Recently, I got to participate in a 'Great Canadian Hike Challenge.' I read the Fundy Footpath map to plan my route (choosing this particular section because I hadn't yet seen the famous flower pot). While I was walking (and checking my map), I thought about the many other kinds of map reading I do. I frequently use Google Maps with my phone for work travel - finding highway exit numbers, street addresses, gas stations - but my glove box is an equally rich resource. I always consult some kind of map before going on any hiking trail for the first time. The Rockwood Park Map I carried in my back pocket, initially so I wouldn’t get lost, became a useful tool for crossing off 'completed trails' and planning new hikes.
There are lots of other kinds of reading to do on trails such as signage indicating trail names, lengths and accessible hours, or signs detailing points of historical or pictorial interest, signs identifying common or unique flora & fauna, and signs telling us about things like elevation and other geological or oceanographic descriptors. Still, paper maps are special things. We 'own' our paper maps. We carry them with us, make marks on them, hold them up against the landscape as we seek to place ourselves in a larger context of community and nature.
In my home office I have a drawer full of typical highway or tourist maps of places I've been. (At a glance, I can see maps of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, the Maritimes, Maine, the Southeastern U.S., the White Mountains & New Hampshire.) I always grab a street map of anywhere I'm visiting, and I've saved more than a few: Washington DC (showing Smithsonian locations); Montreal, Vancouver, Portland, NY City. I also keep an eye out for specialty maps like my small hand-drawn-styled map 'A Traveller’s Map of the St. John River Ferry System.' I have maps of zoos and other tourist attractions (King’s Landing, Minister’s Island), a wonderful map of Canada’s federal parks, and even an N.B. map of farmer’s markets! I remember getting National Geographic in the mail (or looking through my grandfather’s collection of back issues) and always being excited to see what map was included (among my favourites: Antarctica, 1957; Whales of the World, 1976; The Historic Mediterranean, 1982; Sky Survey - Charting the Heavens, 1983; The Alps, 1985; Great Lakes, 1987. I don't subscribe to N.G. anymore, but my interest in maps hasn't flagged.
Meanwhile, there are many types of maps I don't have on hand: topographical; socio-thematic (e.g., population density or voting patterns), navigation charts. And let’s not forget the fictional maps we find in the Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, or the Eragon series.
Like any other type of functional reading, map reading is a skillset that strengthens and broadens with use, contributing to the growth of our overall literacy skills. Beyond their practicality, however, maps are special things that invite us into places, and even periods, we might not otherwise go; making map reading at once an intensely personal and social activity.
For another take, and with an eye to January 27th, check out A. Alexandra's 2015 'Explore a Map on Family Literacy Day.'
Cheryl Brown (@CherylAnneBrown) is co-creator of the Storytent and Bookwagon programs, QLNB's Community Literacy Coordinator, and long-time advocate for and facilitator of a variety of family literacy initiatives. In these posts, she has been documenting and sharing snap-shots of some of her daily reading.
