This old logging route going from Wakefield, Québec to Maniwaki, is a lot like my past life. It has its dangerous curves, it has its rough surfaces (boy I’ll say) but it also has areas that are straight and easier to navigate (since my sobriety in 1988).
By and by, the old highway has become for me, a ‘time machine’. As I drive along the shoulders of the Tenagadino (Gatineau River), I find myself able to see quite vividly, my ancestors, in their magnificent birchbark canoes, making their way south, heading for Akikodjiwan (Chaudière Falls) for ceremony and feasting or perhaps going to where Ottawa is now, for the purpose of trade. As a man who retrieves a great amount of healing from swimming, I find it strange today that I have never gone for a dunk in the Tenagadino. I have never canoed on her either but will do both in 2025, this I promise!
I often reflect on long forgotten memories while heading north on the 105. I remember things such as when I was a child and being in a car with family, going to Kitigan Zibi from Pontiac, to visit with grandparents. I remember the conversations my parents were having with the driver of the car (often a relative from the Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg) who had driven from K.Z. to Pontiac to bring us north. The chatter might go as follows: “Oh, this is where an Algonquin died in a car crash,” my dad would say in the way of beginning a conversation with the driver of the car. All details were known somehow, such as who was driving, where the passengers were sitting, who was killed, who lived. It is certain that over the many years since the 105 was constructed, far too many deaths have occurred throughout its length. May all who died on the 105 rest in peace!
There are places on this roadway where teachings I share at conferences or to make a point, had their origins on the 105, such as the maple tree on a high hill between Wakefield and Low which has taught me about the strength, beauty and glory of my Algonquin roots and why I, as an Algonquin storyteller, have a duty to keep our circle strong.
Alongside the 105 you will see trees growing from what appears to be solid rock, balsam fir and cedars, all healthy, teaching us that they are like the Algonquins. Though oppressive laws and policies of the Indian Act left us with little, we survived, grew and flourished all the same.
I see secluded houses off the highway and I wonder if the children who grew up in them knew every nook, cranny and crevice of the rolling hills not far from their homes. I know that if it was me who had lived there when I was little, the hills would have been have a great place of adventure and peace for me. Even now, I have the urge to go into them and explore what mysteries await the gratitude of the human eye!
When I drive through Low, Québec, I often bring my old friend ‘Beverley’ to mind. She lived into her 93rd year of life (deceased in 2013) and was a huge fan of my poetry writing. Beverley had a deep respect for Indigenous people. Her ancestors were driven out of the USA after the War of Independence was won by the Americans and forced the British to leave. Beverley’s family lineage became known as the ‘United Empire Loyalists’. They came north from the U.S. in the 1700’s and settled on lands the Algonquins had never surrendered. Beverley was a firecracker and I miss her a lot.
The towns and villages on the 105 all have interesting stories and interesting people! Over the passing of my 74 years, thus far, I have stopped in most every place of business and eaten in most every one of the restaurants on the 105. The food was always good, the merchandise purchased was top of the line! The people I’ve met, the Algonquin, the French, the English and other citizens were/are all peaceful and friendly. The 105! It’s a scenic drive!
Keep the Circle Strong,
South Wind (Albert Dumont)
