Reflections by the lake

I am the Viking statue in Gimli, Manitoba, born in 1967 to commemorate the upcoming Centennial. Before that, I was a ghost or a spirit from the past and humans were barely aware of me. But here I stand, fifteen feet tall with my back to the lake. I hold my axe and the general idea is that I have just landed on the shore and am checking the place out for new opportunities. I don’t like this great thundering axe because it looks so threatening. I realise that my race acquired a reputation for plundering but I always tried to avoid it, only plundering when it was absolutely necessary. I don’t like having my back to the lake because my heritage is the sea. I would much rather have been depicted with a dolphin or two, those intelligent mammals that used to follow my boat in those happy faraway times.

            Since 1967, I have seen many changes. This town of five thousand swells to fifteen thousand in the summer months with many cottagers and visitors enjoying pleasure-boating and fishing. Icelanders came here in the late nineteenth century and took up fishing and farming. I was part of their heritage having sailed to Iceland hundreds of years before. Many Vikings were merchants or farmers in Iceland and of course, they loved to fish. Lake Winnipeg teams with fish, the Winnipeg Gold eye being a great delicacy and the pickerel is so delectable that it defies description.

Gimli has changed in the past fifty years and some think for the better but I feel a nostalgia for the old wooden cottages. Those old buildings have been replaced by modern summer homes. Gazebos abound and this probably a good idea because the mosquito season is fierce. Before screened gazebos became common, there was much cursing and swatting in the early summer. It was at times like that, that I was glad to be made of fibre glass, marble dust and resin, thus impervious to mosquitoes. Did I mention that I was designed by Gisseur Eliasson, a professor at the University of Manitoba and that I was sculpted by a gifted sculptor, George Barone? How about that for an illustrious rebirth?

To my right is the sea wall and on this moody Manitoba morning, artists are touching up their sea wall paintings that take a beating from stormy waters. Some paintings don’t quite fit the scene—they portray the wrong history. For example, there is one painting that mystifies me—elegant women in picture hats carrying parasols, flanked by little girls in beribboned dresses and little boys in sailor suits. What does this art have to do with a nineteenth-century Icelandic community that built its reputation on commercial fishing?

Over there to my left, people sit under umbrellas on the hotel patio enjoying the pan-fried pickerel, served with crisp salad and herbed buns. People now refer to Gimli as a charming little area of Manitoba with hotels and restaurants to please the many visitors. I guess we Vikings have made it into the modern world. But in spirit, I wander backwards towards the old seafaring days and I miss my close communication with those dear darling dolphins.