The Sacred Cedar Circle Tree
Bearcamp’s living altar.

Hidden deep if you are coming from the South, in the forest stands a cedar that refused to fall.
Struck—perhaps by lightning—its body bent, split, humbled by the elements.
But it remained.It was gently shaped to its fallen form, guiding branches into a natural arbor.
Now, it shelters a clearing—a chair to rest.This sacred tree is a mirror.Like us, it’s been struck and scarred.
It curved, but it did not collapse.
It bent, but it stood strong.“This is the end of the beginning.”
—Debbie

The Forest View – Northwest
This is where the sign stands at the front line…
where the trail shifts from clearing to deep woods.

• Next Lady's Slippers⬇️

The Lady's Slipper

She came back this summer more beautiful then ever....

Common Name: Queen’s Lady Slipper
Scientific Name: Cypripedium acauleThis photo shows the Lady’s Slipper that bloomed here at Bearcamp last spring, below. Unsure of her identity, I reached out to the Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry in Ontario. The kind woman I spoke to confirmed what I hoped: though this flower is not the protected Cypripedium reginae, she is indeed a sister in the same royal family.And truthfully — she was even more beautiful.No permits needed. No portal calls. Just protection in spirit — and a little shade.May she return again this year —
The queen not by name, but by presence.Reginae in her own way.

Last years Lady's

• Running Bear Creek

• Bearcamp to the top

Million Star Trek View

May 10:00 pm.
The night sky above Bearcamp — your Highway to the Stars.Jupiter, Venus, Mars, Saturn, the Moon…
all waiting above the quiet land below.

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RUNNING BEAR CREEK

End of the Trail

Bearcamp: raw, real, and rooted.
Step into the land’s challenge — a test of simplicity.

Built by nature, shaped by us.
Contact Bearcamp

Questions?
You're welcome to contact Bearcamp.Let the forest know you're coming.

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Keith O'Brien
"Old Forgotten Lore"

• ⏬ Press Play — Song

A song like no other. A time capsule in tone.
This melody carries the stillness of hearths long gone,
the hum of legacy, and the ache of memory that runs deep in the soil.
It is the voice of the grandparents, calling from a hill of stone.

About the Artist — Keith O’BrienKeith O’Brien is a contemporary Irish folk artist known for his heartfelt storytelling and evocative melodies. Originally from Kilkenny, Ireland, he began his musical journey with the Irish-language band Seo Linn, before branching into a solo career that reflects his deep connection to heritage and place.His debut solo release, “Old Forgotten Lore” (late 2023), is a tribute to ancestral memory — drawn from his Kilkenny roots and summers spent in the Gaeltacht of Galway, where he was immersed in Irish language and tradition. The official video was filmed on location in Kilkenny, capturing the spirit of old ruins, winding paths, and the soul of a homeland passed down.In 2024, Keith brought his voice overseas, launching a solo tour in New York and continuing to share modern Irish folk with international audiences.

To learn more or explore his music:

• 🔗 Keith O’Brien Music (Official Site)

• 🔗 Follow on Instagram

• 🔗 Listen on Bandcamp (Old Forgotten Lore)

Keith O'Brien – Old Forgotten Lore

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Some songs don’t just play — they remember.This one sings with the voice of ancestry.
It is a call to go home, even if you weren’t born there —
a pull deeper than memory, carried in the blood and bones.
It echoes through Celtic hills and the Scottish Highlands alike,
weaving a tapestry of longing and belonging,
of land and story, of loss and love."Old Forgotten Lore — is a return.
It’s for those whose roots run silent, but deep.
For those who miss people they’ve never met.
For those who know that land, story, and belonging live deeper than time.— Debbie from Northern, Ontario🎥 Video: (embedded above)

The Old ways“You’ve already done the work.
Now here’s the moment to honour it, she said.”

“Strings hum. Drums echo.
The forest tunes its breath to the warrior —
of old ways,
and of today.”

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Keith O'Brien ~ Birch Bark

The Flight of Five

• ⏬ Press Play — Birch Bark — Song

The Flight of the Five – Birch Tree

Four birds fly —
guardians of the unburned, unburied truth
rooted in the Birch Tree.They carry strength,
healing,
memory —
through to the hands of the violinist’s song.The one dove —
she sings as she flies
toward the child
by the Birch Tree,
a letter to his father —
a Birch Bark offering of long, long ago.

• ⏬ Press ~ Kieth O'Brien Paths of Home ~ website

• Keith O'Brien ~ Paths of Home

Castles in Ireland

• Castles in Ireland: 28 Most Impressive (+ Map)

• 1st page

🐾 The Wild Black Bear 🐾
Wild on Wild —
Laska, and Me

Today was a quiet space in time and atmosphere —
where your life scene slows down, then stops —
ripped open into an image held forever.We both saw it first —
a shadow near the ridge of the no-traffic highway,
just up the hill, not even halfway.
I focused in ahead — something was moving,
like a dream you almost don’t believe is real.A big black bear.
Wow.Silent. Still. Sitting. Enjoying his forest.
He had a huge, black, furry round face,
his whole body full, lush, healthy —
as rich as Manitoba soil.He knew this land.
It was his old Bear Pass Trail,
as it always had been from long long ago.“Laska, watch…”
A black bear, I called out,
with low excitement and serious caution —
trying to fumble find my iPhone,
no time.
Just experience.Laska was already there —
almost his whole body out the window,
ears up, alert.
The wild in him rising
to meet the wild.For a moment,
it was his scene more than mine.Him and the bear.
Wild on wild.He wanted out.Time stood still for all of us.
We rolled up slowly —
the bear looked out at us
until we were too close.Then — like a thunder bolt —
he turned, dashed into the ditch.Laska was right there —
his paws were running 40 km/h
hanging out the window.The black bear ran with joy —
ha ha, I am free to roam where I please —
and you will never catch me —
in my forest home.Now Laska holds it —
his speed he missed on the trail,
the scent,
and the bear that crossed into his way of life
to say hello, I see you.Giving us both
a keepsake memory
from the big black bear.To maybe one day,
he’ll meet the black bear again
on the Paths of Home —
on his forest trail.That’s Laska —
wild and free on the trails in the forest,
where the wild life roams
with the deer and the bears.

July 22, 2025.

Wild on the Scent – Laska Hot on the Trail

Coming back from town,
I let him loose —
to pick up the Bear trail.

He was running free
when it hit him —
like a ton of old root moss fur
sifting through his nose.
A scent so strong,
it gripped his bones.His nose lifted —
a compass needle drawn
by something ancient.
A smell he knew all too well.Straight and true,
he dove into the ditch.
He leapt — not missing a beat.
Sniffing hard, paws flying,
running the curve of the scent
like a lit fire on dry bark.Then — a sharp turn.
A leap back across the ditch.
His snout leading,
eyes locked ahead.The scent told him
what we never could:
The bear was there.
His scent etched, lingering.Right where he stands in the photo —
that was the first mark.
The crossing.The place the bear had stepped,
long before we arrived.
The same bear we saw
sitting in the tall grass
on our way to town —
sitting on the other side
of the road watching us roll up.But now,
Laska had found him —
his trail,
his signature,
his living presence still fresh
in the summer air.Two wild hearts,
crossed in time —
their message carried
on the invisible line
of scent and silence.The wild’s message,
on their paths to home.

🌲🐾🌲  🌲🐾🌲🌲🐾🌲  🌲🐾🌲
Laska’s Trail leads to —
The Porcupine & Pilers
— To Be Continued 🐾   🐾   🐾
🌲🐾🌲  🌲🐾🌲
🐾

It was on this very road — coming down from the top of the hill, heading back from town after another grocery run — about a block up from the Bear Pass photo with Laska.Laska’s nose stopped him dead in his tracks.
One quick body-plunge shift — and down into the ditch he leapt, heading straight toward a big old porcupine just minding his own business.Yes… well. Let’s just say Laska was over-ready to investigate.
But this wasn’t just any porcupine moment.Earlier that same day, Ian had crossed paths with the very same travelling porcupine on one of his walks. He sent me a photo — and yes, it’s him.You can’t make this up. Ha ha.
What are the odds — in the middle of nowhere — Ian sees the same porcupine?But what happened next — that part wasn’t so funny.I had heard the stories.
So many people had told me the porcupine tales —
dogs with quills in their mouths, stuck deep, in pain.
Emergency vet visits. Tears. Bills. Long nights.And then… it happened to Laska.It was seriously terrible — more for me than for him.
Because I knew.
I’d already seen it play out in other people’s lives.
Now it was my turn.The story to follow…

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