Rails and Fences

The woods in Lanark are full of surprises, and I am never sure what I shall find when I go rambling among the trees. Late last autumn on a deep woods walk, I discovered the remains of a capacious cedar log cabin in a secluded grove far from the road. The cabin was without roof or windows, but the cedar logs of which it was crafted are durable, and the walls stand proud, alone and abandoned in their sunny wooded clearing. There are no artifacts, no old bottles, rusted knives or bits of crockery laying about, so it is difficult to figure out what uses the cabin fulfilled in its day, but it was probably used as a sleeping cabin by loggers in the late nineteenth century - the property is crisscrossed by old logging trails and lavishly studded with the stumps of huge white cedar trees removed by hand and skidded out by horses many years ago

Here and there in the woods are panels of old split rail fence marching short distances into the trees and stopping suddenly, brought to unexpected termination by rocky outcroppings, granite gorges and beaver ponds. The weathered cedar rails have a wonderful dry silvery patina, and they are silent reminders of what life must have been like in the beginning, of the strength, resilience and obdurate self sufficiency needed to carve out a life in the wilds.

Whenever I find another old rail fence, I think of the first settlers here, gazing in astonishment at the panorama of endless pine clad ridges and valleys before them and knowing in their blood and bones that they had come home. I think too of the grueling work which lay ahead of them in clearing land and putting up cabins before winter arrived and the first snows fell. In reminding me of the past, the old rail fences continue to be of valuable service, long after their makers have departed, and I am reminded too that we are merely caretakers of this place.