Hi, i am back from
retraites de solitude et de silence.(thanks Claude Gosselin,ptre.
Comite francophone catholique Saint-Eugene de Mazenod.
Ah so much to tell after taking so much in, while silent.
It was suggested not to bring a camera, (we were just to bring clothes and toiletries.)
so i have no photos to share.
the scenery totally incredible though!
(the cabins we stayed)
When you go to this website, you don't even see a fraction of the beauty of the place. Again I am reminded that the Yukon is still so remote and hardly promoted.
The cabins right on the lake, one of the most beautiful lakes ever, surrounded by giant mountains, The cabins on the beach, gravel and sandy stretches. Right in front of the cabins an alluvial plain, with all it's beauty of water workings through sand and mud. Right beside a million dollar worth historical site, Silver City.
If you are interested in that, i can put you in contact with the history teacher of Vanier high school, (sorry jan? i don't know how to spell your name) He is working on trying to preserve this area, but lacks the funds.
Anyway for the silence; it was very beautiful, not noisy at all, gentle sounds and lots of Love. The love of God within me, surrounding me.
the theme of the weekend;
"Therefore, I will now allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her." Hosea 2,14
You know, i did not know this, among many other things.
I just thank my dear friends Joanne Viellette and Silvie Tremblay, who took this retreat last year, and came back, well; In Love.
As a keeper of Wilderness, i do like to share with you, if i can, the most beautiful sight i encountered this weekend, among many that is.
The lake still mainly frozen, had a crack running through the middle. In the morning the white pushed up ice, would catch the sunlight first.
When you were careful, one could still get onto the lake, finding a spot where the ice had not melted yet along the shore.
Walking on the ice was like walking on a brilliantly white desert, the pushed up ridge calling me,
Carefully, open water in an among the crack, in all colors of blue imaginable, with whites underneath the blue. The water mirroring the great mountains, striped black and white, tender greens and rusty reds and the blue, blue sky.
Caves and arches of ice with pools underneath. Candling ice, thin sheets of new ice.
Among mostly great white chunks, connected through the water, with the great white expanse.
looking into the clear ice of winter, cracked open, soft edges, washed by the water, air bubbles as diamonds frozen within.
And drinking this glorious water, a possible ancient drink, Kluane Lake fed by the Glaciers from the St. Elias range.