Captivating Galetta: perfect for a COVID getaway

The CN Tower. The Mississippi River. For a village the size of Galetta, those are some big-name attractions that we enjoyed every day during our COVID-inspired 14-day retreat after returning home to Canada from Argentina.

We stayed in a friend’s empty home in the quiet village near Arnprior, overlooking the churning waterfall and rapids next on the Mississippi River. It’s not the mighty American waterway of Mark Twain renown but the Canadian version that starts in Mackavoy Lake, north of Bon Echo Provincial Park, and flows eastward through Carleton Place and Pakenham to empty into the Ottawa River just north of Galetta.

As our world shrank due to COVID, we had the perfect chance for a micro-adventure. Galetta’s history, discovered via Google, captivated me, especially as I read between the lines. There must have been some pretty heated rivalries and conflicts back in the day!

The Mississippi River, with its 20-foot waterfall and rapids, is Galetta’s most eye-catching feature for visitors. Those same watery features inspired the early settlers too, although they envisioned power, mills and money rather than lovely views, photographs or paintings. It’s doubtful the village would have evolved without that rocky stretch of white water.

In 1823, the first settlers arrived in the area. James Hubbell leased the land around the waterfall and rapids, resulting in the village’s first name: Hubbell’s Falls. But 20 years later, he’d done nothing to harness the water power, so he sold the water rights to James Steen, according to the Galetta Community Association.

“James Steen built a mill at the falls and the area was renamed Steen’s Falls,” the association said. “Hubbell later re-acquired the rights but subsequently re-sold those rights to James Galetti Whyte who began woolen manufacturing. The village name was changed to Galetta (after Whyte’s mother’s name).”

Can you imagine the heated discussions, name-calling and recriminations that likely accompanied all those name changes and flip-flops of water rights? How did Hubbell re-acquire those rights? Small villages are usually known for their friendliness and help-thy-neighbour ethos, but they can also cover up hotbeds of jealousies and rivalries, when everyone knows everyone else’s business.

The association said that, in the 1870s, “both Galetta and Mohrs Corner were competing for recognition as the centre of the local area.” Mohr’s Corner, just south of Galetta, had the town hall and post office. But Galetta had a store, grist mill, woolen mill, carding and spinning mill, shingle mill, cooperage, and potash works. Galetta upped the ante considerably in 1893 when the Arnprior and Parry Sound Railway went through it. But Galetta finally won the competition when the post office moved to Galetta and the town hall moved to Kinburn. That town hall was no doubt the scene of many shouting matches, not to mention confusion over all those men named James.

During our COVID retreat, we walked and cycled south several times from the village along Mohr’s Road. (Walks were allowed when we first started; the isolation rules changed later. We encountered practically no one; the closest we came was 50 feet). The road leads you under a railway bridge, then over what the locals call the Old Stone Bridge (since rebuilt) onto the low-lying, flood-prone island where the potash works presumably was. Crossing a bridge off the island, the road winds up a hill, where we discovered Mohr’s Corner. We stood for a while, taking in the wide view back over the village and river.

Known variously as Mohr’s Corner, Mohr Corners or Mohr’s Corners, the crossroads once boasted 100 people, who used the school, township hall, church, two stores, cooperage, the post office and many homes. In the 1850s, Charles Mohr ran the Fitzroy Hotel – a stopover for stagecoach passengers. A popular fall fair ran for years, first in James Riddell’s biggest field, and later at permanent fairgrounds. (Yes, another James.)  

Today, a red brick house, which used to be the school, and a couple of homes and barns are all that’s left of Galetta’s former competitor.

The few times that we did pass anyone on our walks, on opposite sides of the road, they waved and called “Hello.” The whole area is a friendly place – no competitive feelings now, that we saw – like so many small towns and villages are in most countries we’ve visited.

Galetta’s official population is listed as 545, but that takes in the nearby settlements of Vydon Acres, Marshall Bay and Mohr’s Corner, so I would guess the village itself is maybe 150 souls.

When you drive through Galetta, you might well do a double-take when you see what the Wallace family features on its front lawn. A model of the CN tower has stood there for decades, although Toronto City Hall has since been removed.

And in the Wallaces’ side garden are a dozen models of village buildings, with a railway track winding along past the model railway station. We often stopped to study the models and figure out where the actual buildings are in the village.

Galetta’s glory days as a commercial centre have passed. All those mills have long closed, although two millstones are displayed with a historical plaque in Russell Park. Retirees and commuter families now make use of the park facilities: playground, huge grassy area, skating rink, lawn bowling greens and the Galetta Community Centre. We recalled attending a strawberry social and a post-funeral reception there with our friends many decades ago. It’s still the focus for many activities – at least once COVID recedes.

Galetta Livestock Sales, established in 1943, is housed in a huge barn at the west end of Galetta, and seems to have been in operation until just recently. A friend remembers attending livestock sales with her father when she was small. There’s not much auction action now. Rusting trucks decorate the parking lot.

The hydro station at the falls, now owned by TransAlta, still supplies electricity, as it has done since 1907. That’s when the Galetta Electric Light Company started sending electricity to Arnprior, but not to Galetta until 1914 when the Kingdon Lead Mine, a few kilometres away, needed power. (I imagine the villagers were frustrated at that delay!)

I was keen to walk around the old ghost town of Kingdon Mine, but it’s now fenced off. Darn. Since I tend to follow rules, we didn’t trespass but instead found an online video tour by Capital Gems (a group that explores Ottawa-area abandoned mines, buildings and caves). The mine lands, located in the Vydon Acres area east of Galetta, now feature crumbling cement foundations, rusted machinery and the vast, white tailings that can still be seen on Google Earth.

Several mining attempts were made and abandoned before the lead mine was re-activated during the First World War. From 1914 until it closed in 1931, some 60 million pounds of lead were extracted. “Kingdon Mine became the largest lead mine and smelter in Canada,” said Capital Gems. “At its peak, the mine employed 600 people and 250 families lived in the Village of Kingdon Mines.”

Once our 14-day isolation came to an end, we cycled from Galetta into Vydon Acres, past the hydro corridor that leads to the tailings and on down the curving road towards Morris Island Conservation Area. It was closed due to COVID, but we had already hiked and snowshoed through that beautiful forest countless times with our friends and their dogs. The many nature trails loop through mixed woodlands and past wetlands. Every so often, the trees open up on a point of land so you can see the great Ottawa River rushing by. It’s definitely a place to revisit once it re-opens.

My grandfather would have called Galetta a “poke and plumb town” – by the time you poke your head out the car window, you’re plumb out of town. But dig below the size and peaceful demeanor, especially when your world shrinks, and you’ll uncover delightful details. I know we did.