Time right to celebrate the Thames

London Free Press Nov 29 2008

By LARRY CORNIES

If a city on a hill cannot be hidden, it's equally true that a city in a valley can't easily be seen. I've long been struck by the fact that much of London, tucked inside the earthen embrace of two sprawling prehistoric moraines, is a city in hiding. Arrive here from the north, and the city remains nearly invisible until it appears, almost magically, after one passes Sunningdale Road. Draw near from the south, and any sight of the urban core remains elusive until Commissioners Road. Pass London eastbound on Highway 401, and only the signage hints at the presence nearby of a bustling city. Approach via the 401 westbound, and the upper half of the downtown's skyline appears to the north for a matter of mere seconds before disappearing, Brigadoon-like, into the mists and surrounding terrain once again. It is the river, situated at the bottom of the glacial spillway carved into Southwestern Ontario's topography, that shaped the modern city and the settlements that preceded it. For thousands of years, aboriginal peoples depended on it for food, water and transportation -- it was an important part of their sustenance, not to mention their spirituality. European settlers and colonial administrators recognized the river's strategic importance for agriculture, trade and the growth of a fledgling regional centre. Over the centuries, the Thames has nourished --and it has also destroyed. Just as our physical geography hides much of London from public view, we have done our best to hide the river. During most of this city's expansion, the Thames was little more than an open-air public utility, like a power or sewer line. The city began at the forks, but then turned its back on it, developing eastward. For decades, we ignored its existence and, when we could no longer disregard it, we treated it as an urban inconvenience that had to be forded -- the faster the better. The University of Western Ontario shuns it. Most people who travel Horton Street eastward from Wharncliffe Road are unaware they've crossed it -- so efficiently have we masked its very existence. Our park system celebrates the river almost by default. For a city so tied to the Thames, very few of London's public institutions and civic gathering points, with the exception of Museum London, bask in its proximity and vitality. Our convention centre faces a parking lot and railway. Our arts facilities and performance spaces give the river a cold shoulder, as does city hall. The result is that our finest urban asset is effectively mute. Despite the elemental magnetism of flowing water to the urban psyche, Londoners can't easily satisfy that attraction, even though they may feel it. The Thames Valley Corridor planning process, currently underway, is the most important set of public consultations in a generation. Few public studies will affect the city's sense of self or the vision of its future esthetic, as dramatically as this one. Over the remaining six months, a plan will take shape. Implementation will follow. Wednesday night's public open house to review the first stage of the project was attended by little more than 60 people, most of them community activists from various interest groups, their axes ground to perfection. The out-of-town consultant moderating the meeting did the polite thing, marvelling at the "very good turnout." Really? Is that who we are? Are we content to have a few dozen individuals representing anglers, boaters, hikers and city hall fashion the future identity and esthetic of our city? I hope not. I hope that, before next June, thousands of Londoners will have their say about the river that runs through us. I suspect most of us want something between an unremarkable and nearly invisible stream, advocated by nature purists, and a Disneyfied, over-commercialized watercourse, such as the River Walk in San Antonio, Tex. But the time to speak up is now -- before the study wraps up next June. Do you have an opinion about the Thames and the way we as a city re-awaken ourselves to it? Let planner Bruce Page know: bpage@london.ca. Now's not the time to hide.