The lengthening days and shifting of ice floes brought an abundant ripple to the water below you. Hundreds of namebin, longnose suckerfish, annually fought the spring melt outflow to swim upriver and spawn in the river bed. Imagine fish so big and plentiful that you could stand here in the Carp River and pull them from the water as they swim past.

Upstream was a large Anishinaabe village called Gichi-namebini-ziibiing that was rich with quartzite quarries where sharps were crafted and forest gardens grew in the fertile soil of the river’s floodplain. The village included a place called gaagige-gitigaan, the “forever garden,” a seasonal place of abundance.

Around you is evidence of more recent history. A well-traveled highway and a water treatment facility were developed to support a growing city. Winding among the trees, trail networks offer our current year-round recreation. Also hidden within the forested ridgelines of pink Kona dolomite stone lies a state maximum security prison established in 1889.

Adjacent to the prison property line, the Carp River flows through public land. Giigoonyikewinini and anglers still wade the waters below in pursuit of a variety of fish. If you see any fishermen in the river, say “aanii,” wave “hi,” and ask if they’ve had any luck!