There is a valley, at the western tip of Lake Ontario, that stretches to join sparkling bay with towering cliffs. Once, the fishery in this bay was the largest of all the waters of Lake Ontario. Today, the commercial fishery is long forgotten.

Once, the creek that ribbons its way down from the escarpment had thirteen brothers and sisters, each fuelling our lake with their waters. Today, they are buried, forgotten. Just this one remains.

In 1929, the city said, "Enough. This valley 'shall be parkland that is outstanding on this continent.'"

Barely had their promise been uttered when new voices rang out. "Progress!" the prophets of 1951 cried. The park became a highway-in-waiting, biding its time until the architects of tomorrow could tame it.