I learned of L'Amoreaux Park rather by accident while playing with Google Earth a few weeks ago. Located up near Finch and Kennedy, it's an area of the city I've never spent any time in, nor had much reason to look at on a map. The small woodlot on the property, which I've come to learn is called Passmore Forest, immediately caught my attention, beckoning for a deeper look. A little snoop through Panoramio revealed a
photo by user Mianbao, showing a Heritage Toronto plaque detailing an archeological dig, the Alexandra site, conducted in a nearby farmer's field in 2000-2001. This combination of history and nature is exactly the kind of thing I'm drawn to for our hikes, so L'Amoreaux Park quickly became a leading contender for what to visit next.
Reaching the park by TTC seemed a bit too time-consuming for the hours we had available so we took the car, parking in the lot of the L'Amoreaux Community & Recreation Centre which is located on the south east corner of the property. From there, a rather steep staircase descends to L'Amoreaux Park itself, depositing you near the banks of L'Amoreaux Pond. We immediately ambled north along the path, weaving our way past a few Canadian Geese, aiming to find the Heritage Toronto plaque mentioned above. And locate it we did, on the northern end of the pond near the bridge that crosses West Highland Creek.
The plaque itself provides a pretty informative summary, but a far more interesting read is the "
Report on the Stage 3-4 Salvage Excavation of the Alexandra Site" issued by Archaeological Services Inc., the organization responsible for unearthing much of the site's hidden history. In 2000, a planned housing development was beginning preparatory work just north of L'Amoreaux Park. When ceramic sherds were discovered but a few dozen centimeters under the surface of a farmer's field, a full-scale archaeological assessment was begun that quickly revealed a site of significant importance. 8 months of excavation and analysis unearthed a 600 year old
Huron-Wendat village some 2.6 hectares in size, and thought to have supported a population of 800 to 1000 people. The village supported 16 or 17 long houses, 3 "middens" (basically garbage pits), plus numerous auxiliary features like sweat lodges and hearths, all built over 4 or 5 decades. Interestingly, the Alexandra Site showed no evidence of palisades, the large fortified fences often built around such villages to protect them from invasion and attack. As a result, archaeologists propose that this village was not plagued by extensive or frequent warfare.
Remarkably, over 19,000 artifacts were recovered during excavation of the site. These included a variety of stone tools & weapons, rolled copper beads, worked bone, animal remains, and an impressive number of ceramic vessels, pipes and sherds. Perhaps the most significant discovery, however, were examples of beads made from sea shells believed to have originated in the Atlantic Ocean. Finding beads like these several hundred kilometers from the eastern seaboard clearly demonstrates the incredible trading network the First Nations people enjoyed at the time.
We soon crossed the bridge over West Highland Creek, the waterway responsible for feeding L'Amoreaux Pond. As the name implies, this creek is a tributary of Highland Creek proper, and part of what is labeled one of the most highly developed watersheds in the Greater Toronto Area. A great volume of urban runoff ends up in the storm sewer system, and thus finds its way directly into these natural waterways. As a testament to this degree of run off we're talking about, while the headwaters of West Highland Creek are found only a little north of L'Amoreaux Park, the artificial catchment under the bridge was littered with refuse, bits of plastic, oil slicks on the surface, and other similar tell-tale signs. The pond has been intentionally cultivated to help filter and improve water conditions, so assuming everything is as productive as it should be, the water flowing out of the pond and under McNicoll Avenue should be greatly improved. Of course this is merely a temporary condition, as the creek still has to endure countless other storm water outflows on its way down to join Highland Creek in Morningside Park.
We found a bit of guerrilla art spray painted on the paved path on the other side of the bridge, and I'd like to extend a personal "well done" to the artist. The unsigned artwork was merely a set of human footprints which over the course of a score of steps transform themselves into wolf prints. Abbey got it immediately, and pretty much thought these werewolf tracks to be the greatest artistic treasure she'd seen since Rubens'
The Massacre of the Innocents at the AGO. So, to you, unnamed artist, our thanks.
The path forks near the werewolf prints, with the southern half leading back around the pond as the north west section proceeds up an incline to the shady bliss of Passmore Forest. The forest is named after F.F. Passmore, the surveyor responsible for Scarborough’s first official surveys. Scarborough Council commissioned an inaugural survey from Passmore in 1850, and a second in 1862 in order to resolve several land claim disputes. Passmore's finished product, delivered by 1864, shows Scarborough in its infancy - a tapestry of private farms connected by roughly 125 side-roads. While this is a far cry from the amalgamated megalopolis of today to be sure, Passmore's maps do hint at the future that laid in waiting. Forest cover in Scarborough is estimated to have dropped by almost 40% between the two surveys, thanks to the agricultural efforts of the swelling population, and the commercial activities of roughly 15 mills operating in the area by the early 1860's. I find something almost poetic about F.F. Passmore having his own namesake forest today, for over a century ago his maps were an unnoticed harbinger of the future that was starting to unfold.
Passmore Forest may only be a tiny table land woodlot, but entering it feels more like stepping in to one of our provincial parks than your typical urban forest or ravine. The woodchip trail that rolled out before us lead through a diversely populated mixed forest, peppered by mature strands of sugar maple, patches of American beech saplings, and fine examples of white pine and red oak to name only a few of the tree species present. Scattered throughout were numerous trees literally hollowed out by decay and the activities of creatures like Pileated Woodpeckers and wood-boring insects. Equally impressive was the vibrant and varied understory, teaming with flowering raspberry in bloom, a half dozen or so species of fern, and some of the most outrageous patches of burdock I've ever seen. Most surprising was the near absence of many of the invasive plants so often found in Toronto's wild spaces, with the exception of Salsify (Goat's Beard), whose massive dandelion-like blowballs could be seen here and there near the edges of the trails.
Prompted by its small size, all the trails through Passmore Forest effectively loop back on themselves. The trail we used to enter the forest quickly reached the nexus of the system, a place where several trails interconnect, leading off in different directions. We took the northern route, which quickly turns west, skirting along the edge of the forest and picking up another access trail which feeds in from nearby Sanwood Blvd. 200 meters or so from the nexus a southern trail appears that leads deeper in to the heart of the forest, helping to form the loop back. You can continue on past this intersection, but you'll quickly exit the forest proper to join up with the paved path that runs through the meadow area of the park. Given Abbey's opinion on "parky" areas (as discovered during our hike through
E. T. Seton to the Forks) we turned on to the southern trail when it presented itself.
The southern trail intersects with an east/west trail, with the eastern section heading back to the nexus. From there we turned south, wandering along the single largest stretch of uninterrupted trail in Passmore Forest. Beams of sunlight more readily breach the canopy here, and the cool breeze blowing through caused the leaves to flutter and flash in the distance. Along the way, a felled tree close to the trail acted as an impromptu balance bean for Abbey, made all the more tricky by the dozens of snails that clung to its surface. Patches of burdock, some as tall as the little girl herself, made for frequent and impressive sideshows. The several minutes it took to stroll through this bit of the woodlot was certainly the highlight of our visit Passmore Forest.
The trail we were on also ended at the paved path that runs through the meadow area of the park. This path can be taken back down to the pond, but only a few meters away from our exit we found what appeared to be a vehicle access route back in to the forest, as evidenced by two worn tire-track marks straddling a broad strip of partially manicured grass. A proliferation of white mushrooms on and near the tread marks indicates this route has not been used recently, a fact made all the more clear when we encountered an enormous spider web crossing the entirety of our route only a few dozen metres inside the forest. While Passmore Forest is reported to be highly visited, indicators like this, coupled with the presence of plants like red trillium, spring beauty and trout lily (all of which favour undisturbed areas) make me doubt to veracity of this claim. We did not encounter a single person, nor a piece of garbage, at any time during our visit to the forest.
Exiting the forest at the end of this route brought us to a position almost exactly across the pond from where we started. The paved path here leads north back to the werewolf print graffiti we discovered earlier, and south(ish) to the path along the meadow that we had just bypassed. A few narrow foot trails lead their way down to the pond from here which I was, at first, hesitant to take in light of a nearby sign announcing a parkland naturalization program that had been completed in the area in April of 2006. Following the southern section of the path for a bit, however, we discovered one trail in particular that seemed very well used, enough so that our trespass seemed almost encouraged. Down at the water's edge, a collection of benches nestled in the bush validated this assumption, and we spent a good twenty minutes or so staring out at the pond, watching a large flock of Canadian Geese drift around. Several male Common Whitetail dragonflies darted from shrub to shrub along the banks while mating pairs of Blue-Ringed Dancer damselflies narrowly avoided being gobbled up by the tiny fish that frequently leapt up from the water. The whole scene was really rather idyllic.
L'Amoreaux Pond plays host to far more critters than geese and dragonflies, however. Foxes, skunks, raccoons, squirrels and chipmunks, as you'd expect, all pay frequent visits to the pond. This spring, the
activities of some busy beavers were reported on by the Toronto Star. Garter snakes roam the grasses, and crows, blue jays and even brown-headed cowbirds are regularly spotted in the area. One avian resident, however, certainly provided us with the greatest thrill of our visit to L'Amoreaux Park: a Great Blue Heron.
Back on the paved path, we continued over to a short bridge that crosses a narrowing in the waters. The bridge offers an excellent view of southernmost end of the pond, just before West Highland Creek flows under McNicoll Ave. It was here, perched upon a downed tree branch 40 metres or so off the bridge that we saw a juvenile Great Blue Heron. In their younger years, birds of this species tend are a bit more drab and monochromatic in appearance than they do later in life. Their tell-tale plumes have yet to form, and their brown and black flank stripes are far less noticeable. Regardless, this bird was still a fantastically impressive sight. It stood absolutely motionless in the water, save for the slow rotation of its neck and head as it scanned the water for its next meal. While hard to tell from our distance, I'd suggest it was somewhere between Abbey's height and my own, and imagine the wingspan would have been nothing sort of gasp-worthy. I've always found it difficult to process birds of this size, as if my brain somehow rejects the very notion that anything that flies is allowed to this large. Abbey, on the other hand, seemed to have no such limitation. She definitely enjoyed the sight, but I don't think it really held the same magical quality for her as it did for me. But we did stand and watch it for a few minutes, until I could see her getting a bit fidgety, at which point I figured it was time to wrap up our hike and return to the car.
The bridge delivered us to the eastern side of the pond, hardly 200 meters from the staircase up to the parking lot. From here it is possible to follow a path under McNicoll Ave and over to the sports fields and tennis courts of L'Amoreaux Park South, for those who might be interested. As for us, we ambled our way back to the car and headed for home.
Total Distance: Approx. 1.73km
Trail Map:
Google Earth |
Google Maps
Start Coordinates:
+43°48'42.26" N -79°18'17.40" W
End Coordinates:
+43°48'42.26" N -79°18'17.40" W (round trip hike)
We started our hike at the parking lot at the corner of Beechgrove Dr. and Copperfield Rd., just opposite the wastewater treatment plant. The woodchip trail plunges in to a thicket of elderly trees that hug the eastern edge of East Point Park's small and solitary pond. This introduction does very little to prepare you for what awaits only minutes later, but it is also one of the more lovely portions of the park. Exiting the southern side of the thicket, however, you are immediately greeted by the "real" East Point Park, a rolling landscape populated by Staghorn Sumach, Queen Anne's Lace, Prairie Cordgrass, Dame's Rocket, Bushy Cinquefoil, Nelson's Horsetail, Fragrant Umbrella-sedge, Yarrow, Feverfew and Asters, to mention but a handful of species by name.
The trail soon subtly curves to skirt the edge of the Bluffs, offering some truly excellent panoramic views of Lake Ontario and a cool, constant breeze. The winds near East Point Park have a bit of a reputation, making it a popular destination for paragliders, and granting it the dubious distinction of playing host to a Toronto Hydro Anemometer Test Station, located several kilometers offshore just southeast of the park. Having started our hike just after lunch time, the breeze had a special attraction for us, offering a much needed repose from the sweltering heat.
I'd given Abbey her first pair of real "grown up" binoculars only an hour or so before the hike, and East Point Park proved an excellent destination for their inaugural use. The views from the trail offered a wealth of far away objects for her to focus on, and the squeals of delight were worth every second spent - and believe me, there were many. Views of the lake and shores were not the only binocular-worthy events, however. The meadows and scrub of East Point Park provide great habitat for swarms of butterflies: Common Buckeyes, Clouded Sulphurs, Milbert's Tortoiseshells, Spring Azures, Pipevine Swallowtails, Little Yellows, Hickory Hairstreaks, Red Admirals, the list goes on and on. Similarly, it is home to hundreds of different species of birds, and offers frequent sightings of the likes of Orchard Orioles, American Woodcocks, Carolina Wrens, Orange-crowned Warblers, American Pipits, Pine Siskins and Snow Buntings. Sadly, such critters move too fast for binoculars in the hands of five-year old, but the effort itself seemed its own reward.
The trail turns back northward near the eastern edge of the Ken Morrish Softball Complex. Prior to arriving, I'd plotted out a potential route back to the car that would take us along what I figured would be a very noticeable trail in to the interior of the Park. Much to my surprise, however, the section of trail near Ken Morrish was littered by side trails both big and small, and heading off in all directions. As we approached the exit to Copperfield Rd., I decided it was time to take a break in the shade, drink some water, and take a quick peak at the aerial photo I had printed off in order to double-check the location of our elusive side trail. We sat for a few minutes before something started to dawn on me. A significant number of cars could be spotted parked along Copperfield Rd., far more than would be required to carry the handful of other hikers we'd seen along the way. The three or four people who had passed us while we sat there were all men, all alone, and all seemingly quite familiar with the side trails as none exhibited any hesitation in choosing one over the other. As confirmed later on by a quick Google search, this area of East Point Park is a well-known gay cruising spot.
The chance of blundering across two men's shared moment was definitely less than desirable. A wise person would have simply retraced their steps back along the way they'd come, but I'd already gotten Abbey excited about a foray off the beaten track, and didn't really want to disappoint. So, instead, I opted for an alternative strategy, and we started a single-file walk along what appeared to be the most-traveled side trail I'd seen, with me out in the lead, babbling away in a somewhat louder and more constant fashion than usual. The way I figured it, these types of casual encounters must involve a certain amount of discretion, and I was hopefully that the combination of a well-worn route and an obvious approach would keep any unexpected surprises at bay. With each fork and bend in the trail, we took the more traveled option, a route that seemed to slowly curve toward the woodchip trail we'd taken along the bluffs earlier on. Conveniently, the only incidents I can report involved butterflies and not people, and within 20 minutes or so we found ourselves back on the woodchip trail. 
