Rumblings in the Night


The wilderness has a way of amplifying light and sound. One night awakened by a strange loud drone, I glanced up to find my bedroom window filled with the image of a floating hotel, its myriad lights glaring in the dark.  I could only imagine the crowds inside, feasting and dancing.

This past Wednesday night, I experienced my first storm at Chatham Point. It hit around 11pm, just after my last weather report and raged for a few hours. Filling the night with flashing sheets of light and rumbling thunder, it is easy to see why a culture who believes in parallel worlds above and below would create stories to explain this phenomenon. Fiercely beautiful, flashing electrical current through its eyes, the powerful Thunderbird flew through the skies, its giant wings rumbling the dark.


In the calm aftermath, I awakened again to a primeval world and peered out into an alien landscape. The normally churning ocean lay dead calm, a layer of cloud hung suspended above the surface, and the sun glimmered through pink blue cloud. Where am I? I thought. What century? What millennium is this? 











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