Access to this beautiful park was closed when I travelled east, unsure when I'd be back that way. As I picked my way through the heavy construction of the Ontario highway crews twinning the blacktop east of Thunder Bay, the Green Sign God pointed me toward a memorial. My eyes glanced upward, across the oncoming traffic limping through the roadworks. I saw something. A flash of something, high above the granite cliffs that had been blasted out of the sloping Superior coast to make the road bed. It was just a glimpse. I was not even sure what I had seen, but it put a lump in my throat and choked me up. I got goose bumps. Then I was past.
Weeks later, indeed, I found myself heading west, across the same stretch of highway, now smooth and freshly lined. The workers had done themselves proud. The further behind I put Nipigon, and the nearer I came to Thunder Bay, the more frequent the cliffs and the sense of the big peninsula creating The Lakehead Harbour, and the more determined I became that I would visit this park. It had left a sense in me. Nobody had recommended this place. I had past easily thousands of signs along my 15,000 kilometer journey enticing me in to visit, taste, view, stop, buy, and sleep. I had learned to ignore the promotional media along the road. But this was different. 
The first time I had driven through a wave of something. I remembered. And I wanted to get closer, and see it with my own eyes. Truly, I was drawn.
So, I took the exit. The new entrance way gracefully circled me around the park, and up a gentle slope to a most beautifully groomed park and interpretive centre. People had dogs, threw frisbees, looked at the sea. Mostly, they just spoke quietly and stopped for a few minutes, (not many stayed long) to bask in the ominous presence created there.
click on the images to take a closer look
