Medicine Walk: Chapter 9 Summary & Analysis

The next morning, Eldon is feverish. When the kid shows concern, Eldon says there’s nothing he can do—his liver is shutting down. The kid cleans and cooks three more trout then readies the horse and starts packing up camp. He lays the saplings and boughs from the lean-to in the woods. His father asks why, and the kid explains it’s respectful to leave things as you found them. His father denies that anything can ever be left as you found it, and the kid says he would know. More words bubble beneath the surface, but he says nothing more.

As they head out of camp, his father again struggles to get comfortable on the mare. He says that Ojibways historically aren’t horse-oriented. The kid keeps an eye out for cougars as they travel. When he spots a bobcat print and wants to point it out to his father, he sees that Eldon is already slumping in the saddle. He has a smell of moldering leaves. At this thought, the kid can’t suppress a lump in his throat, even though the emotion angers him.

The trail climbs upwards for the rest of the morning. At midday, they rest among a clump of pines. The kid makes a paste out of mushrooms, greens, and berries, which he serves to his father on a stick. Reluctant initially, Eldon is surprised how good it tastes. The kid tells him how the old man taught him to gather plants. The old man used to say it’s important to spend time gathering what you need to keep you strong. He called that a medicine walk.

They sit silently, smoking, his father drinking a little and looking at the trees. After a while, the kid says he wants to take his father to a place worth seeing nearby. There are symbols painted on the rock; the old man took him there and explained it was sacred. He promises to lug his father up there to see it, and while Eldon thinks it sounds like too much work, the kid says sometimes a person doesn’t know what they need until they see it.

Eldon calls him a philosopher, and the kid says that’s not true. Thoughts just come to him sometimes when he’s out on the land. Eldon says he never had a mind for anything like that; his back got him through. When the kid adds, “and the hooch,” his father glares and tells him not to judge. But the kid says he’s just watching; he doesn’t know what he’s seeing yet. He’ll let Eldon know when he figures it out. He puts out the fire and helps his father into the saddle.

They make their way up a narrow path. The forest is thinner up here, and soon the path grows steep. At last they reach a narrow ledge. The kid secures the horse and guides his father up the trail, holding onto his belt. They stop frequently so Eldon can catch his breath. Eventually, they reach another ledge in front of a flat cliff. The kid eases Eldon down. When Eldon looks up, his mouth drops open in awe. The kid sits beside him. They look at the symbols—painted birds, animals, stars, and other beings covering the entire wall, 20 feet up. At last, Eldon tells the kid to take him closer. He rests his hand against the wall and asks what they mean. The kid figures they’re stories about people’s lives. It doesn’t bother him that they’re a mystery—sometimes that’s the only way it can give you anything.

The kid asks Eldon if he ever learned any “Indian stuff.” He sinks down against the wall and says no. He was always busy trying to survive, and stories didn’t seem to contribute to that. The kid says he always wanted to understand more about where he came from. He used to sit here all the time, thinking the pictures held some clue. Even when they didn’t, he figured somebody should try to understand the pictures—it seemed like everyone else had forgotten. He adds that he isn’t sure why he brought his father here—maybe it was just for himself. His father takes a drink of whisky and says maybe it was.