Chapter 8 | Firewood

While Kate and Sam take down the sail and secure the canoes, I climb up the concrete pile to find some wood. A mudflat stretches all along the top of the bank, and behind it grass-and-shrub-land runs for as far as I can see. Not the best territory for finding wood, so I walk towards the lighthouse.

A road descends the back of the lighthouse hill and continues, presumably, to the base of the peninsula. The rest of the hill faces the water and drops sharply to a rock and gravel base, a couple road-lanes wide. The base is flat and provides a perfect platform for viewing 270 degrees of horizon — from the open water to the distant smoke stacks of Hamilton’s steel mills and around the lake-shore to Toronto’s skyline. I walk around the platform, past boulders, piles of fill and a whole bunch of crazy art pieces built from the bricks, rebar and concrete slabs. I walk until I can see the city, its office towers popping up from behind the tree line of the next strip of land. I can see a gap in that strip — our way to the inner harbour. I store that landmark in my memory and walk towards a forest between the road and the city-facing shore to find firewood.

"Concrete Hand 2" by Andrew Rivett, edited by A. Malcolm