I met the previous Mystic of Cascadia when I was five years old. We were camping at Willowa Lake. I was with my mom at the campground’s store, looking at the small selection of toys they had and my mom was on the other side of the store looking at tourist type crap. An Indian man approached me. He looked like he was two-hundred years old, so I asked him, “Are you two-hundred years old?” “Two-hundred and three to be exact, ” he replied. I could tell from his totally seriousness on his face that he was telling the Truth.

“Would you like to see some fish?” he asked. I nodded yes, and he reached out and grabbed my hand, and then walked me out the door. We walked to where a bridge goes over the Willowa river. He walked to the edge of the bridge, looking over into the water, “Do you see the salmon?”

I joined him on the edge of the bridge, looked over, and saw all the salmon spanning he was referring to. “This is the cycle of life. Do you understand?” Oddly enough I did. The salmon we swimming up stream to create the salmon that would swim down stream, and eventually come back up stream so the cycle could be repeated.

“So it is with all things that live. Remember this as you get older, it will be of great help to you.” I didn’t really understand, but nodded my head like I did, not wanting to appear stupid. With this he smiled at me, turned and walked away. There I was on the bridge, all alone, and feeling the pull of the river to suck me in. I started crying and a couple teenage girls came to my rescue. My mother soon later found me in our tent with the girls trying to console me with balloons. My mom was to relieved to have found me to get mad at me. And that was the end to my first, and by no means last, encounter with the Mystic of Cascadia.