As summer fades, another
crop of younger folks have added the lore of our famous Boundary Waters
Canoe Area Wilderness to their developing thoughts and skills.
Reflections on the undoubted enthusiasm of this year’s groups
make me nostalgic. A few (or more) decades ago as a guide through my
former business, Chippewa Camping Outfitters in Duluth, Minnesota, I’ve
been privileged to listen to those young people in Grand Marais, Ely
and other access points on the north side of Lake Superior. It was a
treat to share the history of this fabulous country with honestly
surprised visitors.
The author strides purposefully during the early ’60s when he owned an outfitters business. JAMES R. MARSHALL COLLECTION
Historically, this area first absorbed human visitation
thousands of years ago. For many of the young adventurers on my trips,
even the story of the fur industry was new for them. They heard tales
of those colorful Canoe Country characters whose seasonal searches for
mink, beaver and other wildlife brought a level of wealth inaccessible
to them in other ways. When my band of canoeists realized that they
literally followed ancient trails and portages, they wore wide-eyed
expressions.
Most of us have forgotten the early years of our own lives
when just about anything we were able to do was “new.” What a pleasure
to watch this curiosity over and over in those youngsters and what a
pleasure to learn that those memories do remain with some.
When I was taking groups of young people (frequently Boy and
Girl Scout troops), the size of the groups varied but once under way,
the necessary activities spread out among the whole gang.
During the course of our trips, the young visitors gradually
realized the fascinating water travel was interrupted somewhat
regularly with portages, the connecting paths between the lakes. They
learned that working together works best.
Canoes and confidence go together on a boundary waters trip for
young people who discover skills and stamina they didn’t know they had.
JAMES R. MARSHALL COLLECTION
The first time they encountered something alive - be it a
squirrel or chipmunk or the dignity of a deer - it was fun to watch
them stop or step back as they realized that these animals had little
fear of them.
When a first afternoon tapered into late day, it was time to
find a campsite and to get the tents up. Again, responsibilities were
spread out, and the youngsters realized the canvas ceiling over their
heads (along with their safety and comfort) was in their own hands.
After a most appreciated meal, some usually tried evening fishing,
while others gathered firewood for the late evening fire. The fires
were a time for singing and storytelling - something as you know, dear
readers, I much enjoy.
I remember a closeness developed among the group members that defied explanation, and it grew as the trip progressed.
Apparently, a former Scout who traveled on some of those trips recalls similarities in her experience.
“It was wonderful, spine-tingling,” Mona Knutson says of
those trips. “We were strong girls. I surprised myself every day that I
had stamina, that I could pull my weight and I could pull my weight in
a group.”
Encounters with independent souls like the late Dorothy Molter, the
boundary waters’ “Root Beer Lady,” provided role models. JAMES R. MARSHALL COLLECTION
I often saw this growth in my young charges. A very real
sense of pride developed, for example, as the maps confirmed that they
did indeed travel a significant distance each day.
As the days went by on these trips, rain and wind became just
another happening, which I felt the young people knew was part of this
incredible means of travel. Mona’s observations said that feeling was
true. “Even the bad days were good days.”
At the end of the journeys, these fine groups of Voyageurs
had experiences they would never forget of the time spent together.
Some, it turned out, would never return, while others planned a series
of trips to the Canoe Country as a special new way of life. All of
them, I hope, carried away new-found abilities, lifelong friendships
and perhaps, as with Mona, something to pass on to the next generations.
“I have three grandchildren right now and I sing them my Girl
Scout songs,” Mona says. “We sang in harmony and rounds. I was so blown
away that I could remember those songs.”
And I am happily blown away, too.
A selection of Jim Marshall’s columns of lake lore and his inland sea voyages
has been published as Lake Superior Journal: Views from the Bridge
by Lake Superior Port Cities Inc. Follow this link
for more information.
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