Retrospect: the graveyard

Self-tutoring about past events: the tutor reflects…

As I mention in yesterday’s post, exploring the forest was important to me as a kid. I had a little motorbike, of course, so venturing miles away was easy.

One time a friend of mine told me he’d found a graveyard in the woods, miles back from our houses. I didn’t doubt him, yet his claim seemed hard to believe: I hadn’t heard of a graveyard deserted in the forest. I thought on it: he told me we’d go soon.

A few days later we headed out on our motorbikes. We crossed the new highway into truly foreign country, then continued.

Though the area seemed remote, its trails were well-worn. They were all new to me, and I wondered how well my friend knew them. Yet, he’d the “hometown advantage”: he’d always lived there, while I’d only been there a couple of years. Therefore, it seemed sensible enough that, somehow, he was familiar with the place even though no-one I knew had mentioned it before.

On a gentle hill, my friend coasted to a stop. I could see headstones to the right of the trail. Just as likely a person wouldn’t notice them unless they were on foot. They were grey and blended very well into the landscape.

Like everywhere else behind our houses, the land was mainly forest, interrupted randomly by clearings. The graves were in a grove of tall maples; the trail passed by them through a clearing. I believe that day must have been spring or fall, because I recall lots of leaves about on the ground, but the trees bare of them. In spring, it was warm out for a few weeks before the trees would get leaves in the Maritimes.

We left our motorbikes and approached the graves on foot. The names and years were easily legible. Seemingly, there weren’t many graves – a few dozen at most were apparent. However, I realized that, as we went further back, the forest was darker and thicker; perhaps many more graves were there, covered by the forest.

Numerous of the occupants had died young, just as you’d imagine among pioneers. I seem to recall dates like 1874 or 1901 – the latest we saw may have been 1913.

Not eerie, but solemn, is how I’d describe the mood there. Although leaves rustled along the ground now and again, the place was intensely quiet. It was hard to imagine anyone else visiting. You couldn’t drive a car there, and it seemed remote from any settlement. The place was surprisingly neat and tidy, but I wondered if that was because no one ever went there, rather than because someone kept it that way.

We left a few minutes later and, as two people, never returned. I returned by myself one time. The sun, I seem to recall, came and went that day, playing shadows across the ground. Sorrow and curiosity gripped me.

I sought the remains of a church or even a fence or driveway, trying to understand how the graveyard had been established originally. To my recollection, I found none – just the headstones in their quiet resting place.

Sometimes I wonder if I could find that site again. I don’t imagine the area has changed much. I wonder, since then, how many kids have walked among those headstones, trying to understand the lives of those named.

Jack of Oracle Tutoring by Jack and Diane, Campbell River, BC.