It was mid September and the fall colors were beginning to peak, creating a brilliant contrast to the white bark of the birches. Since childhood I had read and dreamed about this area of the world, where life is simple, yet intense and passionate. We were about to embark on a journey that was full of unexpected surprises, the first of which came while making inquiries in Grand Marais. That is when I first learned that I was not only near the area I had dreamed of, but that we, in fact, were headed to the exact place! My mind reeled from the impossibility of it all! All the years that I read and reread my books, all the starry-eyed dreams, all the years of yearning, were only a step away! As we traveled along the winding roads, I soaked up every sight and sound. I was once again that starry-eyed child, and it was as if by magic I had stepped back in time.
We arrived at Gunflint Lodge in the evening, with just enough time to unload, shop a little at the trading post, and eat one of the best meals I've eaten in ages! The lodge was warm and cozy with a fire crackling in the lobby, which was adorned with Indian and Eskimo type relics and paraphernalia. The staff members were friendly and helpful. For some reason it was like coming home. The cabin we stayed in also was roomy, warm, comfortable and cozy, so it didn't take long for us to wind down from our long drive and fall into a deep sleep.
Next morning we awoke restless and eager to begin our four-day, three-night experience. The view from the window of our cabin showed a day full of promise and beauty! We were southern city-dwellers in a northern wilderness, searching, not for the best fishing spot, or the perfect place to pitch our tents, but rather, for something deep inside ourselves, something more than the eye could see. Our "call of the wild" lead us here to test ourselves against the elements of nature.
Filled with grand visions of moose and bears, wolves and giant fish, we all stood bundled by the lakeside equipping ourselves for the conquest ahead. Armed with enthusiasm, yet doubtful of our capabilities and the unfortunate possibilities, we slithered, heavily laden, into the water and paddled gung-ho across to the pass on the other side. It was as if we were passing through a time warp into another lifetime. The air was cool and the sky was overcast, bringing to mind a phrase from one of my "books" describing this lake as "gray satin." How appropriate and how real!
It didn't take long for the realization of our physical condition to become evident by way of our aching muscles. We finally reached a portage with a suitable spot to stop, and after clumsily carrying our things over the rocks and relocating them in the canoes, we settled down to a gourmet lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and punch. We couldn't have picked a better place, as the waterfall soothed us with its wild and passionate music. We were soon revived and satisfied, and we tumbled into our canoes and began again winding through the endless trail of lakes and portages.
Upon reaching our destination for the night, we quickly began the chores of setting up camp, finding wood for the fire, and starting supper. Carrying a 120# pack of food all day convinced us to change our menu schedule somewhat and begin with the heaviest food first. A heart-breaking decision, as this forced us to eat steaks and fried potatoes the first night. We all agreed we could live with that choice.
We warmed ourselves with a cup of mocha and watched hungrily as the steaks sizzled on the grill. The smoke wafted thru the air, swirling around our heads and advertising to the wilderness around us that man had invaded the territory again.
As evening arrived, a calm resignation set in and familiar forms turned into simple silhouettes, black against the flaming horizon, and we became a part of everything we saw. As the blackening forms stretched out and enveloped the world around us, the sad lonely call of a loon stirred some wild, indescribable emotion inside me and deepened the meloncholy mood, and drew out the desire to live as one with this untamed world.
Morning arrived cool and crisp. The sky was swirling with color and reminded me of the old saying, "red sky in the morning, sailors take warning."
Reviewing the previous day's portaging, and all the time spent setting up and breaking camp, we all agreed, over another meal of steaks, to forge ahead to the third night's destination and stay two nights there.
The second day we set out more relaxed and a lot more confident. We stretched our minds and our muscles to overcome the difficulties we encountered. At times we sheepishly, yet joyfully, braved the rapids and shot through narrow passages. Feeling like old pros, we childishly laughed and bragged. Every successful accomplishment was another notch in our mountaineer's belt. At times, the rapids were too shallow for our weight, so we disembarked and outwitted nature by leading our still loaded canoes through with a rope. We jumped and ran along the rocks onthe shore, keeping up with our canoes as they glided stealthily through the obstacles. We were very much like little children again, enjoying every turn life gave us, not knowing what lay ahead. Aside from a few wet shoes and a couple of humorous mishaps, our ventures were very successful. The only portage we actually had to make was a short one around a waterfall. We were courageous, but not stupid!
As we neared our destination for the night, we were tired physically more than we had been at any other point, for this was Devil's Elbow. It was appropriately named, as the wind whipped through so forcefully, stinging our eyes and burning our ears, that we could barely maneuver our canoes through one narrow pass. Time and time again we were blown toward the rocks. We poured all the strength we had left into paddling, lowered our heads against the onslaught, and forged ahead. Inch by inch we painfully worked our way out into the lake, freed from the devil's grasp at last!
By this time the sky had clouded over and promised rain, so we hastily made our way to shore and set up camp. This time there was no need for a wind screen, as this area was calm and shut off by the hills around us. It was a great place to camp for two nights.
Awakened during the night by some grunt or growl, my body froze. I was stiff and tingly all over. My husband whispered to me but no one spoke out loud. He bravely took the flashlight in hand and prepared to open the tent flap. As sleep left his mind, he reconsidered his decision and withdrew to lay quietly by me as we awaited some terrible ending to our lives. We listened as heavy footsteps moved through the campsite and the sound of crackling twigs told us the visitor was not interested and was moving away into the woods. Shortly afterwards, my brother-in-law built a small fire to intimidate whatever monster might be lurking in the dark. It took some time, though, as everything was wet from an earlier rain. Thanks goodness for fire sticks!
Next morning, feeling a little silly, we all relayed our versions of the story over the inevitable hot mocha. We ate what some might call pancakes. I'm not sure what I would call them. Some people need their cooking skills polished a little.
The rain eased up and we spent a leisurely day of fishing and playing rook. In the afternoon we wandered up the hill behind the camp area and came across a bluff where we got a breath-taking view overlooking the whole lake. the ground was carpeted with about six inches of moss, and we found what we identified as moose droppings. Maybe our visitor in the night had been the elusive moose after all, and not some ferocious bear or beast!
As the day drew on some of us braved the icy waters to take some semblance of a bath. My father-in-law slipped and took a little more of one than he planned. With very little daylight left, we repacked all our bags and arranged things for our early morning departure. We were determined to get away a little earlier than ten o'clock for a change. Finally, fighting the urge to stay up, we all climbed into our tents and drifted into a mindless slumber.
Morning came all too soon. Breakfast was hasty, and soon we were ready to leave. The mist swirled from the water like a dream. The sun shone behind the clouds, creating black silhouettes, framed by the golden water and gray sky. We slowly slid through the mist, not nearly as rapidly as we had begun our trip. The water was as calm as our spirits and we were hesitant to leave a world we would not soon see again.
We hurried through channels, across lakes and past bluffs. We tried to soak up as much of our surroundings as we could as we navigated between islands and through passes. This would be the last beaver, the last mink, the last loon that we would see or hear for years. Soon we were assaulted by the sounds of motorboats, voices and generally by the sounds of civilization again. Compared to the noisy silence of the wilderness, this all seemed so loud and annoying! We pushed hard and were nearing the Top of the Trail, our take-out point, when rain began to fall around us again. Huddled in our canoes wearing our ponchos, we tiredly rowed to the tiny beach that marked the end of our odyssey. The rest of the evening was a hurried schedule of loading and unloading, packing and unpacking. The meal at the lodge was divine compared to the cuisine we had become accustomed to in the past days. The luxurious cabin was a mansion compared to the primitive accommodations we had experienced. We came into this lodge tired, stressed out and programmed to respond to someone else's schedule for our lives. We emerged with a feeling of release and rejuvenation, and a new confidence in ourselves and our resources. Feeling tired, yet relaxed, stronger, yet humble in comparison to the vast and powerful wilderness around us, we easily slipped into a deep rest.
Once again morning came too soon and we hurried to pack for the long road home. We did a little local investigating and headed out. We traveled along the highway with the fall colors bursting everywhere. As we rambled around curves and over hills through the brilliant blazes of color, once more a familiar phrase from my book came to mind, referring to this highway as "a ribbon threaded through a loose-woven fabric in autumn colors."
We left, not with the sense of sadness or loss that was expected, but rather with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment and awe. For those in the busy cement cities who suffer from the "call of the wild," the north woods is home, a timeless life that tugs at your heart strings and captures your soul in a single visit; a feeling of de ja vou, somewhere you should have been all along; a place you belong--home!
Everyone in their lifetime has a dream or two, a fantasy tucked in some hidden cove within their heart. We reach out and yearn for things seemingly unobtainable. Dreams seem to be elusive and vanish in some imagined mist of reality, evaporating as you get nearer, leaving you sad and discouraged. I have seen my dreams. I have reached out and touched a reality from days past. I have connected with a fantasy that in spirit lives on. I have seen the reality of dreams come true. I have stood near and reached out, tenderly caressing each moment, each childhood vision, as if viewing from the sidelines of some dramatic play, rerunning the events in my mind. I have touched it and I believe. Dreams can become realities, Never give up on dreams! I have touched mine!
Comments or suggestions Email always welcome.