Hidden Spirit

Chapter 2: Wolves-1

Chapter 2: Wolves

“The Ojibwe are the native people of this area. There’s a First Nation village not far from here, Michipicoten. This is a replica of an Ojibwe war canoe,” Justin, the boyishly handsome tour guide told the assembled guests as he pointed to a large canoe which sat inverted on a storage rack. “It can hold up to fourteen people plus our gear. The Ojibwe used canoes such as this for hunting expeditions, as well as launching attacks on neighboring tribes.”

Morgan looked around as Justin was speaking. In addition to him and Nate, it appeared that nine other guests had signed up for the three day excursion. There was a young couple from Ontario, Penny and Ned, on their honeymoon. Next to them stood a married couple, Margaret and Joseph, and their two teenage boys, Allister and Jonathon, from the UK. There was an older man, Todd, who was here with his partner from New York. Todd told the group his partner, Jeff by name, was ambivalent about the trip, kept changing his mind, and at the last minute had decided not to come.

Justin was now introducing the two other staff members who would be accompanying the group: Melody and Steele. Melody was a vivacious redhead who looked as if she’d never had a down day in her life. Steele was true to his name—a tall, heavily-muscled man with a ready smile and an air of confidence about him that gave Morgan a feeling of security about the upcoming journey. The man looked as if he could wrestle a bear and win.

While Justin continued explaining the history of the war canoe, Morgan looked at the vessel. While not actually made of the same materials the Ojibwe would use, the watercraft was painted to look like it was constructed of birch bark, and bound with leather lacings. That strange feeling of familiarity he’d had since arriving in Canada came over him once again.

Once safety instructions and warnings about the capriciousness of Lake Superior were given, the group helped Justin, Melody, and Steele pick up the canoe and carry it to the edge of a small bay. Under the tutelage of Justin and his crew, the campers, as the guests were now referred to, stowed their gear. The group then pushed the craft partially into the water. The campers were arranged according to size and weight, paddles were distributed, and the lodge staff began its final push to launch them on their way.

“Wait! Wait!” a voice called.

Morgan and the rest looked up toward the lodge. A stocky man swinging a backpack and pulling a small suitcase on rollers was running down the hill toward them.

“Oh,” groaned Todd, “It’s Jeff.”

Jeff arrived on the beach. He was breathless and with difficulty said, “I was sitting in our room and decided I just couldn’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So, I changed my mind.”

“For about the hundredth time,” Jeff’s partner, Todd, muttered under his breath to Morgan, who chuckled.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jeff was continuing, “but I couldn’t decide just what I should bring and…”

Jeff looked at the canoe, already in the water, loaded with passengers, and the staff standing beside it ready to shove off.

“I am too late! Oh, well, I guess I am. Okay, then. Have a good trip. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do. Goodbye.” His shoulders slumped and he turned to leave, dragging his backpack and suitcase behind him.

“No. No, it’s okay,” Justin called to him. He then turned to the crew and campers. “Steele, Melody, back to shore. Okay folks, hop out. We’ll need to rearrange things a bit.”

“No, I’m in the way,” Jeff said as he stopped and looked back at the canoe full of people, still hanging his head.

Justin, ever respectful and polite, waded to shore, put a hand on Jeff’s sagging shoulders and said, “No, really. We’re glad you could make it.”

Jeff brightened.

Everyone got out of the canoe. Steele and Melody rearranged the backpacks.

“Mm,” Justin said. “I’m sorry, but you have a bit more gear than we can manage with a full canoe. Can you—uh—cut it down a bit?”

Jeff rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. I only brought the things I’d absolutely need. I guess maybe I shouldn’t go after all.”

Todd stepped forward. “For God’s sake, Jeff! I’ll help you.”

The two men set to work picking and choosing what Jeff should and should not bring. The process was not without a good deal of bickering and Jeff’s declarations that he was causing too much trouble. He offered to leave over and over.

The group of would-be travelers stood watching, smiling, shaking their heads, and shrugging good-naturedly. Morgan marveled at the interaction between the two men. He looked at Nate and smiled, once again thinking how lucky he was to have this man in his life.

Finally, Jeff was satisfied he could get along with less. Justin stored the suitcase and leftover belongings in the boathouse. They began the process of getting everyone back into the canoe.

When it was Jeff’s turn, Justin declared with a broad smile, “See, Jeffrey. All’s well.”

“It’s Jeff, not Jeffrey,” Jeff corrected.

Todd groaned again. “Jeff, let it go.”

Jeff ignored him. “Actually, my given name is Jeffi. It’s pronounced Jeff-ee. That’s what’s on my birth certificate. But I’m too old to be Jeffi, so I’m Jeff not Jeffi or Jeffrey.”

“I’m sorry,” Justin apologized.

“It’s okay. Everyone assumes Jeff is a nickname. Well, I suppose it is, for Jeffrey, but I’m not Jeffrey, I’m Jeffi, so actually Jeff could be a nickname for—”

“Jeff! For the love of Mike, give it a rest and get in the frickin’ boat!” Todd said in exasperation.

This brought another round of “Well, if you don’t want me here,” from Jeff.

Finally, everyone was settled in the canoe, paddles in hand and they pushed off from shore.

“Let Melody, Steele, and me paddle for a bit. Steele will steer,” Justin instructed. “That way you’ll get the idea of how it’s done.”

The canoe moved out into the open water of the small bay. Justin called out instructions. “Every other person paddle on the opposite side of the canoe. Melody’s first, and she’s on the left. Margaret, you’re next, so you’re on the right and so on.”

They all followed Justin’s directions.

“We need to coordinate paddling. There’s an old Boy Scout paddle song we use to help with stroking. We’ll sing it and see if you can get the rhythm as we paddle. We won’t leave the bay until we’re all on the same stroke rhythm.”

The three staff members sang the song.

Morgan recognized it immediately. He’d been taught it as a scout at summer camp. It had a pounding rhythm as if Indian drums were beating.

It didn’t take long before everyone was paddling in rhythm, all except Jeff that is. He didn’t seem to be able to catch on, and as a result, he banged his paddle into those in front and back of him. He got frustrated, and he requested he be taken back to shore as he was useless and not worthy to accompany them.

Justin, always the diplomat, told him not to worry. He could be the chief and just sit back and enjoy the ride. That seemed to satisfy Jeff. They paddled back to the beach. Everyone got back out. They rearranged things over again so Jeff could sit in the middle of the group, and soon Justin declared the crew ready to hit the open water of The Big Lake.

For some time they paddled along smoothly, singing the paddle song as they hugged the shore line. After a time they were silent, just enjoying the sights and sounds of the magnificent wilderness that surrounded them.

Morgan remembered more and more verses from the song as sights and animals mentioned in the lyrics came to life around him. They glided past silver birch. They saw beaver, a momma moose and her calf, loons, geese, and an eagle circling overhead. They followed the rocky shoreline back-dropped by the dark, almost silent forest.

A line from the song came back to him. It was about a canoe, swift as a silver fish, carrying someone home over the mighty waterway. That particular line played over and over in Morgan’s mind as he paddled along. Somewhere deep inside him he did feel as if he was coming home. That was silly. He’d never been here before in his life. He passed it off as being inspired by the primal beauty of the lake and forest.

After about two hours of paddling and drifting, and about an hour of complaints from Jeff about the cramped quarters of the canoe, they landed on a sandbar that jutted out from the wooded shore.

Here they ate a lunch of sandwiches and fruit. The boys, Allister and Jonathon, went down to the water and skipped rocks while the adults relaxed and chatted.

“So, how long have you guys been together?” Penny, the newlywed from Ontario, asked Nate and Morgan.

Nate looked at Morgan. “About three and a half years,” he said with a warm smile.

Morgan smiled back.

Joseph, the man from the UK, asked, “When are you going to get married, now that you lot can do it in the States?”

“Joseph!” his wife admonished, “That’s much too forward of you. It’s none of our business.” She looked at Nate and Morgan. “I do apologize. My husband can be so…”

Nate shook his head. “No problem.” He directed his gaze at Morgan once more. “We haven’t really discussed taking that step. But—the idea has crossed my mind.”

Morgan didn’t know how to respond. That same unexplainable feeling came over him. What held him back from letting himself live the dream of having a man like Nate in his life—permanently? Not wanting to embarrass anyone with a contradictory response, he merely smiled, reached out, and touched Nate’s hand.

When the conversation turned to other topics, Morgan got up and walked toward the water where the boys were playing. He looked out over the vast expanse of the gently rolling inland sea that seemed to stretch endlessly before him. Small waves broke on the sand. The timelessness of the lake and its unbroken, eternal rhythm seemed to blend with the beating of his heart and his breathing. Swift canoe, carry me home. Swift canoe, carry me home. The thought ran through his mind over and over.

“Are you all right?”

Morgan was startled. Nate had come up behind him and placed his hands on Morgan’s shoulders. Morgan put his hands on Nate’s forearms, leaned back, and allowed himself to be wrapped in Nate’s strong embrace. Still looking at the lake, he rested his head against Nate’s chest. The wind off the water seemed to whisper, “Choose. Choose.”

Morgan turned to look into Nate’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around Nate’s waist, laid his head on the big man’s chest once again, and said, “I’m fine.” But he wasn’t altogether sure he was. What was this choice that the lake seemed to be asking him to make?