1975 was a tumultuous year for my family. My father was on another 1-year tour of duty in Viet Nam and we were living in Bangkok. As South Viet Nam began to fall, we lost touch with my father in the horrible chaos of war. All we knew was that he was in north and every now and again, would hear from friends that he was working his way south. In April of that year, my recently widowed grandmother had a terrible accident and my mother decided that we had to return to Minnesota to take care of her. So, we left Bangkok not knowing where our father was and if we would ever see him again.
A couple of months later, we heard he was safe and out of the country and would be joining us soon. I was 15 years old and thought that a canoe trip would be a good way to reconnect with him. My family liked to camp and it was a favorite part of growing up with my parents. So, I planned my first expedition and made arrangements with an outfitter in Ely to spend a week canoeing in the Boundary Waters. My mother (& 9-year-old sister) decided to stay with my grandmother, so it was just us boys, my 13-year-old brother, my dad, and myself.
On the drive to Ely, we adopted a feral kitten born behind a gas station, soon to be named "Ely". As it turned out, Ely was a fearless kitten that adapted perfectly to the canoe and water. Ely would ride atop one of the packs and swim just for fun. We had a wonderful trip. At that time, there were no permits required and we could camp and go wherever we wanted. We went the entire week without seeing any other party. We ate Smallmouth Bass or Walleye every night and sometimes in the morning, too. It was truly wonderful and the experience is still one of my favorite memories. Further, I felt like I could do this forever. I found that I can live the bush life, which led me to Alaska, where I've lived for over 40 years. I still love the bush life.
After that first BWCA trip, we continued with a number of subsequent canoe trips to the BWCA and elsewhere. We're on our third generation of voyageurs now.
Thank you for this. The BW are the most beautiful place I have ever visited.
What an inspiration to reconnect with your father in this way. That CAT. It went along on the water--too tiny to know cats aren't supposed to like water. When I try to think what to post here my jumping off place is book news...and today the book collecting award led me back to the BW. The short video about Olson at the end was how you must have felt with your father. (My husband was in VN..I understand).
Really nice video and yes, it's easy to recapture discovering the next most perfect campsite. I've had so many listening points, but currently, my favorite is outside my yurt overlooking the Nome River. Sunrises are immaculate. The tundra becomes alive and filled with bird songs. I'm surrounded by Red Robins. For some reason, they like to nest near the yurt and even in the beams of the platform my yurt rests on.
Thanks for this post, Kathleen. Many wonderful memories washing over me this morning. I'm going to call my dad.
Great story! Terrible narration to the film. Why do people with apparently no skill whatsoever presume to inflict their inability on others? The text of books like this must be expressed from a deeper understanding of their spirit presence and not 'just read' like first timers almost always do. The Art of Living clearly remains a total mystery even to those standing right before her greatest gifts. What I am saying is the deep seated comprehension Olson clearly possessed of this incredible nature-scape is obfuscated and almost totally lost in this amateur presentation. Had he to suffer it spoken in this way Olson would no doubt roll his eyes in disbelief.
Understood, no blame intended. In the overview I sincerely dislike the widespread childish 'right' to undertake whatever form of expression one feels like engaging at the time. This is the heart of my criticism....a partial consequence of society being so enabled to speak and at the same time self justify whatever one chooses to say. I clearly recall the many times I was told to be quiet and listen, application of the adage, "Children should be seen and not heard." Whenever someone decides to express their limited perception as relevant and significant when it clearly is not I will rise up and say it so as I have done here. Please be free to continue your interesting work.
1975 was a tumultuous year for my family. My father was on another 1-year tour of duty in Viet Nam and we were living in Bangkok. As South Viet Nam began to fall, we lost touch with my father in the horrible chaos of war. All we knew was that he was in north and every now and again, would hear from friends that he was working his way south. In April of that year, my recently widowed grandmother had a terrible accident and my mother decided that we had to return to Minnesota to take care of her. So, we left Bangkok not knowing where our father was and if we would ever see him again.
A couple of months later, we heard he was safe and out of the country and would be joining us soon. I was 15 years old and thought that a canoe trip would be a good way to reconnect with him. My family liked to camp and it was a favorite part of growing up with my parents. So, I planned my first expedition and made arrangements with an outfitter in Ely to spend a week canoeing in the Boundary Waters. My mother (& 9-year-old sister) decided to stay with my grandmother, so it was just us boys, my 13-year-old brother, my dad, and myself.
On the drive to Ely, we adopted a feral kitten born behind a gas station, soon to be named "Ely". As it turned out, Ely was a fearless kitten that adapted perfectly to the canoe and water. Ely would ride atop one of the packs and swim just for fun. We had a wonderful trip. At that time, there were no permits required and we could camp and go wherever we wanted. We went the entire week without seeing any other party. We ate Smallmouth Bass or Walleye every night and sometimes in the morning, too. It was truly wonderful and the experience is still one of my favorite memories. Further, I felt like I could do this forever. I found that I can live the bush life, which led me to Alaska, where I've lived for over 40 years. I still love the bush life.
After that first BWCA trip, we continued with a number of subsequent canoe trips to the BWCA and elsewhere. We're on our third generation of voyageurs now.
Thank you for this. The BW are the most beautiful place I have ever visited.
What an inspiration to reconnect with your father in this way. That CAT. It went along on the water--too tiny to know cats aren't supposed to like water. When I try to think what to post here my jumping off place is book news...and today the book collecting award led me back to the BW. The short video about Olson at the end was how you must have felt with your father. (My husband was in VN..I understand).
Really nice video and yes, it's easy to recapture discovering the next most perfect campsite. I've had so many listening points, but currently, my favorite is outside my yurt overlooking the Nome River. Sunrises are immaculate. The tundra becomes alive and filled with bird songs. I'm surrounded by Red Robins. For some reason, they like to nest near the yurt and even in the beams of the platform my yurt rests on.
Thanks for this post, Kathleen. Many wonderful memories washing over me this morning. I'm going to call my dad.
One of the most memorable experiences of my life was a 50 mile canoe trip in the Boundary Waters with my two sons and their Boy Scout troop.
If you ever need a new name for your column, how about "Obscure to OMG."
Hmmm - I never even heard about Boundary Waters area...
Great story! Terrible narration to the film. Why do people with apparently no skill whatsoever presume to inflict their inability on others? The text of books like this must be expressed from a deeper understanding of their spirit presence and not 'just read' like first timers almost always do. The Art of Living clearly remains a total mystery even to those standing right before her greatest gifts. What I am saying is the deep seated comprehension Olson clearly possessed of this incredible nature-scape is obfuscated and almost totally lost in this amateur presentation. Had he to suffer it spoken in this way Olson would no doubt roll his eyes in disbelief.
This was on the "Listening Point" Foundation website. I did not look further for a different narration.
Understood, no blame intended. In the overview I sincerely dislike the widespread childish 'right' to undertake whatever form of expression one feels like engaging at the time. This is the heart of my criticism....a partial consequence of society being so enabled to speak and at the same time self justify whatever one chooses to say. I clearly recall the many times I was told to be quiet and listen, application of the adage, "Children should be seen and not heard." Whenever someone decides to express their limited perception as relevant and significant when it clearly is not I will rise up and say it so as I have done here. Please be free to continue your interesting work.