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Waskesiu
My family has been going to Waskesiu, in Prince Albert National Park, ever since my dad was a little kid. It's been a long time since I've been able to go, but I'm glad I got to go this time. I've missed the place, and missed seeing the aunts and uncles and cousins who go every year as well.
When I was a kid, it was the most beautiful place in the world. My parents told me so, and I could see it with my own eyes. The lake was a perfect lake, good for swimming and sailing and watching the sunset. The hiking trails were clearly the most interesting places in the universe, what with all the squirrels and birds and mushrooms and fascinating bugs. And it was the same every year. Nothing really changed, except for maybe a few of the stores in the town.
My family warned me I would be surprised this year at some of the things that have changed. For instance, after the cabins my family had stayed in since Dad was a kid changed owners and became a favored place for noisy partying, we were staying in a different set of cabins. The playground was gone, and some rather ugly cabins had been put in next to where we used to stay. It was a bit weird, yes, especially the playground being gone. That had been there forever. But what really blew my mind was the stuff that hadn't changed.
The souvenir store still has those kitschy deer statues in front of it, and the same fountain I used to toss pennies into as a kid. There are two ice cream stores, one of which is exactly the same as it's always been, and one of which is in the same place, but rebuilt after having burned down a few years back. But do you see what I'm saying? Stuff burns down and comes right back in the same spot. The nature center, which was one of the highlights of the trip for me when I was little, still has the same taxidermy animals and the same displays, though it's been refurbished several times and doesn't look that old.
You all know from previous entries that I took an inadvertent swim in the Waskesiu river, but I also went swimming (on purpose) in the lake. It was wonderful. I have missed swimming in Waskesiu lake. It wasn't even cold, just pleasantly cool. I didn't even shriek when I got in. Gawd, it felt absolutely wonderful to just drift out there, surrounded by beauty. Oh, and dragonflies. OMG dragonflies. They were everywhere. Tremendous rains led to a tremendous mosquito population which led to DRAGONFLIES EVERYWHERE. There were the usual enormous blue ones, but there were also red ones and yellow ones and greenish ones in a variety of sizes. As bugs go, dragonflies are pretty freaking awesome. They're lovely to look at, they don't crawl on you, bite you or jump out at you unexpectedly, and they keep the mosquitoes down.
We only went on one nature hike while I was there, but it was everyone's favorite: Boundary Bog, which is, as you might expect, a trail that leads through a bog near the edge of the national park. I realised while we walked along the trail that this place is what I think of when I'm told to think of somewhere beautiful. This is the place in my mind where I go when I need to feel calm and safe and centred. I'd almost forgotten it was a real place. The ground is covered in a thick green carpet of deep, springy moss. The trees are all thin, straight pines and birches, their roots lost in the moss and their branches lacy with lichen. Sunlight comes down through the trees and makes shadow patterns on the moss and sparse bushes, lighting up what it touches like lanterns. There are mushrooms everywere, small yellow ones scattered on the moss like bright coins, luminous white ones like ghostly flowers, ruffly brown ones clinging to the sides of trees, a few large flat red ones that looked for all the world like emergency buttons, like if you pushed them you'd be dropped down a trap door. We even found some puffballs, but they weren't old enough to puff yet.
Once the trail leads out into the bog itself, the trees become short, soft-needled tamaracks growing right out of the water along with reeds and tall grass, and a profusion of flowers clinging to the floating peat. There were lots of pitcher plants this year, each with a single leathery red flower and a clump of "pitchers" at the base. If you've never seen one, look them up (and feel free to snicker). Matt and I went out onto the platform in the water and watched a damselfly shed its skin while clinging to a lily pad.
I think what strikes me the most about the bog is that it has a feeling of ancient quiet about it, a soft stillness not broken by the waves or the rush of wind through the trees. It's like a cathedral with trees for pillars, and a sense of wonder for worship.
All in all, I'm glad I went. It's good to know that Waskesiu really is as beautiful as I remember it.
When I was a kid, it was the most beautiful place in the world. My parents told me so, and I could see it with my own eyes. The lake was a perfect lake, good for swimming and sailing and watching the sunset. The hiking trails were clearly the most interesting places in the universe, what with all the squirrels and birds and mushrooms and fascinating bugs. And it was the same every year. Nothing really changed, except for maybe a few of the stores in the town.
My family warned me I would be surprised this year at some of the things that have changed. For instance, after the cabins my family had stayed in since Dad was a kid changed owners and became a favored place for noisy partying, we were staying in a different set of cabins. The playground was gone, and some rather ugly cabins had been put in next to where we used to stay. It was a bit weird, yes, especially the playground being gone. That had been there forever. But what really blew my mind was the stuff that hadn't changed.
The souvenir store still has those kitschy deer statues in front of it, and the same fountain I used to toss pennies into as a kid. There are two ice cream stores, one of which is exactly the same as it's always been, and one of which is in the same place, but rebuilt after having burned down a few years back. But do you see what I'm saying? Stuff burns down and comes right back in the same spot. The nature center, which was one of the highlights of the trip for me when I was little, still has the same taxidermy animals and the same displays, though it's been refurbished several times and doesn't look that old.
You all know from previous entries that I took an inadvertent swim in the Waskesiu river, but I also went swimming (on purpose) in the lake. It was wonderful. I have missed swimming in Waskesiu lake. It wasn't even cold, just pleasantly cool. I didn't even shriek when I got in. Gawd, it felt absolutely wonderful to just drift out there, surrounded by beauty. Oh, and dragonflies. OMG dragonflies. They were everywhere. Tremendous rains led to a tremendous mosquito population which led to DRAGONFLIES EVERYWHERE. There were the usual enormous blue ones, but there were also red ones and yellow ones and greenish ones in a variety of sizes. As bugs go, dragonflies are pretty freaking awesome. They're lovely to look at, they don't crawl on you, bite you or jump out at you unexpectedly, and they keep the mosquitoes down.
We only went on one nature hike while I was there, but it was everyone's favorite: Boundary Bog, which is, as you might expect, a trail that leads through a bog near the edge of the national park. I realised while we walked along the trail that this place is what I think of when I'm told to think of somewhere beautiful. This is the place in my mind where I go when I need to feel calm and safe and centred. I'd almost forgotten it was a real place. The ground is covered in a thick green carpet of deep, springy moss. The trees are all thin, straight pines and birches, their roots lost in the moss and their branches lacy with lichen. Sunlight comes down through the trees and makes shadow patterns on the moss and sparse bushes, lighting up what it touches like lanterns. There are mushrooms everywere, small yellow ones scattered on the moss like bright coins, luminous white ones like ghostly flowers, ruffly brown ones clinging to the sides of trees, a few large flat red ones that looked for all the world like emergency buttons, like if you pushed them you'd be dropped down a trap door. We even found some puffballs, but they weren't old enough to puff yet.
Once the trail leads out into the bog itself, the trees become short, soft-needled tamaracks growing right out of the water along with reeds and tall grass, and a profusion of flowers clinging to the floating peat. There were lots of pitcher plants this year, each with a single leathery red flower and a clump of "pitchers" at the base. If you've never seen one, look them up (and feel free to snicker). Matt and I went out onto the platform in the water and watched a damselfly shed its skin while clinging to a lily pad.
I think what strikes me the most about the bog is that it has a feeling of ancient quiet about it, a soft stillness not broken by the waves or the rush of wind through the trees. It's like a cathedral with trees for pillars, and a sense of wonder for worship.
All in all, I'm glad I went. It's good to know that Waskesiu really is as beautiful as I remember it.