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Wilderness Canoe Adventure
The Boundary Waters Experience
By Michael Furtman
Adventure begins where control ends.
 Canoe camping in the Boundary Waters |
It begins with that delicious moment when you push off from your starting point in a loaded canoe. Behind you lies the gravel public landing, the parked cars, the roads funneling from civilization. Before you the spires of dark spruce and pine perforate the horizon. Beneath you lay a lake's dark waters, inviting adventure, a path to the unknown.
Long ago, my wife, Mary Jo, and I took a 30-day canoe trip. We tore a month from the calendar, stuffed it into our Duluth packs, and set out to immerse ourselves in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness and adjacent Quetico Provincial Park. Two million acres of North America's finest flatwater canoeing lay before usa maze of pristine lakes and streams connected by the portage footpaths first traveled by the Ojibwe and hearty voyageurs. The wilderness of Minnesota and Ontario, with its tall pines, granite shores, laughing loons, and howling wolves, would be ours for the price of a little sweat.
Though we were not rookies to wilderness canoeing, neither of us had ventured out for so long a trip. We were apprehensive when we thought ahead to the day that there would be only two of us together in remote country, or when we imagined an accident and how we might respond with only each other for assistance. As the gear mounted in piles in our front room, so did concerns about how we would ever carry such a mountain of food and equipment.
Looming ahead of us, masked as wind and waves, lay a challenge and a choice.
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But through these uneasy moments flickered a gleam of excitement. We knew that at least for one month out of our lives we would live by nature's rules.
Our worries eased almost as soon as the trip began. True, there was no one to hold our handand we found we liked it that way. As we labored over portages and paddled our heavily laden canoe, our confidence grew. As lake gave way to lake, as rivers were run, even after we"misplaced" ourselves for the better part of a day, we thought not of what could go wrong, but of how well we had handled each task or minor crisis.
And then one day, as we eased from the mouth of a narrow creek into the surf of a broad and windswept lake, we hesitated. Looming ahead of us, masked as wind and waves, lay a challenge and a choice. Bobbing in the waves we studied our options, knowing that the challenge presented usand the change of plans it might entailwould change our trip. What we did not know is that it would also alter our understanding of adventure.
About the Author: Michael Furtman is a full-time, freelance writer living in northern Minnesota. He is the author of 14 books, three of which focus on the Boundary Waters and Quetico; his most recent book on the regionMagic On the Rockswas released in July 2000.
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Article and photo © Michael Furtman, 2000.
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