This week’s DWW’s is a Dickens of a story, “A Tale of Two Cities”: Ingleside vs. Morrisburg. Actually, the first is a village, the other is a town, both on the St. Lawrence River, both on County Road 2. The former is in South Stormont, the latter in South Dundas.
During the last decade I’ve become quite familiar with both, thanks to walking, bicycling, canoeing and even flying over both communities.
I’ve learned that they are as alike as Ying and Yang, Mutt and Jeff, Communism and Capitalism. Other than what I’ve already mentioned, they are similar as day is to night.
Let’s take a walk along their waterfronts. Ingleside’s bike path is lined with weeds, bushes and an eroded shoreline; Morrisburg’s bike path is lined with clusters of bright Adirondack chairs, a series of pictorial historical plaques, a boat launch ramp, paved parking lot large enough to accommodate two dozen vehicles, a pier at one end, a well-demarcated swimming area at the other and washrooms at both ends. In between is a substantial handicap-accessible river viewing area and a T-pier that could accommodate half a dozen pleasure craft.
Based on its lack of plaques, Ingleside seems to have no history.
North of Ingleside’s shoreline: a field that gives the impression of being a no man’s land, sorely in need of attention from someone. Is approximately 1,900 m x 400 m, a bit smaller than P.E.I., but larger than an NHL rink. For some reason it was tilled last year. This year, a bounty of weeds has taken up residence.
North of Morrisburg’s shoreline: children’s playground, baseball field, two fenced-in dog runs, an amphitheatre, a large picnic shelter, a snack bar (the revenues from which help the service clubs finance some of the facilities I’ve listed).
Ingleside has no need of a waterfront snack bar to finance its rampant field of weeds.
People come to Morrisburg from hither and yon, even from Ottawa, to gaze at the lakers, salties and pleasure craft that ply the Seaway. Ingleside is on a shallow backwater of the Seaway. No vessels are to be seen. Down the dusty, potholed gravel road running south from the S. G. Wells Ford dealership bounce the cars bringing canoes and kayaks to be launched from a pier that does not exist. One bench and one garbage can are Ingleside’s only waterfront facilities. In the spring, what might be called its ‘parking lot’ has enough watery depressions to do some paddling, or even fishing.
Like Martin Luther King, I have a dream. I’m waiting for someone to do something with this potential “Field of Dreams”.
