Dusk

All right. This may seem a little strange. I'm writing this in the semi-dark with an REI head flashlight strapped to my forehead. The reason why the time is designated as "dusk" is because my savvy pseudo-guardians have done away with their watches and other cumbersome methods of restraint. Why? Let me explain to you the particular ambience of my situation.

The boat trip. Ah yes. That was a good three to four hours long, but since I'm without any sort of aforementioned time measurement device, that's a rough estimate, folks. It was okay and mildly humorous at times. There was an excessively strange and occasionally over-inquirous family from, of all places, Maryland along with us. Also, a hip granola-type couple has hitched along, a pair that I fear we have mildly agitated. The boat's crew (all two of them) are as cool as the first family is weird; laid-back with a sharp sense of wit, reminding me yet again why I love all things Canada. Insert "aboot" joke here.

So then we arrive at Hotsprings Island.

(The geeky headlamp is going to be my undoing; I can tell that it's leaving a walrus sized dent in my head, permanently disfiguring me for life. Ah well. We must all suffer for our art.)

Anyways. Back to the story. I'm having trouble concentrating because everyone is discussing a toaster that they (Quinn and Brigitte) got my mom, which burned a "Hello Kitty" emblem onto the bread, and then went seriously, dangerously defective. A most interesting episode.

The island is very little as far as islands go, and CHOCK FULL of HOTSPRINGS (hence the name.) When Quinn mentioned "Hot springs," I immediately thought "Crappy hole in the ground which squirts lukewarm water at me while little kids run around and pee all over the damn place. Boy, was I in for a surprise. Imagine, if you will, the most unbelievably beautiful place in Northwestern America (or rather, Canada.) And I hold strongly to this assertion. DeNali has nothing on the Queen Charlottes. The only sign of civilization is the watchmen's cabin (an implementation made by the local volunteer Haida) and the cutest couple of rustic cedar cabins that you could ever see.

The cabin has erupted in giggles.

I cannot even begin to describe the essence of the surrounding area. There are three big pools, which are about the size of small ponds. The first pool, closest to our cabin, is long, quite hot, and has a wall of rock on one side, and a boardwalk on the other. The next pool, overlooking the smoother horizon and beach, is slightly murky, a little more tepid, but has an amazing view. The third pool, by popular vote, is the best. It is rounder, medium sized, and nestled within the rock hills of the island. Immediately over one side is a plunging cliff. To another side is a rock wall, and another side is a little "nature park" where an errant bough hemlock drifts over you (the comatose and entirely satiated bather.) There's also a tiny trickle where the hot water drips in, and a v-shaped space between that and the rock wall, where you can look at at the other side of the islands view.

But my personal favorite is the private bath. If you open our cabin door, (which is tucked right on the armpit of the woods), immediately in front of you is a tiny hot stream. There's a basin that gathers water for dishes, and a little path running up beside it towards the private bath.

Unlike all of the other public hot springs, the private bath is available only for the Haida elders and their guests (us). Also, unlike the other springs, this one is entirely surrounded by woodsy foliage. A fir tree has an arm bent interestingly over the surface, and a smallish wooden bench completes the picture. Everything is so very green.

In order to get to the bath, you have to push a pink be-rabbited sheet out of the way, which has been modestly draped up for courtesy bathing. The "tub" itself is almost perfectly round and ringed with a non-offensive circle of mineral deposits.

You have never known ecstasy until you have bathed naked in the middle of the wilderness. In a hot spring. At dusk.

Goddamn headlamp! Stay straight!

I was introduced to Gladys, one of the ever-so-gracious Haida elders who run the hot springs. She is, according to my ubiquitous uncle, a "master weaver." This piqued my interest. After dinner (ravioli), we went and watched her weave a spruce root hat. Actually, it may have been cedar, but I'm not sure. Anyhow, it was beautiful. She taught me and Aeren how to make cedar roses, and we both made five of them, all of which are perched in mason jars in front of me. Tomorrow, we make headbands.

Quinn and Brigitte say that they're in paradise. I'm inclined to agree. Goodnight for me, I think. Headlamp off. Over and out.