or as it was called in 1903 by Stewart Edward White, “Big Falls”.
I could borrow his para-phrasing when he wrote, 'I'm not going to tell you how far...or exactly where it is'. Suffice to say that the round trip hike exceeds five hours with only a quarter-hour allowed in full view of the mighty eighty-five foot drop. Still, no words can fully scribe it, no film will show its deep mystery. Only an artist's sketch and a reel or two might reveal what lies beneath the veil.
In SEW's “The Forest”, speculation centred on what lay above the cataract, whether the pools were placid, or the trout prodigious. Nearly in sight of the falls, White and Towab's fishing party of a hundred plus years ago veered off towards Howling Wolf & Black Beaver Lakes. Breaching the upper canyon, they descended to “Big Falls” from its northern reaches, thus completing a great ellipse of the territory.
Today, I solo into that steep valley after a night of intense rain. The Towab trail is soaked through, each rock and root has the capacity to hurl the hiker. On one occasion, it did just that as I crossed above a smaller falls, recovering after a few lost steps. If I can't find my way, it will be days before I'm discovered. Perish the thought. The thunder blood pounds before the view as I clamber from the Towab, out onto a precipice where doubtless others have stood before.
The lore of the Agawa says that in 1916 members of the Prairie Club made this trek all the way from the mouth of the river. I see the ladies in their parasols and long dresses, the men with bowlers and their smokes.
Today's result is the same.
Upon arrival it takes your breath away,
then doubles back,
flooding in with emotional drama.
Spray lifts up in chorus.
Healing ions permeate.
There is this now only...
and Agawa spills away~
Jeffrey Riordan Hinich
copyright 2010
I could borrow his para-phrasing when he wrote, 'I'm not going to tell you how far...or exactly where it is'. Suffice to say that the round trip hike exceeds five hours with only a quarter-hour allowed in full view of the mighty eighty-five foot drop. Still, no words can fully scribe it, no film will show its deep mystery. Only an artist's sketch and a reel or two might reveal what lies beneath the veil.
In SEW's “The Forest”, speculation centred on what lay above the cataract, whether the pools were placid, or the trout prodigious. Nearly in sight of the falls, White and Towab's fishing party of a hundred plus years ago veered off towards Howling Wolf & Black Beaver Lakes. Breaching the upper canyon, they descended to “Big Falls” from its northern reaches, thus completing a great ellipse of the territory.
Today, I solo into that steep valley after a night of intense rain. The Towab trail is soaked through, each rock and root has the capacity to hurl the hiker. On one occasion, it did just that as I crossed above a smaller falls, recovering after a few lost steps. If I can't find my way, it will be days before I'm discovered. Perish the thought. The thunder blood pounds before the view as I clamber from the Towab, out onto a precipice where doubtless others have stood before.
The lore of the Agawa says that in 1916 members of the Prairie Club made this trek all the way from the mouth of the river. I see the ladies in their parasols and long dresses, the men with bowlers and their smokes.
Today's result is the same.
Upon arrival it takes your breath away,
then doubles back,
flooding in with emotional drama.
Spray lifts up in chorus.
Healing ions permeate.
There is this now only...
and Agawa spills away~
Jeffrey Riordan Hinich
copyright 2010
You actually made it there, to the Big Falls and back! I am just beginning to read the Forest on my nook, from the relative safety of my armchair. I am going to skip ahead to Ch. XII and now I will have a visual of you navigating the precipitous banks and wet rocks, catching your breath along with the healing ions......
ReplyDeleteHarvey Says:
ReplyDeleteahhhhhh.......the cast of characters enlarges, exponentially......
the plot diversifies as it focuses, moving forwards and backwards simultaneously (and occasionally, sideways).....
'Searching For Tawabinisay' in musty books on back-country cabin shelves, tribal stories, fading photographs, sweat lodges, old men's dreams, cyber-space, eagle feathers, secluded waterfalls, mysterious cairns, Lake Superior pictographs, the ashes of a forest fire, moonlit trails, even invisible lakes in the sky.......
he's here somewhere......
everywhere
That sounds like an incredibly powerful spot, where one could find comforting solitude upon finally arriving.. I have also made it to a few waterfalls this summer, far from the beaten path that have put off the most energizing feeling I could have imagined!! ..love those ions, and the moss too.. Definately makes the eternal moment real as if nothing else ever was~
ReplyDeleteHey Myr, sounds like the talent for finding power spots are in the genes.....
ReplyDelete