Last night I stood on the shore of Marcil Lake, looking off in the distance. The kids were busy trying to catch Char fry in the small streamlets, Leah and her sister were off picking blueberries. As I stood in front of the mirrored surface of the lake, and children's shouts faded away from my awareness, I came to realize one of the reasons I love it up here.
The mountains down Adam's Sound were lit up with the late night sunlight. The few clouds in the sky were painted mauves and pinks. My eyes traveled down far canyons and ravines, over mountain tops, down the fjord. In the direction I faced there was not likely another person withing hundreds of kilometres. The sheer vastness of the wilderness here exhilarated me. I dreamed of walking over all of the ground I could see, an impossible task.
I live in one of the few places in the world where such a vast swath of wild exists, almost off my front door. A place where I could travel hundreds of kilometres in almost any direction without seeing any of men's permanence. It is a place that is impossibly vast. A true wilderness. A place almost indescribably beautiful, almost indescribably intoxicating and commanding.
Despite its grandeur and size I didn't feel small or insignificant, rather I felt fortunate. I'm not sure if that is the correct word, but I felt some how more significant because of my place here. My place in this wild, not crowded in amongst throngs of others.
William Beebe described wilderness as " that age old fraternity of nature, where man's presence is unnoticed and his absence un-regretted." I'm happy to traverse this place, mostly un-noticed, certainly un-noticed by the land. I feel incredibly lucky to have that opportunity.
But I was not un-noticed by all around me, the children's shouts brought me back to my corner of this place. One had caught a fry. It was time to go check it out.