Below, someone has sculpted, from huge fallen pine logs, their name and the word "Quebec".
The people below are so small. The sound on the bridge is rumbling and powerful. I snap a few shots of the racing water, but the magnificent power heard in the rushing water can only be appreciated in person.
We make our way across the bridge and toward the 400 plus stair descent. The staircase is perched up on the rocks. It's steady legs imbedded in the granite. We begin to descend, and I snap pictures along the way of the ground supporting us, keeping us safe.
At the bottom, more beauty awaits. The sound of the crashing water is muffled, spreading out on it's descent as it pools into the inviting river. The sound is loud, but calm. Less aggressive. More peaceful. I take it all in: the falling water, the tourists, the two fly-fishermen perched on the rocks, like birds. They stand still, with the exception of gracefully casting their lines from time to time. What a beautiful way to meditate: surrounded by mother nature's greatness. Stillness in a storm.
For more photography and artwork, please visit me at www.emilygaudette.carbonmade.com
