Traveling within and without

I decided to have my morning coffee outside today. There is a peculiar look to the yard, almost like a soft burnt sienna filter over the landscape. Except for road noise in the distance, a silent shroud extends out to the wooded area behind the house. With the ever-shrinking daylight hours, the wildlife comes in later each day. So this morning, almost 8 o’clock, it is just me and three of my cats.

My camera returned home late yesterday afternoon and the morning will be devoted to reloading its settings and testing whether the repairs hold. I have been delaying my autumn trip north, not wanting to see the fall migration without my beloved camera. Now, I can finalize my plans.

The trip will follow the south shore of Lake Superior starting at Tahquamenon Falls and ending at Copper Harbor on the Keweenaw Peninsula. Along the way, stops at Pictured Rocks, Lightfoot Bay, Seney Wildlife Refuge and a myriad of much smaller natural areas will fill my daily activity. My camping equipment will be packed along with my camera and field guides. Although I have mentally planned out my trip, only the time spent at Lightfoot Bay will be firm. The remainder of my trip will remain fluid. This will be a journey of discovery, my own personal vision quest.

My first backpacking trip was to Isle Royale some twenty years ago. My dad came to pick us up at the end of the visit, expecting to find his oldest daughter bruised and begging for a soft, warm bed. Instead, I bounced out of the seaplane all smiles, declaring that I had the best time. My parents were astounded, where did this love of sleeping on the ground and carrying your belongings on your back come from? Not from them, they declared.

What my parents didn’t realize until just recently was that even as a teenager, I spent many hours sitting in the woods across from our home. Surrounded by trees, I felt that I was in God’s house, protected from the demands of a society I understood so little. I get nature. The rules are pretty clear. Nature demands respect from everyone, from the tiniest insect to humans. Challenge it foolishly and you will be burned, guaranteed. That brightly colored mushroom will make you sick; pet a semi-tamed fox at a campsite and you will get bitten or worse.

People find solace in many ways, in many places. My church just happens to be a 2-person tent, surrounded by giant white pines and the waters of Lake Superior.  

The quiet that dominated my yard has now transitioned to a chickadee chorus and the swooping of crows through the trees. It is time to go inside now and finish my breakfast. The day awaits.