Haibun Today

A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 4, Number 4, December 2010

Bruce Ross
Bangor, Maine, USA


The Gull's Cry

We are soaked through on our first hike, the last section of the International Appalachian Trail that skirts a long promontory above the Atlantic at the end of Gaspé Peninsula. You could hike from Key West continuously to that point on established trails. The Appalachians, the oldest mountain chain, begin in the Deep South, get to this point, dip into the ocean, onto Newfoundland, another dip, touch down in the British Isles, dip again, and finally rise in Norway. We push up the inclines and avoid the muddy hollows. The overlooks are thick with fog and not another soul on the trail. We are drenched with sweat. A far cry from our hike here several years before in perfect summer weather with the trail’s end clustering with people. We weren’t expecting more than to reach trail’s end and turn around, the flora leached of color, the fauna probably keeping dry. I thought at first it was a warning but perhaps more a bit of a rebuke.

a gull’s cry
browsing on the point
young black bear


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