Sleeping on Slate (2 of 6)
If I've ever doubted the power of water, I was proven wrong in the black slate forests. For nearly half a kilometer, Chute Road was washed out like it never existed; a fifteen-foot canyon, carved deep by a tiny trickle. I hike up on what used to be the shoulder, pick my way along the undercuts, looking down to the exposed slate beds. What's the cause of this destruction? Just a three foot culvert, collapsed up the road and sending the stream in a new direction.

Once you're past the washouts, it's all smooth sailing, an incredible disappearing act into the high hills of forgotten farmsteads, gathered on tree-lined avenues. It's a place of overwhelming adventure, heartsick with beauty, blown away by the strength of history hanging on. I've never walked anywhere that stole me so quickly, shook me so deeply. This place has all the stories I hope to tell myself, an amazing awareness of what sits unseen. I like that it's a hike, or nothing. Enough room for feet, but not for tires, so no off-road driver could ever disturb you. People are still more powerful than machines. The world is under our feet, and wonder comes with it.

February 18, 2018
Kniffen Hollow, Nova Scotia