[Paddlewise] Stardust

I rode in the front seat of the spaceship.

Someone tailed me down the logging road to Superior at three in the morning.
When I arrived at Jarvis Bay, a fellow hopped out of the truck behind me and
took a run at me, but stopped short and said, "Oh, your not after the wife."

 "No, I'm after the meteors." The situation was more than a little confusing.

Fortunately, out trotted a cat from under a camper, and it immediately took a
liking to me. It was the fellow's cat, and he trusted the cat's judgment, so he
relaxed a little, and said that there had been an altercation earlier that
night, and that "the wife" was in the camper.

Darn hippies. I came across some when paddling in this Bay last summer. They
were down from the inland hills for a swim and some nekkid stuff. I'm all for
nekkid stuff, but it looks like earlier in the evening, things got a bit out of
hand here in the middle of nowhere. I just glad the cat liked me.

So off I went, about a kilometre down the beach, accompanied by the cat. Oscar
the camping cat, the hippie had told me. I laid out my kit, stretched out on
the beach, and bundled into my down bag. What a sky! There had been pockets of
ground fog on the road in, but a very gentle breeze off the Bay kept my view
clear. No light pollution - - just a great wide night sky above me.

Oscar decided to stay with me for the night, sniffing about, occasionally
running and pouncing, and occasionally curling up on top of my bag. I breathed
in the cedar scent of the groves behind me. The water in the Bay gently lapped
on the shore, and high cliffs to the north and to the south were silhouetted by
the stars. I could hear wind and breaking waves from the other side of the
peninsula to the south. I could hear my breathing, my heartbeat.

And above me were the stars and the meteors. Most flew to my right, some
starting with bright flashes, and some with long trails. Some flew to my left,
with fewer tails, and usually not as bright. And there were so very many of
them.

There I was with a cosmic cat, laying in the front seat of the spaceship,
hurtling through space, into and past the stardust. I always enjoy watching
ships gradually sink below the horizon as they steam away. It shows me that
yes, we live on a globe. And I even more marvel at meteor showers, for they
show me that our globe is indeed hurtling through space. We're all on a
marvellous ark together.

Come the hour before sunrise, the sky began to show pastels and the meteor show
faded. Only a few flashes. A raven cawed from the south, and another answered
from the north. Somewhere behind me, far in the distance, some Canadian Geese
honked. I packed up my kit, and made my way back down the beach with Oscar.
There were quite a few deer tracks, a moose track, a bear track, and a wolf
track, and close to the vehicle, what looked to me to be "the wife" track. A
pretty busy place for the nose of a spaceship.

The sound of the wind and breakers from the other side of the peninsula had
grown as the sky brightened, and patches of low cloud scudded in from that
direction, so after spending a few minutes pulling Oscar out of my vehicle,
then off of my vehicle, then out of my vehicle again, I set off down the road
out to the end of the peninsula, hoping to be able to hike down its south face
for a look at the big lake before the mackerel sky brought in rain. My little
bay where I had spent the night was very sheltered, but the south side of the
peninsula was open to Superior. While winding my way, I thought I glimpsed a
pack of dogs chasing me. At first I wondered if I was having cat dreams, but
no, there really was a pack of dogs chasing me. They were huskies pulling a
fellow on an ATV. I moved into the first clearing available, but the musher
shot me a nasty look as his team charged by. My trail head was at the end of
his trail. He was such a Grumpy Gus that I wonder if he was involved in the
hippie altercation.

There were no paths at the end of the road, so I wandered along the edge of the
escarpment until I came across a game trail making its way down. At the base
the forest floor was mostly deep moss, with ferns still green, but with a
litter of birch leaves. The over story was mainly birch and spruce, lending a
spruce tang to the air. Although the forest was dense, finding the lake was no
problem - - not with the sound of the breaking surf guiding me. When I broke
through to the shore, there was a enough wind to bring a chill, and two to
three foot surf breaking on the cobble. Time for the last dip of the season.
Eeeeek! Cold! Cold! Cold! Stupid idea! Stupid idea! Stupid idea! A seagull on a
boulder laughed at me. An invigorating bushwhack back in to the top of the
escarpment, and then back into town for a sauna.

While doing the bake and baste back in town (200F for ten minutes, then cold
shower for three minutes, repeat for one and a half hours until marginally
conscious and completely relaxed), I again marvelled at how much life there is
on our small planet, and how our planet carries us around the life giving
warmth of the sun.

And I marvelled at how lucky I was to have had for a night a front row view of
it all as the stardust rained down about me.

Richard Culpeper

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