So many Minnesotans (and others) cherish the BWCA. Many have memories like my childhood friends Jen Pierson and Beth Peterson, and my siblings and I, and now our children, have. Of that one portage-too-many, thats ten rods too long -- as measured by the whining. Or the time Mom ran out of the lake where she was bathing screaming about a leech while we just sat there snickering and not sure how to look, let alone get the salt to her. And then theres the furtively strategized attempts to sneak through the forest and scare the crap (forgive me) out of our oldest sister while she sat atop the raised wooden latrine deep in the island brush. Then Dad, swearing under his breath while untangling our fishing rods, again. Or screaming Dig! Dig! while we paddled our arms numb to survive what seemed to a kid, like Niagara Falls-sized rapids. All pale, somehow, to the lessons that stick in so many small ways. About how entertaining--if futile--an afternoon trying to catch tadpoles with your hands can be. Or how small you can feel, yet so connected to it all, when all you have seen for miles and days are lakes, trees and their natural inhabitants. And, speaking of which, or puzzling for hours over why that one tree on the horizon--its no different than the rest, is it? Still manages to be taller than all the others. Or how you can carry all that you really need to survive in a backpack, and if you need more, well then its on you to suffer your own sore back--your choice. And how to navigate by the direction of the sun. Or what the bottom of a lake really looks like---when it is unpolluted---a kaleidoscope of gemstones, that somehow lose their spectacular color when you dare try to capture their magic by lugging them back home (Youd be surprised how much weight just a handful of very special stones can add to a backpack. Or is that guilt youre carrying, for stealing them?). And what it really means to go easy on the garbage, not only because its the right thing to do, but also--and lets face it, herein is why youll remember to: because youll have to portage it back to civilization, too. (As if there were anything more civilized than a quiet island over which planes never fly, but loons and eagles and so many other feather-winged things coast, dive and soar). Now like so many pristine places, the Boundary Waters long protected miles of sanctuary are threatened. So when I ran across this beautiful website, I thought Id share it with any/all who share similar memories--or just wish to be a part of the human resources who care enough to do something to save a dwindling natural place for future eagles and fish and leeches and bears--and maybe a few homo sapiens wholl care, too, when they visit. I know I do.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 23:57:57 +0000
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