My name is Scott Mullen. I grew up in Caledon near the Forks of the Credit River. My earliest memories there are as a child behind my Aunt and Uncle’s home. A converted schoolhouse, just a short hike from the river. My brother and I used to dive headlong into the current. We’d let it take us, for as long as we could hold our breath, scouting the bottom for crayfish and smooth flat stones.

I fished the tributaries of the West Credit in grade school, with friends. We’d knock on doors meeting the people of Belfountain. Almost always receiving permission to be on their property.

When I was a little older and up to no good, I’d ambush golfers with a group of friends at the tenth green of the Caledon golf course. We’d meet up in Inglewood, by the firehall or the old general store. Then bike to Oldbase line and jump in the river armed with super soakers. It was summer days spent testing our luck and the patience of old men in collared shirts.

My Mom and Stepdad live on the banks of the Credit to this day, in a heritage house, in Boston Mills. It would be impossible for me to say how the Credit has shaped me, because it hasn’t finished. I can say I’m indebted to it.