Traduction de «sentier du bord du lac » (Français → Anglais) :

Lakeshore Trail

lake shore | lakeshore | lakeside

lakefront [ lakeshore ]

lake shore | lakeshore | lakeside

Association of Lakeshore Municipalities

COMMENCING at the northeasterly corner of Section 1, in the Township of Parke; THENCE, westerly along the northern boundary of Sections 1, 2, 3, 4 and the northeast quarter of Section 5 to the intersection thereof with the waters edge of Lake Superior; THENCE, in a general southeasterly, easterly and northeasterly direction along the waters edge of Lake Superior and of St. Mary’s River to the intersection thereof with the eastern boundary of Section 12, in the Township of Parke; THENCE, northerly along the eastern boundary of Section 12 and Section 1 to the point of commencement, which lands are shown on Plan No. T2557, dated February 28, ...[+++] 1969, on record in the Department of Transport at Ottawa.

Like Ajax, Whitby has a waterfront trail that is the envy of the GTA.

It runs from the Niagara River and the American border at Fort Erie down the shore of Lake Erie to Port Colborne and Wainfleet and on to Dunnville, then up into West Lincoln to the heart of the peninsula and on to Lincoln on the shores of Lake Ontario.

I live in the heart of a lost country yet one I've never left I was born here I'll die here a country that is no more but follows me everywhere I'd like to get out which I couldn't do they'd like to drive me out which they couldn't do sometimes it's so small that despite its great river and its lakes it's no bigger than a teardrop and sometimes so huge it goes on forever I took possession of it at birth proud discoverer out of my mother's womb like a caravel come from far beyond La Rochelle a country like the one I built in my childhood on Lake Saint Pierre among the cattails and reeds I put down my roots in the soil of legends so that t ...[+++]he tree of my life draws the sap of poetry there a country of summers where fire my friend comes down from the zenith to swim with me a country of autumns where my inner forests sang flames of all colors a northern country with frosty eyes ice storm suns burning on snow a country where big flakes of snow geese melted into the pure air of spring in my country we're so crazy for beauty that meadow flowers turn into swallows and fly off on feathers of blue fragrance so crazy with music the icicles on the eves sound like a glass keyboard under little mallets of cold so crazy with magic that we see trees in January turn into great snowy owls under their down of frost so crazy for love that we stroke the skin of days and every river is a naked woman smiling on a bed of light no one dies in my country at every family gathering some of my most distant ancestors even those from 1663 from St-François du Havre de Grâce turn up with their instruments and start dancing if it happens one day I lose my lost country I'll become like the haggard homeless man who on winter nights at the end of a blind alley among trash and garbage cans makes his only home a dirty cardboard box