Arrowhon, the Real World
I gladly left the hot hustle of the 407 on a Friday afternoon and headed north to cottage country. It produced a happy giddiness that only cottagers know. The roads twisted past gray-blue lakes edged with forests of vermilion, canary yellow and crimson foliage. The fall colours had arrived early and I felt as if I were the first person in Canada to see them on these lonely paths into the wilderness.
Coming "home" into the familiar gravel driveway, I had a little over seven kilometers to ease into the Arowhon way, slowing my car to take in vistas of wildflowers and evergreens. It had been several months since my last visit and it was good to be back.
An hour early for my conference, I took the time to shower and unpack. Skipping down the cottage steps, I headed over to the main dining hall for some friendly smiles and a cup of hot tea on the verandah. As I settled into the cushioned wicker chair, my shoes melted off my feet. I propped them up on the railing, closed my eyes and gratefully inhaled the pungent brew.
Across the lake, a loon called to its mate and a gaggle of canoes paddled to the distant shoreline. My growling stomach was gratified by the scent of roast lamb and lobster bisque effusing the air just outside the candlelit hall with such tempting aromas I was glad I had arrived on time. The dinner bell rang and I needed no second invitation.
That night, after a busy writing session with my group, I wriggled under my duvet and rested my travel-weary head on the plush pillows and I felt satisfied with the day's accomplishments.
The next thing I knew, the sun was beckoning me out to explore the camp and it was morning. Quickly, I dressed and headed for the coffee pot in the dining room, laptop bag under my arm. The mists rose off the lake, echoed by the steamy tendrils that escaped my china cup into the morning air. Inspired, I opened my laptop and began writing, using some of the tips we had talked about in our first meeting the night before. Before I knew it, breakfast was ready and it was time to feast again. There were pancakes, kippers, steamed whitefish and heaping bowls of fresh fruit, alongside porridge, fresh fruit juices and much more.
The weekend passed in just that order and all too quickly; eating and resting, working, talking with the new friends I had made that weekend. I wrote more in those 3 days than I had in an entire week at home and I felt it was much higher in quality due to the inspiration I was surrounded by every day. In the evening, pinpoints of light punched through the velvet sky. Swathed in the Milky Way, they looked close enough to touch. Early morning brought with it a desire to explore the kitchen gardens and flowers as well as the book I had committed to writing. And then there was the canoe trip where I was dubbed the more experienced paddler, having survived the Kayak Incident of The First Conference, and required to sit in the stern of the boat to steer. We logged many oar strokes but never actually made it to the other side. I also discovered that laughing too hard can cause the boat to pitch precariously but it is unavoidable when paddling out with Victoria. We finally headed back to shore for tea and a fresh scone, consolation indeed. All too soon, it was our last night at Arowhon, dear Arowhon. In the morning, I realized how much I had relaxed, learned and grown in this little piece of heaven tucked away in
Algonquin. I also realized you don't visit Arowhon, it visits with you and if you're lucky, it lets you see some of its most precious treasures. Taking the time away from a busy city life, this place was just the re-set my spirit needed. I was welcomed as one of the family and free to explore her shores and pathways along with my own inner questions. Here, I have found a liberating sense of reconnecting with God and remembered that He has control of all things. I am in His care always. I am always loved and I would not have owned this reality as part of my heart without the quiet whisper of the evening leaves as they rustled in the twilight
and seeing God in every detail of his creation and people. He was in the time alone, meditating in the calm quiet that pervaded this blissful place.
Cherishing my last few moments here, I wandered around with my camera to capture some of the magic on film if that is possible. The high dive platform beckoned hot and dusty hikers, pots of geraniums were placed just so without ever appearing contrived. Campers lounged with books, a fresh cuppa alongside a slice of coffee cake, fresh from the oven.Even a sweet sailboat sandbox joined the fun, as it called little would be sailors to play.
Evergreens studied their reflection in the calm pools between the cottages, dipping their feet into the crisp water and feeling their roots down deep in the Canadian soil. This is home. This is where I love to be.Leaving camp was difficult and I am already certain I will return, God willing. I've said my goodbyes to the caring and attentive staff and each corner where I've picked up a new memory. It will be good to return here in a new season when the snow has melted to search out new truths and re-connect with the real world of Arowhon.
I drove slowly with no great need to rejoin the outside world and then I noticed, I have not looked in the rearview mirror once. Another lesson from Arowhon. Yesterday is a memory. Today is precious. Tomorrow, I will be back again.
