My brother, Terry, and I grew up at the corner of Parkhurst and Donegall. We were a block from the shops on Bayview, a block from Talbot Park (and Leaside High) and four blocks from Bessborough School. We could essentially walk to anywhere a Leaside kid would ever need to go. But why walk when you could ride?
In those days, we loved bike riding and the freedom it gave us. And we rode everywhere – up and down Bayview including the lane behind the stores, to and from school to Wilket Creek, Serena Gundy, Trace Manes and Talbot parks, to the pool at Leaside Gardens, to friends’ homes throughout the neighbourhood and everywhere in between. It was a charmed and idyllic existence for a pair of young twin boys, no doubt about it.
Let’s remember that the early ’70s were a different era. We were regularly shooed out the back door to ride our bikes and not expected back for hours – no supervision, no cellphones, no helmets and no shortage, dare I say, of questionable places to explore. Many years later, when my wife and I were raising our kids in Leaside, the “you-can-stay-out-until-the streetlights-come-on” approach to child monitoring seemed terrifying! Yes, in the ’90s, family life was a little different and Leaside kids’ activities had changed as well. That meant that long, unsupervised bike rides dropped down the list of popular outdoor activities – an unfortunate reality of the changing times.
When you switch from walking to riding a bike, your geographic reach is extended dramatically, even if you’re 12 years old. In 1972, we suddenly realized we could ride outside of our comfortable Leaside community into, uhhh… shall we say, less comfortable areas. That’s when Terry and I started venturing into the vast and mysterious unknown region to the south called… the Don Valley.
We knew the streets of Leaside like the backs of our hands, but this was something altogether different – wild, untamed and unexplored. For us it was unnerving, scary even, but also intoxicating. We felt like Jacques Cartier as we hopped on our bikes and set off on that fateful day.
Currently, the Beltline Trail, via the Moore Park Ravine, is a beautiful nature walk south from Moore Avenue to the Evergreen Brickworks. But in 1972, it was nothing but a deserted, muddy cow path called the Old Belt Road. It was also our route to the Don Valley and all the mysteries that awaited us. Halfway down the road, we felt completely cut off from civilization and were deep into a dark and foreboding forest, not to mention deep into the mud – we were covered! There was a lovely babbling brook flowing beside us and we briefly considered stopping to pan for gold, but we forgot our kitchen strainer and were already getting cold and tired. By the time we emerged at what is now the Brickworks, we’d had enough “exploring” for one day. However, we decided we couldn’t stomach a return trip through the muck back up the steep hill to Moore. So, what did we do? Well, our brilliant 12-year-old thinking, scoring “0” on the commonsense meter, was to ride up the shoulder of the Bayview extension – we’d have been grounded for life if our parents knew!
With cars and trucks whizzing by just feet away, we struggled up Bayview on our single-gear bikes, realizing within 50 metres that we’d made a mistake. This route was even steeper, and we ended up stopping every few minutes or so to catch our breath. During one of these recovery breaks, sitting in the tall grass beside the road, we looked to the west… and there it was. On top of the hill across the street stood what was widely known as “The White Elephant” – an unfinished, abandoned and derelict seven-storey apartment building that had been a controversial eyesore on the edge of Leaside for the previous 13 years. Well, that did it. The White Elephant (also known by some as the Leaside Ghost) was an irresistible magnet for these two young boys. Another adventure beckoned – and since there were still a few hours before the streetlights came on, we saddled up and rode over, tingling with excitement. As it turned out, this was just one of many questionable decisions we made then. And, if you want to follow along, you can read that story in the October edition of Leaside Life.
