My daughter went to college in Minnesota; since we lived in Maryland, driving there gave us the chance for numerous road trips, with Minneapolis as a starting point. One route I chose was to head north into Canada, drive along the Lake Superior border, then through Ontario back into the States and home. Along my trip, I planned to explore a place I knew absolutely nothing about aside from a name that intrigued me: Manitoulin Island. There was only one bridge crossing onto the island, which only allowed traffic in that direction at certain hours; my plan was to spend the night and then take a ferry off the island heading toward the states.

A grey day on the island

The day was grey and rainy, and while my rental in an upstairs apartment overlooked Lake Huron, there was little else to do on the island. Despite it being mid-afternoon, I was still too late to find food, and the sole grocery store I was aware of had already closed, so lunch and dinner consisted of whatever I could scrounge from my car. I drove for hours exploring the cliffs that towered over the winding roads, and admiring the inuksuit and other rock formations that visitors had built and left behind. I located a handful of landmarks on my mental checklist, but could not find one in particular, Bridal Veil Falls. As the weather deteriorated, I finally admitted defeat.

One last attempt

In the morning, the water was very rough, and I knew my tendency toward seasickness would never allow me to survive a long ferry ride, so I was left with no choice but to drive back over the bridge I came in on and alter my route. Back on a part of the island I would not have otherwise revisited, I decided to make one last attempt at locating the falls; this time I chanced upon a small sign pointing me down a hidden road, and was rewarded with a beautiful view of a waterfall powered and energized by the recent rain. I sat on a rock and admired it; I walked behind it; I waded through it. It was just another beautiful waterfall, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I’d worked so hard to find it! The water formed a stream that meandered around a curve, and I decided I’d walk the trail alongside the stream before leaving the island.

What was past the falls

As I walked around the bend, I froze in my tracks; there in the middle of the stream, now about thirty feet across, were dozens of glistening cairns scattered throughout the water. Dozens. Some were delicately balanced and stood up to three feet tall above the water’s surface; other shorter rock formations surrounded these and filled the empty spaces. That they seemed to simply grow out of the water, that they stood without falling and defied gravity, that they were clearly manmade but felt as natural as the environment around them...was breathtaking. Rays of sunlight filtered through the tall trees and reflected off of the cairns while the sound of running water played in the background. There were no other visitors but me. I felt as if I had stumbled upon some magical world and was given the gift of a vision nobody else would ever see. It felt sacrilegious to even move.

But, as I had limited opportunities to cross back over that bridge and leave the island, eventually I did. That accidental discovery stays with me years later as one of the most spiritual and moving experiences of all my road trips. It wasn’t a tourist landmark or even on my radar at all, and I had considered my stay on Manitoulin Island disappointing until then. But when I recall that image, it still takes my breath away and brings me joy every time!

Jeanine B. is a Nomadic Spirit reader and lives in Silver Spring, Maryland.