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Crossing
For the first decade or so, it seemed just another expensive blunder by the newly amalgamated municipality. In 1997 it had acquired a 46-kilometre-long rope of liability stretched across the landscape from Carrying Place to Picton. Despite paying $100,000 for the former railway line, Shire Hall had no more money and little ambition for its Millennium trophy.
Compounding the conundrum, the province was just a couple of years away from downloading the responsibility for hundreds of kilometres of roads onto this community. This obligation threatened to strangle this newly formed municipality’s finances. (Still does.) Acquiring 46 kilometres of crumbling, largely impassable railbed and bridges seemed ill-considered.
Indeed, much of the Millennium Trail’s first decade was consumed by arguments over who could use it— eventually agreeing to a multi-use trail with passive users sharing the path with motorized vehicles such as ATVs and snowmobiles. Shire Hall allocated about $5,000 each year for its upkeep, which was quickly gobbled up mending neighbouring fences. Meanwhile, nature was already busy consuming the former rail line, replacing it with a tangled ribbon of buckthorn.
There were plenty of ideas. A great many folks had experienced rail lines converted to public parks, multi-use arteries weaving through a particularly picturesque or historic region of North America or beyond. There was no shortage of ambition.
Committees were formed to investigate how to use this public asset. But they soon fell apart when it became apparent that while they were well-stocked with desire, they lacked the wherewithal and the financing to get off the ground. Yet, the opportunity seemed so tangible. So possible. Sadly, this pattern repeated itself over and over again.
The former rail line became a 46-kilometre- long cemetery for dreams—a sad metaphor for the overly ambitious, poorly thought-through and badly executed amalgamation of the ten townships, villages and towns that became the County.
This pattern was only broken when Barry Davidson was thrown from his bicycle while navigating the untended Trail about a decade ago. He picked himself up and decided to do something about it. Marshalling the energy, resources and goodwill of the Wellington Rotary Club, Barry Davidson set to work in 2012 rehabilitating a seven-kilometre section of the Trail running through Wellington. He was able to persuade excavating and trucking companies to participate in the effort. The cement plant contributed material. Hydro One crews lent their experience and skills. Cutting back buckthorn. Laying down a firm bed of limestone screenings. Building a proper trail.
If Barry Davidson had the idea of restoring the entire Millennium Trail to this condition then, he kept it to himself. The following year he and the Wellington Rotary Club gathered the resources to restore a further eight kilometres beyond Wellington. One could now safely cycle 15 kilometres on the Trail from Danforth to Conley Road.
The prototype was in place. The method tested. It was time to widen the Millennium Trail restoration project to a larger group. Davidson formed the Prince Edward County Trails Association.
In 2017, the organization raised more than $123,000 in cash and in-kind services to restore more of the Millennium Trail. With the wind at his back and a demonstrated track record of success, Davidson extracted a commitment from Shire Hall for $370,000 over three years. Then came a $118,000 Ontario cycling grant. Other grants filled in a $434,075 war chest.
On a June day last year, the final kilometre was rehabilitated. There might have been a ceremonial last load of screening, a final buckthorn branch trimmed.
Today we can all walk and cycle comfortably and safely for the entirety of the length of the Trail. It is a powerful testament to the dedication and remarkable perseverance of one person.
During the various lockdowns over the past year, I have made it a minor quest to walk the entire length of the Trail bit by bit. On Sunday, for example, we started at Lakeside Drive and strolled on a lovely spring afternoon to Station Road.
Fifteen years ago, when the kids were small, we had crossed the causeway bisecting Consecon Lake. It was treacherous, then, even on foot. All that remained of the rail bed was a long mound of footballsized blocks of limestone seemingly left in haste when the rails were removed. Each step threatened to twist an ankle into painful submission.
Today the crossing is flat, smooth, hardpacked and glorious. Dozens of folks wandered back and forth on a beautiful Easter Sunday—most likely unaware this public treasure was inaccessible to most folks just a short time ago.
The evolution of the Millennium Trail has, indeed, become an important symbol of the spirit of Prince Edward County. A reminder that the things that make it special and attractive tend to originate from an individual and an idea. They grow out of a personal determination of what this place can be. That spirit inspires others to work alongside until it blossoms into a great thing.
The Times has been privileged to document many such achievements over the past two decades—in recreation for our children, in our facilities, our community halls, our sports teams. Someone saw a need and decided to do something about it. A few years go by, and we forget how the thing came about.
There is no rational basis whatsoever to believe that the Millennium Trail would be anything more than an impassible mass of buckthorn were it not for Barry Davidson’s determination. This is less praise for one man—though it is undoubtedly wellearned— but rather an important reminder about how things get done in a community like ours.
Postscript: Go and find a section of the Millennium Trail you haven’t discovered yet. Wander through the Slab Creek wetland, walk across Consecon Lake or pedal alongside the marshlands between Wellington and Bloomfield. Better yet, join a man and his donkey on a storytelling pilgrimage.
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