Pukaskwa

They say the wind screams here in the winter and the First People thus named it Old Woman Bay. It's lovely and remote, 200 miles north into Canada along Hwy 17 on Lake Superior. We used to go here every 2 or 3 years and stayed in old campgrounds or cabins that no longer exist. 

There are many walking trails one can take; my favorite leads straight up, looking down at the lake and the river that leads into it. There are deer and black bear but they are shy and I only saw evidence of their scats. 

Delicate lady slipper orchids are common and remind me of a story I read as a child of a fairy-type being, she had a hickory nut as a head, and she tied these flowers on for shoes. One day a squirrel ate her head and she, being an apple twig, found a nook in an old tree and gave it new growth.

It's a relatively easy 3 miles through dense pine forest with ferns and mossy rocks. Little squirrels would squawk at me from the trees and when I stopped I could at first hear nothing, not even the big logging trucks on the Trans-Can. If I kept silent I could hear insects buzzing, rustles in the undergrowth, tiny streams trickling and, occasionally, something bigger. The sense of peace was so complete I did not feel afraid.

After about 3 miles I would come to an ancient river bed, lined with stones. Here the Ojibwa people dug shallow pits in the dry bed and replaced the stones. They are called pukaskwas. These are about 1-2 thousand years old and are sacred places, places to sit and meditate, to go on vision quests. With reverence I removed my backpack and camera and carefully sat in one.

There are two versions to what happened next. In one version I was quickly beset by swarms of mosquitos as big as sparrows and my tender backside was gouged by the hard rocks and stones. I jumped up, slathered more bug spray on, and galloped back down the trail. Actually that is the true version of my first experience.

But the second time I was more ready. More open. A friendly breeze kept the bugs off me and the stones seemed to cushion rather than poke me. After awhile I was just there. There was no me that was separate from the forest, the sun, the lake. I breathed without realizing it. I was liquid. I was in the most profound peace I have ever experienced. I might never have left.

I know what distracted me and brought me out of my trance; it was seeing a piece of plastic left behind by a careless hiker. I was annoyed at that and it broke the spell. I got up and left. I did not have a vision or any great insight. I did not see my future. I just went somewhere else in those moments. But it was good. And I carried the plastic out.

This sort of experience has happened to me a very few times, the last being one time in Florida a year or two ago. I should practice meditation more often; I do sometimes but not on a regular basis. It's not the place that matters, it is the openness.

But still, it was a beautiful place.