THE BOUNDARY WATERS

Part 1: The Boundary Waters

I wanted a good hook for this post, so here’s what I’m thinking: A recent PhD graduate, a priest, an ex-Marine, and a French Bulldog share a canoe for four days, paddling and portaging 60 miles through one of the most unique Nationally Protected Wilderness parks in the United States.

To clarify where we were and what we were doing, we embarked on a four-day canoe trip through the Boundary Waters in Northern Minnesota along the Canadian border. To be totally honest, this was never a place I thought I’d find myself, but the more I told people about the trip, the more I heard about how incredibly special this place is. When you live in Alaska, every trip feels like it has to be some grand adventure in a remote mountain range where you’re epically miserable but having the most fun. This was not that. This trip was an easy way to experience the wilderness at a different pace—an enjoyable pace—while having a lot of fun along the way.

*put this into perspective from the Minnesota people we talked to, to add another voice. Like what the guy in the wheelchair in the elevator today or the four ladies in their 70s going out at the outfitter.*

That was just one of the three canoes on the trip; in total, there were eight of us. I shared a canoe with one of my best friends and college roommate, who had offered me this spot for the past two years, promising me it would be worth the trip down. The third canoe was his father with two of his childhood friends, recreating a wilderness adventure they had shared during their college days. Outside of TJ, his sister (the PhD graduate), and his dad, I had never met the other four, but good people attract other good people.

I’ve learned recently that the adventure isn’t as much about the location, as important as that might be, but about the company you keep and the friends you make. A camping trip has a funny way of connecting people, whether it’s a PhD doctor, a priest, and an ex-Marine, or childhood friends reconnecting once a year. It doesn’t matter if you’re paddling along the Canadian border, waiting for a concert to start while hiding from the sun in the Washington desert, or sleeping under the stars overlooking a glacier in Alaska. When you spend every minute with a group of people over several days and nights, you become close friends and get to know them on a more genuine level. You see them for more than their title—you get to know them as people.

Now, I have a new set of friends across the Midwest, people I’d never have met otherwise, but I couldn’t be happier to have shared a beautiful part of the world with them.

Part 2: My Canoe

 This year, this trip was a priority for me after not having the time when my buddy has asked me the previous two years. I always felt guilty because during those two years, he went through a lot while I was on the other side of the country, busy working. He will tell you his story if you ask. But concussions from our hockey days led him down a dark road, leaving him to self-medicate with alcohol, trying to bury the pain and depression that came from living in a literal dark room for months. Part of me knew this over the past couple of years, but I was always too scared to bring it up.

This past year, however, he faced his demons and came out with a new voice—a confident voice, stronger than before. He always knew it was a fight he had to face alone but found comfort in knowing that we were always just a phone call away. As we sat talking for hours, paddling through an endless maze of lakes that could easily be mistaken for a river, we discussed everything—his process, our philosophies, importance of spirituality, our definitions of happiness and fulfillment, relationships, and everything else that one discovers or is forced to face when going through dark times. Instead of worrying about a future he can’t predict, he focuses on today, enjoying the moment with the people who love him. This isn’t just reflected in his fight for sobriety but everywhere else in his life; his job, relationships, and his happiness. Now, the things he tells himself every day are all positive, as he settles into this new voice—not just in control of those demons, but at peace with them. 

We all have demons, hidden in different places, afraid they will make us look weak. But it’s the people who are willing to face them head-on who are the strongest among us. He speaks honestly about his situation, and instead of seeing it as a stain, he is proud of himself, and we are proud of him. Now, he hopes to help normalize a fight that so many people face in this society. So I sit there across from him in the canoe, listening intently to everything he learned on his path to recovery,  holding onto every sentence—because maybe that knowledge makes fighting my own easier.

TJ is 415 days sober now and counting. 

Part 3: The Location

As I mentioned, many people told me this was a special place. I went into the trip with no expectations, wanting to give it a fair chance. People seem to enjoy the park in all kinds of ways. Our group leader, TJ’s dad, liked to cover as much ground as possible, so wey made a 60-mile loop through the western section of the park. On the first day, we made seven portages, passing lake after lake as we moved closer to the Canadian border. From there, we found campsites along a lake that stretched over the next 20 miles as we zigzagged through U.S. and Canadian waters.

With temperatures in the 80s for three of the four days, we soaked in the sun, fished along the shorelines, and jumped in for a swim whenever we found a good spot. Without the rush to be anywhere and with cell phones rendered useless, it was the perfect way to enjoy the outdoors, especially when you’re new to the outdoors and looking for an adventure off the beaten path.

It was exceptionally quiet up there—one of the quietest places I’ve ever been. In Alaska, there’s always a rogue plane that disrupts what would otherwise be utter silence, but out here, there was nothing. Whether watching a sunrise or sunset, the only sounds that would fill the settled air was the calls of the loons or honking of Swans.

The terrain had clearly been shaped by ice at some point in history, with roots clinging to whatever they could along the bare granite rock that makes up the shoreline and islands throughout the park. In the canoe, you move at a slow pace, a pace that allows you to recognize the details of the place you’re in. You could see how the area supports a healthy ecosystem, with Native Americans leaving their mark along the cliffs with handprints and paintings depicting the resources that made thousands of years of existence possible. 

I’ll definitely be back and if you’re looking for an outfitter to help plan your trip, Boundary Water Outfitters are a great resource.