The Wandering Canoe
Photograph by Kendra Maurer.
I have a strong sense of Nope. Not that I don’t believe in, or run wildly towards the strange, or visit haunted asylums...but there’s a level of Nope when it comes to learning more.
Seems counterintuitive but it’s true. When I think of a weird experience I’ve had and consider looking in to what may have been the cause, I run into Nope. It’s largely because I know that if I acknowledge that experience in that way, I will be inviting more of it to my life, which was certainly the case with Mothman. That dude can never come back and I will be happy—in fact I had buried that whole experience for about 20 years til the Sci Fi channel brought it all back for me.
The Nope was also very much the case with the Wandering Canoe, and that was FAR less terrifying than Mothman.
First, the story.
When I was in high school, a couple of the teachers would sponsor an annual trip to the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota. It was a 10-14 day canoe and portage trip in the deep wilderness where we packed everything in and out. I was so excited when I was finally old enough to go with 6 or so other kids from my school.
We left from Ely, MN and entered the deep woods on a narrow trail, our backpacks on or backs, and canoes on our shoulders. During our journey, we drifted down rivers, paddled across lakes, and carried our canoes in between. We experienced bears, and saw the very rare (at the time) Bald Eagles just across the water in Canada. We drank water straight from the lakes, and I meditated—experienced nothingness and everythingness—for the first time. The trip was experience I will treasure forever.
Crossing one of the lakes, I heard the girl in the canoe beside me, struggling like she was fighting for every stroke. She and her partner were fighting something, while my partner and I were fine. I tried to grab the stem ov]f her canoe but it waws just out of reach.
Finally she took her paddle out of the water, looked at me and shook her head with disbelief.
Her canoe immediately started drifting back and away from ours, like it was being dragged slowly. Everyone stopped paddling, and just watched. Whatever it was, was pulling their canoe to a different shore than we were heading for. No one was worried or frightened...just confused.
They drifted for about a hundred feet before it stopped and they could resume with normal effort. That night we all told ghost stories, ate fresh Northern Pike for dinner and the trip went on pretty well uneventfully, even though I spent every night staring at the sky hoping to see a UFO. Because I was that kid.
I’ve often thought about that drift, and the look on Dawn’s face and the way whatever it was just let go. I filed it under “weird stuff I will never understand” because, as I think on it more, research is eye contact. And as I keep saying, once you make eye contact, it’s your responsibility.
So. Fast forward to me reading Where The Footprints End by Timothy Renner and Josh Cutchin...and there it is. The Ojibwa have the Memegwesi! Generally benign little dudes who occasionally drift a canoe if not shown proper respect and I really can’t think of a less respectful group than a pile of GenX teenagers let loose in the wild for days on end.
And honestly, that night...I can’t be sure that was a bear at the open latrine. There was no threat, and I wasn’t scared. There was just...a furry presence.
So now I suppose I’ve made eye contact, but I’m far away in the remnants of the Black Swamp in central Ohio. I have some trickster happenings in my house still (metal objects relocate themselves to inconvenient places). Maybe it doesn’t just take eye contact for things of this nature. They somehow know we can perceive them, so they find those of us who can, and don’t let go so easily.