“What’s your group doing here? We don’t see many walkers in these parts.” The woman chatted to me as we waited for the cross-walk hand to appear. She and her husband were new at retirement living; they had sold their large house and now lived in a condo across the street; they had just returned from a hiking holiday in New Zealand, a retirement present to themselves; she promised to check out our hiking club. The lights changed.
Some 31 people were on the urban hike. As the back-up leader, I guarded the rear of the pack. We meandered through the Markland Woods neighbourhood in the west end of the city, on the border between Toronto and Mississauga.
Etobicoke Creek was our destination on the Saturday morning ramble. It was the western boundary of what became known as the Toronto Purchase or Crown Treaty Number 13, negotiated in 1787. The area was part of the territory of the Mississauga First Nations. They ceded the land from the creek to Rouge River in the east, to the Canadian colonial government, in return for goods and services. Their fishing and hunting rights in the creek were guaranteed for eternity.
Etobicoke Creek was shallow. In the lower levels it was merely a piddle of water. As we headed further north the creek became wider, deeper and faster. Through fish weirs in the dams, salmon and trout fought their way up stream to their spawning grounds. I know these fish well in the supermarket. In the wild, they just look like, well, fish.
We skipped over the parts of the recreational trail nearest the creek, as it was too muddy from the spring thaw. The trees and shrubs were beginning to bud. I heard the birds singing their own sweet songs, of sex and eggs, in the spring sunshine.
The terms of Treaty Number 13 were disputed for over two centuries. As European settlers flooded into the area they forced out the Indigenous people. Trees were logged for the lumber industry. Forest were chopped down to make farms. Still, the small pioneer settlement grew slowly. Only one mill was built as the shallow creek could not provide enough power for others. Mills were the catalyst for developing towns and villages.
Dinah Green, a Black woman, worked on a pioneer farm in 1807. She is the first Black person recorded in Mississauga. Green was a servant of John Silverthorn. He was a United Empire Loyalist, the people who fought on the British side during the American Revolution. After the war, Loyalist refugees fled to Canada, taking what property they could carry. Including their slaves. For his loyalty Silverthorn received a massive land grant near Etobicoke Creek. Dinah Green arrived in Canada as his slave. Black History Walks Toronto
We passed the Markland golf course on the opposite side of the creek. It was built on land that was once part of the Silverthorn farm. Exclusive suburban houses, not manicured grass and sandy traps, were supposed to cover that land. Hurricane Hazel had a different idea. As the storm smashed through Toronto in 1954, her wrecking ball left bodies and demolished homes along the creeks and rivers in the city. The Etobicoke Creek watershed became a park to forestall future hurricanes.
The trail branched. Ahead it ran parallel to the creek on low ground. There, last year’s autumn leaves were streaked with mud. We took the other trail. I paused the group half way up the hill for a water break. And did the same at the top again. Pumping hearts, wheezing lungs and stressed knees needed a mini-rest. Mine included.
The land was level at the top of the ridge. We hiked on following the trail across a looping side street. Soon we reached Centennial Park Conservatory. It area was originally an old farm from Dinah Green’s era. Perhaps she walked up there for tea, gossip and a change of scenery. Maybe for some hanky-panky too.
The farm was acquired by the municipal government and turned into a park in 1967, as a centennial birthday present to the emerging city of Mississauga. We peeked inside the conservatory. The massive greenhouse was filled with beautiful, colourful, wonderful tropical plants. It was a touch of paradise in the blandness of a suburban area. A women’s choir sang, celebrating Easter, the rebirth of a new year of life.
In 2010, the terms of Treaty Number 13 were finally settled. The Canadian government paid the Mississaugas a fair price for the original land, and delivered on the promised goods and services. Somewhat. Today the Mississauga First Nations live on and mostly off a reserve a few miles away in Brantford.
We left Centennial Park and walked through a different area of the Etobicoke Creek’s parklands. To the right was Mill Road. Once it was a country trail, filled with farmers and their horse-pulled carts laden with wheat on their way to the Silverthorn mill. Dinah Green used flour made in that mill to make bread, cakes and pancakes. She is a one-line note in the local history of Etobicoke. Her presence is like the sugar and lemon drizzled on pancakes. The sweetness for some is based on the bitterness tasted by others.
The robins chirped away as we followed the creek on the return hike. I tried to count them and soon gave up, remembering that my job was to focus on the group and not the birds. I had done the important counting earlier – the total number of the group including the six people of colour.
Squirrels darted up the trees when startled by our footsteps. Carved out by the glaciers in the last Ice Age, Etobicoke Creek had meandered in its bed for millennia. I knew I would sleep well in my bed later. The 15km hike in the sunshine and fresh air guaranteed that.
Black Outdoors 