Pukashwa Provincial Park was my next destination, I believe it is pronounced Pukusaw-but even when I said it that way, nobody knew what I was talking about, was incredible. Again, as most of my stops seemed to be, it was entirely devoid of human life. I wandered through the empty teepees, and walked along the shore with only the wind and the weight of the water as companions. It felt so lonely there-but I understood it, as I was lonely too. There seems to be a strange kind of beauty in loneliness-like being on a wuthering heights film set-standing on the moors-skirts flying, hand on my brow, what's his name Oh yeah-Heathcliff) long gone.......
The group of seven loved to paint there-and some of the views had plaques of their paintings that depicted what was in front of me. I had planned to camp the night, but somehow the silence, and how far it was off the beaten track unnerved me. I was to visit it twice more that year-once with a son and once with a lover...each time it was empty, and each time it whispered something secret into my ear.
Next up...Chapter 6-the prairies! How teeny tiny and insignificant am I?....
