GITCHE GOOME

Grand Portage, Minnesota: “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” 1994 - Forrest Gump. I thought it was a pecan-caramel turtle and it turned out coconut cream. I’ve been on the road less than 48 hours and I’m quoting Forrest Gump. I had to drive until dark yesterday but I did land in a Wal*Mart Super Store parking lot for the night. Pine City, Minnesota is about half way between Minneapolis and Duluth. Sleeping in the back of the pickup, under a camper shell is fine, once you get everything else stored, out of the way, with a friendly escape route. Head bumping will prevail for a long time. 

Took my time today, only 240 miles, lots of stops, into Grand Portage, MN. just a stone’s throw from Canadian border. I’m anxious to cross over but want to do a day trip out to Isle Royale National Park in Lake Superior but the next one is Friday and it’s only Wednesday. There is a great State Park just down the road in Grand Marias, MN with big water falls and great reviews. If I do that, cross over on Saturday, I’ll still have more time than money. The rest of my route is supposed to trace the north shore of Lake Superior and drop back down into Michigan at Sault St. Marie. By the time I get to Traverse City I’ll be guessing what’s inside the chocolate again, but it won’t matter, it’s all good. That’s the plan. I’m taking cover in the casino: every border crossing has a casino just over the line. Food is decent and affordable. They let you camp in the parking lot. Fog coming in off the lake, it will be cool. I’ll need my sleeping bag and covers. I’m not making any plans tonight. Whatever feels right in the morning, I’ll go with it. 

Today’s fog and overcast wasn’t ideal for photographs but I practiced steady hands, framing and uploaded maybe 25, kept a dozen. Flowers are tough; critical focus is tricky. Then beach stuff on a gray day is like sugar free cookies. I climbed down big rocks to the shore at one pull off, found stones stacked in several spots. Stacking stones goes way back, all the way to the roots of religion. Primitive altars, sacrifices, the first monuments to sacred ground, some people are moved by the spirit, some generate their own. Gordon Lightfoot wrote and sang   “ the legend lives on from the Chippewa on, of the big lake they call Gitche Goome, - The lake it is said never gives up her dead . . .” Serious shit. So I stacked some stones myself, for the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald, for Gordon, for long dead Chippewa shamans, for Gitche Goome, How long they stay stacked doesn't matter; only that they were. “. . .when the gales of November turn gloomy.”