Gatineau Park

History of the Ottawa Ski Club

by Herbert Marshall

Chapter 4 - Trails and Trail Makers

At the peak of the Ottawa Ski Club's development of cross-country skiing it had 62 miles of trails. Captain Joe Morin, its famous trail maker, contended that there were miles because they were good both coming and going. By the early 1920's they had been developed all the way from Wrightville to beyond the McCloskey farm. Wrightville was the starting point for trips to Dome Hill at Ironsides and frequently it was the end of the trip from the farthest trails west of Camp Fortune.

Though some skiers left the train at Chelsea, went to Kingsmere and then via the Hermit or Mica Mine trails to Wrightville, most went beyond Chelsea. There were trails from Tenega and Kirk's Ferry leading to Camp Fortune. George Audette and Alex. Haultain, the trail makers and experts of the day, would meet the skiers at these points and guide them over the routes until these became so well known that guides were no longer necessary. At Kirk's Ferry there was a choice between McAllister’s and Cooper's trails. The former was more direct but entailed a steep climb up the hill at the start. It was a common sight on a week-end morning to see a long line of skiers, packs on back, winding its way slowly up that formidable hill. After a breather at the top, it moved onward across the delightful ups and downs of the intervening country until Camp Fortune was reached. Cooper's trail, a little farther west, entailed less initial climbing.

From Cascades or Burnett one could go over the undulating country, via Cowden’s farm to and across Meach Lake, climb the McCloskey hill to the McCloskey farm, or go by Blanchette’s trail farther up the lake to the same buildings. The skiers paused for rest and refreshment first at the McCloskey farm house, later at the Macdonald farm house and finally at the Western lodge when it was built. From McCloskeys they skied to Pink Lake and on to Wrightville. Often they paused at Camp Fortune before going on to Pink Lake. Skiers were a hardy lot in those days, covering these distances on their cross-country journey:

Cascades to McCloskey's	6 miles
McCloskey’s to Camp Fortune	3- 1/2 miles
Camp Fortune to Pink Lake	5 miles
Pink Lake to Wrightville	5 miles
	____________
	19- 1/2 miles

Whichever way they went to McCloskey’s, a lot of stiff climbing was necessary. A day’s trip of miles was no inconsiderable achievement but many, both men and women, did it.

It must be admitted that to the expert of today these early long-distance trips were a test of endurance rather than skill. Most of those who used the trails at the time went for the exercise, for the enjoyment of fresh air, sunshine, and beautiful scenery and were quite satisfied with the type of trail available — that is, gently undulating country with occasional steeper but not too difficult slopes.

This type of trail-skiing could not be compared to that on the thrill-packed trails which were soon to develop but, not only did they prepare the members for the latter, they also provided a most exilerating and memorable experience to those who participated in their delights. They meant freedom from urban strain and confinement. The ever-changing beauty of the winter landscape through which the trait was winding charmed away dull care, reinvigorated mind and body and prepared the individual for the daily grind of the coming week. Once away from the highway, whether in the open fields or the silent forest, the skier was close to nature and could not help but be refreshed. An article in the Ski News of January 20th, 1926, by Lloyd Roberts, entitled 'Snow Color', describes the mood of one perceptive and sensitive skier:

I am a skier of sorts. I doubt if anyone will ever dub me an expert. I ski in the winter for the same reason as I walk throughout the rest of the year - to hobnob with Nature where she is still "natural", absorb her moods and, if possible, discover a few of her secrets. I have no ambition to break records and win cups. I am not so much a “sport” as I am an explorer, an adventurer, triumphantly satisfied if I succeed in finding a new trail or a fresh color scheme or even snow shadows a little bluer than I've ever seen them before. I am not a misanthrope - Heaven forbid! - but I have no compunction in surrendering the trait to those exuberent bands of winter revellers hurrying towards a destination. The wildernes is timid in winter as in summer. Shouting jars its serenity. Even though there be few birds and animals to take offence, there is always the intangible something called "atmosphere" that haunts the silent places and retreats before the presence of man. To really know it one should search alone.

Before skis came to Ottawa the Gatineau Hills were but a summer resort, closing down at the first snow flurry and inaccessible till spring. Now it lies open the year round, and winter has lost most of its sting. Let the asters fade and the leaves fall, the fires of autumn burn down to a grey ash, the dancing waters go into their icy shell and the cold and silence of outer space descend upon the roofs of man, there is still gladness and rare expectation in the lure of the winter trails, their white magic and their stark simplicity.

It was cold, so cold that trunk cracked like intermittent rifle shots and the patches of bared rapid smoked like hot cauldrons. The sky was bluer than any pottery out of Delft. The forest floor, buried knee-deep in snow crystals, near at hand scintillated with multi-colored flames, farther off cooled into the palest of mauve embers. On either side of the trait bristled an intermidable array of tall grey saplings. Being noon, their fine shadows lay on the snow like spider webs. In spite of the distant throb of subterranean waters the air was still and brittle as glass, as though a sudden shout would bring it tinkling about one's ears.

In the Ski Club News of February 23rd, 1927, another club member described his sensations during one of the long ski trips of the period.

In 1922 George Audette made a trail from Camp Fortune to Kingsmere for the purpose of avoiding Murphy's Hill — “the graveyard of skiers". Soon after it was opened, Mr. Mortureux reported; a special Investigating Committee was appointed to

inquire into the conditions of the new trail. It was followed by a Salvage Committee that picked up what they could of the investigators. The remains of the Committee held a joint indignation meeting at the bottom of the last ravine and, not being able to obliterate the trail, decided to give it such a name as would warn the skiers of the danger they were running. None of the names suggested however — such as “Suicide Trail”, “Nightmare Trail”, “Devil's Own Trail”, “Slaughterhouse Trail", “Trail-of-the-man-who-lost-all-his-friends” — seemed to quite fit the occasion, and as a fitting punishment for devising such a diabolical trail, the Committee decided that it should bear the name of its creator.

George’s Trail undoubtedly led to a higher average of skiing skill and prepared the way for even more challenging tests. It became a regular route to Kingsmere for several years but with the coming of the Highland and other trails the “diabolical” part was no longer used.

About 1924 Captain Joe Morin became the Director of Trails, his interest in ski-jumping considerably diminished and his responsibilities in that field passed on to the perennial enthusiast Sigurd Lockeberg. Joe took office at a time when a new approach to trail-making was necessary, due to the advent of the bus as an alternative mode of transportation to the train.

The coming of the bus service soon diverted throngs of skiers from the train trips to Tenega and beyond and promoted to quite different orientation of the trail system. Hitherto, trails had usually followed existing bush roads and paths and open country. Joe Morin and his volunteer trail makers (who became known as the “Night Riders”) met the need by whacking through the woods to create new and more convenient trails from Old Chelsea to Camp Fortune.

Skiers could only win the thrill of the long runs into Camp Fortune at the cost of considerable toil. They had first to climb the hills which towered above Kingsmere. Captain Morin’s task was to find the least laborious and pleasantest routes. Early in the history of the Club the members skied from Chelsea station up to the top of the Kingsmere road and stopped at Murphy's. After a pause for refreshments in the hospitable inn they climbed to the Ridge Road and reached Camp Fortune via Fortune Lane. Some boarded Murphy's sleigh at Chelsea station. In spite of a thick layer of straw and covering rugs and robes the cold penetrated from beneath and above and they were much in need of hot tea at the end of the ride.

Captain Morin's first achievement was the Penguin Trail. Starting at Young's farm, less than a mile up the Kingsmere road, it wound its way to the Bald Hill, then made a long gradual ascent up Excelsior Hill to Wattsford Lookout near the top of Kingsmere Heights, Another short but steep climb and a brief trip through forest land led one into the Ridge Road from which Fortune Lane could be reached. Later the bus carried skiers up Kingsmere Road to Young's for an additional 15 cents. (The fare from Sussex and George Streets to Old Chelsea: 30 cents.)

The Penguin Trail came by its name through a strange incident. It is alleged that, late one cold winter day just as the sun was sinking, a gang of Night Riders led by Captain Joe Morin was busy putting the finishing touches on the new trail and snipping the last barbed wire when they heard a noise like the flapping of wings in a deep ravine near by. Joe went over to investigate and found a rather large, strange-looking bird floundering helplessly in the snow. He picked it up tenderly, put it in his haversack, and brought it to the dormitory of Camp Fortune Lodge where the bird quickly revived under the influence of warmth and good food. It was at once identified as a penguin by CE. Mortureux who had seen a few penguins in zoos, and pictures of them in books and had read a lot about their habits. The bird stood up exactly like a penguin, making a neat little bow whenever anyone entered the dormitory, uttering an incessant prattle that no one could understand, not even the Night Riders, accustomed though they were to the meaning of strange sounds in the bush. The bird was a penguin, there could be no doubt, and was accepted and adopted as such by the Company of the Night Riders with whom it made fast friends.

There was skepticism, however, on the part of those with learning in the ornithological world. A deputation set out for Camp Fortune to view the ‘penguin’. Whether the feathered visitor had wind of their coming and did not want its identity revealed or whether it suddenly decided not to trespass any longer on the hospitality of Camp Fortune, no one ever knew, but just as the scientists arrived on the scene, the bird jumped on the sill of an open window, flew high into the sky with powerful strokes of its short wings, soared for awhile, oriented itself, and then flew straight toward the great northland. It never came back.

A very plausible theory was offered to solve the mystery and left both camps satisfied. The bird was not an English penguin but a French ‘pingouin’, in fact a member of the auk family — the razor-billed auk (close relative of the penguin, known under the name of “Pingouin commun" by the French). The razor-billed auk inhabits the coasts of North Atlantic. Specimens at times have been found inland in a starving condition, unable to return to their sea homes. Their wings are short and powerful, and they can fly long distances.

Whatever the true identity of the strange bird, the trail where it was found thus became known as the Penguin, which after all is easier to say than “Razor-billed Auk Trail”.

Captain Morin’s next project was the famous Canyon Trail, opened at the beginning of 1926. It was so called because at the end of the climb the “Top-of-the-World” was reached and Camp Fortune lay hundreds of feet in the valley below. To reach it the skier descended by a series of breath-taking slides interspersed with a few short level stretches for which many were grateful as offering an opportunity to prepare themselves for the next drop. The several runs in this drop of the Canyon were named “the Prelude", "the Speedway", "the P.B. hill (which Mort said could be interpreted in English as ‘Perfect Beauty' or 'Pure Beast' or, in French as 'Pas Bonne' or 'Pas Bete', according to the luck of the skier)" and, finally, "Grand Allee".

The Canyon Trail avoided the Kingsmere Road. It entered the bush from the Meach Lake road a short distance from Old Chelsea. Its length was 3-1/2 miles of which 1-1/2 was straight climbing, a mile or so of rolling country and the remainder downhill. Originally intended as an exit from Camp Fortune to Old Chelsea it soon became a popular entrance trail.

"The Canyon Trail did not know for a long lime whether it was going or coming, or even where it was going", Mort wrote in the Ottawa Ski Club Guide in 1943. “It seems now to have found its real purpose; a noble trail that will last as long as skiing in the Gatineau Hills."

The fact is that the famous Canyon Trail underwent a gradual evolution. Before the coming of the ski-tow, many climbed laboriously from the Camp up to the Top-of-the-World, the highest point on the ridge overlooking Kingsmere and then proceeded to Kingsmere or Old Chelsea. Most skiers, however, went up to Fortune Lane to the Ridge Road where they could choose alternative ways to Kingsmere, Old Chelsea or Wrightville. They had the choice of the Ridge Road to Kingsmere Heights, George’s trail and, later, the Highland. Still later, many rode the tow to the top of the ridge, and followed the trail starting at the top of the Slalom hill which connected with the Canyon below the Top-of-the-World.

Mort's predictions for the future were by no means always fulfilled. The famous Canyon Trail, due to the changing character of skiing, is not used now between the Meach Lake Road and Kingsmere Heights. Half way up to the Top-of-the-World it has been converted into the George McHugh downhill run and furnished with a ski-tow part way. It was, however, for many years an extremely popular trail. Sometimes it became hard and dangerous and in 1928 Doug Chisholm opened an “easy way" (which became known as “Pleasant Valley") into Camp Fortune to the left of the Canyon and ending where it joined the lower part of Fortune Lane.

It was always deemed necessary to know the length of a trail. Accordingly, when the Canyon Trail was completed, Mr. Mortureux, Joe Morin and Louis Grimes set about the task of measuring it. Joe and Louis handled the measuring line. Mort was supplied with a quantity of beans which he put into one pocket of his capacious windbreaker. Every time the line was stretched to full length he was to take a bean and put it in his other pocket. Thus, the number of beans in the second pocket had only to be multiplied by the length of the line to ascertain the length of the trail. On this occasion, when the measurement of the ski trail had been completed, Mort emptied the contents of the second pocket to count the beans. They were, alas, lamentably few in number. Examination of the pocket revealed the presence of a hole in the lining through which most of them had escaped.

Another access trail to Camp Fortune, developed around 1928, was Little Switzerland. This branched off from the Canyon a short distance from the crest of Kingsmere Heights. It was a longer but very pleasant alternative to going down the Canyon. Mort described it in the 1943 Ski Guide as follows:

Little Switzerland starts at a junction in the Canyon Trail about a quarter of a mile beyond the top of Excelsior, where the Canyon turns abruptly left. For over a half a mile this trail twists and winds through a beautiful wooded country. The grade in general is uphill, but there are many smooth little runs that soothe the mind and satisfy the soul, But just as you are becoming lulled into delicious coma and feel a poem coming on, you find yourself looking down a rather steep slope called Bon Ami. While this is quite a friendly hill, as the name implies, most skiers enjoy a thrill running the narrow shute which has a double dip at the bottom.

Now that Bon Ami has jolted you out of your reverie, stay that way, because right away you are going to need all your wits about you. Directly ahead is the Humdinger! And it is well named, for no other title could better describe this hill. With a few inches of fresh snow, this is the answer to a skier’s prayer. However, if conditions are not perfect, no one but an expert is advised to take it wide open, It starts off very innocently with a long gradual incline down the side of the mountain but when you come to the drop — hang on to everything! The momentum carries you up to the top of the twenty-foot up-shoot. What a thrill!

After gliding down a long rippling run you arrive at the Arctic Circle lookout. The whole countryside to the north lies at your feet and the farms and farm buildings look like a patchwork quilt. Off to the left can be seen the elaborate summer mansions that rear their stately heads high over Meach Luke.

Reluctantly you leave this beautiful aerial view and climb the steep slope that leads to the return to Camp Fortune. Up till now the trail, which is a long loop, has been going north but now it changes west, and so you are on the home stretch.

From this point on, it is mostly downhill. The runs are now long and almost continuous. One of them is called Petticoat Lane, but that does not mean that there is anything sissy about it. The “way I heered it" was that one day away in the dim and distant past, it was being marked with bunting for a ski race and at this point — a lady member and two men — ran out of bunting. Que faire? Well, the brave young lady solved the problem. She ripped a chunk of material from her voluminous petticoat and the three of them tore it into strips and finished the job! Of course, in these modern days we are obliged to keep a plentiful supply of bunting on hand.

Now it is all over but the cheering. The Slalom hill and Sigurd’s jump come into view on the left and shortly the trail cuts into the foot of the Canyon, in front of the Camp Fortune lodge.

This delightful Switzerland Trail is still in use but the final runs have been shortened because the middle part of Petticoat Lane runs right into the Pinault Hill and the final slide is down the lower third of that hill.

After the Slalom and Little Switzerland were developed another phase in the trail system opened. The use of the bus instead of the train as a means of transportation resulted in skiers converging on Camp Fortune from their starting points in a much shorter period of time and this meant congestion in the lodge. The December 31st. 1925, issue of the Ski News contained the first mention of the Merry-Go-Round, made to permit skiers to take round trips within a radius of three miles or so from Camp Fortune. It had the merit of staggering the influx of skiers into the lodge. The Ski Guide describes the trail in these words:

Bonnie Brae, the start of the Merry-Go-Round, branches off from the south side of Camp Fortune. It is a winding, uphill climb of perhaps 600 yards, a bit tedious, but the only real climb on the whole trail. At the top you can catch your breath before you take the first run, which is called the Horse Race. This is simply a straight hill with a gradual upgrade at the bottom.

But immediately after you come to the “piece de resistance" of the Merry-Go-Round, very aptly named the Big Dipper. The name does not refer to the heavenly body of the same name, but to the lowly kitchen utensil, which has a long handle and an abrupt bowl at the bottom. Admittedly, at first glance it is remindful of the Grand Canyon or Pike's Peak, but it is smooth as silk and provides an exhilarating thrill without any real danger. However, if in the course of the rapid descent (which is nothing flat) you should feel a lump rise into your throat, just swallow it again, because that will be your heart. Having thus covered yourself with glory — and perchance with snow — you may bravely and nonchalantly scoot down the Little Dipper, which is a smaller edition of the same thing. (Once through a typographical error these were listed as the Big and Little Tippers.)

At the foot of this hill you may strike off to the left, following a trail that takes you to the Ogopogo, the last run of the Merry-Go-Round. But since you want to do the “works", keep right on and presently you will find yourself at the Kicking Horse Pass, a long run through a clearing. The name comes from the “kick” at the bottom where Keogan’s Road cuts across the trail, but the road is little used nowadays and the sharp drop immediately receding it has been “dekicked”.

After this you follow the trail markers through many beautiful evergreen copses and down many pleasant little runs. Once in a while something exciting happens — the Curve of Destiny, the Serpentine — but on the whole it is uneventful until the Ogopogo looms up.

The Ogopogo is called after that amphibious creature which B.C. chaps see after a get-to-gether with a few of the boys. Most of us associate it with pink elephants. Our Ogopogo, however, has no purple stripes but it does have the rolling coils. Under good conditions it is really a delightful run, packed with thrills, but when the going is rough — beware.

Now we are practically washed up. A sharp upgrade, across the Ridge Road, brings us to the top of the Horse Race again. But a further thrill awaits us, for we still have an elevation of 300 feet above Camp Fortune and there are three ways to descend. A trail cutting off to the left leads to the Mile-a-Minute or Travelers; you may take the first run of Bonnie Brae then strike off at the Practice Hill (no longer in use); or you may continue ng it has been “dekicked" on Bonnie Brae all the way.

Next came the Western Trail. Its length is 3-1/2 miles from Camp Fortune. The original trail was made in 1930 but was succeeded by a more direct one, thus described in the Ski Guide:

Up the first step of Travelers Hill, straight west of the Camp Fortune Lodge, is the opening of the Western Trail. A quiet, restful trail, devoid of traps and pitfalls, very different in that respect from the Merry-Go-Round with its wicked Dippers. Flowing evenly, like a gentle stream, through thickly wooded lands, the Western Trail breathes peace and security over its entire course, save perhaps at the beginning which is a bit choppy, but not dangerously so, or at about a mile from the start where a crooked ravine, the Gulch, provides a little jarring note of short duration, and at the end where a very long and swift descent leading to the ragged edge of a cliff would hurl the skier into eternity if it were not for an obstacle barring the way. This obstacle is the Western Lodge, the aim and object of the Western Trail.

The trail has had its tribulations also. Originally laid by Herbert Marshall, it was taken over and relaid by Trail-master Joe Morin who cut it wide - so wide that a claim for $1,500 damage with threats of a law suit came from one of the bush owners. This was settled with a compensation of $50, but the ink on the agreement was hardly dry when another man appeared, claiming to be the rightful bush owner, the other one having made a mistake in his blazes. He was told to have the place resurveyed at his own expense and nothing more was heard about the second claim.

With the growing popularity of hill skiing, the Western Lodge suffered a period of eclipse. Its visitors decreased to such an extent that in 1946 it was dismantled and carted to Camp Fortune. Once again, however, a Western Lodge proudly overlooks the Grand View. It is the logical outcome of a renewal of interest in the territory between Camp Fortune and McCloskey’s. Not only is this area a real forest solitude, it contains very fine scenic bush country with abundant opportunities for fascinating trails, most of them new, which have made available a variety of ways to penetrate this enjoyable region. Even the earliest trail to the Western Lodge, considerably modified, but reaching “The Ramparts”, has been included in the system.

The skill evident in the making of the trails and their variety point to the Trail Riders as worthy successors to the famous Joe Morin and his Night Riders. The trails offer a choice of long or short trips and provide for grades of skiing skill. One can take a long circular tour from Camp Fortune via the Burma Road or ski to the Western Lodge and back by different routes. The Huron Lodge, which is halfway to the Western Lodge, opened in the 1964-65 season and is a splendid acquisition to the skiing facilities.

For those who are out merely for a little exercise and fresh air, even labor-saving detours have been arranged such as the “Chicken Run" and the “Drumstick". The Trail Riders have increased the number of trail enthusiasts by inaugurating a series of badges to be awarded to those who complete specified mileages over the trails during the season. This has stimulated a new interest in ski touring, particularly among the younger fry.

The December 24th, 1930, issue of the Ski News reported the existence of the last great trail — the Highland — in these words:

Hoot Mon! If ye hae a drappie o' Scots blood in your veins ye dinna want to miss this trail, "Twill remind ye o' the dear auld heather hills and misty glens o' Bonnie Scotland, and faintly in your ears you'll hear the haunting strains o' the pibroch! But even if you are a Sassenach of the deepest dye, the rugged beauty of the terrain will hold you spellbound.

Take the trail up Bonnie Brae — the same as for the Merry-Go-Round — but ignore the Horse Race and continue straight ahead. Soon you will find yourself on a twisty little hill that cuts across the Ridge Road and enters a pine grove. This is the start of the Highland Trail.

After picking your way through a ragged bad lands of stumps, all the woodcutters left of a noble pine bush, you come to the Doch and Doris. This is a lovely run with a pause in the middle just before a sharp left turn. The trail then winds upwards around the mountain until suddenly you find yourself at Old Man Joe’s lookout. Standing there with one foot on a cloud you can see a wide arc of the countryside including Aylmer and Constance Bay. On a clear day it is a magnificent sight.

Soon afterwards you descend A WEE Drop. There is more steep climbing, then Kingsmere lookout. Here you can see King’s Mountain straight across and Black Lake straight down. It is hard to say how great the drop is to the lake, but I’d say the rock that tops the lookout would be an excellent take-off for parachute jumpers.

Now is the time to see that all your trappings and accoutrements are secure, for you are at the top of the famous Highland Fling. This is the appropriate name given to a series of zig-zag runs where you descend three or four hundred feet in about a third of a mile.

When you gradually come to a stop you are where George's trail converges, right behind Grime’s hill. This is the end of the Highland. If you want to return to Camp Fortune you can climb back George’s or take the first trail left and continue on the Lower Highland and back in the Canyon. But perhaps you are homeward bound. In that case proceed down Grimes’ to Kingsmere road where you have the choice of going back to Old Chelsea for a bus or taking the Pink Lake trail to Wrightville. (The Highland Trail is 2 miles long.)

Other trails were made in this period, such as the Cork Screw Slopes and the Cote du Nord near Camp Fortune, and the Ridge View, Chelsea Rapids and Scare Crow nearer to Old Chelsea. These were not major developments except that George Brittain’s Cote du Nord was, until a few years ago, used for downhill racing.

In discussing the Trail System, the importance of the Ridge Road should not be overlooked. It is an old bush road used long before skiers went into the Gatineau Hills and has served as a useful axis for the entire system. There are very few trails which do not connect with it at some point — by beginning or ending on it, crossing it, or entering at one point and leaving at another.

Long before the white man came the region of the Ottawa river was well known to the Algonquin and Huron Indians. There came a time when the Iroquois tribes sought to appropriate the hunting grounds of their rivals who were carrying furs to the French. Since there was always the chance of an ambush at the various portages, especially the Chaudiere rapids, the Algonquins and their allies the Hurons, adopted new routes to avoid the danger spots. Dr. Lucien Brault in his historical works on the Ottawa area states that they often paddled up Brewery Creek or the Gatineau River as far as Chelsea and then portaged via Kingsmere to Aylmer and Lake Deschenes. Another portage was from Leamey Lake on the Gatineau River and along the mountain ridge to Breckenridge. It seems possible that part of our Ridge Road was included in this long portage.

Mort has the following description of this road in his Trail Guide:

The history of this path is interesting. Originally a deer trail, like many self-respecting avenues of traffic, it became a busy highway over three-quarters of a century ago .... A small colony of Irish families, sixteen in all, freshly arrived from the “old Sod”’ settled in these hills, and cheerfully set to the task of clearing land that should never have been cleared and removing stones that should never have been removed because they made up practically nine-tenths of the soil and kept cropping out as fast as they were piled up. The new settlers did not stay very many years, and probably would never have stayed at all had they not been light hearted sons and daughters of Ireland. It is said they made a fair brand of Irish Whiskey with potatoes grown on this yellow soil and very good gin with juniper berries harvested in the mountain, and they may have been one of the reasons why they were loth to leave these remote hills. They grew tired, however, of scratching the barren soil; one by one they vacated their little clearings, their log shacks and the mountain, and the bush regained possession of their farms and of the road.

Not entirely however; no path trodden by man or beast ever disappears completely, vestiges of clearings remained along the road, and are still known under the names of the men who cut them out of the bush. After fifty years of neglect the road could still be made out under a thick tangle of barberry bushes, shrubs and fallen trees. Some parts between Kingsmere and Keogan’s clearing, being used at times for hauling logs and cordwood by the farmers of the valley, were always kept fairly clear; the first ski tracks began to appear there in the early years of the century, and became quite numerous when the Ottawa Ski Club built the first camp in these hills in 1920.

The Cliffside Ski Club also contributed to the Trail System. Though its efforts were modest in comparison with those of the Ottawa Ski Club, it did produce two trails which were used by members of both clubs. The most important of the two was the Sunset Trail, a very interesting and scenic one which followed the south side of the Ridge Road from Keogan Lodge via the Black Lake slopes, The other was Frank's Trail which commenced at the Ridge Road not far from Kingsmere and provided a pleasant run to Keogan’s. It was later connected to the Ottawa Ski Club trail system by Ferdie Chapman, Harman Cahill and other helpers.

The Sunset Trail was completed about 1925. Commencing at Keogan’s, it wound its way through picturesque country to Kingsmere. An article in an unidentified newspaper of the period (a clipping) read as follows:

Veterans on skis have explored the woods and hills north of Ottawa in search of new worlds to conquer. At the head of the Canyon Trail above Kingsmere there is a sign to inform the adventurous ski-hikers that they have arrived at the “Top-of-the-World”. Many have discovered that the downward path from eminence is far from being strewn with primroses. But despite the cautions of high authority, very few can resist the alluring appeal of Camp Fortune to cast themselves down from the highest pinnacle. Cliffsides have nothing quite so giddy as the Ottawa Ski Club’s Canyon Trail, but the honor goes to the Cliffside Club for making one of the most beautiful scenic trails in the Gatineau Hills. It is picturesquely called the Sunset Trail.

Captain Joe Morin, trail maker extraordinary, called it a day after he had completed the Highland Trail. Perhaps realizing that he could not surpass the achievements of the Canyon, Merry-Go-Round and Highland Trails, or feeling that the trail system was relatively complete, he turned his attention to another direction.

About this time Ottawa skiers were becoming increasingly aware of new developments in the skiing world. The terms Arlberg Technique, downhill and slalom racing were being widely discussed. For slalom racing more is needed than a ski trail and Joe sought and found a suitable site — the present Joe Morin Slalom Hill — and developed it. The Ski News of December 1, 1932, announced the existence of the Slalom Hill. By this one deed, Joe Morin signed the death warrant of trail skiing as the dominant form of skiing activity in the Ottawa Ski Club. It introduced a new phase in the evolution of the Club and, along with other developments, profoundly changed the whole skiing pattern in the Gatineau Hills.

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Index

Chapter 5.