Leave No Trace

A short, short story, written after seeing a sign at Whitefish Point.

Margie wrapped her red fall coat tighter around her shoulders and chest as she left the shelter of the car and began the meandering walk down to the beachfront.  She could hear the waves’ steady whisper long before she saw the water and knew that Lake Superior was acting in its usual cantankerous self in November.  Her pace quickened at the thought of seeing the broad expanse of water again and her gritty footsteps created a soft-shoe whisper on the sand blown onto the boardwalk.

She walked past the outbuildings, the lighthouse, the museum without much more than a glance.  She had visited them often enough in the past that they held little interest for her anymore.  Today she was here for the water, the wind, and the loneliness.  She walked past the sign that was newly posted: PLEASE RESPECT OUR RULES"1. No ATVs allowed.  2.  All animals must be kept on a leash.  3.  No climbing on the dunes.  4.  Leave no trace.  She smiled faintly at that and kept walking.

It had been a year since she had been here last and not much had changed from what she could see.  She passed the last few tufts of the long-bladed, pale-as-straw grass and felt the force of a northern wind hit her straight in the face as she walked out onto the beach.  She paused for a moment, just breathing in that wild, cold air and looked around her.

There was a massive, flat barge out in the middle of the water, too far away for her to see any sign of life on it.  The cobblestone beach was empty and she felt a sense of relief at that.  Better for her to think about what she had to think about this way.  The driftwood lay strewn from end to end of the visible shoreline like massive deposits of some ancient animals’ bones.  Margie walked over to one particularly large assortment and crouched down to marvel at its similarity to a cow’s skull.  With the trailing bits of log behind it, it resembled some mythological beast, come here to die.  She jerked at the thought and stood up abruptly, wiping the hair out of her eyes.

She looked out at the water, then, and felt the familiar hypnotic effect take over.  Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh the waves murmured, almost under her feet, as she stood transfixed.  The barge had silently passed across her line of vision and was heading out towards open water. The whitecaps curled over on themselves again and again and she thought suddenly of pictures they had taken of this place before.  Those waves were captured forever on film but here, they were constantly recreating themselves.  Gone forever, yet eternally visible.  A gust of icy wind blew her sideways and she began walking into the power of it, letting it keep her upright as she struggled her way along.

Last year, there had not been so much wind.  The act she had committed then was easy"just a flick of the wrist.  She could not imagine repeating the steps of that day with a wind blowing like this.  The wind was good, though.  Margie appreciated the way it took her breath away, left her slightly off-center and alert. 

The spot where she had stood last year was just off to her right.  She could feel it looming there like some black hole, yet to anyone else it would be no more than another spot of pebbled beach.  She stiffened her spine and walked with more determination towards it. She squinted out towards the water one more time and realized that the barge had completely disappeared now, off to its business on some other shore.  Margie stopped when she reached her destination and looked down.  Just here she had stood, with a few tears sticking to her skin, and done what he had asked of her.  She could feel the metal cold in her hands once again, hear the grating as piece rubbed against piece.  She remembered looking out at the water as she made the wide arc with her arm.  She couldn’t bear to watch it all be swept away.

Margie looked down now, almost in apprehension of what she might see.  She knew it was ridiculous to expect something"four seasons had come and gone; the power of this place was too much for a bit of gray ash.  She searched the flat, polished bits of granite around her, but they were shiny and clean.  No, there was nothing left.  She sighed heavily and whispered a farewell.