It should be no secret by now that I’m in love with Valley of the Giants’ debut. The closing song, “Bala Bay Inn” is currently my favourite. I decided to try to decipher the lyrics, and I think I have it all but one word. The lyrics added much to my appreciation of the song, so I decided to do some investigation into what the song is about, and what the Bala Bay Inn is.

The Bala Bay Inn is in Bala, Ontario, Canada. It was build in 1910 and given the name of Swastika Hotel. For obvious reasons, the hotel was renamed Bala Bay Lodge (in 1945, it seems). Today Bala Bay Inn is still open to the public and, as the song suggests, doesn’t appear to have changed a great deal over the years.

The Town of Bala itself was founded by Thomas W. Burgess, who became a lifelong proponent of native Canadian peoples’ rights. He named the town after Bala, Wales, a town he knew to have exceptional beauty like the Canadian Bala.

Ephraim Browning Sutton was the builder of the Swastica Hotel, in addition to a resort for U.S. Civil War Veterans. He was also a journalist for several papers and wrote verse under the pen name of Muskoka Bard.

According to Bala.net, Lucy Maud Montgomery was an important connection between Bala the maritimes (P.E.I. specifically). She was the author of Anne of Green Gables, but also wrote a story about Bala and the surrounding area, The Blue Castle, after visiting Bala during a stressful part of her life. She said, “Bala is a dear spot. Somehow I love it. It has the flavour of home.”

Bala was on main train and steam routes, and became a tourist attraction because of the resort appeal of the area. What I was able to read of the town’s history implies, as do Deidre’s lyrics, that the town is no longer stopped at by trains and boats, and may be in a bit of a decline. It none-the-less seems to be a beautiful place, worthy of visiting.

You can find a map of Bala here.

Some additional information added after this post:

In my entry about the history relevant to the Valley of the Giants song “Bala Bay Inn” I did not make mention of the history of Louis Riel, who was included in the lyrics of that song. I’d like to make a short addition here.

Louis Riel was a very important leader in Canadian history. He was a champion of the Métis (a nation of people with mixed Native American and European ancestry) and believed he was divinely chosen to lead these people. There was also speculation that he was a legitimate prophet (I haven’t discovered much on this, so if anyone has some other information they can share, I’d love to read it). Louis pushed for recognition of the Métis as a distinct people who deserved rights equal to other Canadians and he also pushed for French language protection for Manitoba. He lead two Métis rebellions against the Canadian government and was sentenced to death for treason after the second. Louis Riel was a facinating and noble man who gave his life in defence of human rights, and should be recognized by all Canadians as one of our true historical heros. I highly recommend reading about this man at the link I shared, and also seeking out other knowledge.

Today I’ve been reading articles at Feral Children, a website that documents and explores accounts of isolated, confined, wolf and wild children. The site is a well put together work that provides much information on so-called feral children. Many of the stories are heartbreaking, because the children told about suffered much while in the wild and isolation, and also when they were “rescued”. At the same time there is something to be respected in the way they were able to survive such difficult lives and adapt to a world outside human society.

Feral children, also known as wild children or wolf children, are children who’ve grown up with minimal human contact, or even none at all. They may have been raised by animals (often wolves) or somehow survived on their own. In some cases, children are confined and denied normal social interaction with other people.

There are many accounts on this site that I recommend you read. The Lobo Girl of Devil’s River was an especially interesting story, though may be only a folk tale. She was apparantly orphaned in Texas when her mother died in child birth and her father died due to a lightning strike while he was riding for help. It appeared that wolves had killed her when the neighbours finally arrived at the home she was born in. Ten years later she was spotted by a boy as she attacked a herd of goats along with a pack of wolves. Under a year after that a Mexican woman saw the same girl and two wolves kill a freshly killed goat. The girl ran off initially on all fours and then went to two legs. The girl was hunted and the girl was captured in a wild struggle. She was locked in a ranch and began to howl like wolves do. Many wolves answered her calls and swarmed around the ranch, attacking the animals. In the confusion and gunfire that followed, the girl was able to loosen a board over a window and escape. When the girl would have been seventeen she was spotted caring for two wolf cubs by a group of surveyers. She ran off carrying the cubs and was not seen again.

Kamala and Amala, the Wolf Girls of Midnapore is another facinating story of animal-raised children, and is one of the best known of the twentieth century. The two girls, eight and eight-teen months respecitively (though one account stated they were five and three), were found in a wolves’ den in 1920. They had been taken in by wolves several years apart and were not believed to be biological siblings. Their matted hair and lupine walking manner had lead locals to believe that the two were hideous spirits, but their discovery showed them to be normal girls who had been in the care of wolves long enough to have developed their traits. The girls had little humanness apparant when discovered. They would only eat raw meat, growled, slept curled up togeher on the floor, tore off any clothes they were given, would only awaken once the moon had risen and howled to be let free, they could not straighten their legs because of their prolonged life among wolves, they showed no interest in human company, showed only the emotion of fear, they had aquired superior senses, and seemed unable to hear human voices. Amala died not long after their human guardian began to teach them social behaviour, but Kamala gradually was taught to walk, eat food, welcome human company, to be house trained, and gained a vocabulary of 40-50 words before her death in 1929 to typhoid.

The site does not only focus on animal-raised children. In fact, one of the more current stories is of a girl named Genie, who was freed from confinement in 1970. She suffered from acute social deprivation inflicted by her parents and was strapped to a chair in one room for 13 years. Even after she was freed she suffered abuse, but was able to learn to walk and speak to some extent due to the efforts of language and social experts.

Feral Children is a facinating look at human survival and the importance of caring for and teaching children in their early development. It certainly prompted me to think a lot about how important human society is to our development, and how little separates us from our more primitive past. I highly recommend learning more about this facinating field.

I’ve been listening to only Valley of the Giants for the past two days. Their album is absolutely astounding. “Westworld” and “Bala Bay Inn” are definitely my initial favourites because of Deidre’s vocals. If you haven’t already, please read my review of Valley of the Giants’ self-titled album.

Andy Vial, the drummer and pianist for The Squarewaves dropped by my website tonight and let me know that the band now has a website up. Other than a bunch of nice photos there isn’t much up yet, but Andy said there will be news, show into and more pics up soon, so be sure to check out their site. I’m really looking forward to hearing their music and seeing them live if they play in Halifax.

A blizzard is supposed to hit here in Nova Scotia (and also in P.E.I.) tonight. I have candles and matches at the ready so that if the power goes out I’ll be able to see. Half a meter of snow is expected to fall over the next 24 hours. I doubt anything major will happen, but it’s always good to be prepared. I didn’t spend a few years in scouting for nothing. I don’t recall being told in Scouts or Cubs to keep candles on hand, though. I think some major issues must have been overlooked.

Recently in Canadian politics there has been a huge scandal for the ruling Liberal party. Members of the federal government funneled a quarter of a billion dollars to friends of the party through various government institutions, including the R.C.M.P. (the national police force). This alone is very disconcerting and is a huge betrayal to the Canadian people. What is far more worrying to me is that the conservative party of Canada has jumped to 50% support in some polls. As much as I hate to see government corruption, I would hate to see conservatives running our country far more. My only hope is that the N.D.P. will be able to take a leading role and gain power in the election that will come in the coming year.

In much happier news, my good friend Mandy has become my newest disciple. She has taken up the title of Wistful Disciple. Mandy joins the inspired, dreaming, sily, creative, enforcing and perfect ranks, and I’m very glad to welcome her. I have no doubt she’ll fit in with the other wonderful people who have been disciples of mine for varying lengths of time. If you like, you may read her introduction to the other disciples.

Wistful Disciple

Hello to those of you that don’t know me. I’m Mandy.

My real name is Maria Santiago. My pen name is Maria Patenaude. My friends just call me Mandy.

From this day forward I will also be known as the Wistful Disciple.

I’ve known Apollo since about May of last year. We met as Psychos on the Poe board and our friendship has grown since, particularly since he invited me to join LJ because through our journal entries we have had greater insights into each other’s personality.

I live in Puerto Rico, but I was born in Massachusetts. Many of my ancestors on my mother’s side are from Upper Musquidoboit, Nova Scotia, which means I’m probably related to Apollo’s old neighbors. (If you know anybody named Cox or Patenaude, they’re probably family, so say hi for me.)

My dream is to leave some sort of a legacy; make a positive impact on someone in some way. I don’t know if I will accomplish this through my music, my writing, teaching, or just being someone’s friend. You never know.

Anyway, I’m glad to be here.

Hugs,

Mandy

PS: Extra large hug for Apollo.

In the days after “Straying From The Tower” I continued my hunt, read and meditated. It was much like days before, so I felt little motivation to write about those days here. Time has sadly been blurring lately, and it feels as though no progress is being made in the job hunt. Hope is not to be lost, though. I’ll be striving to accomplish all I can until I reach an outcome. I hope I’ll not fail.
Saturday afternoon my parents visited me here in the cave. My father wished to help Ilea and I with taxes, so they made the trek into the city and brought along some food for me. We all sat in the living room and worked on filling out all the forms and then drove to the mall and walked around there for a while. It was nice to see my folks again, as it’s been several weeks since they were last able to visit.
After my folks left Nathan and I went for a walk. The air was warmer than it has been recently, so it was a good day for some foot work. After a couple hours of wandering we returned home with a game to play and some food to consume.
Later that night Nathan and I were amused by the antics of an intoxicated Greg stumbling from the kitchen to his room. It took him a noticibly short period of time to gain his giddy state. He’s an entertaining lad.
When we had all awakened this morning I took out the apple cider that my parents had left with us. I heated the wonderful cider, added some cinnamon (which dictionary.com tells me is “the dried aromatic inner bark of certain tropical Asian trees in the genus Cinnamomum, especially C. verum and C. loureirii, often ground and used as a spice.”) and other spices and then served the mixture. It was quite good. It’s been a long while since I last had any cider, since Ashley’s first visit, actually.
This afternoon I sat listening to Melissa Etheridge’s Breakdown. It’s a beautiful album and I enjoy it greatly, but it’s an album I often forget about. It’s a good album for a lonely, lazy Sunday afternoon and has proven to be good company. I must remember to hunt down some of her other albums when I can.
I took a look at a site called Illegal Art this evening. It contains many facinating glimpses at how copyright laws have failed to benefit our culture, and how it helps to limit artistic freedoms. “Righting Copywrongs” was an especially interesting article that helped to highlight the corruption of the copyright system to favour big business. “If current copyright law had been in effect a hundred years ago, the U.S. government might have had to pay royalties to use the image of Uncle Sam, and so would anyone who wanted to depict a jolly red-suited Santa Claus (both were created by the cartoonist Thomas Nast, who died in 1902).” was the line that showed the ridiculousness of current copyright laws best to me. Allowing a copyright to last more than 50 years seems quite harmful to me. It doesn’t benefit the artist who created the work at all once they die, and certainly inhibits artistic expression.
My meditation time has been increasingly rewarding lately. I’ve found myself able to more deeply meditate now that I include sounds. I’ve always found guided meditations to be rewarding, but I now have other sounds. I find that nature sound tracks provide the best sonic environment for rejuvenating meditation.