Every summer I take maybe fifteen groups into the Boundary Waters. I teach people to portage, to hang a food pack out of reach of bears, to keep a fire small. This July I took one group: me.
The canoe is a 1978 Kevlar Jensen that my dad bought used. It weighs forty-two pounds and has more patches than original hull. It has been across every lake between Moose and Knife more times than I have, and it tracks straight in a crosswind like it knows the way.
Day four, Knife Lake, six in the morning: fog on the water, and a cow moose and her calf wading along the far shore. I didn't move for five minutes. I didn't take a picture. Some things you just keep.
Loons every night. No motors, no roads, no signal. Come back out and the first thing you notice is how loud everything is. The second thing is that you're already planning the next one.
