An amazing story in the scientific world emerged recently when scientists reported they had discovered a new species of miniature humans that lived 12,000 years ago. It’s not that long, by archeological measure.
It led them to the “tantalizing conclusion,” said the Globe and Mail, “that other species of humans – dead or alive, big or small – could still be hiding on Earth.”
Are there places never explored where species unknown might dwell? Never say never. In fact, I’d like to believe there are places where so-called civilized man has never been. Yet I’m a bit more skeptical since a journey I took with my dad some years ago.
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Our destination was a mountain lake thus far seen only from the air. We set out early, taking a four-wheel-drive to the base of the Livingstone Range on the eastern slopes of the Rockies. Where the semblance of a road ended, we unloaded an ATV and started up.
We zigged and we zagged, around rocky outcroppings and tree stands too narrow to negotiate. We rode up and backtracked down to find a passable way.
We saw bear sign on a tree trunk and deer and elk droppings among the pine needles. We traversed an impossible hummocky bog, with moguls three feet high surrounded by brackish water.
At long last, when the iron carrier bars on the back of the ATV had impressed my nether region almost beyond bearing, we could go no further.
Thick trees blocked the upward progress and a rocky crevice with a gushing rivulet forced a halt.
So we hiked, through country describing every shade of green: emerald, forest, teal, moss, lime and all the gradations in between. Magical.
We came shortly upon a clearing, in which nestled the most beautiful, pristine lake, a jewel tucked into forest primeval.
The tops of the mountains seemed close enough to touch, reflected as they were in the blue-green of the glacial water. This was the source of the freshet we had encountered below. This was where the Oldman River, and all the life it gives, began.
We feasted our senses as long as common sense allowed, keeping in mind the journey home. On the way back to the ATV, I knelt at the gushing and gurgling creek to taste this freshest of waters.
Eons of flow through this peaceful, untouched place had carved out a small pool about the size of a washbasin.
As I cupped my hands and brought the icy water to my lips, I looked down to the pool’s worn boulder of a bottom.
And saw a rusty Coke can.
![Protesters crowd a street carrying signs that read, "Global warming real. In other news, water is wet," and "Stop denying the [blue painted pic of the Earth] is dying."](https://static.producer.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/29145152/158171_web1_2019-10-18T222818Z_1221762151_RC14C26A65A0_RTRMADP_3_CLIMATE-CHANGE-THUNBERG-1200-220x165.jpg)
