Spider Rock.

I returned home in Ontario from a long trip to Cape Cod. My father picked me up when we crossed over the border on the 1000 Islands Bridge and took me back to the cottage on Tar Island. The crew and I were so relieved to be back home in Ontario, if we could I bet we would all pile out of the car and have a big group hug and dance and scream. Tired and wary though, Jordan was driving and taking a simple photograph of the Ontario sign with his camera, the other Jordan was playing on his laptop, and Leanne was quietly thinking to herself. My dad was kind of glad to see me when he was driving me back and we spent the rest of the night in my godfathers garage drinking.

His garage is pretty cool and has the classic country feel to it. He does wood working as a hobby, so there are model ducks everywhere, and tools everywhere to do it. In the center of the garage is a metal shop table with some sort of fabric draped over it. We gather stools from all over the garage and gather around the table and start drinking. My dad loves it here. But when it started to get dark we went across the river to my cottage. I didn’t stay up late cause the long trip back really tired me out seeing that I had to get up early.

The next morning my dad returned back to Oshawa, but I decided to stay behind with my mother and puppy for an extra week. It may not have been the best of decisions because it started to pour rain when I was taking my dad across the river. I was prepared for it though with my long yellow rain coat on the heavy rain did not affect me too much except to cause me to squint and get my hair soaked. My dads’ old boat of 30 years was leaking so badly that I was scared it would sink. He bought a new boat this summer by continues to use the old one even though it is full of water every morning. I watch him and shake my head when he goes down there to bail it out for twenty minutes. The rain continued until noon that day.

I spent most of the rest of the day in my room looking at all the photographs I took from the trip to Cape Cod and organizing the pieces of paper that I wrote on. Looking out my window I can barely make out the stream of rain drops falling from the sky. Hundreds at a time, my eyes dart side to side looking at them, and I turned back to my photographs.

I got up and decided to take a new photograph seeing that the rain had stopped. Seeing that it could pour at any second I took my backpack with me and stuffed the camera inside. I made my way to this big rocky area on the island called Blueberry Hill. For some reason since I was a kid I have always known it to be called Spider Rock because of a time when someone saw a gigantic spider on one of them. At least, that was what I was told. It is amazing some of the myths and legends that we get told as kids that stick with us until adulthood.

I stood there in front of one of the rocks, the multi-coloured moss at its feet. Red moss means it is dried out dead I think, lush green is healthy. What does one think about when standing in the middle of the wilderness in front of a big rock? People. I thought about people. I thought about the first girl I kissed on that very rock, thought about my friends, my ex-girlfriend, one of my sweethearts from college… Sarah. I remember when she came to visit me at my cottage we wandered around the island. She then a week later sent me a letter with a photograph of a sunset and a piece of paper that read in simple pencil:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. – Robert Frost

I haven’t spoken to her in years. I haven’t spoken to a lot of people in years. Reaching in my backpack I took out my Polaroid camera and I took the photograph of the rock with my camera. I wanted to capture the feeling of isolation that the rock must have.

Being stuck in the middle of a path that nobody takes.

music to accompany the blog: Joshua Radin - The Fear You Won't Fall.