Old Mill magical mystery tour
I'm at Old Mill Station. My trek out here to Étienne Brûlé Park to retrace a weekend bike tour of Toronto's French heritage has taken close to an hour and a half. I know I'm chasing ghosts, remnants of nothing, because nothing remains of the forts in question. In fact, they are even often confused with each other, although Fort Rouillé stood on what is now the CNE grounds and Fort Toronto was purportedly along the Humber River not far from here. Admittedly, I have no idea how far "not far" is, exactly. Fort Rouillé was burned down by the retreating French, leaving no trace for the British to take over. Fort Toronto, its precursor, has also disappeared without a trace. Fort Rouillé has a big tall marble marker with a plaque to commemorate it. In the case of Fort Toronto all I am looking for is a sign, or even a passing mention on a Discovery Walk panel.
This car and subway ride brings home to me the vastness that is modern Toronto, with its incredible diversity. From this fort on the Humber, the city has spread into many different neighbourhoods that we can explore today. For example, 30 kilometers separate my home in York Mills from the Old Mill station. Within the purview of those 30 kilometers I've crossed Don Mills, East York, Danforth Village, Riverdale, Rosedale, Yorkville, the Annex, Seaton Village, Christie Pits, Dovercourt Park, Parkdale, High Park, Swansea and Runnymede.
I'm looking for the park and there are no signs at all from the subway station or just outside it. There's a sign that says Humber River with a staircase leading down. I want to see this river from above. It barely moves within this little swath caught between the roaring cars on the right and the speeding subway on the left. I can't believe someone's actually fishing down there. I hope they're not going to be eating anything they catch because I don't think it's healthy.
I google this later. Apparently, recent tests in the Humber showed ammonia at levels 20 to 570 times higher than recommended provincial water-quality guidelines. PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls) were from 39 to 50 times higher. There were four types of PAHs (polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons), made up of fluorine, phenanthrene, anthracene and fluoranthene, that ranged from five to 175 times higher than guidelines. Anglers have been warned by at least one expert not to eat the fish they catch. They might need to get the word out more.
There isn't any sign of a ruined mill. There's something much newer-looking called the Old Mill Inn and Spa. I go look. There are three houses right at the corner of Old Mill Road and Old Mill Trail with mock Tudor designs, dark brown wood beams crisscrossing white, so it seems a popular thing in the neighbourhood. The newer-looking condos, however, have mansard roofs with dormer windows on the top floor and bay windows in the stories underneath.
Here we go: a sign says The Old Mill Inn, The Spa, Home Smith Bar, Restaurant, The Terrace. It looks like a touristy place, certainly a recreational venue. There's a very steep gabled roof at the front, with a gold-lettered sign in a 19th-century-type font, like Century Old Style - the Old Mill Inn. And there's the Old Mill Flower and Gift Shoppe. The sign has a coat of arms underneath: Vallis humbria angliae pars anglias procul. (I find out later it means Valley of the Humber - a little bit of England far from England).
The mock Tudor design manifests itself everywhere in various incarnations. On one façade, you've got moose antlers, and underneath each set of windows are four quadrifoils. Hanging here and there are various cattle-related implements, perhaps for ploughing.
The place looks huge. I still don't see the original watermill, but it has to be around here someplace.
I think this is the main building. It's enormous. It's four stories high and each story has its own quadrifoil design with multipaned windows. There is really nice stone work under top story. It looks old enough. There are other wings where the Tudor design is more stylized, really well worked into the modern design. There's a fountain here, really shady, with trees all about. There's a little waterfall.
Leading away from the Old Mill Inn there's a beautiful stone bridge with cement cappings on it. The inscription says it was built in 1916. We're in King's Mill Park on the side where the mill is and the other side of the bridge is another park. Finally - Étienne Brûlé Park. There's panel here with information on it. It says amongst other things that there has been a bridge here over the Humber River since 1837.
Here's another panel: the Humber river was designated a Canadian heritage river in 1999. There's beaver activity, salmon who move upstream to spawn, great blue herons, cedar waxwings, red foxes, blue jays, muskrats, monarch butterflies and snapping turtles.
Not too far from the first set of restrooms, there's a no fishing sign bent right back to the left. Someone out here really wanted to fish, maybe while under the influence of elephant tranquilizers. It looks like it's just cowering close to the sand, while two men fish along the river close to the dam. A few steps away, three panels in both official languages commemmorate Champlain's journey throughout Ontario. This, I know, is a small victory for La Société d'histoire de Toronto, a group dedicated to the commemoration of all things French and historical in town.
I cross the bridge and head into King's Mill park.There's a kayak company out paddling and it looks inviting. I'm looking at the subway bridge, green copper against water, the sky and trees. One bit of graffiti says "My mom thinks I'm handsome". It's a cartoon of some guy with a very flat wide nose with huge nostrils and three hairs on his head and big square teeth. It's Bart Simpson type cute.
It turns out that the old mill ruins are, predictably enough, part of The Old Mill Inn. So all that old stone is genuine. I've been looking everywhere for something that was right in front of me when I got out. It's a metaphor for life. Well, for my life, at least.
The actually watermill is right at the entrance. I missed it by about eight inches. It's quite unremarkable for all the searching I've been doing. Less than ten feet in diameter, it's not worthy of the mysticism I've attributed to it. Another metaphor. I'm full of 'em today.
As skeptical as I was coming upon this place, I must say I'm impressed with the interior. The stately Victorian ambiance is augmented by genuine-looking prints on the walls and the interior furnishings - the benches and booths along the wall - look original. However I learn later that, apparently, these were bought as antiques during restoration. They've done a very good job of conveying the feel of the 19th century. The carpeting is sedate, in earth tones, blending in with the rest. There are little lanterns in the halls, a sketch of Queen Victoria, a gilded mirror, a few candelabras and what looks like a 19th-century political cartoon done in pen and coloured ink. There's a room called The Garrett Room and another called the Victoria Room. The interior dining room just off the patio has brick walls - which look like the original brick from the mill itself but apparently aren't - and a collection of hunters' sketches done in pen and coloured ink.
On the patio of the Old Mill restaurant with its bay turret and many windows, it's 30 degrees and I'm perfectly comfortable. There's a waterfall nearby. The place is pretty and looks secluded. The geyser-like fountain sounds like white noise, but more pleasant. You can still hear yourself talk.
Looking through pamphlets obligingly provided by the waiter, I find out that the Old Mill dates back to 1793 and that there was a tea room here as early as 1914. The whole place was renovated and expanded into its present form in 2001.
I still have no idea where was Fort Toronto. It was probably was south of here. Walking 2 km can take about 30 minutes. I am still going to try and find it. Following the trail, I follow the semi-circular path in King's Mill Park. A panel says that boat yards were located here by 1796. Many of the ships built here were used in the War of 1812 against the Americans. South of here is a deep-water anchorage once used by rum-runners during Prohibition in the 1920s. Commercial salmon fisheries existed here as late as 1925.
Not a single mention of Fort Toronto - anywhere.
I direct my gaze to the nether regions under bridges. Some graffiti tags are covered up by others. It's like pissing on somebody's territory, I bet. Further up there's a strange cartoon creature with three fins on its head, a tail like a sea-horse and a clawed hand, and big cartoon eyes. A stylized signature is done in orange, S-T-E-E-T, with one e inside the other and both framed by the Ts, so the whole thing looks like a labyrinth.
Here at the Old Mill subway station, there's what appears to be a piece of art just outside. I didn't notice it when I got out, strangely enough. It looks a bit like something from Miro rendered in sculpture and repeated five times. It looks like waves with a porthole inside the waves instead of inside the boat. The waves are pale aquamarine over cement, punctuated by slashes made of pale green and cobalt blue and what look like stylized eyelids - yellowish tongues with six short spokes attaches to them, coming out of the waves. It has the signature ceramic square tiling underneat, the boring hallmark of Toronto subways everywhere. There is no indication of the artist anywhere, either outside or inside the station. A google search of subway art turns out nothing corresponding to my mystery outdoor sculpture. Grrr. It really is a cool piece of art.
So this is my day to get lost - but to find things I hadn't expected: a mill, a kayak company, different kinds of outdoor urban art. I went looking for a long lost fort and found other forgotten things.
(c) 2007 Dominique Millette