I attended the rally to save the falls at Bala, Thanksgiving weekend 2008. The rally was organized to oppose the draining of the Muskoka watershed through a newly proposed channel and power plant at the town of Bala. Instead of allowing the water of the lake to overflow naturally over the waterfalls, as has always been the case, the proposal was instead to divert the water flow to an underground channel and thenceforth through to an underground hydroelectric generator.
Why did I attend this rally? I could just as easily have stayed at home, and just like the rest of us could have easily continued on with the busy preparations for the Thanksgiving weekend. Nope. I turned my back on a perfectly half stuffed turkey and found myself, instead, perched on a rocky ledge next to the falls, completely surrounded by a sea of red t-shirts emblazoned with the words: SaveTheBalaFalls.com. The setting, at once, became surreal and I was immediately overcome by this sudden sense of panicky purpose, triggered by the simultaneous, large gathering of folks from far and wide: young and old, vacationer and resident, shop owner and spouse… children with their parents, pets with their faithful companions in tow. They all came. We all stood by the falls.
It then became eerily evident that we had all arrived spontaneously with the same solitary, somber purpose, as though we had been all dragged to this very special place by a powerful, invisible, tractor beam: it was the gnawing uncertainty, and even in some cases, the very palpable fear of a horribly bad decision that was about to be made about the fate of the falls at Bala. What was even worse was the overhanging cold, fog of quiet desperation, of helplessness, and powerlessness, the feeling of “Why aren’t we being involved in this decision?”…”Can’t we stop this? What happens if we can’t stop this?” And then I thought to myself, “was this really a rally… or was it a wake?” Judging by the fearful look of uncertainty clouding the faces all around me, I could hardly tell the difference. One thing, however, was far from uncertain: the falls were still roaring, in all of its pride and glory, very loudly and adamantly drowning us out as we stood as mere shadows next to it’s noise and splendor. And those very same thunderous waterfalls reminded me of why we were all standing there. We were all standing there for the very same reason: the piecemeal destruction of the solitary, central water feature of the town of Bala was insanely shortsighted and should be prevented at all costs, failing which the very future of the survival, let alone prosperity, of the town of Bala would ruinously lay in serious jeapordy. Sheer common sense told us, that if you divert the constant flow of water which flows over the falls, into a newly man made engineered channel, then the waterfalls would be reduced to nothing more than a miserably insignificant trickle, or at the very best a tepid backwater creek.
Visitors to Bala for over a hundred years have been captivated by the hypnotic, beautiful, powerful rush of the waterfalls. We are almost immediately overwhelmed by a basic, guttural reaction, inside all of us, by an almost knee jerk primordial and ancient sense of inspiration and well being at the sight of the crisp, clean, flowing falls. Kids can even tell you all about it: “Wow, cool…” And people do not arrive at this place by
saying “let’s go to Bala, to have a look at the rocky creek!”
The falls captivates a never ending flow of visitors. In over 30 years I have never seen inactivity around the falls in the spring, summer and autumn seasons. It is always bustling with some level of delighted, curious, onlookers and sightseers. It never ceases to remain a thundering, central focus which draws visitors towards it, to traverse over it, to stop and pleasantly marvel at it, and to stand up and just to point to its noisy, boisterous, beauty.
The falls powerfully connects the two sides of the town. Back and forth they go, then to the other side of town and then back again, only to stop yet again to inhale the raw, refreshing, unbridled energy of the cascading falls. Visitors are drawn to it, as if by magic, and then, when they finally go back to their homes and cottages at the end of the day, the falls remain behind, always there, flowing fast and wildly untamed…now only just waiting impatiently, noisily and unabashedly, to yet again ensnare the next days catch of curious, eager onlookers.
The town of Bala has little else to offer, as central themes go. Bracebridge has it’s picturesque-like falls; Port Carling has it’s locks and the Seguin Steamship cruises by. Gravenhurst has had tens of millions of dollars devoted to the Wharf development. Bala deserves to have it’s own powerful point of interest, and that powerful point of interest has always been the roaring falls. Most other towns would be blushing and boastful, would be bragging and exploding with pride and prosperity to have such a prevalent feature, such a grand and majestic hard working force of nature, with it’s rigorous, non-stop and always reliable schedule: 24/7, 365 days a year. “And the price is always right!”
And that is exactly the point! This Thanksgiving, the sheer number of people who spontaneously got up from peeling their potatoes, setting up their tables, raking up their leaves, or even curiously coming by just to be at the rally, all stood quietly, defiantly, by the falls, shoulder to shoulder, with their most powerful inner voice screaming aloud “don’t kill the falls!”…screaming, even louder than the falls itself … “Don’t kill the falls!!”
This grass roots protest is not against the production of clean hydroelectric power for 200 homes. The protest is against the production of this power if it means destroying an entire community, a community whose very survival depends on a single, solitary, selfless benefactor. The protest is against destroying a town’s sole, magnificent water feature, and replacing it with a horribly cold, concrete garden variety, mini hydroelectric project that will provide power for a measly 200 homes, or so…somewhere in Ontario… I think. The protest is against diverting the flow of water and forever killing the falls…”If you take the roar out of the lion, then you no longer have the lion”. The future of the prosperity of Bala is in grave danger, and there is no turning back once the truckload of dynamite arrives!
“A barren creek can never replace a waterfalls. Creek bed postcards do not sell.”
If you are an elected representative of the region, then you cannot turn a blind eye to this groundswell of opposition. You are mandated, by the electorate, to take heed of the massive protest which opposes the diversion of the water supply, the very lifeblood of the single, solitary thing that defines the town of Bala – the waterfalls. We are relying on your good judgment, and we trust that you will be our spokesperson, as you have been entrusted to bring forth all of the varying viewpoints, weighing all of the pro’s and con’s, and especially in their various quantities. You have been entrusted to speak on behalf of the majority of the citizens of the town of Bala and surrounding region.
In the balance is the loss of a thing of remarkable power and beauty, and the centre and livelihood of an entire town and its future, and the ancient force that has consistently provided life to an established community of long-standing. There is simply nothing that could possibly replace the thing of wild magic and beauty, which is the century old falls at Bala, Muskoka.
Thank you, Warm regards,
Edmund Chrolavicius,
a concerned 31-year cottager on Bala Bay
Very well written – thank you