The forest trails have no end of use. Decades ago we used to haul our granddaughter through the trails on a little sled every morning when she got too heavy to be carried in a backpack. She eventually graduated to learning how to walk along on her own and that turned out to be useful. For teaching balance, for example, and an automatic response to the trail clues; what should be avoided and how to walk over tree roots, rocks, slippery areas, that kind of thing. Apart from awakening in a child an awareness of the natural world.

People use the trails for a variety of recreational uses. Some older children use parts of the trails as shortcuts. Some people take a traditional yearly fall stroll through parts of the woods. The diehard hikers allow no weather to deter them from their purpose to get out on the trails each day to walk their companion pets (one man used to walk a cat alongside his dog years ago, another man had a ferret he used to take for short leashed walks). Often there are children of all ages accompanying their parents on occasional walks that don't descend into the ravine; these children are generally of two types; the emerging nature lovers and the whiny-bored, disinterested.

On occasion some people try to enter the woods on snowmobiles, but the reception they get is geared to impress on them the fact their antics aren't appreciated (besides which there's a bylaw they're defying) and in winter skis and snowshoes are commonly seen, when newfallen snow has produced the right conditions for both. Sometimes people try to push sturdy strollers through the trails, but they don't get very far. Far more useful are sleds to haul young children along the trails, and when they're older, to teach them how to negotiate the hills themselves.

We come across enthusiastic runners on occasion, and bicyclists in all seasons, albeit much fewer in winter. They're not interested in viewing and being in a natural surrounding, for them it's the physical challenge, the speed, the danger, the difficulty that arouses their interest. Yesterday we came across two young men riding (rather uphill-pushing initially) two bicycles the likes of which we'd never before seen. Their tires resembled those of motorcycles. They were huge, they were fat, they were quite impressive, and the men riding them had complete confidence in their ability to negotiate any kind of demanding terrain with them. Jackie and Jillie didn't appreciate these strange monsters in their midst one bit.

But because it was a mild day, heavily overcast but yet with occasional glimpses of sun, people felt impelled to get out into the woods to amble about on the trails, and though we didn't see too many about, there were enough to convince anyone that this treasure of an urban forest is appreciated by if not a significant proportion of the community, enough to justify its upkeep, such as it is. On the practical side, its other municipal justification is that the creek running through the ravine also acts as a storm runoff, protecting the entire community from flooding.