Paths are the habits of a landscape,
marks of customary journeys made over time, by many.
2000-year-old chalk trackway,
smell of burnt earth,
grasshopper dirge,
insect hum from verge and hedge, now.
Robert Macfarlane is an exceptional British nature writer I was not aware of until Ruth, my wife, purchased one of his books for me. I now follow him on Twitter and he tweeted this poetic definition of a pathway recently with an accompanying photograph.
As a Canadian I am fortunate to be able to ramble along many pathways where I may not encounter others, as was the case early this morning in a nearby Quinte Conservation Area. I am also blessed to paddle waterways which are also "habits of a landscape" the Aboriginal travel routes since long before Europeans arrived in North America. The portages on some river routes which take paddlers around rough water are reminders that First Nations peoples made their demanding way from summer to winter lodging to take advantage of what the natural world had to offer for sustenance and shelter.
JEH MacDonald 1931
We love to paddle waterways because there are sights and sounds which are unique to being on the water. The sound of wind in trees and the way birdsong carries and the smells of vegetation are all different along and on the water.
When these pathways and waterways take on spiritual meaning for travelers they become pilgrimage routes, even if informally. Perhaps someone will write a book about the holiness of being in motion on waterways which pass through Canadian forests and along rocky shores, the extra-ordinary way of the paddle. Watermarks?
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