S I L E N C E
After the long drive north, I stopped at a secluded lake to stretch my legs and unwind. The rich, earthy aroma of early summer filled my nostrils as I took a deep breath. At the water’s edge, I allowed the solitude to wash away the tensions of the drive. I closed my eyes and listened. Only natural sounds punctuated the tranquility.
Silence is a welcome companion here. It accentuates the subtle sounds around me. On that day, several warbler species whistled and sang. High in his spruce tree, a red squirrel belted out his unsettling chatter. Aspen leaves rustled in the breeze blowing across the lake. Small waves lapped against a few iron-stained rocks at my feet. First-time visitors, however, often find this quiet environment disconcerting. They are surprised how loud silence can be.
Silence discloses this region’s true character. Under a deep veil of snow, winter transcends silence. The absence of sound is intensified by its contrast to your own deafening heartbeat. No birds sing. The squirrels are mute. In the brittle cold, any movement is arduous. Time is suspended. The black bear and chipmunk nestle in their dark, hidden sanctuaries. The land descends into a deep, slumbering sleep.
Though silence is most intense in winter, each season brings many forms of quiet stillness. It was mid-May and winter had finally released its grip. Life was unfolding around me. The first light of day revealed Marie Louise Lake through a dream-like fog. Sitting on a lichen-encrusted boulder, I immersed myself in the solitude. A single wolf suddenly howled through the curtain of mist. Like thousands of seasons before, the wolf and the silence clashed, each trying to overpower the other. In time, the howls faded.
The quiet returned with force following this battle. Yet the wolf’s cry was not lost. It is etched in my memory. Whether it is the wind or the wolf or the warbler, the contender has no chance. Here, silence always wins.
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