Old and New Along the Rideau River

I never tire of paddling the Rideau River, especially the familiar section between Sandy Hill and Carleton University.  I always find something to admire.  I always reflect upon the human experience of the River, which still evolves, and which goes back at least 4000 years.

On a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, while many of my friends participated in the Ottawa Race Weekend, I launched my canoe for the season’s first paddle on the Rideau.  I usually make this excursion earlier in the spring, but this year’s high flows kept me off the river.  Loading my canoe on the bike trailer, I rode down to Robinson Park, launched from the beach, and turned upstream.

A canoe rests on a towed trailer behind a bicycle.
Wike Canoe Trailer

The paddling proved relatively easy, despite the strong current.  I passed under the Queensway and the footbridge, skirting the shoreline and reeds in search of wildlife.  My new cherrywood paddle (a birthday gift from Sue) felt good in my hands, and the tensions of the past work week eased out of my shoulders.

A blue sky and fair weather clouds hang over the Rideau River and the Hurdman Transit Bridge.
Rideau River Downstream of the Hurdman Bridge

Given the warmth of the day, I expected to see a lot of basking turtles.  In the past, I’ve spotted large numbers of painted turtles, plus large snappers and even map turtles along the shore.  Surprisingly, in almost six hours on the river, I only found two painted turtles up on logs, along with three snappers idling in the shallows amidst the reeds.  The Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry has several old records of Blanding’s turtle along the river, and despite a decade of disappointment, I still live in hope of finding one sometime on this stretch.

A painted turtle basks on a large log in the Rideau River.
Painted Turtle, Rideau River

The hardest paddling of the day came at Billing’s Bridge, where the river flowed fast through the piers.  Passing a small group of stand-up paddleboarders, I tried first for the central span, paddling hard in the eddy behind a pier and then shooting into the current.  For a minute a two I held my own, but without making headway.  Finally, I dropped back and moved to the next span south, where the current proved a little less challenging.  One of the paddleboarders tried to follow me, but couldn’t muster enough speed.  Just upstream of the bridge, several more stand-up paddleboarders practiced in the calmer pool.  One of them, a very pretty young woman, struck yoga poses on her board, as her girlfriend snapped photographs.

A group of four strand-up paddlerboarders cruuise up the Rideau River.
Stand-up Paddleboarders, Rideau River

After working slowly through the riffles above Billings Bridge, I slid my canoe into the reeds at Clifford Allen Island, so that I could renew my sunscreen.  As I slathered on the cream, with a pair of geese eyeing me warily, I noticed a newly molted dragonfly drying its wings at the tip of broken, brown reed, still hanging from its discarded nymph skin.  It’s colors had not yet fully developed, but the stripes on the thorax suggested some kind of darner.  I had seen pretty, green darners dancing over the reeds during my paddle upstream, but they lacked the thorax stripes.

A newly hatched dragonfly dries its wings on a reed.
Unknown Darner, Rideau River

Carrying on from the island, I paddled past Brewer Park to the Dunbar Bridge.  This part of the Rideau River hosts the most fascinating juxtaposition of culture in the City:  literally 4000 years of history separated by barely 300 metres of river.  On the north shore, nestled under the Dunbar Bridge, the House of PainT provides a venue for Ottawa’s hip-hop community, featuring its first legal graffiti wall and regular street dance festivals.  Just upstream and across the river, on the south shore at Vincent Massey Park, lies a 4000 year-old, indigenous archaeology site.  Excavated by the National Capital Commission over several years, the site marks the bottom end of an old portage around the Hogsback Falls.  Paddling up the south shore in late afternoon, just below the rapids under the O-Train line, one can easily imagine those Early Woodland people pulling their canoes into shore to set camp for the night, perhaps casting their nets into the river, where fishermen cast their lines today.  I suspect that they chose the spot as much for its beauty as for its convenience.

Two artists work on the graffiti wall at the House of PainT under the Dunbar Bridge.
House of PainT, Dunbar Bridge, Rideau River
Huge crack willows line the shore at the site of a 4000 year-old, Early Woodland archaeology site.
Early Woodland Archaeology Site, Rideau River
The sun glints through a large crack willow on the shoreline of the Rideau River at Vincent Massey Park.
Shoreline, Vincent Massey Park, Rideau River

I turned back downstream in late afternoon, alternating drifting and paddling gently.  For awhile, I watched two jets circling over the City in formation as part of the race weekend celebrations.  Gradually, as the light mellowed, the wildlife became a bit more active.  Just above Billings Bridge, a female mallard shepherded her large brood of ducklings.  I could not help but think of the large muskellunge known from the area, and wonder how many ducklings would survive the summer.  Further downstream, a muskrat plied the shoreline in the shadows of the trees.  Finally, near the end of the paddle, I came upon a mink feeding on the carcass of a carp at the edge of the shore.  I shot a few, quick photographs, then circled back to take a few more, only to see the mink slip back into the shadow of the trees.

Two L29 Delfins fly in formation over the Rideau River.
L29 Delfins, AMC Warbirds
A female mallard shepherds her ducklings.
Mallard and Ducklings, Rideau River
A muskrat swims along the shore of the Rideau River.
Muskrat, Rideau River
A mink stands on the shore of the Rideau River with the carcass of a carp.
Mink, Rideau River

I pulled back into Robinson Park, just as the evening sun was dropping behind the City.  I looked down the peaceful waterway to the Adawe Crossing at Strathcona Park.  The serenity of the scene encapsulated the beautiful dichotomy of this wonderful urban river.

The evening sun casts its last rays on the Rideau River and the Adawe Crossing footbridge.
Adawe Crossing, Rideau River

Constance Creek

We glide on dirty, brown water under a green, sunlit canopy of silver maple trees.  Spring run-off on the Ottawa River has pushed nutrient-rich floodwaters back into the forests along lower Constance Creek.  Warblers sing brightly in the tree-tops and multi-hued wood ducks peek shyly from the shady depths of the swamp.  The nighttime chorus of spring peepers and tree frogs has dwindled in the warming day to a few desultory chirps and clucks.  We pass between the spreading, fluted tree trunks in quiet awe, like visitors to some southern, bald cypress bayou.  But instead of alligators basking along the channel, map turtles and painted turtles crawl on to logs to sun themselves, while pike and gar lie up in the shallow reed beds.

When biologists speak of the diversity and productivity of wetlands, they have places like Constance Creek in mind, where life overspills its banks.  Scoop the creek water into your cupped hands, and you hold a galaxy of microscopic, living things.  Look up to the trees to see life thrust by the laws of thermodynamics toward its origin in the dust and energy of stars.  Energy flows through a tangled web of matter, seeking stability, building in complexity, expressed in a fractal lattice in which dragonflies hang like jewels.  A wetland brings together the elements of life like no other place.  Perhaps in no other place does a biologist feel more like a priest.

Three turtles bask on the projecting end of a log near the bank of Constance Creek. The treed shoreline reflects in the calm water.
Turtle Basking on Constance Creek

A confluence of fortuitous circumstances has preserved Constance Creek as a uniquely healthy riverine wetland.  About 10,000 years ago, when meltwaters of the retreating glaciers swelled the Ottawa River, part of it flowed along a side channel from Constance Bay in the north to Shirley’s Bay in the south.  Along the banks of this channel, it deposited large sandbars over the flat clays left by the retreating Champlain Sea.  Over time, as the Ottawa River shrank to its current size, flows along the channel reversed direction, draining the adjacent Carp Ridge and Dunrobin Ridge north through a meadering stream and wide, swampy floodplain.  Annual flooding limited farming and permanent settlement along the creek, while the deep, sandy soils supported the growth of a rich riparian forest to further screen and protect the creek.  Some unauthorized filling of the Constance Creek wetland occurred in 1989 with the construction of the Eagle Creek Golf Club.  Sand pits have also opened at places along the creek, although they remain hidden from the main channel.  For the most part, though, the creek remains well buffered from surrounding land uses.

Several locations give access to the creek, but thick cattails often limit paddling.  At the upper end, an alm0st impenetrable marsh blocks access from Constance Lake.  The reach downstream of the bridge at Thomas Dolan Parkway provides a short, easy paddle through a lovely riverine marsh.  Painted turtles, snapping turtles and Blanding’s turtles bask along the channel in the midday sun, and a colony of black-crowned night herons hides back in the reeds.  Damselflies and dragonflies hunt over the water.  The bridge at Vance’s Side Road provides a pretty view over marsh and swamp, but the channel quickly chokes off both upstream and downstream.  In contrast, the mouth of the creek on Constance Bay offers one of the most beautiful, flat water paddles in Ottawa.

Two yellow pond lilies reflect in the calm water of Constance Creek.
Yellow Pond Lilies

I like to start my trips up Constance Creek at the far, north end of Greenland Road, where the City-owned road allowance runs up to the water at tiny Horseshoe Bay.  I paddle through the sandy shallows, tracked by freshwater clams and mussels, into the wider expanse of Constance Bay.  I don’t recommend it for breezy days, when the wind driving across the wide river can raise substantial waves.  But on calm days, the glassy water parts smoothy to either side of the bow, as I round the point to the west.  Sometimes I paddle straight across Constance Bay to the mouth of the creek.  More often, though, I skirt the shoreline, looking for turtles and scanning the flats for longnose gar finning in the shallow water.

Constance Bay provides some of the best fishing along the Ottawa River shoreline.  The clean, Ottawa River, the shallow reed and weed beds, and the steady influx of nutrients from Constance Creek create a perfect mix of spawning, nursery and adult habitats.  Although I haven’t yet tried flyfishing for longnose gar, I’ve heard that they rival bonefish for fun.  The technique seems roughly the same, and one can find lots of instruction online.  Usually, however, I troll a streamer fly or a spinnerbait behind the canoe and pick up some of the pike for which Constance Bay is famous.  Musky also lurk in the weeds, although for the sake of my light tackle (and their health), I don’t try for them.  Closer to the mouth of the creek, though, I’ve caught catfish and bass.  Walleye forage in deeper water, along the outer edge of the bay.  At times, in fact, fish have struck so frequently as I’ve paddled across the bay, that I’ve had to bring in my line to make any real progress toward the creek.

The author holds a small pike that he's caught on a spinnerbait on Constance Bay.
Small Pike on a Spinnerbait

Constance Creek flows through a stunning swamp forest into Constance Bay.  Large, mature silver maples line the banks along the channel, while swamp bur oaks sit further back on slightly higher ground.  During the spring flood, one can sometimes paddle into the swamp itself, threading between standing and fallen trees.  Great blue herons stalk along the boundary of swamp and stream, while pileated woodpeckers cackle and hammer deeper in the recesses of the forest.  In the autumn, ducks and geese descend like leaves into the marshes around the creek mouth, and the sounds of shotguns echo distantly from further up the creek, where several duck clubs operate hunting blinds.

A stand of tall silver maple trees stand in sunlight along the low, floodplain of Constance Creek.
Silver Maple Swamp, Constance Creek
A stand of bur oak trees lines a sandy bank along Constance Creek.
Swamp Bur Oak, Constance Creek
A great blue heron hunts in the shallow water along the edge of Constance Creek.
Great Blue Heron, Constance Creek.

Not surprisingly, many of Ottawa’s most interesting animals and species at risk find a home along Constance Creek.  Five of Ottawa’s six at-risk turtle species have been recorded along the creek and at its mouth, including the extremely elusive (and possibly extirpated locally) spiny soft-shelled turtle.  Red-headed woodpeckers still nest locally.  Terns no longer nest in the area, but pass through during migration.  Ospreys can often be found hunting along the creek.  Bald eagles migrate along the creek and the Ottawa River shoreline, as do many other raptors, including peregrine falcons.  Lake sturgeons and American eels still inhabit the waters.

This richness of life is no doubt what attracted aboriginal peoples to the creek.  Archaeologists have documented at least one 2500 year-old camp and burial site at the mouth of Constance Creek, on its west shore (https://ottawarewind.com/2014/02/24/ancient-ottawa-lost-relics-from-500bc-found-at-constance-bay/).  More undocumented sites seem likely, perhaps in the large woodland on the east side of the creek mouth.  Unfortunately, that woodland remains at risk of future aggregate extraction.  Lying atop one of the largest, untouched sand and gravel deposits in the north end of the City, it currently enjoys protection by Provincial wetland policies and an unopened City road allowance.  These prevent the legal access required for an aggregate license.  Nonetheless, so long as the property remains privately-owned, the threat exists.

In the meantime, one can travel back 2500 years with just a canoe trip up the creek.  The present swirls behind from the blade of your paddle.  Lying quietly up in the swamp, daydreaming and staring serenely up at the translucent leaves, one can easily imagine that it has always appeared this way.  With a whisper of wings and ragged croak, Raven passes over the canopy.  Floating there, you surrender to thought and memory.

A great blue heron hunts in a shallow marsh on lower Constance Creek.
Great Blue Heron, Constance Creek
A panorama photograph shows a women sitting in the front of a canoe in a flooded silver maple swamp.
Swamp Panorama, Constance Creek