A Rite of Fall

I may have found something that in an odd way I agree with the Catholic Church about - the value of ritual. One of the annual rites or rituals in my life is the September canoe trip to the Boundary Waters which I take with Harry. I suppose in an odd way this annual trip performs a function for me which is not unlike the function of communion or Easter for a practicing Christian. For this trip has an importance in my life that goes beyond that of the purely secular.



It's a reconnection with nature and a marker that I have been lucky enough to make "one more lap around the sun."



It's my fishing "Super Bowl" - even though in most years it is the only time I fish at all. Harry and I each make it our goal to catch the most impressive fish (all things considered). By the way, I was the lucky one who happened to snag the most impressive fish this year - a true fighter we named "Hector Bassquez." The only skill I can claim is my clever (and totally random) choice of a lovely jointed orange Rapala which I named The Orange Order as I put it in the water when we began to canoe through West Pike. After that I was just reeling them in (for about 10 minutes, until the magic stopped).



It's a chance to laugh and observe the world and work with Harry to create theme jokes of the weekend, essentially alone in our own little universe. To sit and stare at the fire with a beverage and solve the problems of the world.



In some ways and at some times it can be strange to be away from the day to day of the world. Of course, that was particularly true in September, 2001, when we went to the woods just a few days after the events of 9/11. But it was even true this year. The sunsets were odd, particularly on Thursday. The sun became a large orange ball in the sky earlier than normal. And the clouds didn't explode in color in the way that seemed normal. Harry and I concluded that there were fires in the area. But we didn't know we were right until we returned home to read the newspaper articles about fires about 10 miles away on the Gunflint Trail.



And of course it's a great chance to consider how lucky I am. And not just at catching fish.