We found ourselves on top of this bluff, only a short hike from the car. Canada was just a couple miles to the north. Lake Superior 30 to the east. A BWCA lake stretched out before and below us.
It was quiet and lonely, surprisingly so, being just a couple hundred yards from a wide spot in the gravel road and a sign marking the trail. Truthfully I could have used a bit more of a walk for the physical distance and exertion that might have paralleled the mental distance admiring such a view brought on.
A Whiskey Jack spotted us from down by the lake and we watched him fly toward us, and then up to the top of the cliff, where he fluttered from tree to tree, waiting for us to drop or offer just a single morsel.
We didn’t stay long. This vista was just a stop on a leisurely morning of wandering the Gunflint Trail. And the only thing that we knew of our uncertain destination for the night was that it was many miles from here. But, catching me by surprise, this place seemed like somewhere I could stay forever and never tire of the view.
And if that isn’t like life and love, I don’t know what is.