Before Dawn

•08/25/2015 • 1 Comment

Mica Bay2


The glimpse of a small tent

Of orange and red

Among the dripping trees

I crawled out of the tent

To breathe the pure morning air

The smell of evergreens

The smell of the hardy cedar

Greets me before the dawn



The forest is filled with mist

Dawn has not yet come

It had rained during the night

A grey-blue light

Before the coming of dawn

Like a mysterious half light

Over the turbid waters

The song birds quiet this morning

The sky is lowering

Black clouds to the west

The sky to the east

A pale slate-blue

The only moving thing

Was the moving water

The shadows are lifting

From the rocky shoreline

Tree tops visibly green

The stark rocks begin to glow

Their colors warming to life

Still nothing moved

But the moving waters

The birds still silent


A warming sensation

Of the sun touching my face

The day has come

A dazzle of green, yellow and blue

The now singing birds

Bring joy to the forest

The rough bark of evergreens

Glistening black with wet

Summer Evening, Superior

•08/17/2015 • 5 Comments

Alona Bay Area


Gentle rollers from off the lake

Quietly kissing the craggy shoreline

The far horizon covered

In a heavy mist

The sun steadily dropping

The air still and humid

The scent of fish

Permeates the air


I am surrounded by rocky outcroppings

Jutting out into the lake

In a lonely cove

The sun still lowering

Into the fog of haze

The shoreline speaks

Of a violent past

During the era of volcanos

Black with a tinge of brown

Defining the rugged shoreline

The rocks jagged and broken


Evergreens struggle for survivor

In the rocky depressions

Cedar grows on the cliff edges

Stunted and twisted

In this harsh land

The rocks are worn

By the violence of wind and wave

Lichen, orange and grey

Cover these time worn rocks

There is clarity to these cold waters

A view into the depths not uncommon


The sun now behind

The heavy mist

There is now a darkening

In the evening sky

The rocks embolden in color

From the sun’s last rays

The warm evening light

Creates a glow

On the Cliffside evergreens

A yellow that is soon lost

The sun ever lowering

The soothing lapping of water

The cliff face lost in shadow

The sun has now disappeared

A touch of color remains behind

A glow of pink

Then the color red

Washes over the horizon

Darkness now descending

Cool Morning

•08/10/2015 • 2 Comments



With a cool morning of 5 C we headed back onto the waters of Shakwa Lake to do some lake trout fishing. The wind was still blowing. The mist was dissipating. My partner and I decided that we had better drift fish the rest of the trip. It is no fun paddling a sixteen foot aluminum boat back to the landing.

Thus we aligned ourselves with the wind. Cast our lines out and commence to jig. A short period later a loon appeared. It was no more than ten feet from the boat. This is not uncommon, but when a loon hangs around there is something amiss. The loon proceeded to dive. I then notice it swimming below the boat. The water here is very clear. Now we were worried about the loon getting snagged in our lines. This display went on repeatedly. Then out of the corner of my eye I caught a flash of white just below the surface. Ah, now we knew what was happening. The flash of white turned out to be the mate of the above water loon. It was obviously dead. The live loon was attempting to protect its mate. Now how did that loon die. We had heard no commotion around us to indicate a fight. Our motor was not running so that eliminated that idea. It will be forever a mystery of the wilderness. Reeling in our lines we immediately left the area.

The next day we headed back to the landing with out any mishap. The boat and gear loaded up. We headed home.

That is it for this week. I will be along the shores of Lake Superior for the next three weeks. I will see what I can find.



Going Up The Mountain

•08/03/2015 • Leave a Comment



I slowly open my eyes

To the coming of morning

Sunlight streaming through the window

Dust mites dancing in the sunbeam

I put on my ole blue jeans

Stepping out into the morning


Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain


Packsack slung over my shoulder

Stepping off the porch

With a jaunty stride

I make my way

To the nearby road

The mountain beckons in the distance


Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain


Kitchen smoke is rising

From the local’s homes

As I walk the road

Plenty of smiles welcome me

As men and women pass me by

Jugs on their shoulders

Or pails in hand

Children with shy smiles

Playing on the road


Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain


At roads end a trail beckons

Leading me to the river ford

The trail winds up the hillside

Emerging from the forest

The trail levels out

To a field of maze

Not yet ready to harvest

I travel the trail

Walking the fields edge





Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain


The morning sun becoming warmer

As the trail goes higher

Reaching the next plateau

My route becoming harder

A herd of Granada step aside

As I pass on by

Barb wire fencing block my way

Tossing my backpack over the fence

I scramble on hands and knees

Under the barb wire fence

Grabbing my packsack, I move on


Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain


The summit is near

The path becoming steeper

There is now a cool breeze

I make my way to an outcropping

To sit and observe

A land that is far-reaching

As far as the eye can see

Mountains tall in the distance

Clouds roaming over the mountains

Mist from the valley

I feel that mountain breeze


Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain


There is something about

This mountainous country

Of mountains towering overhead

Highlands dot the landscape

Deep valleys slash the land

Mountains are like giants

I like a blade of grass

It is a humble feeling




Hey, it’s a beautiful morning


Going up the mountain

A Memory of You

•07/27/2015 • 9 Comments



Sitting under the maple tree

The stars glittering through

The canopy of leaves

The moonlight awash over the valley


Every night I dream of you

Knowing you will never be there

Your face is slowly fading

Just a memory to remember


I think of you

I long for you

My eyes fill with tears

My heart is still aching

It is all I got

It is all I have

Is a memory of you

My cheeks tingle in sensation

Of a hand brushing my cheeks

Of the cool evening wind


It was two years past

On a cold November day

I lost control of the vehicle

On the black ice

When I looked at you

I knew you were gone

Holding you in my arms

For the last time


I think of you

I long for you

My eyes fill with tears

My heart is still aching

It is all I got

It is all I have

Is a memory of you



Standing by your grave

I wished you farewell

Tears falling freely

Thinking of our time together

Left a rose for you

A favourite of yours


A mist has covered

The valley before me

With the approaching dawn

The stars becoming faint

Like the memory of you


I think of you

I long for you

My eyes fill with tears

My heart is still aching

It is all I got

It is all I have

Is a memory of you

Video – A Forest No More

•07/22/2015 • 1 Comment

Shakwa Lake

•07/20/2015 • 6 Comments



With a 3 hour drive over logging roads behind us a dream was realized. For me it has been at least 40 years that I had been on Shakwa Lake. For my partner Ron Sirkka it has been 7 years. With great anticipation we loaded the boat. The boat we were using was Ron’s 14 foot aluminum. With a strong north wind at our back, Ron headed for the first narrows. High on a hill stood the fire tower. The first sign of change was low water in these narrows and abundance of weeds. We slowly steered the boat through the deeper water. Then came an old beaver dam with very little water over it. Jumping overboard we dragged the boat over with little difficulty. Both of us now had wet feet. Oh well. Moving on through the channel brought us to another obstacle. Small stones with an inch of water flowing over. Ron suggested gathering pieces of wood to use as rollers. Ron and I dragged the boat over the improvised rollers into deeper water. I ended up to my waist in water at one point. Finally we were clear of the channel. Moving on brought us to the next channel.

The next channel was easier to negotiate. Ron had to clean off the propeller a number of times. The weeds would foul up on the prop. Forty years ago there was a lot more water in these channels. Using paddles to make quick adjustments in direction, we were through. The last channel was filled with stumps hence known as stump narrows. I had to get out of boat to get through a number of spots. The boat was soon moving through open water.

Shakwa Lake is a long narrow lake opening into larger bodies of water. It has quite a number of islands spread out over its length. Surrounded by dense forest and hills. A very scenic location. Home to the Lake Trout. Ron soon had his fishing rod rigged up for trolling and in the water. It was not but five minutes later I heard fish on. Oh boy, the net was still packed away. As I rummaged through my pack for the net, Ron proceeded to lose the fish. I finally got the net ready in case of another hooked fish.

Our campsite was soon at hand. Landing the boat, we soon had the camp gear unloaded. I held off from setting up the tent with the strong blowing wind. I decided to wait until later. I suggested that we eat supper. Ron was happy with that. Ron’s homemade stable was still in place from seven years before. With a full belly of spaghetti, launching the boat, we were soon trolling for lake trout. Our catch that evening was three lake trout between 1.5 to 2 pounds.

We returned to the campsite with the wind blowing steady. We set up the tents quickly. It was time for bed. The sun was down and the wind blowing strong. That north wind blew all night long and never let up. As a matter of fact it blew steady the whole four days we were there. The only difference was it finally swung to the south. It was a cold night with morning being quite cool for July. There was a mist on the water that morning. Though the photography was scarce, I did manage to get a few shots that morning. Using Turtle Rock as my main subject, I captured some wonderful lighting that was golden in color. You can see the tip of an island to the left. This added depth to the photo with the tree covered  shoreline in the background.

Once I had finished photographing it was time for breakfast. Ron who is a very experienced cook when it comes to fish.He was appointed the job by yours truly. I soon had the coffee boiling. Ron and I soon were sitting in our camp chairs sipping hot coffee and eating the so awesome cooked trout. Nothing like fresh fish cooked to perfection.

That was the only morning that I would be able to photograph. So until next time happy trails. Oh, before I forget The Killarney Art Show runs this coming weekend. Do yourself a favor and check it out. While you are there indulge in the famous fish and chips at Herbies.


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