The inclination to mark places where "we've been" is as old as the human race. Such inclinations have led explorers to carve their initials on tree trunks or etch them on rock-faces in the hope that their discoveries wouldn't be forgotten. Unfortunately, for many explorers, their markings as well as their accomplishments have faded with the passage of time.

Of a more lasting nature are the stone landmarks constructed by the Inuit and other peoples, who inhabited the Arctic regions of North America. While the original purpose of those landmarks, commonly called Inuksuks, is unknown, one theory is that they were navigational markers that guided those early hunters over the immensity of a bleak and featureless landscape.

Many, very simple in design, are merely a jumble of rocks piled several feet over the bedrock. Others, involving a more careful selection of stones, might have been intended to represent 'themselves' as guardians over their land. In all likelihood, they marked special places which, quite possibly, were the sites of successful caribou hunts, the location of food caches or other activities essential to their survival. Regardless, of the reasons for their construction, their presence remain as the physical manifestation of a culture and of a way of life that has sustained a people over countless generations.

For that reason, their landmarks are often regarded as special places. That, most certainly, isn't unusual as all cultures profess to have their own special places. Unlike the simple Inuksuks, their monuments to mark such places are often magnificent in scale and design; places such as shrines and temples where pilgrims gather for physical or mental healing.

On a far lesser scale, most folks have their own special places which exist, more or less, as signposts as they age through the years. Such places, both spiritual and physical, are places where they can return, when they need to relax or put things in perspective.

Even for those who left 'Old Harbours' such as Tilting, never to return, special places often remain vivid in their memory. Then, far from home, they may wander over yesterday's trails to their favourite trout ponds and to berry-picking barrens where a family outing made a tedious task an enjoyable experience. Many, most likely, can recall the cool refreshment of spring water bubbling to the surface on the Cape Trail where, in the summer heat, their thirst was quenched on a tree-shaded hillside that beckoned weary travellers to take a rest.    

Special places are often shared with others; from the places we played as children, to where old fishermen gather to spin yarns and keep a watch over the sea. Capelin rolling ashore on rocky beaches, the cry of a loon over still waters and the casual trot of a fox as he crosses the meadow are reminders that nature constantly offers up something special.

Not all special places are meant to be shared. Rattles in a brook, below which, shaded by alders, are steadies where unfailingly, big trout rise, tempted by fly or a lure. Such places, of tranquility and solitude, anglers are inclined to keep secret, and are extremely disappointed when they see others in its vicinity.

Fortunately, our Island has a multitude of special places, so much so, that a walk on a wood's path or along a seashore trail, which would normally take an hour, often turns into a much longer outing. That isn't surprising as, along the way, hikers often linger to erect their own personal Inuksuks. One thing is certain; there will be plenty of special places to choose from.

Roy Dwyer