and dignity of people around the world,
no matter their race, culture, religion, education, work, or sex;
the only difference is, I don't have a written record of her thoughts.

I do, however, have many memories of the Ojibwa-White M├ętis man
who became my mother's lifelong friend in the summer of 1961. 
Their mutual friendship and respect spoke volumes 
about the common humanity we all share. 

I have always been proud of my parents for teaching me by word and by example,
that all people are equal, deserving of respect,
and should be treated as we ourselves would wish to be treated.



My Mother and I
Stanhope Beach, Prince Edward Island, Canada, 1951
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved






Till next time ~
Fundy Blue



Boars Head Lighthouse
Tiverton, Long Island, Bay of Fundy
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Notes:

1.  Bush Indians:
     My father used this term to collectively describe all the First Nations people who lived in
     Northern Ontario, the largest groups of whom were Ojibwa and Cree.

2.  Dad's Recounting of Chief Costar's Good-bye:
     Recorded in Dad's unpublished The Northern School Teacher:  A Hand Book To Be Issued To All
     New Entrants To The Teaching Profession In The Indian Schools In The Sioux Lookout Indian
     Agency, 1966, pages 30 and 31.

     I know that my father had seen a canoe previously; in fact,  I know that his father had given him
     canoeing lessons on St. Peter's Bay in Prince Edward Island when he was young.  I'm not saying
     that my father was a liar, rather that like all good raconteurs, sometimes he fudged facts a little
     to improve his story.

     In my draft of his handbook, he admitted that "in writing to Sara, I gave complete freedom to my
     descriptive talents, and perhaps even exaggerated on occasion, for effect ... ."  I've taken this
     quotation out of context, but it is true of my father as a story teller.  The number of canoe
     upsettings slowly grew over the decades as did the distance  he had to commute by canoe
     between the island and the mainland.


My Father's Handbook
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



3.  Prejudice Against Indians in Sioux Lookout:
     This is not just my memory and opinion.  The situation was well-documented in the book 
     "Ethics and Indians:  Social Relations in a Northwestern Ontario Town" by David H. Stymeist
      (Toronto, Peter Martin Associates Limited, 1975 (1977 printing).  I stumbled across this book
      in the Cal State Fullerton bookstore in 1978, and it took me a nanosecond to realize what town
      "Crow Lake" was because I had lived it and my father had worked at the Sioux Lookout Indian
      Agency as an Indian Affairs Branch Supervising Principal.  My copy is dog-eared, marked up,
      and falling apart.
     

For Map Lovers Like Me:
Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada


Lansdowne House
Surrounded by Water
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



Lansdowne House and the Father's Island, 1935

Credit: Canada. Dept. of Indian Affairs and Northern Development
Library and Archives Canada / PA-094992



Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Never Say Never in the Great Sand Dunes


The morning after our evening slog on the Great Sand Dunes,
the smell of fresh coffee woke me.
I was still wiped out and discouraged from my failure
to reach High Dune the evening before,
and I did not want to move from under my comfy covers.
I tried pretending I was still asleep, but there was no fooling Terry.

"The light is beautiful," he said, whipping the curtains open.

I was out of bed faster than a five-year-old on Christmas morning
and racing for my camera and the back patio of our lodge room.

Terry was right!  The morning light enhanced
the spectacular topography of the dunes beautifully.



Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve
San Luis Valley, South Central Colorado
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



We sat on our little patio drinking our coffee, enjoying the quiet,
and watching the antics of the competitive hummingbirds.
Caffeine slowly revived me as we lingered.


A Simple Breakfast
Great Sand Dunes Lodge
San Luis Valley, South Central Colorado
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Frisky Hummers
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Relaxation
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Finally Terry suggested we head over to the park
and try for High Dune again while it was early and cool.
He had just read that zigzagging up the dune ridges was easier,
and we needed to tackle them before the day heated up.
So we packed up water and oranges and headed out.


Heading Back into the Park
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





A Muley on the Move
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Before I knew it, I was confronting yesterday's challenge,
the lower dune summit that we had floundered straight up.


Straight Up Is Definitely Not the Easy Route!
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




We crossed shallow Medano Creek and headed across
the flat sands stretching to the base of the dunes.

"We'll take it slow," Terry said.  "It's only 8:30.  
"We can stop and rest as much as we need."


Breathtaking, Inviting Beauty
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Looking Back at the Flat Sands and Lower Dunes
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




An encouraging thing happened as we worked up the ridge.
I realized that I wasn't the only one stopping to rest and catch a breath.
It was tough going for a lot of people.
In fact, I was one of the oldest people climbing up the ridge.


A Sinuous Dune Ridge
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Terry, the Best Sport in the World!
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Subtle Beauty ~ Wind-Sorted Grains
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




The sand kept moving under my feet,
but at least I wasn't sliding six inches backward
with each step forward.
I quickly figured out that, just like in snow,
it was easier to step in others' footsteps
because breaking trail is tiring.

Gradually I began to believe that I could do it
that I could actually make it to the top of High Dune.

"I'm going to make it to the top, if it takes me all day!"
I exclaimed to Terry during one rest stop.


Catching a Breather
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Catching a Breather
Musts for Safe Dune Climbing:
hat, sunglasses, bandana (to cover your face if the wind comes up), protective clothing
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Been There!  Done That!
Skipping Last Night's Summit
Saving My Energy for High Dune
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



The dunes were unlike anything I've experienced ~
otherworldly,
eggshell white against the deep blue sky,
sugary and hot underfoot, 
sweltering in sheltered pockets,
refreshingly cool along knife edges,
and absolutely silent beyond the crowds.


Terry Presses On ~
I'm usually trailing to take photos.
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




The Summit:  So Close, So Steep, So Far
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




A Tough, Slip-Sliding Slog
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



Well into our second hour of climbing,
the heat was building and radiating off the sand.
I truly began to appreciate the park warnings
about starting early, carrying lots of water,
and wearing closed-toe footgear and a hat.

It was exhausting, and I stopped frequently to rest.
I was going to make it to the top ~ Nothing was going to stop me.


Tough Going ~ Especially When ...
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




A Hissing Ten-Lined June Beetle
Hitched a Ride and Fought to Hang On ...
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



As Terry and I drew closer to the top,
a father and his young son caught up to me.

While Terry lunged ahead,
we three were taking four or five slip-sliding steps
at a time, side-by-side,
then stopping to catch our breath.

"I can't do this," said the kid.

"Yes, you can," said the dad.

"I want to go back," said the kid.

"I want to, too," the dad gasped to me in a whisper.

"I'm getting to the top, if I have to crawl up," I managed.

"You can do it," said the dad.

"So can you,"  I replied.

They slowly pulled ahead, but we all kept going.


A Final Rest Near the Top
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



As we scrambled up the last few steps to a saddle
that led to the top and stood ~
!@#$%^!  ~  
We realized it was a false summit.


Give Me a !@#$%^ Break!
The Real Summit of High Dune off in the Distance
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




My heart sank when I looked off and saw how much farther we had to go!
But when I looked around at the vast dune field, it soared!


The Dunes Spread Out Against the Sangre de Cristo Range
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





The Last Steep Climb Before the Hike Leveled Out
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



As we climbed up the sand saddle,
the narrow ridge with its drop-offs became unnerving.

"This is starting to freak me out," said Terry.
"I really don't like heights."

"Don't look anywhere but your next step," I said.  
"And don't talk about heights!"

My head was woozy, and the steep slopes pulled at me.
I've been fighting acrophobia my whole life,
and I felt like I was teetering on the tip of a needle.
Next step.  Next step.
And suddenly ~ We reached the false summit!


Terry Cheers, While Father and Son Take a Selfie
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



We were not stopping now!
We forged on.


The End Is in Sight!
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





The Dune Field Is Magnificent
and Contains Unexpected Pockets of Green life
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Terry Gingerly Heads for the Top of High Dune
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




The Dunes Spread Out in All Directions
The San Juan Mountains Border the San Luis Valley in the Far Distance
While the Sangre de Cristo Mountains Bound the Near Side 
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Terry Stands at the Top of High Dune,
one of the highest in the park.
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved


It's hard to believe we reached the top!
The ridge was so narrow and high, 
that we wouldn't stand together at the end.

And sitting down was out of the question,
because the thought of trying to stand up
on the sandy tip was too scary. 

With both of us unsteady with the height,
we could barely wiggle past each other,
so I could walk to the summit.

The wind was gusting, and we had to hang on to our hats.
We felt like we were alone in the world.

I cautiously crept out to the end,
and gazed at the alien beauty in every direction.


The View from the Tip of High Dune
Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Yes!!!!!
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



Now all we had to do was get down.


Heading Back
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Down and Down
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





The return trip was a whole different experience!
We stuck to the ridges because of their firmer footing,
but we bounded along the steeper portions in giant steps.

We stopped at one high spot for a snack,
ripping into sweet, juicy oranges with our teeth.


A Great Spot for a Snack
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved




Down and Down
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





And Down
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved





Sand Sledders and Sand Boarders on the Lower Dunes
Maybe Next Time!
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



What a relief it was to reach Medano Creek
and stick our hot bare feet in its cool running water.
We were exhausted, but exhilarated.

There is no real trail to the top of High Dune.
You just strike out across the sand toward
the highest point visible from the main parking lot
by whatever route you choose.

The average hiking time for the trip
to and from High Dune is two hours.
The distance is about 2.5 miles,
depending on how much you ramble on the dunes.
You'll gain 699 feet of elevation
and stand at 8,691 feet above sea level at the summit.



Medano Creek
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved



So what if it took us 3½ hours?
Thanks to Terry's encouragement,
we made it together.

Never say never!
I haven't peaked!
I'm not on the long downhill slide!



Medano Creek
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved