Back to Ireland: The Burren

I am working on the third novel in The River of Lakes trilogy and early on in book we find Grace O’Malley Burke, the teenage daughter of Brian and Maureen, visiting Ireland with her girl friends from back home, two Ojibway girls, Annie Strong and Louise Keewatin. Early in their trip they visit The Burren, one of the most remarkable landscapes in Ireland, in the world.

From The Burren National Park website:

“The word “Burren” comes from an Irish word ‘Boíreann’ meaning a rocky place. However it has been referred to in the past as “Fertile rock” due to the mixture of nutrient rich herb and floral species.

In 1651 a Cromwellian Army Officer named Ludlow remarked, ‘of this barony it is said that it is a country where there is not water enough to drown a man, wood enough to hang one, nor earth enough to bury them. This last is so scarce that the inhabitants steal it from one another and yet their cattle are very fat. The grass grows in tufts of earth of two or three foot square which lies between the limestone rocks and is very sweet and nourishing.’

When my family and I lived in Ireland we were fascinated by the region. We lived in Galway, and The Burren was just across Galway Bay. It is a landscape first defined by the sweep of great limestone pavements. Upon closer look you discover that the plant life that grows in the cracks between those pavements is extraordinary, representing an amazing diversity of ecosystems. Arctic-alpine plants grow side by side with Mediterranean plants; many rare Irish plants are only found here, and in abundance.

It’s such a magical landscape…

That this didn’t surprise me…

Steve tells stories about me–and I saw a wolf

One of the delightful surprises of my just concluded trip to Winnipeg to spend time with Steve and give him a box of ‘Anung’s Journey’ was to learn that while I have stories I like to tell about Steve, he has stories he likes to tell about me.

At our talk at the University of Manitoba, after we shared our stories about meeting for the first time, Steve then went on to describe how after supper the first day I went to my cabin and returned with a football.

Here is a close take on his riff, for I heard him tell this story twice:

“After supper the first day he was in camp I saw Carl was tossing a football into the air and catching it. Then he came up to me and asked if I wanted to play catch. I said, ‘What’s catch?’. He said, ‘Let’s just toss this football back and forth.’ I had seen a football game on a television once, but I had never seen a football, so I didn’t know how to catch one. All we played in them days was hockey. So Carl threw me the ball and it hit my chest and ooh gee I had a bruise there for a week.

“Then two of my friends, Simon and Louie, they joined us, and it became a regular thing, that first summer at Delaney Lake, to try to play football after supper. There was a clearing between some of the cabins that was just big enough for a game. Sometimes some of the guests would join us and I remember one game there were enough players that we played Indians against the Whites and once again the Indians got beat by the Whites pretty bad, even thought Carl played with us.”

I had forgotten all about the fun playing football. I was on the high school team–and played one year of college ball–and as soon as Steve began telling the story the memories came flooding back.

The trip was filled with wonderful unexpected moments. One of the most dramatic was on the last full day. I drove Steve and his grandson Dorian to Kenora, for our radio interview, and to rendezvous with Steve’s son who was going to drive them back to Grassy Narrows. I was driving back to Winnipeg, on Highway 1, the Trans-Canada Highway, still in the boreal wilderness of Ontario. I looked up and to my utter disbelief I saw a wolf.

In all my years in the North wilderness I heard plenty of wolves howling at night, but I never saw one. And this one, he was magnificent. He was jet black, raven black, so black that for just a moment I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he was a frigging wolf. I watched him walk along a bit of exposed rock ledge, near the side of the road, about twenty yards away, for a good ten seconds.

A magical moment to end a magical trip.

One of the best endorsements of The 53rd Parallel

I mentioned Steve was traveling with his grandson. Dorian Assin is 18. (assin means something like ‘teaching rock’ in the Ojibway language). He seems to be a great kid, very respectful of his grandfather, really into video games, and eager for his last year of school to be over.

I happened to be watching yesterday when he noticed the open box of ‘The 53rd Parallel’ in the corner of the room. He picked up a copy, checked out the awesome cover that Elizabeth Turnbull at Light Messages designed, checked out the back cover, then put it down without any comment.

An hour or so later he picked it up again, and I could see he was reading the Introduction of Characters in the front of the book. Then he put the book down.

Steve and I went down to dinner after taping some conversations about our times together. When we returned Dorian came up and said “I read the first chapter of your book. I thought it was really cool.”

Man, did that bring a smile to my face.

Later, we all went to bed–he and his grandfather in the bedroom, me on the fold out couch–and just as I was ready to turn out the light he came out and sat at the foot of my bed and he said “This book is really amazing.”

Thanks Dorian.

Steve Fobister

I arrived two hours ago at the Place Luis Riel Hotel and found Steve waiting for me in the lobby. He arrived last night, with his grandson.

We’ve been telling old stories and he’s just retired for his 4 pm nap.

All the events are still to come, and I’ll do some reporting, but for now I needed to say this, upfront and on it’s own, and right away:
Fairly recently I realized that I have known one great man. And what makes a great man? The version I consider starts with a good man who does good things. But there’s something more to greatness. Maybe something like, a defining self- sacrifice informed with genuine humility.

I am with that great man now.