Rock Dunder is a Climb to the Top of the World

ROCK DUNDER IS A CLIMB TO THE TOP OF THE WORLD  

August/September, 2013 issue  
When  I attended elementary school back in the 1950s, all of us kids always   looked forward to visiting “The Big Stone” on Arbour Day. It was located  at the  back of a farm not far from the school, and we would spend the  afternoon  clambering up to the top of this huge erratic, one of several  that had been  deposited in this field during the days of the Wisconsin  Glacier. Some 60 years  later, I visited The Big Stone again, only this  time, it seemed to have shrunk  considerably in size. Certainly I have  seen erratics much larger than this  two-metre high midget – most  notably, the seven metre high Bleasdell Boulder  near Frankford, but our  Big Stone seemed really big to us as kids at the time.  In fact, The  Big Stone left such an impression on me as a child, I even included   mention of it in my book, “Up Before Five – the Family Farm”. 
  
 The  stone we were now standing on was 84 metres, or 275 feet in height, and   I cautiously duck-walked my way out onto the narrow horn that towered  above the  cavernous space below. In the distance, a greenery of forest  tops seemed to go  on forever. Just to the north was Jones Falls with  its lock station and historic  Arch Dam. To the southeast, we could see  clearly the distinctive shape of the  Thousand Islands Skydeck, even  without binoculars. This was one huge rock and we  had been walking on  this rocky terrain for about an hour. Morton Bay lay nestled  below us,  and a stone’s throw away, the unmistakable tracing of the Rideau Canal   as it made its way to the lock station at Jones Falls.
  
 So,  what is the origin of the name, Rock Dunder?  No one seems to know. The   Internet’s Urban Dictionary says that “dunder” is a combination of the  words  dirty and underwear. Okay.  Another makes reference to a person  who is utterly  useless and incoherent. It goes on to say that the IQ of  this person almost  always matches, or is close to, that of an average  person's shoe size. The dregs  from a rum barrel. Another claims it is a  word for a drunk. And last, but not  least, a polite word for “cutting  the cheese”. Hardly flattering definitions –  any of them - for such a  spectacular property.
  
 The  igneous feature we wandered about on was beautiful pink granite, more   than a billion years old. This is true Canadian Shield, part of that  extension  known as the Frontenac Arch or Axis. If you follow this  backbone of eastern  North America far enough, you will come to the  Adirondack Mountains. Lake  Ontario actually owes its existence to this  outlier of the rugged Canadian  Shield. As glaciers carved out the  basins of what was to become the Great Lakes,  these basins filled with  water and eventually overflowed in their search for the  sea, finding it  initially down the Oswego River. As the glaciers continued to  retreat  and the land rose higher, Lake Ontario found a new exit towards the   east, spilling between the giant hills of granite. The numerous hummocks  of  protruding rock became the Thousand Islands in this now flooded  landscape.
  
 In  geological terms, Rock Dunder is a pluton, a distinctive mass of  igneous  rock, not unlike Foley Mountain at the nearby village of  Westport. In geology, a  pluton is a body of intrusive igneous rock,  called plutonic rock, that  crystallized from magma slowly cooling below  the surface of the earth.  References say that it took form in the  roots of the Grenville Mountains that a  billion years ago towered over  this part of Laurentia, the ancient geological  core that is North  America.  One can’t help but be overwhelmed by the enormity  of Rock  Dunder and its dizzying height. Soil is sparse up here and shrubs and   trees are stunted and gnarled. In places, as we followed the trail,  pitch pine  with its tiny clusters of needles growing out the trunks  fought for nourishment  in the thin soil. Rock Dunder and nearby Jones  Falls represent the northernmost  stands of this southern tree species  in North America.  Trees of any kind at the  summit are rare enough that  only a few can be found where trail arrows have been  attached.  Elsewhere, blue arrows have been painted on the rocks to guide hikers   along the way. Now and again, a thoughtfully placed Inukshuk points the   direction. 
  
 In  places, the trail is similar to Kaladar’s Sheffield Conservation Area, a   mere four kilometres or so in length, but one which takes a good two  hours to  complete due to its extreme ruggedness. Unlike Sheffield  though, the trail at  Rock Dunder is a perpetual climb, broken only by  brief stretches of rocky level  ground. Forming a loop, the trail  descends, passing by two deserted cabins, a  reminder of the days when  this 230-acre property was a wilderness Boy Scout camp  for 40 years.  The squared timbered structures are now convenient rest stops for  weary  hikers. The property was purchased several years ago by the Rideau   Waterway Land Trust whose praiseworthy intentions are to preserve this   remarkable wilderness area as part of the United Nations designated  “Frontenac  Arch Biosphere Reserve”. 
  
 There  are two loops in the property’s trail system; the hike from the   parking lot to the summit is five kilometres in length and is indeed the  most  rugged. Another, less challenging trail, is only two kilometres  in length. Both  reconnect to a one kilometre easy gravelled trail back  to the parking lot where  there are washrooms, benches and a plaque  secured to a backdrop of granite rock  recognizing 40 major donors who  made the purchase of this property possible.  
  
 Rock  Dunder is located a half hour’s drive north of Kingston, on the   southern edge of the village of Morton. Entrance is via Stanley Ash  Lane,  directly across from the Township of Rideau Lakes welcome  billboard. 
  
 For more information on birding and nature and guided hikes, check out the  NatureStuff website at www.naturestuff.net 
  
 Terry Sprague lives in Prince Edward County and is self-employed as a  professional interpretive naturalist.