Photographed by Spike Gralewski

]]> http://markingtime4now.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/nature-boy-and-the-mennonites/ Tue, 22 Sep 2009 20:08:29 +0000 Mark Nielsen http://markingtime4now.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/nature-boy-and-the-mennonites/

I decided that I needed an idea for some easier blog posts.  I didn’t want to think so much all the time.  So I thought I would start a series about “five”.  Most likely, these would be five favorites in some category, but not necessarily.  If you decided to reply to any of these posts, you might include your five, as well.

I gave ordinary spouse the task of coming up with the first topic, and she gave me a choice: either five foods (if I wanted something easy) or five places.  I’ll do the foods eventually, but since I’ve sort of touched on those before, I’ll start with five favorite places.  So here we go…

1) The Appalachian Mountains of western Pennsylvania, western Maryland, and West Virginia

I grew up there.  Now I can’t get back enough.

Since this is my list, I’m going to define this place broadly.  Otherwise, I’d need to take up multiple spots in my list.  Laurelville would probably show up at number one.  And I’d need to make room somewhere for Savage River State Forest in Maryland.  This way, however, I can put those two together, and sweep in some other places like Deep Creek Lake, Rocky Gap, and Canaan Valley, as well.  And while I’m at it, I can give an honorable mention to the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia.

2) Central Florida and the Florida Keys

Here I go, doing things broadly again.  When I was young, my family made a trip to Florida approximately every three years.  Two of these trips included extended stays while my father was on sabbatical leave from his teaching position.  I have especially fond memories of our time there in 1983.  Highlights include collecting shells on Sarasota beaches; collecting shark teeth on Venice beaches; watching the Pittsburgh Pirates in training camp in Bradenton*; visiting Jungle Gardens, also in Sarasota; snorkeling with a shark, eating shark steaks, and getting pinched by a blue crab, all in the Keys; and, of course, Walt Disney World**.

I have not spent an extended amount of time in Florida since 1983 (yikes – 26 years ago!), so this is all in my memory.  I wonder how I’d experience all of these things now.

* I have an autograph for every player on the 1983 Pirates roster.  While we were there, I was upset that I could never find Enrique Romo to get his autograph.  Later, though, I found out that he never reported for training camp and was cut by the team.  It had a “Whoa – I was there” moment when I looked at Wikipedia today, and it said basically the same thing.

** I know, I know – it’s all commercial, big business, blah, blah, blah.  It’s still one of my favorite places on earth.

3) The Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota

I’ve been to the Boundary Waters once for a week with a group from my congregation in Ann Arbor.  The place defines ‘tranquil’ for me, in every sense of the word.

4) The glacially-impacted areas of Michigan and northern Indiana

I debated about this one.  I really don’t care for that incredibly gloomy season that comes between winter and spring here.  It just seems to last forever.  On the other hand, if you ask me what comes to mind when you say “autumn”, then I’d say “tromping over moraines in the woods at Au Sable“.  Beautiful.

5) The Bay Area in California

Muir Woods, Mt. Diablo, green hills in spring, California cuisine (whatever that is), and crazy people wearing flowers in their hair.

On Friday morning, I sent Joey an email that contained something to the effect of:

“What do you think of going backpacking over Labor Day, because if I don’t get out of Dodge and see some nature, I THINK I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST.”

The response to said email was quite positive.  In fact, Joey said that not only should we do it, but I should be in charge of finding the location for us to do a mini backpacking trip.  I was all over it, ya’ll.  I was on the website for Texas state parks looking for ones nearby with walk-in primitive sites, I was looking for spots in Arkansas, and I was checking out Oklahoma.

What we’re looking for is not easy to find, nor probably normal.  We’re looking for Boundary Waters-type seclusion that’s close to Texas and backpack friendly.

It’s like looking for jeans for The Kid at Kohls – it just ain’t gonna happen (because they carry all the wrong sizes and The Kid is really picky).

And so, as we were driving home from church today, Joey said, “Well, what about Ouachita…how far away is that?”

“Four hours,” I told him.

I’d been looking for places that were about 2 hours away, so we’d get to maximize our outdoor exposure while minimizing our carbon footprint.

We had a route all planned out for Ouachita for our cancelled Memorial Day trip, and we’ve both been itching to do it.  It was so awful; back in May we had our packs all loaded and ready to go because we had been taking walks with them to get used to the way they felt.  One afternoon, the week following my surgery, I heard Joey unzipping everything and putting it away…just when we should have been gearing up to go.  But, as I recall, on Memorial Day weekend I was doing good to stand up straight for one minute together, so backpacking was most definitely out of the question.

As we whizzed down 75, our collective blood pressure shot up at the thought of potentially getting to go to the Ouachita after all. (And after all we’ve been through this summer!) So, the minute we walked in the front door, Joey pulled out the backpacking route file (yes, we have one) and whipped out the trail we had selected.  ”If we go here, there’s lots of reliable water and we could easily go in a day and then come out a day, too,” he said.

I stared at the map and the sites we had marked along the Kiamichi River.  He had sold me, but I couldn’t let him know it that quickly.

“Look it up on Google Maps,” I said.

Sure enough, 4 hours.

“If we went to be super early on Friday night, and got up at 4 on Saturday, we could probably be there in decent time and have a good day’s hike,” Joey suggested.

“Sold,” I said.  ”Let’s go to REI to restock the trail bars and Clif Rope we ate in Mexico.”

I really hope nothing happens to me to force us to cancel this trip.

And I absolutely CANNOT WAIT to get on the trail and splash through a few river crossings and get wet-footed in my Tevas.  There is nothing like hiking with freshly wet feet from crossing a creek, or portaging a canoe.  I’d rather be portaging, but when we live this far from the Boundary Waters, I’ll take the Ouachita Trail, thank you very much.

Shhhhh – what do you hear? The fans blades turning? The hum of an electric motor? The birds, planes, and other outside noises?

Listen even harder. How about – your own thoughts? We live in a plugged in, turned on world. Noise always has to be in the background – ipod, TV, mp3, radio, some soundtrack to go along with your life. But what if life was the soundtrack? And your thoughts and ideas? Wishes and dreams? Fantasies and ideals? What if you spent some of the time just listening to what YOU have to say to yourself. Or to the world. The first step is to tune into yourself.

These days that appears to be disappearing. My Assistant Scoutmaster told me he doesn’t like swimming laps because it’s boring. Boring? You are alone with your thoughts for however long you are in the pool. How can that be boring?

I just spent a week with my Boy Scouts in the boundary waters, one of the last pristine wilderness areas in the continental US. No electronics, just us, our canoes and paddles. Not even the noise of a plane overhead. It was glorious, because my senses weren’t distracted or overloaded. They were there to absorb and enjoy all that nature provides.

Find some time to unplug, to rest your ears and work your mind. To dream and to scheme. You’ll find it a great opportunity to learn, to discover, to invent, and to be at peace with yourself. And won’t even have to worry abou the volume level. Shhhh!

There were so many alternates I wanted to title this post. The Wilderness. Whitecaps on Poplar. Adventure Canoeing. That was one of my favorites, care of J. And more that I have since forgotten.

We spent 3 nights in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Wilderness earlier this month. I wouldn’t call myself the outdoorsiest girl in the world, but Nate convinced me last year that if I could handle a few days in the woods a mile from the car on the lake in Door County, I could handle dropping into the Boundary Waters. He’s been there a handful of times before, but this was my first experience.

We paddled in on Poplar Lake with friends J and C on Wednesday, and it was a beautiful day. Not too hot, pretty calm, sunny. We portaged twice, doused ourselves in bug spray after the first where we were swarmed by mosquitoes, finally settling into a campsite on Caribou Lake, two lakes into the BWCAW. We were shooting for Horseshoe Lake, one more portage away, but after traveling on foot and canoe for a couple of hours we were wanting to get settled.

We settled into it pretty quickly. I found myself surprised every time I would see other people out there. There certainly weren’t many, though. There were a few other occupied campsites on our lake, and every so often I would see another canoe out on the lake, someone passing through or out fishing. The only sound other than the birds and wind was the occasional jet 40,000 feet above us. And sometimes the whisper of someone’s voice across the lake. It was so quiet. And that’s a rule, they tell you not to yell. We joked that we’d get kicked out of the wilderness if we got too rowdy.

Over the following days, we did some fishing. Neither Nate nor I caught anything, although I hooked a big ol’ Northern, but lost it inches from Nate’s net. Oh well. J was the most persistent fisherman, and managed to nab 2 walleye and a good sized bass that we ate the last night we were there. And they were delicious. Nate and I saw a moose standing at the shore of the lake as we paddled one day, with her two calves. There were loons too, we saw a few, and heard many more. We drank coffee and a bit of wine that we packed in, ate fancy camping food, made many jokes about snacks and napping, laughed alot, got crabby, got sunburned even though I wore a ton of sunblock, finished a book, and I, for one, fell even more in love with these two friends of mine. I miss them terribly now, my day just doesn’t seem whole without them in it.

The whole experience was so relaxing and so challenging at the same time. We sat and looked at the lake a whole lot, settling into a comfort with each other that was so lovely. We battled mosquitoes that came in swarms, escaping them by paddling out in the lake during the day, but steeling ourselves for them when we had to walk into the woods to do dishes or brush teeth at dusk. Laying in the tent at night you could hear them, a steady whine just inches away, trying trying trying to get in. There was frustration as the fish refused to bite, and the bear bag that we hung just wasn’t in a good place, nor high enough, and we hoped that we wouldn’t have to find out if it would actually do its job. The wind blew, it rained a little bit, and the wind blew some more.

But the paddle out was the most challenging experience of the whole time. Harrowing, is more like it. We were pushed, literally, by mother nature, close to our breaking point. It was windy that morning. The mediumish lake that we’d camped on was a bit choppy as we paddled to the first portage. Liz Lake, small and narrow, was better. But as we emerged from the woods after the second portage, to larger Poplar Lake where we’d entered, we could see the whitecaps out past the little bay, and our hearts sank. This was going to be hard.

As we were gearing up to face the onslaught, a guy passed us on the portage. He was solo, just himself, his pack, a canoe, and some paddles. Not only am I so amazed that people can do the BW solo, but he was going out on that lake on his own. I wished him luck, and he replied, “It’s all in your attitude.”

When we turned that first corner, Nate and I were scared. I could hear it in his voice, which scared me even more. We weren’t pointed into the waves quite right, and hit those swells a bit broadside and rocked the canoe a few times. We really thought we might dump it. Luckily, we didn’t. We all stopped a few times in the leeward calm of islands and peninsulas to regroup and rest. What should have been a 45 minute paddle took us an hour and 45 minutes. I worried that at some point the granola bar and beef jerky that I’d eaten to fortify myself for the trip would run out and my energy would just be gone. But we kept paddling. And I kept reminding myself that it’s all in the attitude. Just keep paddling.

We made it, windburned, exhausted, but with all of our gear and ourselves dry and safe. And that relief, that joy, above all the fear and anger at the wind, felt so so good. We were pushed to the edge, but having conquered the challenges, especially that paddle out, made us feel so strong, and grateful. The trip was certainly a success, in more ways than I can count. They say something happens to you when you’re on your own in the wilderness. Now I know that that’s true.

You can see the whole set of photographs, not including film which isn’t yet developed, here.

We came to Minnesota on the wrong week. The sunny, 70-80 degree weather that greeted us in Ely turned into rainy, 50 degree weather dropping into the 40s at times. It rained and rained, and the winds were high enough to make paddling very labored and unpleasant. We eventually came back to town a few days early with the hope that a few extra days in badlands national park and glacier would be better than sitting tent-bound in MN.

All that being said, we had some fun times. The big highlights were (in chronological order): 1) catching a 14” smallmouth bass and cooking it on the campfire during a brief lull in the rain 2) SEEING A BALD EAGLE and 3) navigating a few sets of rapids on our way back without capsizing the canoe. I’ve always wanted to see a bald eagle; it was one of the aspirations of this whole trip for me, so I was quite excited. Some of the other large hawks swooping about were equally if not more fascinating with the way they effortlessly ride the air currents. It looks so fun!

Next stop: Badlands National Park, South Dakota

boundary waters

Every week, the Freshwater Society publishes a digest of the best regional, national and international news articles and research on water and the environment. Scan the articles here, then follow the links to their original sources.

BWCA recovering a decade after the blow-down

Ten years after millions of trees blew down in Minnesota’s pristine Boundary Waters Wilderness, the forest is in the midst of a comeback.

It was July 4, 1999, when a huge storm roared across the remote woods, terrifying campers and trapping them in a tangle of uprooted trees that blocked their way out.

These days, you have to do a little work to see the effects of the blowdown.

–Minnesota Public Radio

Chestnut revival could fight climate change

The American chestnut tree, which towered over eastern U.S. forests before succumbing to a deadly fungus in the early 20th century, appears to be an excellent sponge for greenhouse gases, according to a new study.

If scientists can develop a fungus-resistant version of the tree, the chestnut could play a key role in the battle against climate change, Purdue University scientists say.

“Maintaining or increasing forest cover has been identified as an important way to slow climate change,” said Douglass Jacobs, whose chestnut tree study appears in the June issue of Forest Ecology and Management.

–Scientific American

Fertilizer suspected as water pollutant

The water supply in the city of Park Rapids is contaminated with nitrates, and many suspect the source is the fertilizer used on local farm fields.

Park Rapids has had elevated nitrate levels in its water for years. But last April was the first time a city well exceeded 10 parts per million, the threshold for what’s considered safe. The well was shut down.

City administrator Bill Smith says residents aren’t panicking, they are concerned. Nitrate contamination can cause health problems. It’s especially dangerous for infants, who can get something called blue baby syndrome — when nitrates inhibit a baby’s ability to use oxygen.

Smith says some blame local farmers who put tons of nitrogen-based fertilizer on their fields. That includes the R.D. Offutt Company, or RDO — the largest potato grower in the U.S., and the community’s largest employer.

–Minnesota Public Radio

Winnipeg man spends month living on 25 liters of water daily

After a month of living on 25 litres of H20 daily, Kevin Freedman said saving water is still a priority. But handwashing all of his clothing? Not so much.

Freedman spent the month of June limiting his daily water use to 25 litres. That included a few litres for   drinking and the rest for washing, cooking and other necessities.

The experiment meant giving up the shower in favor of a bucket of water, flushing the toilet less often, and washing clothes with carefully doled out portions of hot and cold water.

–Winnipeg Free Press

Groundwater pumping threatens aqueduct

Fearing the main canal carrying drinking water to millions of Southern Californians is sinking again, water officials are monitoring the effects of incessant agricultural pumping from the aquifer that runs under the aqueduct.

Their concern is that the canal, which has sunk six feet in places during California dry spells, will buckle enough to slow delivery of water to parched points south and force costly repairs.

On June 1, the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California and other users of state water signed a $255,000, two-year contract with the U.S. Geological Survey to monitor by satellite the California Aqueduct along a vulnerable 70-mile stretch west of here, between Los Banos and Kettleman City.

–The Associated Press

EPA settles suit over feminization of fish

It took a lawsuit, but the EPA announced the first step toward regulating a chemical that can cause male fish to develop female sex characteristics. The chemical, nonylphenol ethloxylate, is used in cleaning products and detergents.

Studies show that NPEs can change the biology of male fish so they grow female eggs at very low levels, said Albert Ettinger of the Environmental Law and Policy Center, in a statement. “The EPA ignored these studies because there was insufficient evidence of the impact on fish reproduction.”

The EPA issued the “notice of proposed rulemaking” as part of a settlement of the lawsuit brought by the Sierra Club, Environmental Law and Policy Center, UNITE HERE, Pacific Coast Federation of Fisherman’s Associations and Physicians for Social Responsibility filed in October 2007.

Other well-known sources of estrogen and estrogen-mimicking compounds, also called ”endocrine disruptors,” are birth control pills, hormone replacements and hormones from livestock operations discharged from wastewater treatment plants.

–Examiner.com

Farming fish indoors in artificial sea water

Yonathan Zohar beams like a proud parent as he cradles the freshly netted fish in his hands.

He didn’t catch this glistening branzini. He raised it – and thousands more – in large fiberglass tanks at the Columbus Center at the Inner Harbor.

“This is a happy moment here,” says Zohar, director of the Center of Marine Biotechnology at the University of Maryland Biotechnology Institute. “Green fish, as good as it gets. Clean, environmentally friendly, sushi-quality fish, delivered to the restaurant a few hours after harvesting.”

Zohar and his team of scientists and technicians have been laboring for years to perfect techniques for captive breeding and rearing of fish as quickly and cleanly as possible. For marine species like branzini, otherwise known as European seabass, they make artificial sea water, then recycle nearly all of it, filtering out waste and even capturing methane to offset some of the energy used in raising the fish in captivity.

–The Baltimore Sun

EPA identifies ‘high hazard’ coal ash dumps

The Environmental Protection Agency has released a list of 44 “high hazard potential” coal ash waste dumps across the country. The “high hazard” rating applied to sites where a dam failure would most likely result in a loss of human life, the environmental agency advisory said, but did not assess the structural integrity of the dam or its likelihood of failure.

The list was compiled as part of the agency’s inventory of coal ash sites after more than a billion gallons of ash broke through a dam at the Tennessee Valley Authority’s Kingston Fossil Plant west of Knoxville last December. An engineering analysis of the failure cited design problems like the height of the ash, among other factors.

The list identifies disposal sites in 10 states, including 12 in North Carolina, 9 in Arizona and 7 in Kentucky. There were no Minnesota sites on the list.

–The New York Times

DNR approves zebra mussel filter for Snail Lake

Snail Lake looks more like a puddle than a lake these days.

Blame it on zebra mussels.

A combination of drought conditions and a water source cut off because of the invasive species means the Shoreview lake is almost 5 feet below its normal levels.

The rub is that, under ideal conditions, much of the lake averages only 6 feet deep.

This summer, the water has receded 50 to 60 feet from shore in some spots, and navigating anything bigger than a canoe means running the risk of running aground — often.

But a first-of-its-kind plan might refill the lake by next June.

–The St. Paul Pioneer Press

Zebra mussels found in 3 Minnesota lakes

Minnesotans received bad news on the invasive species front: Three new lakes have been invaded by zebra mussels, small mollusks that can dramatically alter the ecology of a lake.

The invasive mollusks were found in Lake Le Homme Dieu in Alexandria, Pike Lake near Duluth and Lake Rebecca near Hastings.

DNR officials say heavy infestations of zebra mussels can kill native mussels, impact fish and interfere with recreation. Dead zebra mussels often mean masses of sharp shells on beaches.

“These new infestations are reason for concern,” said Jay Rendall, DNR invasive species prevention coordinator. “I don’t think we will entirely stop their spread. That will be unrealistic, so our program is aimed at curbing the spread.”

Rendall said Minnesota appears to be doing a good job at reducing the spread of the mollusks. He said in 1992, three states — Wisconsin, Michigan and Minnesota — “all had a few infested waters.”

Since then, Wisconsin’s list of zebra-mussel-infested waters has grown to 100 and Michigan’s has reached 240. Minnesota still has only several dozen zebra-mussel infested waters.

–The St. Paul Pioneer Press

Milfoil found in Lake Florida near Spicer

Eurasian watermilfoil has been discovered growing in Lake Florida, five miles west of Spicer, the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources announced.

Eurasian watermilfoil has now been discovered in 213 lakes and eight rivers or streams in Minnesota.

The nonnative, invasive aquatic plant was discovered near a public water access by a local angler, who reported it to the DNR. The discovery was verified by a DNR fisheries biologist.

Eurasian watermilfoil can form dense mats of vegetation and crowd out native aquatic plants, clog boat propellers, and make water recreation difficult.

–Minnesota DNR news release

Sheep chew up invasive weeds

In between rows of grapevines at a Mendocino County farm in California, dozens of sheep are milling about, munching on the grass and weeds.

Sarah Cahn Bennett, co-owner of the family-owned Navarro Vineyards in Philo, Calif., says they began using the flock of 70 in June to keep the vineyard trimmed and minimize the work of tractors and manual labor.

Grazing vineyards is just one application of a growing niche industry that is harnessing the eating power of animals to control invasive weeds, maintain lawns and clear fire-prone grasses. The animals are an alternative to using machinery that burns up fossil fuels or herbicides that, in some cases, can seep into groundwater.

–USA Today

–

Short answer: deep in the wild, then in the hospital. 

I spent 5 days in the Boundary Water Canoe Area (in northern Minnesota along the Canadian border–”boundary” waters, get it?).  Me and my son and one of my sons-in-law went hiking and camping–the most rugged such trip I’ve ever been on.  Of course, carrying a 50 lb backpack through real wilderness can do that….

Then a few days after returning I went mountain biking and was one of the first to discover a tree had come down across one of the trails.  I noticed it when my bike crashed into it and I was thrown over it.  I landed very hard on my left shoulder, then ended up in the emergency room, then was admitted into the hospital with a partially collapsed lung.  Not to mention a very sore and stiff left shoulder and knee.  Spent 3 days in the hospital, and now I’ve spent a few days hobbling around the house with a cane.  I still can’t get out of bed without help, I’m like a beetle on its back–except I can’t wiggle my arms and legs because it’s too painful.

A lot of sympathy would be nice…

“Any adult who spends even fifteen minutes with a child outdoors finds himself drawn back into his own childhood, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.” -Sharon MacLatchie

As the school year comes to a close and Minnesota’s weather becomes downright splendid, it’s time to breathe deeply and slow down. Our family’s weekend trip to the Boundary Waters was just the invigorating, deep breath we needed over Memorial Day.

We spent Thursday through Monday with some very dear and generous friends at their family’s picturesque cabin on a lake that’s an entryway to the Boundary Waters. 

What a relaxing and refreshing trip!  I can’t begin to explain how restful our time was. How is it that one sleeps so much better snuggled beneath thick covers on a cold night in a cozy log cabin? The first night I actually dreamed I had overslept until noon — and I certainly felt as though I had – but it was really only around 7 a.m. when I awoke! The kids — there were seven of them ranging in age from 18 months to 8 years – also slept remarkably well. Such a blessing!

Feeling so rested, we packed in a number of activities between the meals and the s’mores and the popcorn and the ice cream. We canoed, kayaked, pontooned, hiked, fished, enjoyed campfires, and played games. We had a remarkably wonderful time being together as a family, sharing time with our friends, and soaking up all the splendor of God’s creation up north.

We had close encounters with a bright green frog, loons, hummingbirds, chipmunks (or “chick-munks,” as Laurel says) and other wildlife. No moose or bears, though. That probably would have been a little too exciting, anyway!

One highlight for me was watching Linnea make little sailboats out of sticks and leaves. She made a little marina on a rock along the shoreline. It was precious. She played and played near the water, and she even fell in the lake once and got a whole pant leg wet. The water was about 50 degrees.

Another memorable highlight was Laurel asking if we were “car hiking” as we drove through the woods to the cabin. What an unusual comment! The drive was quite beautiful.

Laurel and all the other kids really seemed to love traditional hiking — on foot — especially with a walking stick. We hiked two trails in the Superior National Forest; both were just the right length for all the pairs of little legs.

Saturday we ventured off to Grand Marais. We did quite a bit of rock exploring along the north shore of Lake Superior. The rocks there are dark and jagged and great to climb.

We threw many rocks into the water and stuffed a number into our pockets. We were blessed with uncommonly warm weather for that area, sunshine and a light breeze. We stopped for lunch and ice cream at Sydney’s, stocked up on fudge in an assortment of flavors at Beth’s Fudge, and found kid-sized paddles, camping gear and other treasures at the Lake Superior Trading Post.

Back at the cabin that evening, Laurel played with a little birch canoe Michael made for her while we were in Grand Marais.

Sunday morning we all loaded up into canoes and the kayak for a trip into the Boundary Waters. Just as our family pushed away from the dock, Michael noticed a leak in the canoe. I was thankful that he noticed the two cracks then while the duct tape was still nearby and not later when we might have been really taking on water in the middle of the lake! Anyway, we portaged the canoe over to a different lake and then paddled around a tiny island. The girls really wanted to explore the island, which was only slightly larger than our mini-van, but there really wasn’t a good place to land the canoe, so we headed back to the portage. There Michael spotted a loon nearby and alerted everyone. Linnea, who was once again climbing on the rocks along the shoreline,  got distracted looking for the loon and fell in the lake again. This time both pant legs were soaked, along with her socks. It was a cool and soggy return trip for her, but she managed to save her cry of embarassment until she was putting on dry clothes back at the cabin. She nearly ran out of dry clothes! Bless her heart. I commended her for being brave and reminded her that now she has a great story to tell about her first trip to the Boundary Waters!

Later that day we made an excursion to get water from a spring nearby. All the kids excitedly filled their water bottles with the fresh, cool water bubbling out of the ground. The water tasted so refreshing, and it symbolized our trip!

Sunday afternoon we inadvertantly mentioned going home; both girls burst into tears. Oh no! Then when we started saying our goodbyes to our friends Monday morning, the tears never ceased. All the way to Grand Marais, anytime Laurel or Michael or I mentioned anything about the trip, Linnea sobbed, “Stop talking about the cabin! You are making me cry!”  And she did cry. She finally recovered once we stopped to check out Smoky the Bear at the ranger station in Tofte.

Monday evening we arrived home just before dark — our pockets still full of rocks and our hearts full of memories to treasure for a lifetime.

Last night I dreamed that I was in the Boundary Waters on one of the little islands, when I spotted a bear a little ways away on another island.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” I yelled.  “I have seen a bear!”

I’ve always wanted to see a bear, of course.

The bear was huge (like the size of a one-story house), extremely furry, and had a tail like a beaver.  Not the most attractive bear, but I wasn’t going to argue because I’d never seen a bear before. Suddenly, the bear swam over to my island and began mauling me.  I played dead, and all it managed to do was bruise me really bad.  I had large brown and purple spots all over my body.

Later, in my dream of course, I discovered that the bear had eaten poor Mom.  I was super upset and began crying and crying and crying, and woke up with a saturated pillow.

I have been traumatized all morning about this non real bear eating Mom in this not real dream I had.  So I asked The Brother, who hasn’t actually seen a bear either but seems real knowledgeable in these things, if bears could attack people in canoes.

The Second Annual Paddle Fest is scheduled for Friday and Saturday (Feb. 27-28, 2009) in Cedar Rapids.

The event is sponsored by the Indian Creek Nature Center,  Seatasea Watersports, & Sticks In the Water paddlers.

Schedule:

Saturday, Feb 28, 9:30 am at Indian Creek Nature Center

6665 Otis Road SE, Cedar Rapids

Admission $8.  $5 for ICNC or SIW members.  Discount for combined am & pm sessions.

9:30-10:30 am    “Fishing the Boundary Waters” 

Michael Furtman will share techniques for successfully fishing the

Boundary Waters Canoe Area and other waters in northern Minnesota.  

________________________________________________________________________

Saturday, Feb 28, 1:00 pm at Indian Creek Nature Center

6665 Otis Road SE, Cedar Rapids.

Admission $15.  $10 for ICNC or SIW members.  $3 discount for combined am & pm sessions.

1:00-1:45 pm      “Canoeing the Cedar After the Flood”

Join Orlan Love, award-winning outdoor writer for the Cedar Rapids Gazette,

for an entertaining and informative photo tour of the post-flood Cedar River.

2:00-3:30 pm      “Paddling to Pictographs”

Michael Furtman, a nationally-recognized professional photographer, author, and wildlife expert, will guide our photographic paddle trip in search of pictographs, wildlife, fishing, and more.  Furtman will share tips for successful paddling in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Quetico.

3:30-4:00 pm      “Essential Paddling Gear”

Staff members from Seatasea Watersports will discuss the gear you need

to ensure a safe and enjoyable paddling experience.  Bring your questions.

More info:  http://www.gazetteonline.com/section/yearoftheriver ,  www.michaelfurtman.com,

http://www.seatasea.com/, http://www.indiancreeknaturecenter.org/. 

Our annual new year’s winter expedition kicked off with Blaise, Ray, and I shoved into a small Toyota pickup with all our gear weighing down the back suspension heading for the Boundary Waters Wilderness way before the sun peaked above Lake Superior. After greasing up with some gas station breakfast sandwiches and Ray acquiring some sweet sun goggles, we made our way up the icy Gunflint Trail en route for Round Lake. Temperatures were down but spirits were high once we got all our crap packed onto our sleds and said goodbye to modern civilization for not long enough (only five days). Skiing across the lakes was easy but the grunting came with the portages where the snow had shelter to accumulate. We had some built up intimidation for the 1.5 mile long portage to Tuscarora Lake but we made it smoothly by leap-frogging one another. 

By the first evening, Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 we had our base camp set up at a beautiful cedar lined spot looking onto Crooked Lake. The second morning was spent with a big breakfast of scrambled eggs and some cut of the pig Blaise raised – big breakfast was repeated every morning. Our days were spent doing day skis exploring as much of the wild country as possible and trying to figure out the wildlife tracks we came across – pine marten, moose, snowshoe hare, otter…. Our evenings were spent eating lots and lots of good food, venison that I brought from my Nevada buck, fish that Blaise caught, veggies that Ray grew this summer. The calories and campfire helped us manage the low temp of negative 24f relatively comfortably. Our winter camping skills had improved greatly from our first trip six years ago where we also ventured into the BW. 

Our final day, Thursday, January 1st, 2009 was started when most people were just bedding down from their party night. We crossed Gillis in the dark on snowshoes and were halfway into our route filled with numerous portages by daylight and with it, a good snowstorm greeted us. When we trudged to the truck it had a good covering of snow but started like a champ and we made our way back down the Gunflint and back to Peggy’s house in Knife River for lunch. After a good meal with Peggy’s wonderful energy, we continued south and east back towards our college town and spent the evening with a cleansing sauna and a great dinner in Blaise’s well crafted home he had just recently completed. Till next year…..

See more photos at….  http://picasaweb.google.com/nickdobric/BoundaryWatersNewYears09#

Yozuri Hydro Magnum Deep Diver

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25 Things You May Not Know About Me

My friends Heather Strout and Derek Showerman recently wrote blog posts on the “25 Things You May Not Know About Me” – and Heather ‘tagged’ me on her blog to add my own 25 things.

Actually, this turned out to be a fun exercise as I thought about the bits of my life that people probably don’t know about me:

1. I met my wife Nancy on a blind date and she is the best thing that has happened to me (and I don’t tell her enough how important she is to me).  We’ll be married 10 years in June and we share our anniversary with my parents.
2. I have 4 great children – Scott-18, Brian-16, Henry-8 and Kit-2, and I can discuss anything from college admissions and AP classes to Sponge Bob and diapers.
3. I was born in Toledo, Ohio (the Glass Capital of the World and home to the Toledo Mud Hens) and grew up in Oregon, Ohio (a suburb directly to the east of Toledo and not to be confused with the state of Oregon which is actually pronounced differently).  There was a Humbarger listed in a Revolutionary
   

   Toledo Mud Hens

   Regiment from Pennsylvania, but I haven’t figured out if I’m related yet.  My parents are still in great health, and my older sister Linda lives in Shaker Heights, Ohio and my younger brother Gary who lives in San Francisco.  As John Denver noted in his famous and hilarious song about Toledo, “Saturday Night in Toledo Ohio is like being nowhere at all” which pretty much sums up why I moved to Minneapolis after college.

4. My first job was as a paperboy delivering The Toledo Morning Times, and I also shelved books in the public library during high school.
5. I’m an Eagle Scout – and the highlights of my scouting career were the two high adventure trips I took (hiking at Philmont Ranch in New Mexico and canoeing in the Boundary Waters of Northern Minnesota and Canada).
6. I’m the Cub Scout Leader for my youngest son’s Cub Den – and I look great in my uniform.
7. I played ice hockey during the 6 years I lived in Minneapolis, and I’ve been living in California (either Hermosa Beach or Manhattan Beach) for the last 21 years where I dumped hockey for beach volleyball.
   

   Sunset at Manhattan Beach

8. I have visited all 50 of the United States – including those hard-to-believe-anyone-would-visit states like North and South Dakota.  I’ve also visited Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Hong Kong, Switzerland, England, Finland, Sweden, Norway, France, Germany, Mexico and Brazil.
9. I am a huge fan of Natalie Merchant (with or without the other 9,999 Maniacs) and Nanci Griffith.
10. I also love marching band music because I played cornet in Bowling Green’s marching band for 4 years during college (Go Falcons – Ay Ziggy!).  I am not musically gifted and constantly pissed off the music majors because I never knew if I was in tune or not – but I could play very loud.
    

    Bowling Green

11. My favorite all-time baseball team is the 1968 Detroit Tigers and I can still name the starting lineup.  The Tigers and Mickey Lolich won the World Series over the Cardinals and Bob Gibson in 7 games that year, but now I’m mostly an Angels fan.
12. I prefer a well-crafted micro-brew over any other adult beverage.
13. I’ve been a runner for 33 years – and have a best times of 4:41 in the mile and 2:04 in the 1/2 mile (but not since high school).  I also ran the Cleveland and Twin Cities Marathons, but I’ve retired from that distance too.  Scott, my oldest son, seems to have caught my running gene too.
14. My greatest athletic feat is swimming the 2-mile Pier-to-Pier swim from Hermosa Beach to Manhattan Beach (twice) because I had to overcome my Midwestern fear of unseen creatures and not being able to touch bottom.
15. I have never smoked pot – which probably disqualifies me from ever being President of the United States (until I decide to light one up).
16. I could watch M*A*S*H re-runs any time of the day and now that West Wing is in re-runs, the only must-see TV for me currently is This Old House and Top Chef.
17. My favorite movies are Bull Durham, Mystery Alaska and The Sound of Music – and I could watch them anytime too.
18. I was the drum major for my high school marching band and had to learn how to twirl a baton.
19. My family used to vacation for same 2 weeks every summer in the same cabin on the same lake (Big Manistique) in the UP (Upper Peninsula of Michigan).
20. I’m a CPA and still hold non-practicing licenses in Ohio and Minnesota.
21. Tony Packo’s Hungarian Hot Dog restaurant in Toledo is my favorite restaurant, but I only eat there when I visit my parents.  Tony Packo’s is in the same neighborhood that my mom and grandparents grew up in East Toledo, and Jamie Farr memorialized the restaurant in several episodes of M*A*S*H.  Whenever celebrities come to Toledo, they always swing by Packos to sign a hot dog bun and the walls of the restaurant are covered with signed hot dog buns.
    

    Tony Packo's in Toledo

22. I cut my own hair and haven’t visited a barber in 12 years.
23. I wear boxers.
24. My high school computer class used a teletype terminal and we stored our programs on paper ticker tape.  My first college computer class used IBM punch cards – and I got to use one of the first Macintoshes when they came out in 1984.
25. I’m turning 50 this year and my first memories are of the activities around President Kennedy’s assasination and funeral.  I remember being royally pissed off that my cartoons were pre-empted for round-the-clock TV coverage.

So, who else wants to share?

As we bedded down for the night, I had expected there to be mosquitoes. After all, we were in a place called the “Boundary Waters” and being filled with little bogs and swampy areas, it was also filled with those biting little menaces. It was what I mistakenly thought an unusually hot night and my sleeping bag was hot and sticky almost immediately. As I lay my head down, I heard the unmistakable whine of those little bloodsuckers. It’s been a belief of mine that if you wanted to drive someone not merely to distraction, but to out right insanity, all you needed was a recording of a mosquito on an endless loop, making sure that it sounded closer, then farther, then very close and then… nothing. The victim would be blithering in just a few days. This is what we were dealing with, times a thousand. The cabin seemed to be filled with the little bastards.

After my twenty-third time flailing at my face like a mad man, I retreated into the steamy confines of my mummy bag, pulled the drawstring tight and crammed my pillow in the tiny hole. From a pervious experience, (also with Mountain Man) I knew I would not suffocate. I’d just feel like I was.

Side story:

Years previously, I was sharing a cabin with Mountain Man, The Doctor, and Ioseph. It was late in the year and it got really, really cold that night. We had no fireplace so the only warmth came from what you keep hold of with your sleeping bag. At some point in the night, I must have done this same trick with the drawstring and a pillow to cut off the cold draft.

In the morning, my friends awoke and found my bag closed with my pillow partially sticking out of the head-hole. They watched the bag carefully in an effort to detect any breathing, but the thick down of the lining prevented them from spotting any movement. They could hear no respiration either.

Their line of thinking went like this… “If he’s alive, then we’re just going to wake him up and he might be grumpy. If he’s dead, then there isn’t anything we can do except call the authorities, in which case, we will miss breakfast. Therefore, we should go and eat breakfast and then see if our childhood friend is alive or dead. If he’s dead, he won’t care that he missed breakfast anyway and we’ll be fed and ready to deal with the corpse!”

You gotta love guys.

Back to Minnesota:

As I started my heat induced vision quest, Mountain Man decided to give himself to the mosquitoes. Pushing off his bag, he fell into fitful sleep as he provided fifteen thousand mosquitoes with buffet style dining. Neither of us looked good in the morning.

As we hunched over eggs and biscuits prepared my Mountain Man’s kind and ever upbeat father, we commented on the others appearance. I looked like I had been hit with a fire hose while he looked like a bad case of hives. The mosquitoes, apparently not satisfied with last night’s feast, were ready to tuck in to some breakfast of their own and were already merciless.

“Are the mosquitoes always this bad?” I asked.

Mountain Dad looked our way and enthusiastically nodded. “Oh yah! They’re brutal, aren’t they? We still have some windows to put in and a lot of cracks to seal, so there are probably as many inside as out”

I swatted madly while desperately shoveling the hot eggs into my mouth. These things were unrelenting! As soon as we had finished up and cleared the table, Mountain Man and I started back to the car to get our full packs. In the daylight, things naturally looked very different. The path was, just as he said, easy to follow and not very far at all. When we were just about there, he stopped and looked down at the ground.

“The last time I was here, ” he said, “we found the biggest bear scat right here in the middle of the trail”

“Bear scat?” My eyebrows were racing for my hairline.

“Oh yah. There are bears here for sure. Just keep an eye out and they shouldn’t be a problem.”

Since I didn’t posses laser vision, I wasn’t exactly sure what watching for a bear was going to do to help my life expectancy but still, I was a bit more mindful of the undergrowth as we reached the car and grabbed our gear. The very first thing I did was to put on my wide brimmed hat and pull over my mosquito net. I could see the little bastards immediately trying to get through, but at least my face was safe for the moment.

Mountain Man and his dad are great guys and really dedicated hikers. They are highly skilled, superbly outfitted and made of tougher stuff than the vast majority of men. They are, in short, hiking high priests. They are also used to taking only what is totally necessary and not one item more. I, to be blunt, am a marshmallow of comfort by comparison. I like to have everything I could possibly need in any situation and since I am also a bit of a human mule when it comes to lugging stuff, I happily pack for every possible occasion. What doesn’t fit in the pack goes on it. Because of this, the profile I cut as I wander through the woods is of an old fashioned tinker off to sell his wares. Mountain Man and Mountain Dad have another take on my mobile hardware store. They call me “Clampett”, after the TV show, “The Beverly Hillbillies” I don’t mind in the least.

I dropped my rattling pack on the floor and immediately got a chuckle from Mountain Dad.

“You forget anything?”

“Nope. I brought it all. Why? You need something”

“No! No! Just curious. How much do you suppose that thing weights?”

The jokes about my pot and pan festooned pack flew almost as heavily as the mosquitoes that day as we worked on the cabin. The heat and humidity was oppressive and the work was energetic, making you desperately want to shed your shirt. The bugs made that thought laughable, though. Instead, I found the only way to stay bite free was to put on my polar fleece shell, zip it up all the way, tuck the mosquito net into the collar, tuck the cuffs into my gloves and my pant legs into my boots. It was the sauna all over again but at least my blood was staying where it would do the most good. By the evening, we returned to the cabin to eat and talk.

“I’m going to go set up my tent out front while there’s still some light” I announced.

“Good idea” Mountain Man replied. “I’ll set up out back”

“You mean your not going to sleep in the cabin?” Mountain Dad looked shocked. “We built all this and you’re going to use your tents?”

“No offence, but my tent has one thing that the cabin doesn’t. Screens. I really need some sleep and this way I know I won’t wake up looking like a raisin.” I hoped he wasn’t hurt, but there was no way I was going to make a repeat of last night if I could help it.

“Well, you boys do as you will, but I’ll sleep in here.” He paused and then added, “Mind you, I do wish I had packed a mosquito net to throw over the cot though.”

I reached back to my open pack, sitting on the floor and pulled something green out. “You mean like this one?” I tossed it to Mountain Dad and smiled. “I’ll be in the tent, so I won’t need it.”

“Hey! Thanks!”

He beamed and unrolled the green netting to inspect it. It was made like a mesh box, just big enough to fit over a camp cot. Four little loops were attached to each corner to suspend it over the sleeper.

“Now all I need to do is find some string and some thumbtacks so I can put it up.”

With a little flourish, I reached back into the pack and produced both, tossing them into his lap. I smiled.

“Pays to camp with a Clampett, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so! What else you got in there?”

We enjoyed a convivial dinner and Mountain Man and I eventually went out to set up our respective camps. I thought of the bears again and hypothesized that they would be more interested in the cabin where all the cooking was taking place than my little nylon dome. I hoped so, anyway.

Back in the cabin, as we enjoyed the last of the conversation over the lantern light, I remembered to ask the uncle about the bears.

“Oh yah. There are a good number out here. That’s why I had the gun last night. I heard the crashing in the bushes before I heard your voices and thought you were a bad bear.”

“Bad bear? What makes a bear bad?”

“Oh,” he continued, “This region is a release area. This is where the state puts trapped bears back into the wild. You know. The ones who get up to no good in suburban areas.”

So that was it. We were camping with exiled bears. This was not quite what I had signed up for. Still, as I later lay in my tent listening to the night noises, the weariness of the previous lost night of sleep and the hard work done that day washed over me like a wave. If anyone came nosing around my tent flap, I didn’t hear it.

Above my nylon castle, mosquitoes cursed in tiny, furious voices.

-Possibly more to come. And it might have to do with guns!

There was an awful quiet as I slowed and then stopped the car.

“Missed… what, exactly?”

“You know. The landing. I’m pretty sure we missed it back there. This doesn’t look right to me.”

I was having a hard time with this for several reasons. The first and most compelling was the fact that we had been driving in a strait line through a heavily wooded landscape, devoid of any landmarks. The view had been an unending parade of young trees and blackness. How this spot looked any different from any other spot we had seen since starting down the cut was beyond me. The other reason my right eye was starting to twitch lightly was that we were on an elevated road with zero maneuvering room and were towing a trailer. Turning around successfully was going to require concentration, skill, luck and a whole lot of colorful language.

Mountain Man looked around at the darkness again and decided that no, this was not the place. We needed to go back. This was going to either be my finest trailer driving hour or a total debacle. I did have some good experience of driving with a fifth wheel but I knew that driving in reverse for anything more than a few dozen feet was just begging for a spanking. The trailer was going to start to wander and then I’d try to counter it, making the car susceptible to falling off the road. We briefly discussed the possibility of detaching the trailer and then… what? If I did turn the car around, we’d just be facing our own trailer. Nope, there was only one real solution. I was going to have to spin the whole thing.

We drove a bit farther in search of a spot that afforded the lowest banking and the most space. A few minutes later, we came across the best we thought likely to be found. I put the car in reverse and started to crank the wheel, carefully backing up and feeling for the trailer slipping over the edge. There was no talking in the car at all. Mountain Man might be nutty some times, but he knows when you’re concentrating and kept a respectful silence other than air sucked between clenched teeth and occasional profanities from me. In the end, it took roughly seventeen hundred back and forth movements with minute wheel turns but… we did it. With less swearing than I expected and a lot of sweat, I managed to very slowly turn the whole thing around and keep the car on top of the road. The trailer had collected a good bit of brush, but was still intact and attached to the car and that was the important thing. We slowly, oh-so-slowly headed back down the cut in search of the mysterious landing that we’d some how missed on our journey down.

“There! That’s it!” My friend was pointing happily at a bit of blackness that I’d somehow overlooked. All it looked like to me was a spot where the trees weren’t so thick, but he was adamant. “I’m sure of it. Pull off here!”

Thankfully, I did notice that where he was pointing, the side of the railroad bed seemed to be flush with the land and I slowly brought the car to rest in a diminutive clearing. I’m glad that he spotted it because I didn’t until I’d actually parked on it. I grabbed my Colman keychain and we got out of the car and into the silence of the moonless night.

“There’s a path right over here somewhere. The cabin will be just down it. Let’s go!”

“Wait. It’s eleven o’clock, pitch black, we have no flashlights and we can’t even see the path. Why don’t we just put up our tents here and go find it in the morning?” It seemed like a logical decision to me, but I had never been here before either and therefore, no idea what was beyond the blackness of the trees right in front of me. My friend though, had and his explanation that the cabin was a grand total of seventy, maybe a hundred yards away seemed to take the wind out of my plan.

“It’s not hard to find at all. There’s only one path and it takes you right to the cabin. My dad and uncle are waiting there for us and might worry if we don’t show up. You could probably hit it with a stone form here! Hey! I bet they can even hear us!”

With that thought, Mountain Man cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and bellowed, “DAD! WE’RE HERE! CAN YOU HEAR ME” We waited for a reply but heard none. He was nonplussed. It wasn’t far and they were no doubt just sleeping. Yah, that’s it. Sleeping.

I protested a bit more and Mountain Man decided that come hell or high water, he was crashing in the cabin tonight. The prospect of being left behind at the car as the “party pooper” gnawed at me like an old woman’s Pomeranian and so, reluctantly, I grabbed my bedroll and held my little light above my head in an effort to see where the heck we were walking. Within fifty feet of the trailhead, we were lost.

For those of you who live in urban environments, you most likely haven’t experienced what “dark” really looks like all that often. With no moon and zero ambient light, you quite literally can’t see your hand in front of your face. There are no pools of light or sweeping beams from cars heading down the road. It’s just black. The only light comes from the stars and if you throw in a canopy of leaves, you don’t get that either. That’s how dark it was as we stumbled along off the unseen path and into the brush and small trees, my keychain provided just enough illumination for me to spot low branches inches before they gouged my eyes. Mountain Man was still confident though. I was starting to curse. Every few minutes, he’s stop, cup his hands in the guessed direction of the cabin and yell. As time passed and scratches accumulated, the inflection of Mountain Man’s calls started to change.

What had started out as a loud and self assured, “DAD!” started to morph into, “DAD? HEY, DAD?” and finally transformed into it’s final form: “DAAAAD?! DAAAAAAAAAAAD???!”

Sonofabitch! The branches were scratching us like they held a personal grudge, plus we had been discovered by the mosquitoes and they were eating us alive. To add the toping to the situational sundae, our tents had been left back at the car and there was no prospect of finding our way back at this point. Just about the time I was considering using my friend’s lifeless carcass as a shelter half, we heard a faint, “Hey? Is someone out there?”

Then, somewhere off between unseeable branches… a light! In the distance, the pinprick of light shone like a beacon. The two of us whooped and thrashed our way toward salvation. On the porch stood Mountain Man’s uncle, a lantern in one hand and a long gun in the other. We had made it! We were safe! After blundering around in the black woods, the cabin looked like the Four Seasons to us and we happily stepped inside and dropped our bedrolls. It was very late by now and we were scratched up, blinded by the light of one lantern and pooped. After a round of sleepy introductions, we grabbed our sleeping bags and got ready for a restful night’s sleep. A pity that it wasn’t on the menu. We really would have loved that. What we did get was a choice. We could either sweat out fifty percent of our bodily water content in an oven made of nylon and down or bleed to death from a thousand tiny bites, delivered on miniature, whining wings.

I picked the sweat lodge, Mountain Man picked death by bloodletting.

-Next installment soon.

Four weeks ago we visited Sarah’s family in Minnesota again. Sarah planned to meet up with old friends so my father in law, John, and I decided to go for a camping trip in Northern Minnesota. We had planned to do this for quite a while. This autumn seemed to be the perfect time to go for it. Almost no more mosquitos and pleasant weather. The place we were heading for is north of Grand Marais, one of the last outposts before you enter wilderness, not too far from the Canadian border. Don’t get me wrong but it’s a six hours drive to get there from Minneapolis. After equipping ourselves with camping gear, we also needed to get some alcoholic beverages to survive the upcoming cold weather front. Up there it’s much colder than in Minneapolis. And while it was October what else can you get than Oktoberfest beer.

Driving by Superior Lake is really amazing. You can’t imaging how big that lake actually is. It’s so big that you can’t see the shore on the other side. We found a camping site at Flour Lake. After working long hours it is the perfect place to relax and let your brain calibrate to normal. The air is clean, no sound except for the animals and a perfect clear, starry sky at night. When we arrived it was almost dark and kind of hard to get the campfire going because it started to rain. However, after collecting some wood we could warm up and relax. The night in the tent was cold but not so bad in a good, comfy sleeping bag. We got woken up by chipmunks sliding down our tent. These guys seem to be used to humans and were sitting with us for breakfast.

On the next day we rented a motorized boat to go fishing. This is not exactly what you’d probably think of a typical trip to the wilderness. Man, where’s the canoe? Oh well, I was happy that we didn’t have to paddle all the way on the lake. The one we were on was really huge and it would have taken us all day to make our way to the other side of the lake. We were looking forward to a nice dinner but luck wasn’t on our side. We only caught two fish all day and they were not even very big. Thankfully, we also brought food supplies: Riceronies and some sausages.

The beauty of nature up there is stunning. You hardly see people if you don’t want to. For a more extended trip you should rent a canoe and make your way from one lake to another carrying it from portage to portage. After three days we left the site to drive back to civilization. I was looking forward to take a warm shower.

The Boundary Waters was a great trip.  We really moved, camping on Moose Lake, our entry point, Friday night, then covering half our intended distance on the first full day.

I broke (in this order)

• My Paddle
• Our Tent
• Our Portage Yoke

I was able to repair them all with a little tape and some cord, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid for the structural integrity of most of the objects I touched.

I brought my dog, Ole, along.  This was his first trip to the Boundary Waters, and also his first time in a canoe, so he tried my patience.  Eventually I got him to behave pretty well in the canoe, but that was just about the time we pulled out of the water.

The wind on the last paddle was an absolute bear, and it felt like if we didn’t blow backward too quickly we were doing pretty well.  Finally my partner and I simply had to kick it into high gear.  We looked like human washing machines, and if that lake had been cream there’d have been butter in our wake.  I don’t think either of us will be using our arms too much over the upcoming week.

The weather was absolutely beautiful and other than the wind, the dog, and all the things I broke, there’s little to complain about, and even those don’t seem to be so much when I stack them up against the good time I had.

After Joey fell on the saw and cut his hand, we found ourselves in Ely, MN with two extra days and nothing to do.  We spent Friday morning at a laundromat and the Dorothy Moulter museum (and I just about cried the entire way though it, even though it’s not sad…I think I was still a little fragile from the whole “Joey almost died” thing) where we had a delightful tour guide who actually knew Dorothy Moulter before she died!  (And when I found that out it was pretty much over; the floodgates opened.  My brothers made fun of me later.)

Next item on the agenda: the Soudan Mine.  (Well, Mom, Sister, and Laura went to see some wolves at a wolf sanctuary but there are no pictures from that because the camera’s battery was dead.)

When we arrived at the mine, Joey and I accidentally got ourselves on the Physics Lab tour, and almost went down 3,000 feet into the earth with them.  Just in time, though, someone realized that we were in the wrong group and shoved us off to go find the other three.

Joey was disappointed, he wanted to see the Physics lab.

Twenty minutes later, after watching a really cheesy video on the mine made in the 80s, we were all wearing our fashionable red hard hats and ready to descend into the bowels of the earth.

Joey and I missed the memo that Brother was taking a picture, I think.

Not sure what I’m looking at here, but clearly it’s not the camera.

3,000 feet in a rattly mine shaft elevator later, we arrived at the main loading area.  We got into the mine train and shivered in our seats until they closed the doors and the train started moving.  (Then we really shivered! It’s cold down inside the earth.)

Brother and Pops had a car to themselves.

Me, The Kid, Stephen and Joey shared our car with Matt, he worked at the museum and tried not to laugh at us as we yelled and messed around during the 5 minute ride in the dimly lit tunnel.  Stephen looks miserable.

I got scared once.  Everybody else egged me on.

So there are about 50 pictures from inside of the mine and, if I were Brother, I would have posted all of them.  But they all looked like the same piece of rock to me, so I skipped them.  The tour was interesting, though.

When it was over, we all piled back into the train cars and buzzed back up to the elevator.  We got the lead car, so as the train chugged along we all sang – at the top of our Laird lungs – “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go!”  It was great.  (Well, Joey and Stephen didn’t have Laird lungs, but they still sang too.)

The only part I didn’t like was the horrible elevator shaft ride we had to take to get down there and back.  It felt like we were going 100 miles an hour, and we were at a 5% incline, so staying on your feet was a challenge.

Here we are in the sunshine again.

OK, so our tour guide was the cat’s meow.  He was really funny and unique and he could spin a story so well he’d make you cry.  (I know because I almost did.)  He was telling about how his dad used to work in the Soudan Mine and how he gave up his hearing to provide for his family, etc. etc. etc. and how kids these days are losing their hearing to listen to music loud on their iPods, and there I am trying not to cry, because Brother and The Kid are within poking distance…and they were still teasing me for my Dorothy Moulter waterworks earlier that day.  (Brothers, I tell you what.)

This is our tour guide.  He looks like a mountain man.

This is a Larry Car.  We took the picture especially for Gramps because his name is Larry.

The sign said “keep out”…so we got right in.

This is the place where the iron ore would have gotten dumped into the trains.  I didn’t go out there, though, because The Kid got distracted by this set of stairs just to the left of this picture, and he said “Let’s go down there and make them all jealous!”  So we did.

We found this really cool railway hopper, which you can’t see much of in the picture.  But just know that it was impressive.

We look very mighty, don’t we?

We climbed up and were going to get IN the train car, but Brother’s camera battery died just then and we didn’t feel like finishing if it wasn’t going to be on camera.  So we climbed back up the stairs and asked if everyone was jealous of us that we got to go down there.  They weren’t, really.

The clock said 5:30 when we got in the car, and we had 6:00 reservations in Ely, at 30 minute drive.  So we hauled it and were just in the nick of time.

After eating a very tasty meal on at the Chocolate Mousse we visited the shop next door. Joey cut his toe on a display and was bleeding all over the place, so we had to dig out the first aid kit AGAIN.  Poor Joey.  Around 8:00 we packed into our stinky vehicles (damp tents and portage shoes smell like death) and drove to our hotel in Duluth.

In the morning, we tried to take a scenic drive but all wound up getting carsick.  We ditched that idea and headed for the touristy spots down by the harbor.  But first we all had to take coupley pictures.

Aww, cute.

Sick.

Sick.

Normal.

We headed over to the raising bridge to watch this ginormous boat go through.  We waved to all the people on the deck, and they waved back.  The thing was huge, like the entire size of DTS.  Maybe bigger, actually.

The bridge raised far, far above our heads…but I forgot to get a picture of it.  Sorry.  There was a long line of cars waiting to drive over it when it finally came back down.

I think this bird looks mental.

Joey bought me cotton candy because he knows how much I love it.  We ate it while we rode the fifty-cent trolley around to get a view of the harbor and Lake Superior.

My parents look pleased with themselves that they have all of their kids in one place at the same time.

We saw a place we thought we’d stop for lunch “The Original Coney Island”.  How the Original Coney Island wound up in Duluth, MN, I don’t know.  But it did.

The Kid drank his Mountain Dew with gusto.

Sister pouted.

I had to share Onion Rings with Brother and Laura and I only got three, mostly because Brother hogged them.

Everyone was supposed to be eating something in this picture, but Mom, Stephen, Pops and Laura missed the memo.  On second thought, I think Pops is chewing.  (I wonder if Stephen maybe didn’t like his meal?  He looks out of sorts.  Muahahaha.)

This picture gave Brother the willies.  So I posted it here so he’d have to look at it again.

Pops tried on some great hatwear in the Duluth Pack Store.

This one’s my favorite.

I hope Laura bought this hat because it’s cute!

Last stop in Duluth – the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory!  We made Sister pose with this bear because she hates bears and thinks they’re scary.

I LOVE CHOCOLATE!

We buzzed off to Cloquet where we had Chinese and birthday celebrations.  Then we drove down about 40 miles north of the Cities where we stayed at a hotel and watched Michael Phelps’ team compete in the relay. We were screaming so loud I’m surprised we didn’t get kicked out.

Since July we had been planning to have a surprise party for Mom the day after we came out of the Boundary Waters, her birthday is August 25, just three days before mine.  But we were going to bring her presents and just do it up right in the Chinese restaurant there in Cloquet.

In lieu of a cake, we had all picked out chocolates from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory in Duluth, we thought those would be tastier, but we still needed a candle, so we stopped by Wal-Mart (I know, I know, Cloquet didn’t have anything else). I found a big, round candle to set in the middle of the chocolates, which I planned to arrange tastefully around the candle so Mom could blow it out, then have something to set on her desk at work as a reminder of the event.

Unbeknownst to me, everyone was also planning to have one for ME at the same time.  Sneaky hosers.

So we arrived at the restaurant early and hid Mom’s presents, which I had wrapped in the car on the way to the restaurant.  I hid the chocolates, candle and the plate they would be displayed on and we all sat at the table waiting for Momsy to come in.

We ate the meal like normal and then, when she left we grabbed her presents and I arranged the chocolates and lit the candle with this blowtorch-like thing we had gotten from the server.

Mom came back in and looked very surprised and cute indeed.  Then everyone turned to me and said surprise to ME too!  YAY!

Mom looks cute here, mostly because she got the joke pulled on her and she pulled one on me at the same time.  She’s always cute like that.

My presents were wrapped beautifully but looked a little worse for wear because they had been squashed in the back of the van for over a week.  This one in particular had taken one for the team…both its handles fell off shortly after this picture was taken.

Mom and I blew out the candle on our “chocolate” cake.  Please observe the trendy “birthday candle”.

I can’t figure out what’s going on in this picture and neither can Brother.  Everyone is laughing very hard except me, Pops and Stephen…and I kind of look wilted.  So it seems like someone must have pulled some kind of joke on me, or I missed the joke….or something.  (Does anyone remember?)

Mom opened her presents and looked as pleased with each one as she does every year.

I opened mine with great fervor as well.  I got lots of books (two about Pandas, one about holiday traditions – yay! – and two Beverly Lewis ones).

One of Mom’s presents was a canoe frame for one of our Boundary Waters pictures, and a little “Family” piece to sit beside it.  It’s for her new office….since her old nick-knacks got washed away in that nasty flood.

It was a fun surprise and nice to be able to celebrate Mom’s and my birthdays with family.

Yesterday was my real birthday, and Joey wouldn’t tell me where we were going for dinner.  At lunch I went to Sambuca, which is a restaurant that I really like around here but poor Joey has never been, and I had my favorite grilled salmon with Gorgonzola sauce.

Yum.

Then, in Hebrew class, I found out that he had made reservations for us to have dinner at Sambuca for my birthday dinner!

Oops.

We wound up going to La Duni instead.  We smuggled my camera in and tried to take covert pictures at the table without using the flash, so they’re kind of dark.

I always like La Duni’s chips and salsa.  We asked our server (WHO WAS SO STINKIN’ CUTE!  I absolutely loved her) not to bring any more once we polished this bowl off because we wanted to save room for our entrees.

Joey’s mean and took this picture of me eating.

So I got two pictures of him chewing, one of which involved the flash…and then everyone looked at me.  I was embarrassed.  I’ll let you figure out which one I used the flash on accidentally.

We ordered limonada berries to drink and it was delicious.  I had to water mine down because it was a touch too sweet for me.

We forgot to take pictures of our entrees and dessert, but rest assured that both were delicious. We ate and talked  and laughed and ate some more for about an hour and a half.  Then we realized that we were going to be late to buy my present!  We only have one car, so he hadn’t been able to get to the store.  I didn’t mind, though, and we made it just in time.

Joey took me into Helzberg where he showed me a very lovely, dainty white gold and diamond cross.  He had picked out the exact same one my eye was first drawn to (he has good taste).  When we were first married and on our way to China, he bought me a silver cross to remind me that God is always with me, even when I’m afraid (I’m scared on airplanes and it’s a long flight to China) but..he sort of vacuumed up the chain on that cross a couple months ago.  He had planned to replace it and was waiting for me to forget about the other one.

Sneak.

He made me wait until we got home to open the bag.

WHAT COULD IT BE?!

Ooh, a sparkly box.

It’s a new and beautiful cross!

I really like the chain, it’s one of my favorite parts.  It’s really delicate.

Up close it looks like this.

Thanks Joey!  I love you!

My birthday words of wisdom this year?  (A tradition that I grew up with and one that Joey and I are continuing.)

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:  If one falls down, his friend can help him up.  But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!  … Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.    -Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

This year Joey and I have learned a lot about community, especially in the body of Christ.  It may seem easier to do life by yourself, but it’s so much better to do it with others surrounding you to encourage, sharpen and point out things you would otherwise miss.

I’m so thankful for my friends who hold me accountable: Laura S, Laura W, Becca and Rachael.  They’ve taught me a lot about myself and God just through being together for the last year.  THANKS GIRLS!

Mornings at camp are boring sometimes.  A lot of times people just sit around like losers until someone suggests something to do.

(I sort of think The Kid is picking his nose in this picture but I can’t be sure.)

Pops usually digs around in the cook kit for awhile to find something that he knows he brought but can’t remember where it got put.

He usually finds it.

About 11:00 after breakfast is cleaned up and everyone’s tired of sitting around, we go on a day trip!  Our first (and pretty much only) day trip was to the Hoser Islands, which we named after Sister.  Then Pops started calling them the Sister Islands and that kind of stuck better than the Hoser Islands.  The Kid, Joey and I had made an expedition to them earlier that morning and had found….WILD BLUEBERRIES!

Everyone knows that’s the primary reason I go to the Boundary Waters.  I love wild blueberries.

So without much fanfare, we loaded everyone up into three canoes and paddled out to the Sister Islands, where the four of us girls picked blueberries until there were none left at all.

Wild blueberries are easy to miss, they grow low to the ground in sunny places, usually on a good, exposed rock face.  They’re tiny blue jewels and they taste like nectar.

LOOK AT THEM!  Oh I just want to eat them all up.

Once we finished picking all the blueberries on the island, we realized we needed to move on to exploit the natural resources of another.

The Kid is always disappointing I guess.

We didn’t find any more blueberries on the other Sister Islands, so we headed back to camp around 3:00 and I learned how to chop wood with a hatchet.

I wouldn’t say I’m very good at it.

In my family, whenever someone pulls a prank on Pops (or something similar) it’s very likely that he will say, after he finishes laughing, “You’re out of the will!”

This is grave punishment indeed.

I’m fairly certain that I’ve been removed from The Will far more times than I’ve been reinstated, so my chances are not looking good.  When Mom saw the new and improved “DOUGLAS” that we/Joey made for Pops following the demolishment of his old office in the Evil Cedar Rapids Flood of 2008 she declared that Joey was permanently in The Will and not allowed to be removed anymore.  (Due to the large quantity of editing and compilation that the new and improved “DOUGLAS” took.)

I’m not sure how Pops feels about this, seeing as he wasn’t consulted first.  Joey has been totally taking advantage of his non-exempt status.

On Monday afternoon of our trip to Boundary Waters, Pops felt that it was wise for us to put up the rain tarp.  His weather report said it was going to rain on Wednesday and we all wanted to be ready!  There is nothing worse, folks, than being stuck in your tent during rain.  It’s much better to be stuck under a rain tarp and wearing rain gear…at least you can move around under a rain tarp.

The tree situation was sketchy at best, so everyone but me scoped out which trees would be best to hang the tarp from.  Laura got right in the action and held the tarp up while the guys tried to guesstimate how high to tie the knots.

I really like Brother in all these pictures (light blue shirt) because he looks very concerned and intense throughout the whole process.  It gets better later.

Joey, my fearless husband, refused to put on shoes.  Observe:

Those are Brother’s feet on the left and Joey’s on the right.  I’m sorry for those of you who have a foot aversion, just forget you saw this picture.  Anyway, keep the “no shoes” thing in mind as you keep reading.

Another classically concerned look from Brother.  I can just imagine his thoughts: “Oh, will we find a branch to tie the rope around?  What if we can’t?  Can I build one one of rocks and sticks and duct tape?”  The possibilities are endless, really.  Brother is an engineer and he’s always thinking of crazy stuff.

Stephen stepped back a few paces and got the view from a different angle.  His insights were valuable.

There was a branch up just out of reach, so Joey suggested that he climb the tree to tie the rope around it.  Then some wiseguy (probably Joey) thought “Oh, how about just climb on Pops’ shoulders and do it from there!”  Please take careful note of Brother on the corner of all these pictures.

Poor, poor dad.

Brother steps in to save the day….

(I think he’s trying to ensure that he gets a “double portion” of The Will someday.)

I can just see my dad wondering if he’s going to survive having Joey stand on his shoulders.  POOR DAD.

With very little incident, Joey tied the rope around the branch and that side of the tarp was hung.  One more to go, and the tree they’d have to use for this last corner was looking even more tricksy than the other one where Joey tried to kill my dad.

Joey tied the rope to the purple Nalgene bottle, just like MacGyver would have done, and threw it up over the branch.  The Nalgene bottle got stuck.  Very, very high up in the tree.  So, Joey climbed it….barefoot.

He stood both feet on that rotted off branch.  I was sure he was going to die or severely injure himself.  (But he waited two days before he did that, which was nice of him.)  After several tense moments, he got the Nalgene bottle unstuck and the rope strung just the way it needed to be for the rope.

He shimmied down the tree and cut his feet up.

Then I bandaged him up.

We decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather (before the rain) and swim across the channel.  The water in the lake was freezing cold, so Stephen braved it and dove in the water first.  The challenge was to race to him…if someone refused to get in the water, they got dunked.  (Which is way bad punishment.)

See above, Pops is losing…but as you can also see he has a very good running start.  Me (in the 70s suit which you are not allowed to laugh at – it was very functional), well, I look just plain timid to get in the water.

Oh look, Jenna totally lost.

And, if you squint, you can barely see us on the shore of the channel.  It took FOREVER to swim/float there and back.  We were all very, very tired.