The people of the land move with purpose and determination while traversing previously submerged rock from this land we call Temagami First Nation. “All life comes from our Mother the Earth, so we offer tobacco and prayers when we harvest the materials. We must honour our Mother as we use the materials and medicines she provides for our survival.” Let us learn the lessons of Indigenous people, respect the land, and move with the spirits of ancient pathways.
Back to the Artwork pageThe people of the land move with purpose and determination while traversing previously submerged rock from this land we call Temagami First Nation. “All life comes from our Mother the Earth, so we offer tobacco and prayers when we harvest the materials. We must honour our Mother as we use the materials and medicines she provides for our survival.” Let us learn the lessons of Indigenous people, respect the land, and move with the spirits of ancient pathways.
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Listen to the quiet tone of paddles stroking cool, clear, depths, as the swirl of gentle breezes soothe the haunting call of the loon. Ripples on rocky shores glisten, keeping time as they rise and fall in ancient rhythms. Choose to join nature’s symphony, with a genuine respect for all of its instruments, and rejoice in the subtle melodies of the canoe song.
The Autumn leaves shiver with excitement. The Pines bow to the winds as they whicper their secrets. A distant Loon laughs in reply to the whispering winds, and the stoic Granite remains silent knowing it is the foundation of all that is Muskoka magic.
Crafted from the forest, its gunnels and keel gleam with an artist’s touch. Flashes of light across a mist soaked lake supply proof of its presence, as it glides and sways in a rhythmic dance. Markings on a polished underbelly honour the rocky Algonquin and Temagami isles where sanctuary was sought for moments of reflection and sustenance, or protection from leeward winds. As stars appear and night draws near, I wait in anticipation for the coming dawn when once again I can share quiet moments alone with my cedar strip.
Warmth caresses my soul through speckled shadows upon crystal waters. Silence reaches out to me as a gift from one who knows. Pine fresh visions guide me in directions yet to be discovered, as clouds of wispy textures float overhead. These are the pleasures of kayak summers.
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