Minnesota’s Boundary Waters by Makenna Fredrickson Every year, almost 25 million acres of forests are cut down. According to research done at Yale university, at this rate of deforestation, the earth will be completely barren of trees in just over 300 years. As a result, interaction with non-commercialized nature is rare. Recently, however, I had the opportunity to experience nature to the fullest extent. During the month of August 2020, my dad and I, along with three friends, set out for a week in Minnesota’s Boundary Waters. After almost 6 hours of travel, we found ourselves at the Sawbill Canoe Outfitters in Tofte, Minnesota. We rented our canoes, packed up our gear, and headed into the vast, 1-million-acre wilderness. As we floated out over the glass-like water, we were completely encircled by vibrant forests and lakes, seemingly untouched by man. The waters were calm, but the forests were alive with wildlife. Millions of sky-high trees danced in the wind, red pine, eastern white pine, jack pine, birch, balsam fir, white spruce, black spruce, blue spruce, and white cedar. The bustle of the city was replaced by singing birds and splashing bass. Clean, pristine air filled my lungs as the smooth breeze tickled my arms. Our first destination was a small island located a few lakes over where we would set up camp. We passed through multiple lakes and by numerous islands to get to our site of choice. Each lake that we crossed required us to portage, or in other words, haul all our supplies and canoes across narrow dirt paths just to get to the next lake so we could do it all over again. I can still feel the pain in my shoulders from singlehandedly hauling our 18.5 ft, paper thin, Kevlar canoe that, surprisingly, weighed in at 42 lbs. When we finally reached our campsite, we were faced with another obstacle. The only way to access our campsite was by jumping across rocks that were just surfacing the water, all while carrying our supplies. Those with good balance were entrusted with the most important items. After setup, we ventured out again to try and reel in our supper. We were filled with excitement each time a fish would hit the line, holding our breath, listening to the reeling of the rod. Back at camp fresh caught lake bass, ever so slightly seasoned with hints of lemon, boiled over the fire. Supper was enjoyed under billions of stars as the crackling of the fire hung in the background. The next day, after more careful planning and mapping, we packed up our campsite and trekked onto the next stop. The slow current of the river drifted us towards our destination as we fished the outskirts of the lake. The sound of people from another campsite traveled across the water. Dark clouds loomed in the distance as we hurried to our next destination. After barely avoiding the rain, the sound of drops pattering on the tent became heavier and heavier, eventually flooding our tents. After the rain ceased, we began to put our water-logged campsite back together. Enormous amounts of smoke poured from the wet wood as we tried to start the fire. After an unsuccessful day of fishing, we were again left to eat our just-add-water meal packets. We were starving. No fire means no hot water which means no food. Eventually, we turned to our backup plan—a small gas camp stove to heat water until the wood was dry enough to light. On the last day, as the sky was clearing, we set out on one last adventure up the lake. It was a slow, calm day filled with laughter, lily pads, and wild blueberries. Our hands and feet
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