Fifth Journey Day 10: Weight of Sky

Date: May 18, 2025
Location: Inuvik, Canada

I walked the Boot Lake Trail this afternoon. It felt like entering a space full of silence and distance. The short black spruce trees stood out against the pale sky, their strange shapes softened by tufts of snow and patches of green moss just beginning to wake up. Every step I took felt like an intrusion, and the soft crunch of my boots on the frozen ground was somehow too loud. The air here is sharp and clear. It is clean, cold, and simple.

There was no sound except for the wind blowing through the thin branches and the occasional quiet creak of thawing ice. It was strange, but it felt good to be in a place where nothing stood out, where every form seemed happy to just be there. I found myself walking slowly, stopping often to sketch trees, broken twigs in the snow, and long shadows on the uneven ground.

At one point, I got down low to the moss, which felt like velvet under my fingers. It felt like finding a quiet resilience. The light patterns changed a little bit with each passing cloud, making the same path seem new again every few minutes.

I thought about the word "austere" as I walked. This land doesn't try to charm or seduce; it exists with a simple, unapologetic style. But I felt a surprising sense of connection in that honesty. There was no excess. There is no need to explain.

As I returned toward the trailhead, the sun dipped slightly, casting long streaks of silver and blue across the open flats. I stopped one last time to take a breath. Everything was huge, but now it was all broken into little pieces. And those pieces had the whole story in them.

The cold followed me all the way home.