Monday, July 13, 2009
Burgoyne forest #2.The big rock pile.
A few days later I return with visiting friends to have a closer look at the enormous rocks that are piled higher up the mountain slope. The sour smell of quenched fire is gone at last, but the steep, twisting trail is slippery with brittle arbutus leaves and dry loose soil. We have a sense of rising excitement as we struggle upward. Ahead, half hidden still amid the tree trunks, is a scene from Tolkein`s books: trolls must surely live amid the apartment-house sized sharded boulders that balance precariously above us.
As we wind around the base of the pile we notice that each rock is itself made of many rocks - these were once cemented together under the sea by sand and slowly transported through continental drift and pressed and smeared against the North American plate. A long time after that, during or after glaciation, they broke loose from the cliffs above and settled here. We feel like ants in this place both in size and in the length of time these rocks represent. I also know the stories of how in the past, first nations youth came to this primordial place to experience their vision quests. Even us well fed folk from another culture feel the veils shift and stir as we walk in the shadows.