Our home
October 28, 2008
I awoke Saturday to nature’s calming lullaby, the rhythmic tapping of rain against fallen leaves. Their uneven pattern created an almost trance-inducing melody, and as I drifted back into my dreams, I watched a single rain drop travel jaggedly down the side of the tent, its course and pace completely unexpected. It wouldn’t be until later that evening, while sitting around a glowing campfire watching flames crackle and jump, that I would realize how rewarding exploring Michigan’s wilderness can be if one follows a path similar to that of this rain drop; a path void of day-to-day constraints and pressures, allowing one to immerse themselves in the surrounding beauty and wonders of nature.
After finishing breakfast, I ventured out to the beach accompanied by Lissy, a fellow participant in the wilderness course. I chose to explore the area with her because she was headed to an area about a mile down the shore that had recently been devastated by a tornado. I was interested in seeing the extent of the damage, and felt Lissy would be an excellent hiking companion, as she is an experienced hiker who has led wilderness experience courses in the past.
About halfway down the path to the shore, we came across a beautiful birch tree growing almost directly next to an elm tree. Both trees appeared to be thriving despite their proximity. We observed the area for a few moments, and I noticed a large nail driven into the base of the birch tree. I found it interesting that the birch had managed to flourish regardless of these obstacles. It made me think about the immortality of nature.
We reached the beach and followed the shoreline south. We stopped a few times as we passed several dead birds that had been washed ashore. Although the sight of their limp bodies swaying with the motion of the waves was somewhat disturbing, it was also interesting to think about the idea of them decomposing and reintroducing nutrients into the ground to create new growth. I thought it was remarkable how in the natural world, death can create new life and that nature progresses in a circular pattern.
We had walked along the shore for quite some time, and soon began to wonder whether we had passed by the site of the tornado destruction, and so we followed a path back into the woods, with the hopes of changing our setting for the walk back to camp. As we walked along, Lissy told me of her experiences in the wilderness. She knew a great deal about the different insects we encountered including what she referred to as spit bugs, small insects that create their shelter by forming a cluster of spit bubbles on the bark of trees.
It soon became apparent to us both that the path was curving back south, opposite of our campsite. Lissy suggested we veer from the path and despite my hesitation, I agreed. We ventured further and further away from the path until we came to an open clearing. Several grown trees had been snapped at their bases forming right angles. We saw that this pattern spread across a wide section of the land, and realized we had stumbled upon the tornado path. Everywhere we looked we could see evidence that a strong storm had hit the area. However, despite the destructive state of the land, new life had once again resumed. For instance, the root systems of trees that had been ripped from the ground had formed moss-covered caves that animals and insects began to use as shelter.
We wandered the devastated area for quite some time, climbing over fallen tree limbs and debris. There was a point at which I thought we might not be able to find our way back to the campsite, although I wasn’t overly concerned. My mind was more focused on enjoying the clean crisp smell of the fall rain and listening to the crunch of dried debris below my feet as we climbed through the wilderness.
We retraced our steps back to the trail we had entered from and eventually crossed paths with two other members from our wilderness class. Together the four of us slowly wandered back towards our campsite while keeping a close eye on the shore. When we crossed a dead mouse on the trail, Lissy ran a few steps in the other direction in fear. She told us of her previous encounters with rodents that spurred a conversation of each of our own personal fears. We also spoke of our hopes for the future as we admired the surrounding beauty, and I found myself thinking how strange it was that I felt so close to these people I had only met the day before. For a moment, I almost hoped we wouldn’t find our way back to the campsite, as that would symbolize one step closer to the end of this eye-opening weekend.
Later that evening, while we shared the adventures of our day with one another around the campfire, I began to understand why each of us felt so comfortable in this setting, despite the mud, rain and cold. This place, this nearly untouched wilderness is our home. We don’t need materialism, politics or economic means to fit in here; we need only be ourselves and respect our surroundings. There are no specific paths we are pressured to take in this wilderness. We are free to explore and find our own way to fit in to this awe-inspiring environment.
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