I drove up to Thunder Bay in mid May. Drove all 1400 km in one day. When I got there, the weather was miserable. They told me it had been sunny for three weeks straight, that it had been a brilliant spring. And then I arrived. It even snowed one morning. I got up early and drove out to Pigeon River to hike the Finger Point Trail. When I got to the highest point on the trail, flakes of snow blew around my head. But for the most part, my stay in Thunder Bay was under a blanket of fog and rain. The gloom and the cold got to me and I think that’s reflected in the photos I took. So, for example, I caught this kite stuck in a tree at the foot of Hillcrest Park and low clouds in the background.
I wandered along Marina Park Drive by the waterfront by the abandoned grain elevators. Silent monoliths, they stand as reminders of more prosperous times.
The idea of the casino, at least the Vegas casino, is larger-than-life and glamorous. You won’t find that idea at play here. Instead, what you find is just so fucking depressing.
From what I understand, a lot of First Nations people come down from northern communities looking for work in Thunder Bay. But there aren’t a lot of opportunities.
There’s talk of future prosperity with the development of the so-called “Ring of Fire” — huge mineral deposits throughout the James Bay lowlands. But if history has taught us anything about the region, the profits get siphoned off along with the resources and the locals get stuck wallowing in environmental disasters.
I got up early to leave and the sun was shining. Typical! At seven o’clock, I stopped at Hillcrest Park and took some shots overlooking the town. Then, with the light shining, it occurred to me why I was feeling so gloomy and allowing the place to get to me. It had to do with the reason for my visit. I was driving my daughter and all her worldly possessions up to Thunder Bay where she’ll be living for the next year. She’s never been so far from home. It’s hard for a father to let go of his daughter.
