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The bush plane’s skis touched down on a frozen lake in Northern Ontario; from her co-pilot’s seat Amanda scanned the bleak winter landscape in the receding light. The fishing camp was closed, boarded up for winter. They taxied to the landing dock hurriedly disembarking. Veteran Canadian bush pilot Hubert Hallihan and Amanda Clark from Montana unloaded two light packs, put on snowshoes and began walking a trail leading away from the camp, Amanda moving quickly ahead in the half-light. The mile trail led to a small cabin nestled among a grove of hemlocks. The cabin door was unlocked, and within minutes Hubert started a fire in the woodstove and started the generator. Amanda took off her parka and heavy boots. The cabin was in perfect order; shelves filled with books and canned goods with an ample supply of firewood stacked near the stove. Hubert began preparing food. Amanda sat at the desk and turned on the computer, she immediately began opening files and searching titles, then found what she was looking for: Morris Jamison’s Journal.
“My first entry comes with ease. The world is going sour. Cultural division sweeps a wide swath with its sword of intolerance. I am recording these thoughts as the year 2020 begins and my bones are telling me I am 65 approaching longevity’s wrath.
“Technological advances have come quickly, indiscriminately gratuitous, failing to project correct influences, hastening to implement self serving functions resulting in rampant exploitation creating loss of moral direction and diluting ethics. Global society is in contraction.
“During salad days youth energy drove me, work became my master finding success as it was socially recognized. Obsessive fiscal quest obscured spiritual awareness, and I now feel despair, recognizing this misdirection. My mind wanders, searching for enlightenment seeking higher meaning and purpose.
“During my business career I vacationed with coworkers in Canada at a remote fly in fishing camp. We visited this camp over a period of years becoming friends with the Canadian family operating the camp. During these trips I felt transformed, refreshed, as if someone opened a window in a stale room. The beauty and solitude of the North Country opened introspection, vanishing when I returned to work. Thoughts of this beautiful place continued to haunt me.
“I remembered a cabin located about a mile from the main lodge, thought it may offer stimulation to awaken my consciousness living at this cabin, absorbing the magnificence of the forest, seeking sanctuary from ubiquitous social decomposition. I discussed my plan with the Canadians, they said the cabin needed work but was in good condition overall and they had no objection to me occupying the cabin, emphasizing winter would be challenging; although, ski plane service is available, and only a few months are without air service, during freeze up and again during break up, until water is clear to land float planes. The Canadians knew my deep love for the North Country and were aware my decision regarding this venture would not be considered without careful thought and planning. I will install a portable generator, connect my computer to satellite service and also have a satellite phone for emergency use. I have several close e-mail correspondents to soften lonely times.
“I drove to Port Loring, Ontario, chartered a bush plane to access the fishing camp to discuss details of my plan with the Canadians. I wanted to inspect the cabin taking along assorted tools and supplies. This new course rekindled youthful energy. The plane landed on the lake arousing memories of grand times with my friends. The splendor of the area is breathtaking, giving a sense of purity. My Canadian friends welcomed me preparing a fabulous perch dinner, and my plans centered conversation. They offered a room at the lodge; I stayed one night but was eager to visit the cabin, determined to stay at the cabin regardless of its condition, evaluating improvement needs of my new home.
“I hiked to the cabin the next morning and was pleasantly surprised. The roof and chinking needed work, but the stove and flue were in good condition. I spent the next few days improving and organizing. I hired a young man from the lodge to help cut and stack firewood. From his knowledge he estimated winter’s firewood need and by mid September things were in order. The computer and satellite phone functioned well, powered with the generator. The Canadians used a motorized hauler to carry in a fifty-gallon drum of gasoline for the generator; they also carried in my food supply. The lodge would close on October 1st, and they gave me a key in case of an emergency.
“My first cold fall evening was filled with emotion, feeling the warmth of the wood stove, preparing a meal. It was late September with a chill in the air, a harbinger of winter’s fury. I felt fear/love instincts imposing cautionary enchantment. I contacted several of my closest e-mail correspondents. Amanda Clark is my most frequent writer. Amanda is a tall, athletic woman; she lives in Montana working for the National Park Service as a naturalist and field biologist. Amanda has spent many winter months in remote cabins while researching Alaskan wolf/caribou interaction and habitat, her papers on wildlife research are widely published. Amanda is a woman of great knowledge and experience connected with wilderness areas; she became my check-in person, allowing me a level of comfort. One could not have a better check-in person than Amanda.
“It is now mid December, heavy snowfall makes daily tasks of carrying firewood and getting the generator running difficult. Early one evening while reading my e-mail, there was a distinct scratching on my cabin door. I grabbed my flashlight and opened the door. Nothing in sight, but just off the porch were wolf tracks, no mistaking them. This is an odd occurrence. Wolves distance themselves from humans; the few I have seen quickly run in opposite direction. This strange event was on my mind for days, wondering why a wolf would react in such a manner. A week passed, and then more scratching, no wolf in sight, but a dead snowshoe hare was on the porch near my door. The next day I skinned the rabbit and made rabbit stew. Again scratching, I opened the door, and just off the porch was a wolf, with penetrating eyes, fixed on mine, remaining about a minute, then turned and ran back into the dark forest. I was in disbelief.
“Another week passed, no scratching. I regarded the incident as a freak occurrence. Then one evening scratching returned. As I went to the porch just beneath the steps he stood. I shined my light on him but he remained stationary. This was a magnificent wolf, with very long legs, mostly white mixed with flecks of gray. He seemed more skittish than earlier. I felt cold and went back inside to get my parka, thinking he would be gone when I returned, but he remained in place. I did not know what to do – was without understanding. As I was thinking of returning to the warmth of my stove thoughts appeared as if the wolf were projecting thoughts. It was disturbing, then mellowed. ‘I am Wolf Spirit and I have come as your messenger and guide.’ These thoughts were distinct and clear, and then Wolf Spirit turned and again ran into the forest.
“Each night Wolf Spirit appeared at my cabin projecting thoughts. Wolf Spirit told me I was chosen because of my desire to live in the home of the wolf, sharing understanding and intense love for the wilderness. Wolf Spirit said he had been reincarnated thousands of times as a wolf with his first reincarnation from human to wolf. His people were nomads, ancient tribes following mammoth herds. They were hunters, creating a natural condition for his reincarnation to a wolf, as wolves are also hunters. In time I realized that Wolf Spirit was able read my thoughts. I projected to Wolf Spirit that I decided to live at this cabin to escape social chaos. Humanity appears to be on a path of self-destruction that may also cause Earth’s demise. Wolf Spirit then said, ‘Earth will survive; it is too powerful to succumb to human inability to harmonize. Human decline and failings will serve as redirection, renewal and growth, attaining an eventual zenith, which will, in time, regain balance.’ Wolf Spirit then became silent moving back into the forest, as he had done previously.
“I was dazed, without words to describe this encounter. I thought about writing Amanda. She would surely think I had lost my mind. Wolf Spirit did not visit my cabin again, but I would often see him during snowshoe treks, always at a distance. His lope was distinct; I would stop and watch him, there was fluidness to his movement, such grace and beauty, mesmerizing. How grand to be a wolf; yet harsh and challenging to hunt and survive. The average wolf’s life span is eight years. As time passed Wolf Spirit was not seen. I worried about him, always looking for him during snowshoe treks. I researched the web to learn about the spirit of the wolf, discovering that Wolf Spirit’s serve as a transitional guides for wolves and other animal incarnations. The spirit of the wolf also has connection to Sirius, the Dog Star, used by mariners as a navigational guide.
“As I listen to the nightly opus of wolves tears form in my eyes thinking of Wolf Spirit, wondering where he has gone. I am obsessed with seeing him again. I agonize, with thoughts questioning the purpose of Wolf Spirit’s decision to visit my cabin, and feel a certain spiritual power to our bond. I must continue to trek and seek my beloved friend, try to find him, and connect once more.”
Here the journal ends.
“Dear Ms. Clark, corporal Fielding and I have done an extensive search for your friend Mr. Jamison. Upon arrival at the cabin we noticed snowshoe tracks leading away from the cabin. We followed these tracks for over a mile; the tracks entered a large meadow and abruptly ended. Near the center of the meadow were many wolf tracks; however, no sign of blood nor was a body found. I regretfully report that we have given up the search. We request, if possible, for you to visit the cabin, examine Mr. Jamison’s effects, and possibly discover a clue to the event or events that caused Mr. Jamison’s disappearance. We are at your service for any possible assistance.
Sgt. Andrew McNeil RCMP”
#Unreal #Fiction #WolfSpirit #Journal #NightlyOpus
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