Marry Ann Falls, Cape Breton

Cape Breton
July, ‘82

It rained hard during the night but my tent kept me almost dry. In the
morning I backtracked to the bulletin board where I changed my message
to read—”I’m staying 7-21-82 at Mary Ann Falls. I will return
tomorrow.” Some tourists told me that the falls were a must-see, so
after I posted the message, I went for coffee and breakfast; now,
however, its time to get back into the foggy goop.

July 22

I’m presently sitting upstream from the falls. You can hardly hear the
roar of the falls above the sounds of the babbling creek. I’m in front
of a blazing campfire drying out, with a hot cup of coffee in my hand.
After an almost five-mile walk on a gravel road, I reached the falls
and proceeded to scope out the best photographic locations. After
taking some photos, I settled in to enjoy my surroundings. There was
enough early afternoon sun to entice some of the more adventurous
tourists to go swimming beneath the falls. I joined them for a little
while, but then it started to rain again. By late afternoon I was the
only person still hanging around. I’m in a no camping area, but
bicyclers have an invisible advantage, which I have never hesitated to
use. Any more company at this point would be a surprise, at least
until tomorrow. The weather guarantees it. So, for the rest of the
evening, it will be just my book and me—the frosting on the cake.

July, ˜82

I expected to find Mike back at the beach, but he was still a no
show. Only when I was cleaning my bike at a gas station did I finally
run into him. He had left his billfold in a phone booth and had to
backtrack to find it. He lost a whole day in the process. After he
told me his story, and after both of us had taken showers and had
eaten a dinner of tuna fish sandwiches, we were still no closer to
figuring out our future plans. Mike had re-figured his time and had
come up with a couple of extra days. He wanted to bicycle the entire
Cabet Trail. That sounded like a good idea to me except for the fact
that my time was running out also. I still had to bicycle back to
Michigan (not to mention that our sunny days had given way to clouds
and rain). I decided to head south instead. Mike would, upon his return, board a train and head back to Michigan, but first he would continue to bike around
the Cape. We parted on good terms. Our goodbyes were short, though. If
I had my way, goodbyes were always short.

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About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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