The Traveler

Sky Fishing

Ocean

Finding the Traveller

9/10/10

Visited with another Airstream couple, Cathy & Gordon just before they left in their 08 Airstream International 28’.  Beautiful.

So we too are prepped, stowed, laundered, showered, gathered and hitched putting off the inevitable question.  Where are we headed?   OK, its St. Johns in New Brunswick which should take only about 4 hours so we left at 12:30 PM.  It took 7 hours.  Now that is a major miscalculation which goes to show just how sure we were about where we were going.  We pulled into camp and did a partial set up, stayed hitched to the truck, connecting only water and power.  

Had a great Filipino dish of pork, peas, carrots in soy, garlic, vinegar and tomatoes over Jasmine rice.  Tasty.

Fly Creek

What does any of this randomness have to do with finding the “Traveller”?  Not much and that is precisely its raison d’etre.  It felt as we were just ambling down the road at 65mph in a steady tire sprayed rain with not much hurry about getting anywhere or seeing much through the grey wash.  If we were closed out of the park then there is always a Wall Mart parking lot.  Been there before.

Branch water

We did see how the rolling country of deciduous  forests was ready to pop.  Fall was around the corner and the trees had that can’t wait look.  When you are looking at a trillion trees at once you will catch their cumulative state of presence.  And their state was readiness and anticipation.  There was a hint, a blush of the slightest change of color..  More like a waving quiver moving over the hills and valleys.  You just knew and felt that they were ready and waiting as the odd rogue tree, usually a scrawny vine maple sneaked ahead with actual colored leaves.  But these were few in a forest of trillions.  All the Creeks and rivers also had that clear for take off flow as the rains increased and more and more rocks and boulders found new wetness and submergence in the misty and dancing reflectance.  

Can you tell that Autumn is my favorite season?   

A fly fisherman standing waist deep in mid stream was seen whipping an invisible line to a shadowy eddy in his mind’s eye to coax to the surface and the light that flash of silver scaled connection.  How I envied his  play, his skill, his craft, his moment suspended in the waning sparkle of shining waters. How I envied his time.

He was a traveller.

Vase