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Curiosity of an Explorer

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I’m a homebody in many ways—I love being home and even eschew the idea of leaving for an evening activity once supper and dishes are done. I am usually content with my routine. But I do get an explorer’s thrill when we plan to go to a new place in Nature! The Latin root for explore is ‘explorare,’ meaning to investigate or search out. We had heard that Savanna Portage State Park was a beautiful and interesting place, so Chris had gotten reservations for us weeks ago. He loves the anticipation of a planned trip even as I get a bit nervous about leaving home. But once I’m in the car with a map in hand (sorry Google Maps), I forget about leaving home and look forward to exploring and learning about a new place.

In just over two hours, we pulled in to Savanna Portage State Park, which is in the middle of the expansive Savanna State Forest. Commence our journey of exploration of the Wilderness! There are a number of characteristics according to exploreratlarge.org that define the mentality of an explorer, the first of which is curiosity. What will we see? What will we experience? I was hoping for a chance encounter with a Moose—will I see one? Our first hike was around Loon Lake trail. Loon Lake is a designated trout lake, just a mile or so in circumference, and the trail hugged the lake shore. Come explore with me!

The lake was calm with the slightest breeze occasionally rippling the mirror-like water. Autumn had begun—the Maple trees were beginning to turn color, red reflected on water and leaves falling on the trail.

Large, old Pine trees, White and Red, gripped the ground with their massive roots. A frog was our first creature to be found.

I was delighted to see Wintergreen growing beside the trail, its berries beginning to turn red, its leaves pungent with the flavor we associate with chewing gum or toothpaste. (It was the original source of that flavor which is now mostly synthetic.)

One Pine tree embedded in the lake now reflects arrows that point the way.

Along with the Wintergreen, a number of different species of Clubmosses grew and flowered like little evergreen trees.

The rooted trail led us to, then past a collection of golden-morphing Ferns—so beautiful!

Form and shape, color and contrast, reflections and realities all help us appreciate the diverse plant life in any given environment.

Many of the branches and trees that had fallen into the lake had become floating ‘treeariums,’ growing with mosses, ferns, shrubs, and other plants. Each created its own little environment, some used by the swimming creatures as a resting place.

Along with curiosity, an explorer must use discernment and logic. What are these white piles of dried-up scat from? Looking more closely, the white pieces were bones and pink-tinged shells, probably from crayfish. My guess of otter scat was substantiated when we saw a grass-flattened ‘slide’ from the hillside into the lake! We saw many slides and many piles of territory-marking ‘spraints,’ as otter scat is called.

A very industrious and disillusioned Beaver lived here some time ago. The tree was working to heal that gaping beaver wound.

At times along the trail, a small grove of Pines bordered the lake and path. What beauty in the bark of a mature Red Pine!

Balsam Firs were the other evergreens of the forest along with the Pines. Most were younger and content to grow in the shade of the canopy trees. An orange fungus was a colorful surprise!

Another rather startling discovery was a dead Snapping Turtle, upside-down, over a log. I wondered how he got there. Adult Snappers are sometimes attacked by otters, bears, or coyotes, so that was definitely a possibility. But then we saw a live monster-of-a-turtle swimming in the lake and wondered if the males fight one another.

More ‘treeariums,’ golden ferns, and red leaves decorated the Loon Lake trail as we circled around it. (No Loons to be seen, but we did find a beaver lodge.)

Towards the end of the trail, a large White Pine had tipped over into the water. The root ball was covered with Otter spraints, and we imagined they used the tree as a playground. Playfulness is another quality of an explorer, as expertly embodied by Otters running and sliding, swimming, rolling, and playing.

I fully embrace being a homebody and an explorer of Nature. Each of us has these seemingly opposing qualities in one way or another. Yet I have always lived my life with curiosity and wonder (another quality of an explorer). It has been the foundation of my learning, schooling, and being a scientist, as well as being an explorer. In my next posts, I will share other trails we hiked at Savanna Portage and other qualities of being an explorer. Until then, what kind of explorer are you?

Challenge

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The quiet, still mornings in the Boundary Waters are the epitome of peacefulness. We don’t realize how noisy our normal world is until we experience the wilderness. Despite another night of not sleeping well (I found myself rolling downhill off my sleeping pad), the dawn light and smooth water soothed my morning fatigue and rejuvenated my spirit. After our difficult day #2 that had little time for fishing, Aaron rose with the sun and launched the canoe to glide on the glassy water of Dix Lake and entice some fish. The mirror reflection of the shore trees and rocks is a little disorienting—the ‘real’ world doubles in illusion.

Aaron had a couple of bites, and he discovered some other early morning adventurers. He saw a mama otter swimming with her two young ones. Otters are such excellent swimmers—graceful, playful, and skilled. When Aaron got too close to them in the water, they popped up onto shore, and mama hissed at him to stay away from her babies. They then disappeared into the woods but reappeared in the water farther down the shore.

After the previous challenging day of finding a campsite and lacking any desire to stay in the cramped site that saved us the night before, we got an early start. We ate a quick oatmeal breakfast, then packed up and pushed off. I wish I could say my reckoning from the day before had eliminated my morning paddling struggles, but I had my fair share of paddle-down-head-down moments. But it was better than the previous two days, so progress is good in my book. We had a short 30-rod portage into Skoota Lake, then prepared our heads (okay, I did) for our longest-yet portage of 180 rods (a little over half a mile). It was a challenge I was ready to accept! I carried my pack and paddles up and down the rocky terrain—another milestone for me to check off. After our portage, we were rewarded by one of the most beautiful lakes we paddled through—Missionary Lake. The pictures don’t do it justice!

Another short portage brought us to Trader Lake, a smaller lake with no campsites. We paddled around a large peninsula looking for the next portage. All I could see were steep hills, and I commented I didn’t want to portage up those ‘mountains!’ The trail makers had chosen wisely though, in a place that went between the steepest elevation with only a rocky descent into Vera Lake. Our smooth portages continued with us getting all our gear in one trip and with the kids carrying packs and canoes.

photo by Chris

It was a hot, hazy day, but with our early start we progressed through five lakes and four portages and found the last campsite on Vera was open! And it was only mid-morning! We were going to have a much more relaxing day than the day before! Our campsite was large; our tents were scattered out so that no snoring, talking in our sleep (a-hmm, like the previous night), or zzzipping the tents open and closed would disturb the others. The animals of our campsite were lots of chipmunks who bravely skittered around in the hopes of food crumbs (and climbed over Emily’s shoulders), Ruffed Grouse who made funny little ‘talking’ sounds, and of course, the Loon of the Lake who crooned us to sleep at night.

Paddling, portaging, and sleeping were not my only challenges of the week. I like to have things…clean. While I absolutely love being outside and embrace being ‘in the dirt’ in the garden and flower beds, food preparation is another story. The first time we stopped for lunch (and every meal since) when I saw all the bags of food being put down in the dirt around the bear barrels, I had a physical reaction. I wanted to pick them up and put them on….something. By the second night I was heralding the presence of a large, flat rock beside the fire grate—“We have a table!” But once again, the kids were the pros at this, despite working in the dirt. I never bit into a ‘gritty’ piece of food, I never had to brush dirt off anything I was eating, and really, I just had to ‘get over it’ a bit, because ‘when in the Boundary Waters…!’ Washing the dishes was another area where I needed to ‘loosen up.’ We didn’t have the time (at times) or the energy (at times) to heat water and wash them in hot water with camp suds. So I turned a blind eye towards that after a while (and survived.)

Another aspect of BWCA wilderness life is the latrine. From the campsite, there is a path that wanders into the woods until you reach the latrine. It is an open-air bathroom, the most primitive of outhouses. So the system of the latrine is a ‘toilet’ bag with rolls of paper to get everyone through the week and some hand sanitizer that is placed at the beginning of the latrine trail. If the bag is there, nobody is at the latrine, so pick up the bag and take it with you. If no bag, wait until the person comes back. Simple.

So much of the ‘land’ in northern Minnesota is actually just rock, and many of the campsites are positioned on large outcroppings that jut into the lakes. This huge boulder was unusual with its lines of white quartz, like ancient artwork preserved for our modern eyes.

photo by Emily

In the heat of the day, I waded into the cool, refreshing water to where I could still stand and ungracefully dog-paddled to and fro (unlike the otters)—it was my first ‘swimming’ adventure in nearly three decades. The fishermen fished, some napped, some read, and we watched canoers pass by looking for an open campsite. We knew their frustration, even as we breathed a sigh of relief that on this day, we were settled for the afternoon and night. We had a delicious supper of chicken tacos. With our limited, measured food, we anticipated our meals with excitement, enjoyed them with gusto, and appreciated them for fueling our bodies. At dusk, Emily went swimming again while Aaron and Zoe fished. The peacefulness of our early morning settled over us again with the smokey sunset. And with that, it was time to get ready for bed.

photo by Shawn
photo by Shawn

Life is simplified in the wilderness. The sun and stars are the clocks (though I don’t know how to ‘read’ the stars yet, I was aware of their movement through the night), food is life-giving and limited, water is abundant, the ‘work’ of paddling and portaging literally gets us to a new place, and art and beauty surround us. Challenges are simplified also. As Emily said the day before as we sat in the middle of a lake with no campsite in sight—what other choice do we have but to keep paddling? In the modern world, with copious choices for nearly everything, challenges and even day-to-day events can be confusing—too many choices do not give a person clarity. Being in the wilderness allows your mind and soul to rest and rejuvenate, and even challenges can bring peace.

This is the third post in a series of five that chronicles my experience of five days in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA). It is best to read the whole series from the beginning (Anticipation) in order to understand certain things I refer to in my other posts.

Connection Under an Azure Blue Sky

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It all began with my prejudice against red pepper flakes. We were eating our breakfast at KoWaKan, sitting at picnic tables under the tarp-covered kitchen. One of the board members we met the night before sat beside me and sprinkled red pepper flakes on his scrambled eggs. My Scandinavian sensibilities instantly went into danger mode—ie. ‘how to ruin a perfectly good, calm, comforting morning meal.’ When I cautiously mentioned his usage, he assured me that it made everything taste better. In my righteous and myopic defense of Northern European culinary practices, I quipped something like “and you’re from Minnesota?!” He was not from Minnesota. He said he grew up in Kansas City. Well, that explains it, I thought, as I told him that that was where my husband Chris grew up, too, (who also flavors his eggs with red pepper). We continued to eat our eggs and chat. When Chris walked over from the fire where he had been warmly eating his breakfast, I told him that John was from Kansas City! Chris asked him what part of KC he was from, then asked if he had gone to Southwest. John said no, that he had gone to Rockhurst High School. Things kind of went slow motion in my head as I looked from one to the other, and then he added, ‘Class of ’76.’ Chris and John were classmates! What the heck?! They used to play basketball together every day in the ‘short-guy-lunch-hour basketball league!’ We were in the northern wilderness of Minnesota at a Methodist camp and two Kansas City Catholic boys meet again after 40-some years! It blew my mind—I could hardly stand the deliciousness of it!

We were all on the same work team that morning, and the conversation between them flowed from past memories to present day to how they got here. During the shoveling, bucketing, trimming, and digging, in the midst of the smudge smoke that kept the black flies from our eyes, there was a re-connection from a distant time and place. From all the stories that Chris had told me about Rockhurst, I knew that it, too, had a ‘Spirit of the Place‘ about it.

Later in the day, I walked the trail from the Meadows to Hilltop, capturing the details of a late Spring day in the forest. Spruce, Pine, Fir, Birch, and Aspen are the largest trees in the forest, including those on the three islands of Section 12. Star-white flowers of small Serviceberry trees will produce dark, edible berries later in the summer.

Moss and lichens grow on nearly everything. The moss-covered rocks and soil are interspersed with tiny Violets, Wood Anemones, and other plants for later blooming.

Wild Blueberries grow on a sunny, rocky hill facing the lake. The low-to-the-ground shrubs with their small, pale, bell-shaped blossoms can easily be overlooked.

Wild Blueberries are the larval food for the Spring Azure Butterfly, who is almost camouflaged when its wings are folded, but who is a tiny piece of blue sky when flying.

I saw a swimmer out in the lake, gracefully going under and up in a measured, undulating cadence. From a distance, I knew it wasn’t a Loon, and Aaron confirmed that he had seen River Otters here during his work summers.

Another resident of the lake that Aaron retrieved for closer inspection was a dragonfly nymph. After the adult lays eggs on a plant in the water, the nymph grows and develops for up to four years before emerging from its shell and the water to become a flying dragonfly!

After my cold and restless second night in the tent, I was rewarded for getting up before the sunrise to see the mist rising from the still water.

Even the island was obscured in the morning mist…

…but the Loons who had sung our evening lullabies were seen swimming in early morning reverie.

We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep. –William James

Our weekend of service and connection with Aaron and our friend Luke and in this special place would have been wonderful in and of itself, despite the chilly nights. But the meeting of the classmates after more than forty years?! That chance? meeting just gave me so much delight! Later in the weekend, we also found out that two other fellow KoWaKan helpers had lived and camped at a Lutheran church camp that I had worked at in South Dakota when I was in college!! Ah, the graceful cadence of our lives! That Grace, that Cadence, is often overlooked in our busy lives or obscured by the mist of work, children, responsibilities, or ‘more important’ things. How do we connect with those other islands around us? I think first is the acknowledgement that we are already connected ‘in the deep.’ Secondly, it takes communication—talking, listening, asking questions, telling stories, and being open and brave. And finally, it takes caring, dedication, belief, faith, service, and the all-encompassing sea of Love. All of those converged that weekend under that tiny piece of azure sky of KoWaKan.