Autumn in Canada

Once Mark and I went up to his family's cabin in Canada at the very end of autumn. We knew it would be too cold for skiing so we were basically planning on doing some fishing.

The day we arrived it was pretty much cold and rainy and we watched a couple fishing shows on TV for insipration. After that, however, we got a couple of those rare days where you know it should be getting colder and creeping ever closer to winter but it unexpectedly turns perfect. It was right at the point where the color of every leaf had changed but few had fallen (I can say that with confidence since these pictures are b&w). In the morning we got in the boat and made our way to the middle of the bay which was unusually calm.



Now, except for what appears from the distance to be a relatively small opening out into Lake Superior, the rest of the bay is enclosed by gorgeous hills and trees then plastered with the richest fall colors I can remember seeing. Have you ever listened to one of those relaxation tapes and they tell you to "imagine yourself in a beautiful, peaceful place" but you can't really think of one? Well, this was one of those places. It made me think "why do I ever go anywhere else?" I wouldn't be surprised if there has not been a day quite like that up there since. I'm also not a bit surprised that Mark would want his ashes spread there if there's even the slightest chance his spirit will follow.

Something I bet I'll never experience again was the fog that rolled in while we were out in the boat trying to decide if we should try for some fish in another spot. It was like we were in the middle of a cloud and we literally could not see five feet in front of us. If it had not lifted we would not have been able to find our way back. But, in just a few minutes it was completely gone like it had never even been there. I wish I could have talked about that with Mark one more time because there's no way I can describe it to my satisfaction.



Eventually we found a great spot to catch some Pike but they would only bite very early in the morning when you couldn't see them. During the day we could see them because the water was so calm and clear - but they were not hungry. There were some HUGE fish in there. Some easily 3 - 4 times the size of the one Mark was holding in the picture. They would just sit and stare at our lures (they liked the bright red ones) like kids watching TV.

Growing up, I went fishing many times on Lake Erie with my grandfather. I never could relate to how much of a fanatic he was about it. He and his fishing buddies getting up WAY too early and never tiring of trying a new spot when nothing was biting. Always debating about whether to try their old spots and what tackle the fish might like that particular minute.

This trip with Mark, however, made me understand. There's nothing like two friends out planning and speculating and experimenting trying to find those damned fish and the thrill when we really found them. Don't get me started on catching them! We could barely fit just one of them in the little cooler we brought never really thinking we'd catch anything (the tip of the tail was actually sticking out). A couple of those fish could have jumped out of the boat cooler and all if we hadn't been sitting on it to hold them in.

We spent most of that day out on the bay with a local friend of Mark's family, Glynn, who is also pictured. Fortunately he was around to help us clean the fish or it would have been a big mess.

I could go on more and more about this trip but I won't. These are some memories that are weighing more heavily on me now that Mark's not here to hold up his end. They're just mine now.

What will happen to them when I'm gone?