Sometime after four am I woke up and left the tent. Stepping into the beams of the full moon, I walked to the shore of Polliwog Pond. Dawn was just breaking above an old hemlock stand, mist swirled above still water, and the loons began to call their old, melancholic song. In those few moments in the light of the moon and the dawn and sound of the loons I was transported to an ancient place.
The day before, I had walked from the site where I was camped with colleagues and friends on a week-long Leave No Trace course, to an an old growth forest on a height of land. Most of the trees there, and at our campsite on the shore below, were hemlock. » Continue Reading.