I’ve never really considered that Indian Road [unfortunate name, but it was named what it was named] connects the Trans-Canada to Beachburg Road.
My parents sent me to HILA Science Camp, located on the road of the same name. I was a nerdy kid, my parents encouraged that, though I preferred the computers and video games to building rockets or photographing horses.
As a child who wasn’t yet used to navigating behind the wheel of a powerful engine, I didn’t realize just how it all fit together.
Now that I’m in my thirties, have a driver’s license and marginally better spatial reasoning, I have to cope with the idea that you really can think of two places as entirely unconnected if you aren’t used to approaching them from a different angle.
I would always go to Beachburg either from Greenwood Road, being in Pembroke a lot, or from Forester’s Falls, being tasked with delivering a newspaper published out that way. My route takes me nearly to Renfrew and to Westmeath, so those routes suit me fine.
However, having found myself on Highway 17, running late due to my own nocturnal sleep schedule and panic-induced writing habits, I decided to try and see where Indian Road took me. Expecting to get lost or to wind up at the former location of the long-defunct Hila camp, I took the winding roads and hoped for the best.
It was when I found myself on a familiar stretch of road, passing Westmeath, that I realized where I was. Geography clicked for me.
For many people in Whitewater, it is obvious. This is home; every road leads to a familiar place, every city has its little corners and alleys and turnarounds. Old buildings and older history.
For me, a lot of this is still new. I grew up in the area, but spent most of my time in Cobden, or Pembroke, and its only now I’ve come to learn more about Beachburg, Westmeath, Lapasse, Forester’s Falls, and Haley’s Station.
I’ll have to try getting lost again.
