I have been taking advantage of nice weather and ample evening light to get out and do some bike riding in the river valley.

This week, I took my usual route from the west end, down 184 St. and through Cameron Heights, then across the footbridge under the Henday. After climbing out of the valley, I decided this was my chance to see what Terwillegar Park was all about, so I headed down Rabbit Hill road until it turned to dirt. What I found at the end of that road took my breath away. (The dust didn’t help.)

Terwillegar Park is the diamond in the rough of Edmonton’s river valley. Located just across the river from our home, it took me about 15 km of hilly riding to get within literally a (long) stone’s throw from our house.  It was about 8:30 pm when I got there and the evening sun was still high and warm. A vast expanse of river valley flatland spread out before me with paths heading off in a multitude of directions. It was quiet and still, yet I could  hear the faint sounds of people enjoying themselves throughout the park and even on the cliffs on the other side of the river bank. If you listened carefully, you could hear whole conversations of people that were not even within sight. The sounds just seemed to waft over the whole valley area. I felt like I had just discovered Edmonton’s best kept secret.

Inspired by the park experience the night before, my twins and I took a walk down the steep embankment to the river’s edge on Thursday afternoon – from our side of the river. It was hot and a bit buggy, but they were troopers. On our way down the steep path, we encountered lots of garbage and refuse left behind by careless nighttime revelers.

“Look at all this garbage. What’s wrong with people?” I lamented.

“What’s wrong with these people,” echoed my seven year old environmentalist. “God made this world perfect and people just mess it up.”

It didn’t get any better at the bottom of the path where we were greeted by murky river water and a pool of foamy scum. And it only got worse. Broken beer bottles – so many of them that I had to tell the kids to be careful walking in their crocs for fear of a razor-edged bottle piercing their feet. Walking further along the riverside, we came across hulks of rusted out vehicles that had to have been thrown or driven off  the valley cliffs many, many years ago. More recent evidence of dumping was the bicycle and shopping cart that were immersed in the river.

When I first visited the bluffs overlooking Terwillegar Park, I noticed the golf tees. Apparently, it’s a local custom of the teenagers (and more adults that you’d want to believe) to come out here to the top of the cliffs over-looking the river valley and hit golf balls out over the river towards Terwillegar Park. And not just a few balls. They come with their clubs and dozens of balls. This has troubled me ever since arriving in Edmonton. I get that it might seem fun to do it once or twice, but as a recreational hobby it raises some serious questions.

My question is: What does it say about the culture of a people that they fire golf balls into what is arguably a Garden of Eden right in their backyard? Is it youthful stupidity and arrogance? Or is this behaviour profoundly sociopathic? Is there a direct line that connects the golfers to the guys that throw bottles to the guys that dump bikes and car parts?

All I know is that it makes me feel sad. Really sad.