Hilier was known for the camouflaged, waterproof, assault clogs.
Chapter Eighteen
Human remains found near park…
Aronka OPP may have found the remains of a missing hiker. Children playing in a Conservation Authority property near this remote and rustic village in eastern Lennox County, reportedly discovered a human foot near the shoreline of the as-yet unspoiled Shashawanaga River.
Constable Bronson Nesbitt said police were notified by parents, and guided to the spot by 12-year old Nicky Crane. The remains have been sent to Toronto for DNA profiling and forensic examination. Police have contacted the next of kin of Harold Hilier, age 34.
Hilier went missing last autumn in the upper Shashawanaga valley. Police hope it will assist in identification of the remains. Hilier, a noted outdoorsman who studied wildlife biology at the University of Western Ontario, was scouting locations for a TV series when he became overdue. His wife called police when the weather closed in, and he didn’t return cell phone and satellite walky-talky calls. His vehicle was recovered at that time. It was parked at Hungry Holler, about six kilometres from where the remains were discovered. The foot, which was described by police as being clad in a high-end sport sock and what appeared to be a sports/assault sandal, was about a nine and a half. This corresponds to Hilier, according to family members.
Police wouldn’t release further details. Information provided by other sources said the foot appeared to be severed cleanly at the ankle.
Police would neither confirm nor deny that a murder investigation is underway, and say Hilier’s disappearance may be explained, by other means, and not necessarily by foul play.
There have been no bear sightings in the vicinity for many years, according to sources. Reportedly a black bear wandered into Benton ten years ago, about 300 kilometres from known bear habitat. There are no timber wolves in Lennox County, according to sources. Although there are coyotes, they aren’t normally considered a threat to adult humans unless they are rabid. Packs of wild dogs can be dangerous, noted Nesbitt, but there have been no recent complaints from citizens.
“All we have to go on is the foot and information provided by the public,” said Constable Nesbitt. — Staff Writers.
“That’s up near the old Scout camp.” The elder Brubaker sat at the kitchen table reading.
Chuck was washing dishes. They took turns. Every second night they either cooked or washed dishes. Bru’s dad ate breakfast, lunch, and supper, and had a snack before bed, but Bru himself was only committed to one hot meal a day. When you skipped breakfast and lunch, you tended to look forward to that one.
Bru’s big thing was cookies and milk when lying in bed reading a book at bedtime.
Give him that, and he didn’t need much else.
“It’s nice country up there.” The old guy was saying.
“Peggy’s Woods, I’ve been there. Diane was just hiking up there with the outdoors club last weekend. There’s nothing up there that’s more dangerous than a rabid squirrel, or maybe a big fucking snapper. The river is nice, but a few yards back, at least on the east bank, there are ATV trails that you simply couldn’t get lost on.”
"What a lovely pic-a-nic basket."
Frank appeared to be gearing up for one of his stories, and was clearing the throat.
“Farmers, trappers, hunters, fishermen, birders, dope growers. They all use that trail.” Bru added. “Photographers, rock-hounds, whatever, Hilier found out about it somehow.”
“Do you remember that store on the corner of County Road Seven and Highway Twenty-Three?” His old man asked.
Bru put another dish in the rack.
“The little trading post where we used to get ice?” It really didn’t matter if he remembered.
The old guy was going to go on with the story whether he cared or not.
“The first time I went up there, Eddie, the old Polack who owned the place, had a great big bear head up on the wall. I don’t know if you remember seeing it?”
“Nope.”
The father-figure continued.
Bru couldn’t have been born at the time.
“He said he shot it in The Pines about 1928. It was paradise back then, before they made it a provincial park. There were a few trails going back from the highway. Back then we used to walk over from the Scout camp, swim the river, and then hike to the lakeshore. God. It was windswept. Not a single human footprint to be seen. We used to swim bare-ass and go running along the beach. You ever ran naked?”
Chuck grinned at the mental image.
“Nope.”
“Pretty funny to see a dozen Scouts chasing each other down the beach, buck naked.”
“I guess you couldn’t get away with that anymore, not these days.” Chuck noted with a grimace.
“Hurts like hell. Your pecker and your balls are slapping back and forth, swinging and banging from side to side.”
“Ouch.”
And they were both laughing.
It was good to share a moment with the old man sometimes, and sometimes they got on each other’s nerves. That’s just the way life is.
“There must have been bears around here at one time.” Bru went on. “There was some kind of woodland bison east of the Mississippi, and I don’t know what-all. I saw my first beaver dam up there twenty or thirty years ago. I kept wondering, who would use an axe that low to the ground? They leave a kind of pointed stump. Finally it hit me, the beaver have come back to Lennox County. Once I drew that conclusion, I went looking for the dam.”
Bru hadn’t been too far from home in recent years, other than roofing with his brother all around southern Ontario. But there was a time when he had roamed the county in various small cars of one sort or another. He took his 1987 Toyota Tercel, for example, miles off the road. That car was able to squeeze down footpaths, between trees, and along hard-packed beaches. It went where 4X4’s couldn’t. The thing with Bru was all that unlimited free time, especially when he had five bucks for gas, a half a roll of film, and a few smokes.
But that was then, and this was now.
Things were different now. Back then an abandoned rail cutting was an invitation to adventure.
END
Farm country, anything but a wilderness...
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