We glided along, silently, further upstream into the increasingly smaller canyon of the lake inlet.
The ground of the lake kept rising up, to slowly embrace the tips of our paddles and kiss the bottom of our canoe.
Swirls of muck, mud, silt and the stuff of life began punctuating every pull of our paddle.
Still, the yearn to explore, sung us forward.
Through the lily pads. Through the reeds. Through the manoomin.
We followed an essence, a hint, a glimmer of a watery trail, made by unknown explorers before us.
And left the sun behind as the Earth continued its perpetual turn to the East, signing off for the day with her signature pastel pink; a perfect match in hue to the lavender reflections on the water.
Our canoe finally perched. No further shall I intrude, she said.
So, where we had un-ceremoniously nested atop a marsh aerie, we began our slow, ungraceful about face.
And, back we headed, increasingly, ever so slightly, more easily, with each paddle and push, as the silt receded.
Back through the manoomin, the reeds, the water lilies.
And there you were.
Ancient. Silent. Knowing. Graceful.
Gliding, but a whispers breathe ahead of our canoe.
Soft nose, and silky back, just barely peeking above the surface.
Almost as if our guide. The master of ceremonies.
Or, the bouncer escorting out these young, human hooligans, out of places that were not ours to be in.
It wasn’t an admonishment. More like a patient grandparent or guardian, guiding us to a place more appropriate.
‘We are honoured to have you here’ you might have been saying.
‘And we are grateful that you come silently and respectfully, and we welcome you back.’
‘But the night approaches, and we have important things we must attend to, so please follow me back to where we must part, so that you may attend to your nightly rituals as well.’
Up and down, you flowed in those waters, returning us slowly, softly, humbly, to the lake.
So silently. So stately.
In that moment, I could have canoed behind you for eternity.
—
Dr. Katie Ross is an independent writer and researcher living on the homelands of the Menominee people in central Wisconsin (which itself means ‘river that meaders through something red’). She is very curious about how landscape restoration can be a profound point of agency to cool our climate, regenerate water cycles, grow nutritious food, foster biodiversity and reconnect with ourselves. Knowing how stories hold, transmit and transform paradigms, Katie is keen to explore these stories of regeneration.
