Manning Park, B.C. May 31, 1978

Fading Light. Embers of a dying fire. I am a long time from Vancouver: a long distance from this morning...now in Manning Park, drinking tea by a little fire of wet wood.  I have a spot by a full-bodied stream that sings with the power and beauty of flowing water over a rocky bed.  There are plenty of oversize mosquitoes, persistent in their search for an unprotected bit of skin, their probiscii at the ready, hovering, hovering.  The smoke helps keep them at bay; I move closer to the fire.  My little, but “two-man”, orange nylon tent-with-no-ground-sheet is up, a cheery anomaly in this otherwise dim and grey-green forest.  It’s reassuring to know that my air mattress pumped, and sleeping bag unrolled, ready for me to snuggle into when the night’s cool and my tired eyes suggest it’s time to ‘hit the sack’.  

 

After an initial walkabout to explore my immediate surroundings and gather a bit of firewood, I played some flute.  I imagined myself an accompanist to the more musically accomplished stream, and the trees, the tall-tall lodgepole pines all around me, as conductors of this hapless orchestra below.  

 

Mid-afternoon I was visited by a chipmunk, obviously familiar with tourists, and happy to eat out of my hand.  I shared my mixed nut snack with him – or her.  She filled her cheeks and scampered off, coming back for more until the well ran dry.  I had to save some nuts for other critters in other places.  And maybe one or two for me.  






I made a fire, ate my usual veggie salad dinner, and fell into the kind of meditative mood that fires elicit.  I thought back just a short while, to when I was leaving Vancouver, and experienced again that surge of excitement and energy that comes with embarking on a new project or trip.  Partly the anticipation of venturing into unknown territory. Partly the adrenaline rush of legitimate fear, especially as a woman traveling alone.  I’d left my job, my home of 27 years, everything and everyone I knew, and was setting off alone across this great nation, with no definite plan of where I might go or how long it might take.  My only ‘goal’ was to remain open to whatever opportunities and experiences presented.  Although I’d had had my doubts about the wisdom of solo sojourn, there was now no time for trepidation or second thoughts.  It was going to be a great trip, and I was more than ready for it.  

Location: Manning Park, BC V0X 1R0, Canada

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