The Wild Connection
There’s a point on the trail where you stop thinking about where you started or where you’re headed. You just move through it.
Your thoughts loosen. Your attention shifts to what’s right in front of you. Sound carries differently. Light changes as you walk.
The ground holds what's come through before you.
You begin to notice the traces. Not in any obvious way, just enough to know others have moved through the same stretch of woods.
Crossing and criss-crossing.
Even in the quiet, it holds more than you expect.
Trail Notes
Just a few, carried back.
up the gunflint· february
The trail was quiet that morning.
The trees were hanging heavy with new snow. The forest roads are quiet. The snow softening edges everywhere.
Snow packed down enough to walk on without snowshoes. Tracks everywhere. Crossing over each other. Folks coming and going at different times.
I followed a bit without really thinking about it. Without really trying to see anything. Just curious where they were headed.
You don't see anyone out there much that time of year.
But you can tell you're not the only one.
Ridge Above the lake· March
By the time I got back to the ridge, the light had changed again.
The lake wasn't flat anymore. It had started to roll. The horizon soft and a little mushy.
Whatever I was carrying earlier didn't feel as sharp.
Not gone, just set down for a bit. Easier to carry.
Hard to say exactly when that happened.
Just noticing it did.
Small creek crossing· April
I've walked this stretch in summer when the creek barely makes a sound.
Yesterday it was moving. Fast. Loud enough you could hear before you saw it.
Snowmelt and heavy rains will do that. Everything feels like it's in a hurry. Pushing to get somewhere.
Most folks head to bigger water this time of year. The falls, the overlooks, all of it going strong.
I usually end up in places like this where it's a little quieter, but just as alive.
Ridge above the lake · April
Raining most of the day.
It's been building. The creeks already full, the rivers pushing, and then this on top of it. Deluge.
Stayed in the cabin. Did some carving. Watched Superior take it in and swallow it up without much fuss.
You keep thinking it will ease off. That the sky will suck it back in at some point.
Let things settle.
Still waiting.