Just a little north of Elliot Lake, my hometown, there's a place called Dunlop Lake.

When I was little, my father built a houseboat, and he launched in on Dunlop Lake. We spent a lot of time there while I was growing up...fishing, camping, canoeing, and just watching the beaver and the moose play. Sounds pretty dull, eh?

Anyway, out in the middle of Dunlop Lake, there's an island...it's not much, as islands go, but it's still kinda pretty. Since the Algoma Region, where Elliot Lake is dead smack in the centre of the Canadian Shield, you're likely to find a lot of rocks. It's as if the earth's bones stick out from beneath its skin....which is pretty thin up there.

This island is really just a big ole rock, with a little top soil, and some scrawny pine trees, gripping their roots into the earth, and struggling to survive. The only really good thing about the island was that there used to be wild blueberry patches out there, down by the water, nestled in amongst the rocks...and even better...NO BEARS to eat them!

It was my father's habit, when he was out fishing on the lake, to drop by the island, and sometimes, pick berries. On one occasion, my father took his father, who was up visiting us, to the island for a guided tour. All would have been well, but the menfolk had been indulging in some white rum (Captain Morgan's, no doubt, unless my father's taste in alcohol changed substantially in the years to come)...and Grandpa was somewhat in his cups, and none too steady on his feet, as a result.

As the boat docked, and my Grandpa Tom went ashore, he lost his footing suddenly, and landed in a blueberry patch. Needless to say, my father found this endlessly amusing, and my grandfather didn't. Henceforth, the island became known, at least in our family, as Grandpa's Island.

As children, my brother and I were fond of spending time on the water at Dunlop Lake. We learned to swim early, and enjoyed boating. It was our habit, in the early morning, to slip out of camp, commandeer my Dad's canoe, and head out onto the lake. We shared the space with beaver, and loon, and even the occasional moose, although they normally saw us coming, before we saw them.

Once in a while, we would head out to Grandpa's Island, although had our mother known of our grand adventure, I wouldn't be here telling you this story now. I loved to sit on the rock at the water's edge, and gaze out across the lake, back the way we'd come. It seemed impossibly far, my spot on the rock a remote and secluded place, where I could speculate about the world, and sometimes, my place in it.

During those times, I would realise with a lazy, dawning horror, how small and insignificant I was, how large the world around me. And in those moments too, I realised that I was never happier than I was at that moment, in the still of the morning...sharing those moments with my younger brother. We were never closer.

Grandpa's island is distant from me now, in both time and place. But, in the quietest times, I can still go there, and look out over the lake, considering how large the world, and how small I am. I can recapture those moments with my brother, the camaraderie, and the tranquillity of a summer morning. I can still see the muslin mists drifting away across the water.

This is the place to which I escape when the world gets a little too loud, when my troubles become a little too overwhelming. This is my spiritual centre. This is Stella! Rock.

And so, my friend, if I invite you to share a moment with me on Stella! Rock, know that I value your friendship and your company. Spend a few quiet moments with me there. Together, we will consider how large the world, and how wonderful all the things that are in it. Most of all, we will appreciate one another

...in peace and friendship
Yvonne