Dearest Diary,
When I was about 10, my Dad decided he wanted to have a big enough boat to travel across the big lake ( Lake Superior ) in with out fear of sinking. So he searched for and found an old wooden herring boat that had been dry-docked for about 16 years, ( or more).
It had seen a full life on the lake for a fishing family in Grand Marais and when it needed repair, I guess, the family decided it just wasn't worth it and dry docked it.
Along comes my Dad who, when he looked at something, always saw what it could also be and not just what it was. (He had that gift for everything and every one he encountered.) So, when he saw this old, rotting herring boat he saw an opportunity to make his dream of traveling the big lake a reality. He spent quite some time getting that boat sea worthy. He even replaced some of the central wooden structure which required that he make his own 'sweat box' to soften the new wood pieces so that he could manipulate them into shape for the keel and the gunwales.
When he was finished we had a great little vessel that sported a 28 foot keel and a 12 foot beam. He didn't change the look of the original boat. Just put her back into running order. From far off she looked like a whale and so we named her The Little White Whale. Here she is:
It is on this boat that I sailed with my Mom and Dad all over Lake Superior. One of the most wonderful places we would go was a small, unknown port near Grand Portage, Minnesota. And it was while we were there one summer that my Dad, after chatting with some local fishermen, found out about the tree.
I remember this tree being called the witching tree and my Dad was VERY excited about it and made it his business to take the trek through the woods to find it. From where we were docked I would say that it was probably a mile and a half walk. The first half of which was down a dirt road and the second half down a foot path through the woods and down the steep side of a hill to the lake shore. He became fascinated by this tree and every time we were in that area he made it a regular stop so that he could go and see it again. There was just something special that he enjoyed about it. He talked a lot about this particular tree when he told stories of our boat travels. So much so that I could have sworn I actually saw it too. But, upon reflection, I don't think I ever did. I saw several pictures of him next to it...touching it even, but I never actually saw it for myself. Until recently that is Diary.
I had told Scarlett about the tree, briefly. She may not even remember the conversation about it it was such a fleeting story ( but then again she may). But the spirit of the tree stayed with her upon hearing the tale and when we were in a gift store in Grand Marais she spied a postcard that had a picture of this tree on it. Something felt familiar and she picked it up and read that this tree is believed to provide safe travel for those journeying along the lake.
As I said, I remember the tree being called the witching tree. However, it is actually called the Witch Tree by tourists but the Ojibwa ( or Chippewa ) call it Manido Gizhigans or
" Spirit Little Cedar" and the Ojibwa now own the land upon which it grows. The earliest written records that mention this tree, as a mature tree, date to 1731 making it at least 300 years old. Some experts would argue that it is closer to 700 years old. The fact that it is so very old is captivating, however, what makes it even more fascinating is the fact that it grows out of bare rock. It is wonderfully twisted, and its growth stunted from many years of trying to grow, not only out of bare rock but, in bitter cold temps and near the frigid lake waters. It looks like a life size Bonsai that nature has trained with a masterly skill. And since the Ojibwa have been able to protect it, it will be able to last quite a while longer I am certain.
After the Ojibwa were able to buy the land where the tree lives, they began to monitor the foot traffic through the woods to where it grows; offering only guided tours by naturalists associated with a nearby lodge. This tree is sacred to the Ojibwa and the area where it grows is considered holy. So, when people began to desecrate the area and were not treating the land and space around the tree as sacred, they decided that there would be no more visitors to the tree. One can see it from the lake side if you are lucky enough to have a boat and know where it is. But, for the most part, visits to this beautiful tree ended about 18 months ago. No one has been allowed to go to the site, which now has sturdy wooden stairs along the hillside and a viewing platform about 80 yards from the tree. Only tribal members can go to the tree and when they do it is, of course, a spiritual journey and once there they give a traditional offering of tobacco to the Spirit...offering it to the East, West, North and South and spend time to pray.
So when Scarlett showed us the postcard, and shared with us that she believed the tree was calling us to visit, she made it her business to respond to that call and when we arrived at the Tourist Information Building
near Grand Portage, she went straight to find out how we could get to see it.
At that point in time we had no idea that you couldn't go see it. The postcard had stated one needed to have a guide to visit it. Scarlett went in to find a guide and was met with the information that no one visited the tree any more. But, if she wanted she could spend time looking at a lovely, large photograph of it that hung on the wall in the Information Building's gift shop. So she 'sat' with that information a bit. Still, she felt we were SUPPOSED to see it. So Scarlett went back to the woman who had denied her the first time and told her about our strange day the day before. How we had had odd energy with us all day and we really felt that we needed to visit the tree. Once again she was turned away.
It was at this point she gave herself over to the idea that we may not see it. She decided she would look to find a Spirit Little Cedar pin to purchase and give to us traveling with her to offset the falling down pin. As she shopped a young woman, a daughter of one of the elders of the tribe who had been listening to Scarlett's story and plea, decided we were to see the tree and she called her mother and got her permission to bring us to see it.
We couldn't believe it. It wasn't luck and it didn't feel like luck. It felt...it felt like.... privilege. It felt as though we were being drawn there.
Scarlett had especially felt it that morning. And it was when Twitter and I were walking by the lake shore
and visiting the trading post museum 
that we began to feel it. By the time Twitter and I were half way through our walk through the museum grounds we were already discussing that it felt as though it needed to be a priority. That it was great of Scarlett to take the time to try to get us a guide and that we really wanted to get there too. At that point we felt a bit of an urgency to get back to Scarlett and Bev to see what was transpiring. So we headed back to the parking lot only to be met by Scarlett waving frantically at us to hurry along as we were being given the opportunity of a life time. By the time we got on our bikes to follow our guide who was in her car, Scarlett had explained why this was so very exciting and at that point we REALLY understood that we were being blessed by this gesture. Who knows when the last traveler outside of the tribe had been there? I don't. But I know who was there that day. Four women who had been called to this journey were being offered a most wonderful gift; kept for and shared with just a privileged few.
Oh Diary, I think I need to take a break before sharing the rest of this wonderful pilgrimage
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