Walking in the woods - Viki Mather

Another rainy November morning. Inspiration to get out and about is hard to come by. It seems better to just stay inside, curled up by the fire. Far too many November days are grey and wet.

But if we did just stay inside all day, every day, we’d start to get mouldy.

After the morning rain finished, the clouds still threatened. Clouds, thick and dark – will we ever see the sun again? It’s easy to get glum at this time of year. The only cure is to go outside.

So out we go, hiking through the woods. Along familiar trails, we meet familiar scenes; the big, old birch at the bottom of a ravine, a middle-aged white pine I can just reach my arms around.

When we come to the place where the pond meets the wetland, my young daughter heads off the trail to look for cranberries. This kid has never met a wild fruit she didn’t like. Cranberries rank high in her list of things to find when out for a walk in November.

It did surprise me that she decided to look for cranberries in that spot. While I have walked this trail for a couple of decades, she has only been here a few times in her short five years.

And most of those times would not have been during cranberry season. This being her favourite fall fruit, I think she recognizes the habitat, and so went on her search.

Alas, she comes back empty-handed and explains to me that there wasn’t even a cranberry plant. I tell her not to worry, I know of some cranberries just ahead. Sure enough, just another hundred feet along the trail, the cranberry vines are at our feet. We find a dozen bright red berries and she crunches away. She gets to have them all – no one else has any interest in the tart, raw fruits.

The water along this stretch now just runs in a little creek down the middle of a large mud flat. The beaver dam at the end of this wetland broke over a year ago. The beavers have moved down to the next section of the creek and built their new house. Their old house rises from the mud flats, high and dry all around.

Allan and the girls go over to have a look. It’s just a big pile of sticks and mud, hollowed out in the middle. A couple of “doorways” give passage inside, but no one dares to crawl into the darkness. Next time we’ll bring a flashlight.

On and on we walk. Up and over the hill, through the maple forest, down the other side. We go off the trail for a while. The maples rise high around us. We stop at a little spring for a sip of cold, clear water.

We emerge at the bottom of the hill on another trail and wander on toward home again. Was it really nine kilometers we have walked this afternoon? It’s been a long time since I’ve walked that far. It feels great! Sure beats mouldering away in the cabin all day.

Viki Mather has been writing for Northern Life since the spring of 1984. During 2011, she takes us back to some of those older writings as she prepares to publish a book of “In the Bush.” This one was originally published in November 2002.

Posted by Vivian Scinto