We finally made it to Blue Mountain, but there’d be no skiing.  It’s too early and I’ve never learned to ski down a mountain. The barn hill with kid skis that we shared, when I was ten or eleven, was the closest I’d get to the real thing.
We headed for Blue Mountain and after our stop at Meaford with the Scarecrow Invasion, we stopped in Thornbury for lunch and then it wasn’t far.
 

We found the place we were looking for, the Craigleith Heritage Depot, a former train station, now a historical site full of interesting things.
 

One part of the station was the landing area where people would have gotten on and off the train. It had artifacts significant to the era or travel, a conductor’s well worn jacket and cap, a train crossing sign and much more. I took fewer photos here.
 

 

This building is part The Blue Mountains Public library, part archives and part historic train depot and more history of the area. One other thing intrigued me there and that was a poster “Add an Animal” in recognition of Walter Trier.
Trier, an animation artist, once courted by Disney, was a forerunner  of Canadian picture books for children. Andrea Wilson, archivist at the Depot, told me he’d turned down Disney because he wanted his own name on his work. If he were to work for Disney, his art would have the company’s name on it. Therefore he went on to publish his work independently.
Wilson shared a wealth of information on Trier and pulled several of his picture books for me to look at. When she asked about my interest in picture books, I told her I’d published a picture book too. She was interested in seeing it and when I got a copy from the car ( always carry books with you), she decided to purchase a copy for the library. She also asked me to draw an animal for the poster. I declined the opportunity to draw an animal, but I was delighted in her interest in my book.
 

 

Andrea and the young woman at the front desk also showed me a picture book by an artist and writer from Clarksburg, not too far down the road. We’d be going that way though I didn’t know if we could look her up that day. That coming weekend was a Fall Open Studio, where this artist and many more would be participating. We’d be heading home the next day and still had several places we wanted to take in before leaving the area.
Our intention was to check out someone’s new home in Clarksburg. We felt it unlikely that we’d see them today as they were still in the process of moving last furniture from Waterloo.
We drove down the highway and  took the road into Clarksburg. It’s not that large a place but with no more information other than the address Betty gave us, we were at a loss. And so, I asked. The woman I talked with had lived in Clarksburg all her life and didn’t know the street, which I found a bit surprising. But she did think of someone in town who might know. As stores were still open, she directed me to the hardware store and a gentleman who’d been running it for many years. He was able to help us, showed me a small map of the area and gave me a few directions.
Andrea, at the museum, knew Clarksburg and said people often called it ‘Artsburg.’ Which it was. I didn’t count the shops on my trek to the hardware store and back to the car, but I saw several shops that were galleries or names of artists.
We found the  Smith’s new home, alright, and who should be sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee in hand but Ron. Betty came out when she heard us arrive. She’d sent a text, but we’d been off driving and seeing things and I hadn’t checked my phone. As it worked out, they’d just finished unloading the van and were sitting down to relax. We had a tour, then I had a quick tea with Betty and we were on our way. Next to Thornbury, at their recommendation, to see the fish ladder.

 

After this stop, we made our trip back to Owen Sound, first to go back to the B & B and then out for dinner, wrapping up our interesting and eventful day. We’d have one more breakfast at the B & B before packing up and heading out. I looked forward to our next visit with our genial hosts.