Watermark Project

Grand River, ON - Dylan Leween

2026-06-02T14:22:01Z

During my first summer as an undergraduate student at the University of Guelph, I had the unique opportunity to be a part of an experience called the Two Row on the Grand. Beginning just North of Dundalk, we canoed 150km to the opening of Lake Erie (Port Maitland), spanning over the course of ten days, camping in the municipalities along the Grand River each night. This opportunity sparked my love and connection to the water. It was during this excursion that I developed a deeper understanding of the vital role that water plays in all of our lives, and the relationship it builds between us as people and non-human beings.

The Two Row on the Grand is a canoe paddle that embodies the Two Row Wampum, which is a Peace Treaty between Indigenous and settler communities. This experience, for me, built long lasting connections rooted in the water we paddled on, and helped me develop a mutual respect for individual values and culture through our time spent sharing the same river. The Grand River became my watermark as it taught me how to step outside of myself and become a part of a bigger cause. As I watched at least 75 people, including myself, paddle along the river in unison, helping each other and connecting through the water we occupied, I realized the water was as much a part of our community as the paddlers that occupied it, and the Grand River got to know us as much as we got to know it.

Lake Huron - Shayna Stock

2026-05-27T04:12:25Z

I grew up here! As a child spent almost every summer day collecting rocks, building sandcastles, and swimming.

Trent River, Frankford - Christi Baker

2026-04-19T14:56:17Z

I grew up right on Trent River. Summers were filled with boating and swimming all day long. The river is home to bullfrogs, otters, swans and herons that my family got to watch thrive. In winters, we skated and built snow forts on the frozen ice.

Fisk Pond - Preston Burt

2026-04-12T16:20:33Z

I used to swim and fish in this pond when I was young before it became contaminated with blue-green algae and cyanobacteria. I always remembered picking blueberries by the shore and seeing frogs, turtles, herons, and egrets. The eutrophication of this lake resulted in it being closed for fishing and swimming, and was one of the main reasons I decided to study land conservation.

Jordan Harbour, Jordan Station - Lindsay Currie

2026-03-11T00:45:44Z

When we bought a home in Niagara Region 17 years ago I would have no idea the connection I would make to the land. Once we had our two boys - who were born interested in nature and had a natural connection to the outdoors, we spent more and more time outside learning and seeing our part in restoring the land to what it once was. That journey led us to start an outdoor education center/club (The Green Herons) that was build around our kids interests, so that more youth could benefit from our land and the ecosystem that surrounded us. We started by fixing our backyard habitat, and then expanded our 'circle of influence', which brought Jordan Harbour into our family. Jordan Harbour and the 20 Mile Creek watershed has always been one of our favorite places to explore. The biodiversity that exists within the area is arguably one of the best in Niagara. We have had countless interactions with rare species, and have made many memories in the surrounding forests and creeks.

One of the most devestating finds that we have had as a club as we started to explore this area was the trash left behind from visitors and fishermen. We spent hours doing shoreline clean ups in Jordan Harbour and sometimes in as little as 2 weeks, the trash had piled back up again. We were committed to keeping as much plastic out of this amazing habitat as possible but the job seemed endless, and we knew that as soon as we stopped...the issues would continue between our visits.
One of the biggest problem was finding someone to take responsibility for the land. The town claimed they couldn't help because it wasn't their land, the conservation authority said the same...after some research, it turned out that the MTO owned this strip of beach and there was little to be done to solve the root of this problem.
After a few more cleanups and close to 200 bags of trash removed from the area, we had an idea.

What if our kids installed waste infrastructure? Would it be used? Would it encourage others to help with this problem? Could we afford it? Are we allowed to just add a dumpster on land that isn't ours?
But isn't this land and water all of ours?

So we ordered a dumpster and put in waste bins.
Twenty youth aged 8-14 have commited to fundraise to pay the tipping fees, and even installed large decompostable bag dispensers in locations that are further from the parking lot so that visitors can help manage the abandoned waste.
We are 6 months into this pilot project, and IT'S WORKING! The trash is managed, we organize clean-ups to stay on top of waste from the highway, and we have had enough fundraising to keep up.

Jordan harbour is our watermark and we are proof that youth can change their community for the better with a little kindness and a lot of hard work.

https://www.nationalycaa.org/youth-climate-activists-in-the-news/12-year-old-who-found-a-better-way-to-keep-beaches-clean

Moore's Beach, ON - Terry L Brown

2026-01-22T20:41:57Z

Get Out and Dive In, Terry aka The Amphibiographer

Since minnows nibbled my toes as a toddler, I have been a lover of fish and aquatic critters. This took place in the warm, sandy shallows of the Ottawa River at Moore’s Beach, just south of my hometown of Pembroke, Ontario. Moms would take kids to this beach because even adults could walk out for half a kilometre and still only be up to their knees in water. A perfectly safe place for preschoolers and older kids to play in the water with minimal supervision. I remember sitting down in the very warm water in bright August sunshine, pine-clad shoreline along the river, the far bank seemingly a province away, which it actually was since it was Quebec on that side of the river. Sitting still for a short time invited tiny minnows to come and nibble on the skin and hair on my legs! Tickling and delighting me with their vigorous yet painless nibbling. I was enamoured of the little wriggling fishes, fascinated with their lives and the waters they lived in!

Adding to my fascination was the night I was awakened from sleep so my Dad could show me a huge sturgeon he had just caught in the Ottawa River. Before me was a living dinosaur-like creature, armoured plates and projections bristling from a huge body, whiskers wiggling beneath his chin!! This wonder was also shark-shaped, and being an avid fan of Jacques Cousteau films and Sea Hunt I was totally enthralled by this improbable and fascinating fish. I later went on to video them underwater in the Ottawa and Petawawa Rivers.

Thus was born a fascination and passion for exploring and connecting with the aquatic realms of our watery planet, which I continue to this day! And a passion for sharing my explorations to inspire others to do the same. “Be There, Be Aware, With Care!”
https://amphibiographer.tv/

The Mackenzie River - Chloe Flood

2026-01-07T18:42:04Z

When in relations with why I wanted to cover the Mackenzie river, it was solely because a friend sharing the same name as this river. However, there are other aspects that made me want to go over it, and it is because I find it to be very beautiful, grand, and quite interesting to be learned about. My relationship with water is a story on its own, more so drinking water. When I was a lot younger, I barely knew the significance of water and only saw it as something my mom would force me to drink. I used to primarily drink many sugary beverages, such as mango juice, slushies, chocolate milk, milkshakes, and soda. These options are clearly all unhealthy and lack the nutrition and importance water did, however, I had thought that water had a boring flavour and refused to drink a lot every day.

As time went on, I realized many complications that occurred from not drinking water. I experienced fainting, vomiting, exhaustion, headaches, tummy aches, bladder pain, and many others. There was a point in time where I finally took notice of my health and worried about many complications, so I began to drink water more often. I never realized how refreshing water was and how that refreshing feeling outweighed other beverages.

Drinking water has helped me gain more energy, recover from panic attacks, helped improve my health when I was sick, helped me cool down, and many other outstanding things. I have grown to realize how amazing water truly was! Not just for taking bubble baths or swimming in pools, but for drinking and improving health. And now, water is my favourite beverage. There isn’t anything else like it

La Laguna de San Diego in Caldas, Colombia - Carolina Lopez

2025-12-13T06:25:07Z

Long before San Diego became the town that it is now, its hills were alive with the sounds of the wind, water, and earth. Beneath this magical land, a fire stirred. As the fire roamed, it shaped valleys and hills along the way, until one day, it had enough, but it had already left a deep hollow in the earth. There, from on top of the hill sat a Guardian Spirit watching, and it hurt him to see it; his tears filled the hollow, and a lagoon was born. Its waters were warm, deep, and reflected the clouds, the sun, and the moon. This was La Laguna de San Diego, a hidden jewel whose Guardian Spirit’s eyes watched all who came near.

The Guardian Spirit watched the lagoon with care. It filled it with fish, and around it with nature and wildlife. He spoke to the waters with respect, for they “Feel everything.” The land began to thrive. Early settlers, guided by stories from their elders, learned to fish, leaving some fish so the lagoon could replenish itself. Children were taught to watch the water, to listen to the waves, and to understand that the lagoon was alive and it depended on us to survive.

For centuries, the people of San Diego lived in harmony with the lagoon. Fishermen cast their nets and caught fish to feed their families. Children played in the water, and travellers came to explore the beauty. The Spirit watched and was pleased with the balance that was maintained. The people spoke Spanish, but the lagoon and the Spirit understood them by the care they took of the land. The name of the community itself—San Diego—came to be intertwined with the lagoon, showing the connection between the land, the water, and the people who relied on it.

One year, the lagoon became ill. The fish that lived in abundance for generations began to die. The lagoon had to be closed down. The people panicked and wondered what had gone wrong. The elders whispered that a sickness had entered the water because The Guardian was not happy with how the people were treating the lagoon. Local authorities later confirmed what they suspected. The fish had been infected by a virus, the Tilapia Lake Virus, a silent predator that could strike swiftly and without mercy.

The Guardian Spirit had retreated in sorrow, reminding the people that the lagoon was fragile. The fish had become victims of an imbalance that humans could not control. The villagers were forced to stop catching fish, to stop using their nets, and to allow the lagoon to rest. At this time, they reflected. They realized that the lagoon was not just a body of water, but a living entity that demanded respect.

Days turned into weeks, and the lagoon began to recover. The Guardian Spirit calmed the waters. Authorities and scientists monitored the lagoon, community members, young and old, returned to the shores, but now with a deeper understanding. They knew that the lagoon was to be treated as a partner rather than a resource to dominate. From that day forward, every ripple in the lagoon reminded the people of their responsibility.

The story of La Laguna de San Diego and its Guardian Spirit spread to other regions. Visitors and children alike learned that water, land, and life were intertwined. The Spirit became a symbol teaching that even the smallest misstep could ripple through the ecosystem. Fishing, recreation, and tourism continued, but always with respect, reflection, and sustainable practice. The lagoon never forgot the lessons imparted to it by the people of San Diego and their ancestors.

The moral of the story is that the Guardian Spirit teaches us that all life is interconnected. Natural resources are not ours to control it is a shared existence. Respect and patience ensure that both humans and nature can thrive together. When balance is lost, consequences follow, but understanding, reflection, and humility can restore harmony. The lagoon reminds the people of San Diego, and all who hear its story, that it is not just about taking, but about listening and learning, and honoring the spirits of the land.

Lake Winnipeg - ERFAN SAIDI

2025-12-13T02:33:20Z

Title: What Once Held Me Steady Is Now Asking for Care

My Water Narrative

At first, in 2003, shortly after immigrating to Canada, I found myself nearby the shores of Lake Winnipeg, just north of the city. Along the shore, the lake stretched wide and steady, and in the foreground the water appeared cold, calm, and unwavering. During that time, everything in my life felt uncertain—language, culture, belonging—but the lake offered something solid. The sharp wind cut through my thoughts, slowing them, while the open shoreline created space for reflection. The water did not demand anything from me; it simply existed. That quiet presence grounded me during a period of displacement and emotional instability. Even then, without fully realizing it, Lake Winnipeg became part of my internal sense of safety and balance.

Earlier in my life, before Canada, water played a similar role. I grew up in Iran’s Gilan province, near the Caspian Sea, where water shaped daily life, culture, and spirituality. Previously, swimming, fishing, boating, and observing wildlife were ordinary experiences, deeply woven into memory and identity. When I encountered Lake Winnipeg again years later, those memories resurfaced. Meanwhile, although the two waterbodies are thousands of kilometers apart, they share similar stories of environmental stress and neglect. At the same time, standing beside Lake Winnipeg created continuity between past and present, reminding me that water carries memory across borders and generations. When water degrades, it is not only ecosystems that are harmed, but also culture, identity, and inherited ways of understanding the world.

Beyond the shoreline, Lake Winnipeg is not only personal—it is communal. Within the community, it is one of Canada’s largest freshwater lakes and central to Manitoba’s ecology, food systems, and recreation. Surrounding the lake are towns, farms, beaches, and Indigenous communities whose lives are deeply connected to its health. Nearby, families fish, swim, and gather, while across the region the lake supports tourism and local economies. However, this shared space is increasingly contested. Harmful algal blooms, driven by nutrient pollution, have become a recurring threat, making parts of the lake unsafe for swimming and fishing. These conditions directly affect community health, food security, and cultural practices, particularly for Indigenous Nations with longstanding relationships to the water.

Interlocking responsibilities among governments, industries, and communities have allowed accountability to weaken. Lake Winnipeg’s shallow depth makes it highly vulnerable, connected to overlapping agricultural drainage systems that accelerate nutrient runoff. As a result of prioritizing agricultural productivity, fertilizers and wastewater enter the lake faster than it can recover. These environmental pressures are also connected to policy decisions—weak enforcement of runoff regulations, inadequate wastewater infrastructure, and financial incentives that favor short-term economic gain over long-term ecological health. Water is treated as a resource to be managed rather than a living system that sustains life.

Moreover, learning that Lake Winnipeg lies on Treaty 1, 2, 4, and 5 lands fundamentally reshaped my understanding of responsibility. Historically, Indigenous Nations have maintained water teachings grounded in reciprocity, respect, and relational accountability. As long as colonial governance systems continue to marginalize Indigenous water laws, pollution and neglect persist. Consequently, Indigenous communities face disproportionate impacts: unsafe drinking water, declining fisheries, and disrupted cultural and spiritual practices. These realities reflect environmental injustice rooted in ongoing colonial structures.

Eventually, the causes of Lake Winnipeg’s degradation extend far beyond local choices. Industrial agriculture, economic growth models, and colonial governance systems operate at national and global scales. Climate change intensifies these pressures by increasing rainfall, runoff, and water temperatures, worsening algal blooms. In the future, awareness alone will not be enough. Protecting Lake Winnipeg requires systemic change—policy reform, Indigenous-directed water governance, and collective responsibility that values ecological sustainability over extraction and convenience.

To end with, Lake Winnipeg stands at a crossroads. If current patterns continue, the lake will face ongoing ecological collapse, loss of biodiversity, and deepening social injustice. Unless meaningful action is taken, future generations may inherit a waterbody remembered more for warning signs than for life. Yet if protected—through respect for Treaty obligations, Indigenous leadership, and long-term ecological planning—the lake can recover. What once steadied me during uncertainty now asks for care in return. Water remembers how we treat it—and it will reflect those choices back to us.

TOBERMORY, The Grotto - Noah Park

2025-12-13T00:45:15Z

It was a big deal when I was twelve years old and going on my first five hour road trip with my friends. I was a bit nervous to start the trip, which was planned through my church youth group for no particular reason. It felt completely unreal when we got on the highway, and the road trip began. Everyone was super loud, laughing, and enjoying the trip. My friends and I were getting a little rowdy, and it looked like we were going to have a great time. I remembered when we got to Tobermory, the first thing we saw was the water. I had never seen water like the water we were looking at. It was bright and crystal blue and did not feel like we were in Canada. I remembered it felt super surreal.

Swimming really excited me, but I was also scared. I could especially see shadows under the water, which made the idea of swimming into caves feel even creepier. I also noticed small fish moving about, which made everything even more unfamiliar. I had to hype myself up to swim in the caves, but it was much easier to do with my friends there, too. I felt fear for the first few moments of swimming, but it quickly turned into excitement after. Looking back, everything we did that day depended on that water. None of those moments would have been possible without Georgian Bay.

One part of the trip I'll never forget was when a few of us decided to swim around part of the island, just for fun. It was not planned, but that just sort of happened. One of my friends wore slides, cramping about halfway through. I stayed with him to help float and to swim the rest of the way. It was tiring, but at that age, moments like that really mattered. That experience was a turning point to view us differently. It was no longer just a group of friends, but more like a family. That group brings nostalgia every time we talk about the trip.