Path: not-for-mail From: hubops@ccanoemail.com Newsgroups: alt.binaries.pictures.scenic Subject: Re: CA Kama Bay, Ontario Message-ID: References: <8gM8S.668082$3id2.35080@fx23.iad> User-Agent: ForteAgent/8.00.32.1272 Lines: 6283 X-Complaints-To: https://www.astraweb.com/aup NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 24 Jul 2026 17:48:34 UTC Bytes: 391713 Date: Fri, 24 Jul 2026 13:48:33 -0400 X-Received-Bytes: 391766 On Fri, 24 Jul 2026 12:19:16 -0400, Wolf K wrote: >View of Kama Bay, Lake Superior, from the rest stop, 19 September 2015. >We were on our way to Alberta for a family reunion. One of our favourite >places, we always stopped here. I wrote a poem about this place: > > >There’s No History Here >Above Kama Bay > >This country has no history, >they say. > >Then what’s that breathing there? > >There are no stories told >more than a generation old. > >Musty papers in old libraries, >read by odd fellows >who believe they can rebuild the past. > >Frail quilts stored on high dusty shelves, >brought out into bright air >and fingered by old women, >as they tell who pieced the patchwork, >who ran the needle through the batt, >made arcs and whorls that hold >the coverlet together. > >These tales made up >of memories, misremembered >names and half-remembered facts – >they don’t make a history, >they say. > >Nor do those fragments >of a myth the elders tell. > >Oral history’s not history, >they say. > >Each teller adds his notions >of what was truly done. >Each teller makes a tale >of what she knows must, >not might, have been. > >And if these tales are true enough >(for truth in history’s a guess, >a fiction built on facts), >if then these tales are true, >as any history may be, >that doesn’t signify – >a generation or two back >is as far as memory >and memories of memories may reach. > >The land seems empty, >the sound of the truck >working up the hill remote, muted >by the space enfolding it. > >The ghosts of those who came before us >do not speak in the wind, >their language does not >echo in the water-filled canyons, >their songs have long since faded >into silent distances. > >And yet > and yet. > >Something moves behind me, >touches my neck. >Something like a word, >half heard, >catches my ears. > >The heat feels loud as a shout, >the pines’ sweetness hangs >in the sun-stilled air – > >There is history here. > >There was history here. > >What’s left of it – >a few flakes struck from stone >the rusty stain of blood >bleached >by indifferent rain and sun. > >©WEK:2005-2020 > > There are a few scenic look-outs in that stretch - I tried to find your view to no avail - tree obstructed perhaps .. https://tinyurl.com/2rmzzthz John T. begin 644 Kama_Bay_.jpg ` end