Northland College Magazine Spring 2022

MAGAZINE

SPRING 2022

ALUMNI IN THEIR OWN WORDS Pg. 6

TRESPASSING WITH ED ABBEY Pg. 20

SOEI TURNS 50 Pg. 22

TEAM NORTHLAND Pg. 30 SPRING 2022

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The Cover Bob Gross was the intrepid College photographer for nearly fifteen years, before recently moving on to a new position. For his last photo at Northland, he and I loaded my canoe in –9 degree weather and went looking for a stretch of open water. This was his vision for the cover of an issue constructed from first-person reflections—a salute to the alumni of Northland and a nod to Sigurd Olson. —Julie Buckles

Stay Connected @northland_edu facebook.com/northlandEDU @northland_edu

Mary O’Brien

Strategic Director of Advancement and Marketing Communications mobrien@northland.edu 715-682-1496

Jackie Moore ’05

Director of Alumni Relations and Annual Giving alumni@northland.edu 715-682-1811

Julie Buckles

From the President As the first vestiges of Spring manifest themselves on the Northland Campus, I am taking the opportunity to send equinoctial greetings from northern Wisconsin.

In this magazine, a group of alumni reflect on their formative years at the College, articulating warm remembrances of professors who were impactful, encounters with luminaries and legends, and tales of adventure and love. I would like to extend personal thanks to each of the contributors for their reflections, even though it is obvious that these narratives merely skim the surface of a deep well that encapsulates the richness of the Northland experience.

I look forward with enthusiasm to connecting individually with many of you in the coming year so that I can personally hear about how Northland has shaped or is currently shaping your life. Preparations for Fall Festival in September are already underway, and collectively we will raise our voices in celebration for 130 years of “our Northland fair.”

Also, this issue harks back to the auspicious beginnings of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute, established with unanimous approval by the Board of Trustees in March 1972.

In the 50 years since, the Institute has continuously pursued the mission set forth by its founders, promoting awareness of wildness and wonder and protecting the northern woods and waters for generations to come.

As I reflect on this moment in time, in the aftermath of a lingering global health crisis, I am reminded of Sigurd Olson’s words, which resound as clearly as they did some 45 years ago: “There is a new surge of renewal and vitality at Northland College.

There is a spirit of place here in the north, a spirit of identity and one of adventure as we fashion an innovative and integrated approach to learning. Northland with its new and shining vision will carry on and contribute more to the nation’s welfare in this present time of crisis than its founders could ever have dreamed… It is here that students come to experience personal and intellectual growth, and to learn how to be effective members of the larger, balanced community of life.”

Karl I. Solibakke President

Editor

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Northland College Magazine Spring 2022 MISSION: Northland College integrates liberal arts studies with an environmental emphasis, enabling those it serves to address the challenges of the future.

© 2022 Northland College Printed with soy ink on 10% postconsumer FSC Certified paper.

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MAY 4, 2022 northland.edu/give

Discovering the Northland Spirit Sense of Connection, Self, Community

By David Saetre

Emeritus Professor of Philosophy and Religion

Students from the Spiritual Life Center theme house first guided me through the woods south of campus, along Bay City Creek to the Grandfather Tree. It was the fall of 1996, my first year as the College chaplain, and I had asked them to tell me what made Northland special.

They responded, “to tell you, we have to show you.” What they showed me was a massive eighty- to one-hundredyear-old white pine, arisen from the great cutover. Its wild shape indicated it was open grown, finding its way between fields, and hidden from hungry grazers, now towering over the waters of the creek. I remember one of my guides saying, “I think this is our spirit tree,” an avatar of the Northland Spirit.

Dictionaries define spirit as “a particular way of thinking, feeling, or behaving, especially a way that is typical of a particular group of people, an activity, a time, or a place that animates.”

The Northland Spirit seems to express a unity of thought, feeling, experiences and place that finds its way deep into the heart of those who love this little college by the big lake.

Located at the margins of the larger culture and world, Northland continues to endow people with a deep and animating sense of connection between self, community, and nature.

Charlie Krysinski ’16 describes this animating spirit as a continuing dialogue. Krysinski, back at Northland as a visiting professor, said, “The Northland Spirit is grounded in a sustained dialogue between people and place. At Northland, we find a place where we are called to be transformed through the spirit of dialogue.”

That dialogue connects Northlanders to the spiritual depths of this place.

Nathaniel Dexter begins his history of Northland by noting that the College was named not for a denomination or a founder, but for a region—a place. This

place was the land of great white pines and cedars, red sandstone cliffs, and the deep, blue waters of Anishinaabewi-gichigami. This was a spirit-filled place. A place of destiny, created by Kitchi-Manitou, the “Great Mystery.”

People who find a home here today can still sense that depth of spirit and discover what American theologian Parker Palmer called a “hidden wholeness.” Standing at the foot of a century-old white pine, a survivor of human greed, now loved by the young. Feeling the cold mist in the face of a stormdriven surf at the shore of the lake, or savoring a handful of wild blueberries picked from the barrens, one discovers a source of wholeness and belonging.

Here, I feel the spirit of nature, and I learn that I am part of rather than estranged from nature.

The College nurtures the many ways we transform those raw experiences into meaning. That integrating process of connecting experience with knowledge defines the Northland Spirit. We learn the thoughts and methods of those who have gone before us and we learn to make new connections.

We learn to stretch and develop our imagination. And we learn to struggle.

Out of our struggles, discoveries, and experiences, we are transformed.

Director of Alumni Relations Jackie Moore ’05 calls this the real spirit of Northland. “Northland is a place where people can struggle and come find themselves in this particular place, a struggle that creates a deep caring for who we are and where we are.“ And, Moore notes, “you can take that wherever you go.”

There is one thing more—friendship. Friendship with those who share the journey, friendship with knowledge and wisdom, and friendship with the world and the places we call home. In the end, these deep friendships become forms of love, love that completes the Northland Spirit.

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Its wild shape indicated it was open grown, finding its way between fields, and hidden from hungry grazers, now towering over the waters of the creek.

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IN BRIEF

alumni and in person is only one way. In short, we adapted.

In your view, what are the responsibilities of alumni to the College?

To continue to be a steward of the mission of Northland College.

Do you have a goal for your term as President?

To involve as many alumni in as many ways as possible!

In what ways would you like to get more alumni involved in supporting the College?

Engage! Stay in touch with the community, reconnect with friends, connect with those on campus, or visit. Also, find a way that is meaningful for you to give back.

Meet Your Alumni Board President

Q&A with Jaime (Charbonneau) Moquin ’98 The Northland alumni are incredible in the way they remain connected with one another and the College. Any theories on why?

No magic formula, it is the Northland way. From the moment many alumni stepped on campus, we joined a community that was engaging, caring, active, and wanting to make the world a better place.

You’ve long been an advocate for making change by showing up. How did you decide to serve on the Alumni Board and show up for Northland in this way?

When you pause and look back on your own life journey, there are people, events, and places who have impacted your journey. There are profound moments in my life—staff who encouraged me not to quit, professors

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NORTHLAND COLLEGE MAGAZINE

who challenged me to use skills I didn’t know existed, and generous donors who helped fund my education.

I know firsthand as a first-generation college student that I couldn’t have gotten my education without that support. However, there are lots of ways to give! Share your professional skills, mentor a student, provide Northland students an internship, join a committee, cheer on the LumberJacks and Jills when they are in your area. Find what works for you and I guarantee you will gain just as much as you give.

You started your presidency during COVID—not easy, for sure.

Alumni live all over the US and the world. In some ways, we have been able to connect with more alumni than ever before. There are many ways to engage

Jaime (Charbonneau) Moquin ’98 graduated with a degree in elementary education and has worked in higher education for more than twenty years. She is currently vice president of engagement and customer success for Jenzabar, a higher education technology solutions and services provider. She and her Northland sweetheart, Shan Moquin ’97, are married with two children.

2022 SOEI Youth Summer Programs

Flying Squirrels Land in Ranger Rick

Stewards of Tomorrow Sailing, Adventure & Art Jul 18–22 Island Adventures (ages 13–17) Jul 25–29 Sailing, Art & the Apostles (ages 14–17) Girls Empowered Leadership & Outdoor Skills Trail Work, Paddling, Hiking & Wilderness Adventure Jun 13–16 Trails at Mt. Ashwabay (ages 10–13) Jul 5–8 Canoe at Sylvania Wilderness (ages 10–17) Aug 1–5 Backpack at Stockton Island (ages 13–15) Aug 16–25 Canoe in the BWCA (ages 14–17)

From The New York Times to National Geographic to The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, the discovery of fluorescing mammals by Northland researchers has captured media attention all over the world. Now, our furry pink friends have found their way into the pages of Ranger Rick, the beloved children’s magazine from the National Wildlife Federation, inspiring a new generation of nature lovers. We’re positively glowing!

Burke Center Report: Steps to Protect Regional Artesian Wells The Mary Griggs Burke Center for Freshwater Innovation released a report in January recommending ways to protect an artesian aquifer in Bayfield County following a controversial proposal to bottle and sell water from an artesian well in a Lake Superior watershed that’s now being fought in court.

“The residents of Bayfield County have really made it clear that they do not want to see anything like that happen in their area,” said Burke Center Director Peter Annin.

“In many ways, Bayfield County may represent one of the last intact, thriving artesian systems in the state.”

The report lists four recommendations for Bayfield County:

Aquatic Ecology Week of Summer Research Jul 25–29 (grades 10–12) For more information go to northland.edu/youth Contact: Katherine Jenkins kjenkins@northland.edu 715-682-1853

• County officials should map its artesian aquifer.

Aquatic Ecology Field Academy July 25–29, 2022 Explore the possibilities of a career in freshwater research this summer with the Mary Griggs Burke Center for Freshwater Innovation.

It’s a great way for students entering grades 10–12 to learn the critical skills of aquatic ecology field and laboratory techniques. They’ll work on leadership and teamwork skills while also getting a taste of the Northland College experience.

Scholarships are available!

Learn more and register today: northland.edu/event/aquatic-ecology

• Once mapped, officials should declare the artesian aquifer a special area of concern.

• The county should adopt new zoning regulations in its artesian zone.

• The state should consider a water management framework similar to Minnesota.

To read the full report, visit northland.edu/watersummit.

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In Our Own Words

The seed of this issue was planted with a comment on Facebook. In response to a story about Professor Emeritus Bruce Goetz, Rocky Barker ’75 reflected on a formative canoe trip into the Boundary Waters. I started to think, I should do a story about that. And then I thought, Hey! Rocky is an award-winning journalist. He should do a story about that!

From there, I began reaching out to other alumni who write to ask them to share their Northland experiences in their own words.

This collection of first-person stories feels especially apt as we look ahead to the 130th birthday of the College and reflect on the beginnings of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute, now celebrating its 50th anniversary.

Enjoy!

—Julie Buckles

Park Ranger Rich Stavdal ’77, Senator Gaylord Nelson, Secretary of the Interior Cecil Andrus, Park Superintendent Pat Miller, US Representative Dave Obey, and wife Joan Obey on a tour of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.

Photo by Rocky Barker ’75 for Ashland Daily Press, August 1979/ Wisconsin Historical Society, WHI-109394

By Rocky Barker ’75 Tim Carpenter ’74 led the way up the steep portage carrying a canoe on his shoulders.

We were on a trip in 1972 through the Boundary Waters with Geology Professor Bruce Goetz for his five-week class Geology of Lake Superior. We had planned to go to Isle Royale but the ice stayed late that year so here we were, a merry band of campers—Camp Northlanders— paddling and portaging through one of America’s wildest places.

“This is where the highway will go,” Tim said with a chuckle, referencing Northland’s motto from Isaiah 35:8 in the Old Testament of the Bible—“And a highway shall be there.”

The last time I saw Tim was on Big Twin Lake in 1985. He was one of more than a dozen state

wardens standing as the thin gray line between more than one hundred angry protestors and a small group of Chippewa fishermen exercising their treaty rights. I was there reporting as the editor of the Rhinelander Daily News. Tim died in a car accident in 1989, and Northland established the Tim Carpenter Memorial Scholarship.

I couldn’t know it then, but my decision to go to Northland and the experiences I had here fifty years ago led me into an environmental career I could never have dreamed of. It was classes like Bruce’s, where I got to test myself in the wild, or Lee Stadnyk’s ecology class that elevated me intellectually. I first heard about the Greenhouse Effect in a freshman class with Kent Shifferd.

When I covered an Apostle Islands tour of Senator Gaylord Nelson, Interior Secretary Cecil Andrus, and Congressman David Obey in 1979, Park Ranger Rich Stavdal ’77 showed us Devils Island. In 1988 when I covered a huge firestorm in Yellowstone

National Park, Rich walked out of the smoke, now a ranger at Fire Island in New York, on detail to Yellowstone. I remain close with many classmates.

It was the extracurricular activities that opened my eyes to the opportunities before me. I hitchhiked to Madison in March of 1972 to attend a meeting of the Wisconsin Resource Conservation Council as a representative of the group Stop Sanguine, which was fighting a Navy communications project in the north woods. There, Martin Hanson took me under his wing, introducing me to the Democratic candidates who were running for president. Hanson, one of the most influential conservationists ever in Wisconsin, became a lifelong friend and mentor.

As a sophomore, I was appointed to the faculty-student advisory committee of the new Sigurd Olson Institute. This got me an invitation to the cocktail party at Malcolm McLean’s house before Sigurd Olson’s landmark speech kicking off the creation of SOEI. I got to meet Sig and his

wife Elizabeth and spoke to them several other times before I graduated. He has been my guiding light since.

But I probably wouldn’t have even considered journalism as a career had I not taken Maryann McGeehan’s Environmental Journalism class my senior year. She got Washburn Times editor Edith Merila ’72 to let Jeff Wilson ’79 and me write a weekly column, and I’ve been writing ever since.

Rocky Barker ’75 retired as a reporter and columnist from the Idaho Statesman in 2018 after fourtythree years in journalism. His career took him all over the United States and Canada to Russia’s Far East, China, Africa, and Hawaii. He was part of a team that were finalists for the Pulitzer Prize and awarded the National Wildlife Federation’s Conservation Achievement Award and The Wilderness Society’s Aldo Leopold Award. He is the author of two books and coauthor of two others. He served on the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute Advisory Council and the Northland College Alumni Board of Directors.

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How I Met My Husband, Our Illegal Wedding, and Other Adventures

By Alex Johnson ’08 I first met my husband at a Sunshine bike build. It was a warm September evening during my first week as a Northland freshman. A dozen or so students were beginning to assemble bikes from piles of parts laid out in the garage. In the yard, a variety of chilis and corn breads sat on a well-loved coffee table next to an even more well-loved plaid couch, upon which Pete sat. He was the first person I spoke to that evening, reaching out our hands in introduction.

As a barely out queer guy in a small college in a small town in northern Wisconsin in the early 2000s, I wasn’t expecting to meet a boyfriend, let alone husband. The irony isn’t lost on me each time I think back to that evening when I first looked into the eyes and shook the hand of the man with whom I’ve come to share a life.

I studied writing at Northland with a minor in biology. I learned how to compose a sentence and what it meant to be liberally educated in the most traditional sense: to be encouraged to follow your curiosities toward new insights that unveil human mysteries both highly universal and deeply personal.

While learning how to explore the natural world of the northland by paddle and foot, I also learned how to explore an even greater wilderness of ideas, my curiosity leading me toward the mysteries of identity, gender, sexuality, and power. As I was slowly and stutteringly falling in young love with Pete, I began the long journey of understanding

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what it means to be a queer man in love with another man, what it means to come of age in a time of massive anthropogenic global change, and what it means that one of my deepest longings was to go out into the wildlands of a yet wild world.

Northland, for me, represents the period of time when I began the long journey of integrating each of these inquiries into the shape of a single life lived well.

Nearly twenty years after that fateful Sunshine bike build, Pete and I are still journeying on together from one horizon to the next. We’ve survived many adventures, weaving in and out of the paths of our dear Northland friends who have been on their own journeys of discovery and understanding.

After five years of working seasonally as park rangers across the west, in 2011, we embarked on a summer-long canoe trip covering all 1,800 miles of the Yukon River. At the end of that trip, Pete proposed.

In 2013, we threw a big illegal wedding in Paradise Valley of Montana with many Northlanders in attendance, and after Proposition 8 was overturned in California the next year, we legally married inside a living Sequoia in Yosemite National Park while working as wilderness rangers. We’ve built a homestead together at the feet of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, circumnavigated and summited various mountain ranges, weathered a tropical storm in a tent in Hawaii, and been woken up to earthquakes in our bed in Alaska.

NORTHLAND COLLEGE MAGAZINE

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While learning how to explore the natural world of the northland by paddle and foot, I also learned how to explore an even greater wilderness of ideas.

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I’ve been fortunate enough to follow the same lines of discovery I first began in earnest at Northland. I’m still trying to tell stories and put names to our shared human experience of living in a very queer world as it’s changing every day. Telling those kinds of stories is difficult work that, as the years go on, often looks less like writing as it does living in right relationship—with my husband, family, friends, and all the others, human and non-human, whom I depend upon daily.

Call it queer ecology if you’d like, or environmental justice, or being a good ancestor, perhaps, though none quite fit completely.

For the sake of this story, I will leave out the dull banality of what it took for Pete and I to get here to this particular moment.

Pete and my lives feel more pedestrian lately, despite what my social media channels might make it appear at times. Even so, my story became far brighter thanks to that first Sunshine bike build and the man I met there. Neither Pete nor I built bikes that evening, but we found enough sunshine to light up a life together.

Alex Carr Johnson ’08 is a conservationist and writer who lives on the ancestral lands of the Dena'ina people in Anchorage, Alaska, with his husband, Peter Mueller ’06. Alex currently serves as the Alaska senior program manager for the National Parks Conservation Association, working with tribes and land advocates to protect the Western Arctic Caribou and Kobuk and Koyukuk watersheds from a proposed mining district.

Mad Farmers Buy a Ghost House

By Allison Mills ’11 Soil. Not dirt. Anyone who took Tom Fitz’s Seds and Soils knows this. And farmers, of course.

As undergrads, we all thought we’d be farmers one day. Probably.

The grand plan was to buy a big plot of land together—perhaps outside Washburn, but maybe Corny—and our group of friends would all build houses, likely tiny ones or maybe Earthships. To start, we pitched a Theme House called the Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front, named for Wendall Berry’s poem, and sulked when it got rejected.

Then, slowly, all the maybes and somedays lost their petals to the realities that tend to wash away the dirt of freshly picked dreams. Loans, moves, Lyme disease, Meniere’s disease, new chronic illnesses, old family patterns, new family members, notions about grad school and careers; they demanded a lot of nutrients from our group’s mental soil.

But the farm dream pulled into a seed and lived on. One friend bought a farm. Then another couple. Then a bunch of people got hitched and bought land, houses, rototillers. Separately, but most of us had gardens, everyone loved food, and the detritus of life covered the farm-seed in the loam that growing up tends to accumulate.

The sleeping seed gave a push when the two of us bought a house, twenty acres, and a strong-boned but abandoned home. We started calling it the Ghost House, and after some extreme upcycling, a herd of goats moved in. A mad idea, perhaps. But the farm dream has been liberated again.

Allison Mills ’11 worked as a science writer and associate director of research news at Michigan Technological University for seven years. She recently took a new position as the communications manager at Earth Science Information Partners, a nonprofit that brings together data professionals across disciplines.

She is married to her Northland sweetheart, Drew Cramer ’11. They live on Ghost House Farm in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

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My freshman Outdoor Orientation trip gave me the confidence—and the friends—to plan all kinds of adventures (not to mention the skills to poop in the woods and build a fire).

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Half Hugger, Half Hooper

By Becky Brun ’00 When I arrived at Northland and met my new basketball coach and teammates, it didn’t take long before I acquired the nickname “4-H’er—half hugger, half hooper.” I was the weirdo who didn’t eat meat and read books by the naturalist Edward Abbey, but I also loved shooting free throws, doing box-out drills, and practicing baseline inbound plays as much as anyone. As a city girl, I had never heard of 4-H and later realized it was my teammates’ way of lovingly including me in their circle while accepting me for who I was (even though they still tried to get me to eat meat).

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I didn’t choose Northland because of its sports program, however. I was there to explore outside my comfort zone—beyond the full court press and into the big north woods. I wanted to learn how to ski and sail and go camping in the Apostle Islands. I loved the wide variety of liberal arts courses Northland had to offer, eagerly registering for World Religions and Native American Cultures, Environmental Economics and Ethics, Sea Kayaking, and Ornithology.

(Okay, I dropped out of ornithology not one, but two spring semesters because I couldn’t handle the 4:30 a.m. wake-up call—one of my biggest regrets!)

My freshman Outdoor Orientation trip gave me the confidence—and the friends—to plan all kinds of adventures (not to mention the skills to poop in the woods and build a fire). My poetry class with Cynthia Belmont pushed me out of my nonfiction writing happy place to explore this hard but beautiful craft.

My summer job at a Bayfield blueberry farm taught me, among many other things, the importance of a well-sharpened pruner and knowing how to drive a stick shift. Ultimate frisbee on the mall taught me the basic skills for this universally social game, giving me a way to connect with an entire community of fun, smart, wacky friends once I moved to Portland, Oregon. My experience on the Environmental Council gave me the community organizing and political skills to eventually run for office in my now hometown of Hood River, Oregon.

More than twenty years later, I’m still a “4-H’er,” and I remain grateful to the Northland community for all it instilled in me—which goes far beyond a nickname.

Becky Brun ’00 is a writer and community organizer living in Hood River, Oregon, where she loves exploring local trails, playing pick-up basketball, and tending to her backyard garden.

As owner of Pitchfork Communications, she helps changemakers share their stories.

Mind Blown, Eyes Opened

By Abe McCowan '07 I’m from rural Utah, so my experience in the north woods was mind blowing.

Jason Terry was my adviser and my art teacher. Jason was electric about printmaking! I did my first woodcut in his class and was hooked. Northland helped fund a week-long printmaking workshop for me at the prestigious Frogman’s Print and Paper in South Dakota.

Being a student at Northland opened my eyes to all the environmental issues in my home of southern Utah. I was so impressed with how much students and faculty cared about wilderness conservation. Southern Utah is full of fragile microclimates

that are being wrecked. I am active with Conserve Southwest Utah, an organization that is trying to stop a highway from going through our Desert Tortoise reserve. Southern Utah is full of old, crazy-looking tortoises. They can be up to one hundred years old!

Abe McCowan ’07 received his MFA at Utah State University in Logan, Utah.

He teaches middle school art in St. George, Utah, in the day and printmaking at Dixie State University at night.

Throughline

By April Lehman ’89 I graduated in 1989 with a self-directed degree in illustration and environmental studies. My campus job was at the print shop. One of my favorite projects was designing the posters for the Arts & Letters Series.

There was a vibrant art community on campus with many shows at the Dexter Library. I had my first solo show there and enjoyed participating in events with Don Albrecht, Ruth Lull, David Genzler, and other local artists.

After graduation, I worked at the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute as their graphic designer, illustrating their newsletter, Horizons, along with other booklets and pamphlets. A great opportunity in 1997 was being the artist-in-residence on Sand Island through the National Park Service.

Last summer, Honore Spickerman asked if I would paint a mural at the revamped Black Cat Coffeehouse in Ashland. I worked in the evenings after the shop closed. Since I’m a night owl, I chose to do a starlit scene with birds sleeping on “coffee bean trees.”

April Lehman ’89, sitting in front of one of her paintings, S.W.A.K (Sealed with a Kiss), is happy to be back in the Chequamegon Bay area after a twenty-one-year hiatus. The last three years have been filled with hikes, kayaking, planting perennials from Hauser’s, and swimming in the lake. Her husband, Jerry, worked as a graphic designer at Northland, and their daughter is currently a junior at Northland.

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The humanities are an essential bridge between education and experience.

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Bridging a Passage

By Andrea Robertson ’00 Bridges hold an innate magic.

Spanning spaces that would otherwise be difficult if not impossible to pass, bridges give access and invite connection. How many bridges have you begun to cross only to pause at the center to take in your surroundings, to dare to peer over the edge, to consider the possibilities between here and there?

When I think of Northland College, one of the first images that forms in my mind is that of Wheeler Bridge. Not a long, nor particularly ornate bridge, Wheeler passes over Bay City Creek, connecting the northern and southern parts of campus. I can see the bridge in each season: limned by the sharp greens and pink blossoms of spring, shadowed by branches heavy with foliage in summer, set aglow in golds and reds in autumn, and veiled snow white in the winter.

As a “townie,” my crossings of Wheeler Bridge began in my childhood in Ashland. Friends and I used to sled beneath the bridge in the depths of northern Wisconsin winters. The narrow, snow-covered ravine cutting through tall trees proved an irresistible challenge to young adventurers equipped with saucer sleds and toboggans.

As a history major and English minor at Northland, the most frequent trip I took across Wheeler Bridge was to reach classes in Wheeler Hall, and, like those crossings of the bridge, my visits to Wheeler Hall started in my childhood. I had piano lessons in Wheeler when it had creaky floors and smelled of wood polish.

My mother taught voice lessons to Northland students in Wheeler’s rooms, and I sometimes tagged along, keeping myself entertained by playing in the echo-filled halls.

Like bridges, old buildings easily spark the imagination.

Most of my memories of Wheeler Hall are those of

attending classes in modernized rooms. While I am grateful for the expertise of many Northland professors, the influence of Professor Michele Small still resonates deeply in my life. In many ways, her classes remind me of bridges—a passage between history and culture, storytelling and memory, past and present. In her course, The English Language, I particularly remember watching the documentary The Language You Cry In that traced the link between the Gullah language of African American communities in the islands off the coast of South Carolina. In the film, linguistics reveal a way Gullah people make connections with the communities they descended from in Sierra Leone. Language was the bridge bringing people together across an ocean and time.

That course reminds me that the humanities are an essential bridge between education and experience. Lessons learned across classes in Wheeler Hall stayed with me because they remain not only relevant, but poignant. I like that Wheeler Bridge will always be fixed in my memories of Northland, because I’m grateful for the metaphorical bridge that the College has been between my past and present.

That bridge will continue to shape my interactions with the world with each step into the future.

Andrea Robertson ’00 is the New York Times bestselling author of thirteen novels including Nightshade, The Inventor’s Secret, and Forged in Fire and Stars. She grew up in the north woods of Wisconsin where her imagination ran wild. Prior to becoming a full-time novelist, Robertson worked in academia as an early modern historian.

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Hiking Changla Gali

By Saleema Hamid ’05 I was reared by the forests of Changla Gali in Pakistan, but my consciousness and creativity were nurtured by the shores of Lake Superior.

In my pursuit of finding meaning to decipher the world around me, my connections with Northland are of particular significance. In immeasurable ways, Northland, uniquely its own, brought me home.

Northland introduced me to a home and family I never knew I had. The connections I made have stood the trials of time and distance, and yet when I visit, I feel I never left.

The mountains and woods have always been a part of my life. The elusive leopard, the invisible fox that gently leaves its footprints in the snow, the ever-friendly monkeys, the vulture that accompanies me on my hikes— this place of mindfulness lets my spirit be. It is a place of reciprocal healing.

Saleema Hamid ’05 is an artist living in Rawalpnidi, Pakistan. She visits Chequamegon Bay regularly and thrives on adventures.

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What I Learned in Jail

By Mary (Ganchoff) Smith ’94 I hear the crackle of police radios before the officers enter the badly-lit classroom in the basement of Bobb Hall, Jim Meeker introducing Vegetative Types of the Great Lakes Region.

I’m at a desk in a middle row; too cool to sit in front, too anxious to fully give in to the back.

I watch with the rest of the class as two Ashland County policemen ask Jim to identify me. It was Jim so I’m sure he hesitated, but it was inevitable.

I am cuffed and not-quite-perpwalked out the back doors. I take a last breath of fall and duck into the idling police car.

Orange is the New Black has come and gone. We’ve weighed in on police reform and privilege.

Changed our Facebook backgrounds and painted signs to hang in our windows, sometimes crooked, bending backwards under their own weight.

I still mutter things like “… and that’s what I learned in jail,” and mostly people think I am kidding and say “yeah, me, too” or laugh nervously.

The Ashland County Jail was busy that October. Forgery, theft, arson. It was so busy they didn’t really have room for me. I spent the first half of what would turn into a twenty-eight-day sojourn in solitary confinement.

Things we did back then? We hand-wrote letters to each other.

Jim let me continue my coursework from my cell; Don Albrecht paused my photography assignments. We were reading William Cronon’s Changes on the Land in Paul O’Keefe’s history seminar.

Someone delivered that to me.

We adapted together. I had plenty of time to study.

One night Gordon and Richie serenaded me outside the cell

window—fiddles were involved.

We discovered a hole in the rusty screen between the bars, just the size of a Dairy Queen milkshake straw. You can see why I hesitate to bring it up.

In most ways it was Jail Lite, Mayberry, North Carolina.

Still, I was able to ask myself “how far can you go when you can’t go anywhere?” A retreat from regular habits, regular engagements. I dug in with myself. I went on a solo journey.

Outside there was a team— friends, teachers, mentors. There was the moon, the big lake.

There were highways stretching every direction. But inside there was me on a stiff cot, trying to calm my mind, trying to fall asleep. No stars, just bars.

I know, you’re dying to ask about my crime. A baker’s dozen trespassing charges for repeatedly scaling a fence surrounding the Navy’s now shuttered ELF transmitter near Clam Lake, Wisconsin. Refusal to pay the fines bought my room and board. I was one of many Northland students and activist community members from around the state who logged Ashland County Jail time.

I’ve done far more difficult things since I spent a short month behind bars. But what I learned there I still use. There are many ways to do time. Now I’m here under a big western sky, working toward satisfaction with what I already have. And maybe wishing for a strawberry milkshake.

Elizabeth Pronk ’95 and Mary Ganchoff Smith ’94 Below: A collage of Smith’s memorabilia from the incident.

I know, you’re dying to ask about my crime.

Mary Smith ’94 calls Colorado’s Western Slope home.

Her Northland experience helped her learn how to be a great neighbor, working to find common ground with all people no matter who they voted for.

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Take Me Back

By Mary Hammerbeck ’03 A student of language since forever ago, Mary Hammerbeck ’03 teaches writing and literature at Normandale Community College and believes her true poet-self lives in letters she writes to friends, in reading, and in the attention she pays to the small wonders of everyday living. She and her family make their home in Minneapolis, where they chart the seasons in watercolor paintings, books and poems, garden growing, and outdoor exploration.

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In writing I’m pausing to reach through the years and follow the floors of Wheeler Hall where from inside the awe and admiration and intimidation for all we didn’t yet know we found brilliant faculty and friendships with their invitations and reading lists and willingness to guide and discover along with us a lifetime of love for language (Nowhere else in time or space have I found people so close to the wildness of my own heart, or who could teach the aesthetics of love1). There we were with all the hazy visions young writers dream deciphering Annie Dillard’s “The Man Who Wishes to Feed on Mahogony” (Some love weights your walking in the world; some love molds you heavier than air2); discovering Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet (Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language3); feeling through like sleepwalkers the green energy of Federico Garcia Lorca’s romances (Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña4); translating tongues in Michele Small’s passionate Spanish lessons till we began to understand how language works (Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?5); asking just what is poetry and answering with Emily Dickinson in Cynthia Belmont’s sunlit, ravine-vista seminars (I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off6); writing our poetic manifestos along the corridors of our imaginations (Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.7); reading Jim Harrison’s Dalva with Rick Penn and silently understanding (It was today—rather yesterday I think—that he told me it was important not to accept life as a brutal approximation8); traveling out and beyond and wandering (wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking9); weaving environmentalism through our studies and lives so we know to whom and what we belong (Stay together, learn the flowers, go light10); forming friendships deep and lasting as Superior (We grew closer through our love of poetic living, collectively dreamed our lives—moonlit swimming, dogsledding, gravelly motorcycle riding, avocado farm rendezvousing, maple syrup tapping, sea gazing, cross-country tripping, building homes, loving dogs and letting them go11); one day returning in timelessness to selves we discovered there together, still with our hazy visions, writing with gratitude for language and for love.

1) Stacy Craig ’04; 2) Annie Dillard; 3) Ranier Marie Rilke; 4) Federico Garcia Lorca; 5) Pablo Neruda; 6) Emily Dickinson; 7) Mary Oliver; 8) Jim Harrison; 9) Antonio Machado, 10) Gary Snyder, and 11) Julie Culbertson ’04.

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Finding the Spark

By Niina Baum ’16 My Outdoor Orientation trip at Northland—two weeks canoeing in the Boundary Waters—was the longest camping trip I’d ever been on. This sparked me to become an avid outdoors person, and I have done many backcountry trips, skiing, mountain biking, and advanced endurance sports, like a Half Ironman and hopefully, the Marji Gesick this coming fall.

I was already an avid dog musher when I attended Northland, but with its proximity to the Apostle Island Sled Dog Race, I was able to continue racing, training, and improving.

I am now on the USA National Team for the United States Federation of Sleddog Sports. In 2019, I competed in Sweden at the IFSS Dryland World Championships. In 2021, I placed first at the Skijor National Championships. In 2022, I placed second.

Spending my undergraduate years in a rural community and taking classes that always had a focus on sustainability set the stage for some of my most recent initiatives. In 2021, I presented through TEDx on using trends and technology to reverse the rural brain drain. In 2020, I started an organization helping young professionals get involved in their rural communities, giving them a sense of place and connectedness like I experienced at Northland.

Niina Baum ’16 is a learning technology and communication specialist, a teaching assistant for the Digital Marketing and Concepts course at Nicolet College, and founder of Northwoods Young Professionals.

The Great Show on Snow

By Jake McGinnis ’14

Jake and Celeste at the Birkie.

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On the last Saturday in February, I lined up in Cable, Wisconsin, for the forty-eighth annual American Birkebeiner, the largest cross-country ski race in North America. The “greatest show on snow,” is a tough, hilly race from Cable to Hayward. For many, including a group of Northlanders, it is a rite of passage and an annual tradition.

I skied my first Birkie nine years ago as one of the first Brother Bear skiers along with Elizabeth Alexson ’14. The

NORTHLAND COLLEGE MAGAZINE

Brother Bear Fund, established

by Brett and Karin Norgaard in memory of their son, Bjorn ’10, has paid for more than a dozen skiers to participate in the race, in addition to providing stipends for student internships, international travel grants, and ski passes.

I remember struggling during that first race, falling several times, cramping, and gritting my teeth, willing myself forward. What stands out, though, is a powerful and unexpected sense of place, of community. I remember words from Brett Norgaard just before

the race, and advice from fellow skiers on the course. I remember the crowds at the finish line on Main Street in Hayward, where spectators ring cowbells with mittened hands.

And yes, I remember being sore the next day when I returned to Northland feeling like some kind of folk hero.

During my senior year at Northland, I went to Hayward with Celeste Lourigan ’15, and we rang a cowbell at the finish line well into the afternoon.

I came home for the race in 2019 after six years away in graduate school, and again in

The Meaning of Community

By Corwin Holzman ’12

2020. In 2021, when skiers participated virtually all over the country and the world, I found myself training longer and harder than ever before.

It kept me grounded, even happy, during the worst days of the pandemic.

When Celeste and I were married on the edge of Lake Superior in 2021, our families rang little cowbells while we walked down the aisle. In 2022, Celeste and I returned to the Birkie. I’d broken my wrist six weeks earlier and had to wear a brace on the course, but still, I finished

my fastest 55km ever. In the early afternoon, I joined Celeste, the two of us ringing bells together well into the afternoon.

We’re already dreaming of coming back in 2023.

Jake McGinnis ’14 is a PhD candidate in English at the University of Notre Dame, where he studies literature and the environment. He grew up in northern Wisconsin, and whenever possible, he returns to the north woods to ski, fish, and spend time with his family outdoors.

What stands out is a powerful and unexpected sense of place...

As I wandered the halls of the CSE, attended talks in the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute, or meandered down the Fenenga bridge—community was the catchphrase of my Northland experience.

All of us Northlanders were trying to engage with local communities, build personal communities, and become part of a more global community, espousing environmentally focused conservation and helping others to step toward a cleaner and greener future.

Back then, I saw my future self as a teacher in a small town or a scientist in a lab somewhere. I never had the particulars, but the general sweep of the thing was to do good work in a quiet place.

My community, I thought, would always stay small.

I now live in a social, buzzing, incessantly loud, and chaotic world of teaching, late-night articles, Zoom rooms, and events scattered across the world.

My community has exploded into one that requires interpreters and more hazy mental math around time zones than I’m ready to admit.

But despite all that, I still find myself preaching those same ideals I learned in the CSE, in the Sig-O: connection is key, building personal relationships is the driving force behind any movement, and working with people takes time.

And patience.

And love.

To me, that’s Northland.

Community.

Corwin Holzman ’12 is the owner and head instructor of the Black Belt Leadership Academy in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He is also a fiction editor for Bending Genres and the North American Virtual Tour director for SportMartialArts.com. He runs on coffee and cookies and can usually be found driving or yelling very loudly— sometimes both at the same time.

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Ed Lallo / Getty Images

Trespassing with Edward Abbey

By Dave Olesen ’79 It was November 17, 1977, exactly two years and a week after the Edmund Fitzgerald sank with twenty-nine crew members on board.

In those years, Northland had some funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities, and Edward Abbey, author of Desert Solitaire, was on campus to speak and to hold a few seminars with students. His novel The Monkey Wrench Gang, published in 1975, was already a cult classic—a cult flourishing with me and my peers.

I was in the first of my two years at Northland, having just transferred from the University of Montana. I was naïve and starry-eyed as all get-out. I had landed the plum job of meeting this lion of wilderness literature face-to-face, talking with him, and reporting on it all for the school paper.

It was a cool, gray, late-autumn day. I met Mr. Abbey out in front of the aging frame house that was the

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Sig Olson Institute in its infancy.

We started north down Ellis Avenue. Abbey was tall and so am I, and we made great strides together down the boulevard.

He liked Ashland and said so. It was, back then, an Ed Abbey kind of place. Working-class, light-years from hip, down on its luck. I suggested we head for the lake and the old ore docks. We talked. (I still have a cassette tape of our conversation, and I cringe and vow to destroy it whenever it surfaces around here. I dare not quote from it.) I was starstruck, ridiculously pedantic and postured, and Abbey was simultaneously bored and mystified by my obtuse lines of questioning. In my journal a few days later, I wrote: “Big soft-spoken man—he seems almost depressed...” Then a quote from him to underscore this: “I’m an optimist. Things are a lot better now than they will be.”

We lapsed into easy stretches of silence as we reached the harbor and admired the lake. That autumn

there was a labor strike up on the Iron Range of Minnesota. This resulted in a temporary tie-up on Ashland’s ancient ore dock by two idle Great Lakes taconite freighters. Real whoppers like the Edmund Fitzgerald. We walked out onto that massive pier structure (gone now, I gather). A steel ladder led up to the deck of the vessel on the west; “NO TRESPASSING!” on metal placards swaying in the cold wind off the bay. “Well, hell,” says Ed, “I’ll never get another chance to see one of these big fellas.” Up the ladder we went.

I remember the vast expanse of the ship’s deck, the twinkle in Abbey’s eye, and then—of course— the watchman came out of the wheelhouse shouting and cursing and chasing us back down the ladder. Ed and I laughed and fled and waved good-bye to the guard.

The trespass might have been the high point of Ed’s visit to Northland. Or maybe not. There were rumors. He was, after all,

Edward Abbey. He had a reputation to live up to.

There were many famous literary visitors to campus in those halcyon years, a who’s who of environmental thought and writing. Along with Abbey, it was Gary Snyder, John Haines, Wendell Berry, and William Stafford whom I recall most vividly, because they were all heroes of mine. Had Henry Thoreau, John Muir, and Lao Tzu been alive, professors Peg Jackson and Lee Merrill would surely have landed gigs for them at Northland. With each of these visitors, students had a chance to listen, talk, share a meal, and mull over the ideas of the day. Ticking off those names to a professor friend of ours in Alberta a few years ago, her response was, “Holy cow, who didn’t come to Northland back then?”

And who can say how a few moments of sitting down with, or walking with, or fleeing from the deck of an ore-boat with one’s literary heroes—all while at that wide-eyed age of nineteen, or twenty-one, or twenty-three—will resonate down through the years of a writing life?

All I can say is, resonate they have.

I remember the vast expanse of the ship’s deck, the twinkle in Abbey’s eye, and then—of course—the watchman came out of the wheelhouse shouting and cursing and chasing us back down the ladder.

Dave Olesen graduated from Northland in 1979 with a BA in humanities and northern studies.

He emigrated to Canada in 1987 and has lived for thirty-five years at a remote homestead northeast of Yellowknife. Olesen is a commercial bush pilot, a dog musher, and the author of four books including Kinds of Winter (2014) and North of Reliance (1989/2016). He posts a monthly dispatch—usually not about flying—at his website bushedpilotblog.ca.

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LARGE TREES FROM SMALL ACORNS GROW! Celebrating 50 Years of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute

By Alan Brew

SOEI Executive Director

Above: A dedicated building for the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute grows toward completion on the north edge of the Ravine in the early 1980s.

Right: An architect’s sketch of the southfacing Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute.

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On the morning of August 27, 1971, Mary Griggs Burke and her husband woke together on the south shore of Lake Namekagon. We don’t know for sure what they did upon waking, perhaps one or both of them went for a swim, perhaps they had tea on the screened porch of the rustic lodge where Mary had spent summers since her birth, but we do know that early in the day the couple left their Forest Lodge estate and drove to Ashland, Wisconsin.

Accompanying them were Robert Matteson, his wife, Jane, and their daughter, Liz. The Mattesons also had a summer home on Lake Namekagon, just across a small bay from Forest Lodge, and the two families had been friends for many years. Prompted by a

NORTHLAND COLLEGE MAGAZINE

postcard from Northland College, the Griggs and Mattesons had agreed to travel to Ashland on the 27th to attend an environmental conference.

I imagine conversation during the drive to Northland that morning was rich with anticipation. In part because, after Bob’s early retirement from the State Department, the Mattesons were preparing to live year-round on Lake Namekagon, but also because both families were looking forward to hearing conference presentations by Gaylord Nelson and Sigurd Olson.

The presentation by Sigurd Olson proved to be especially compelling, and Bob Matteson explains in The Origin and Early History of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute, that it inspired him to propose the idea of establishing an environmental institute to the College’s new president, Malcom McLean. Many conversations and letters about the proposal followed, and out of the conversations a vision for an environmental institute was developed.

On March 25, 1972, the Northland College Board of Trustees unanimously approved the establishment of the Sigurd Olson Institute of Environmental Studies.

With a first-year budget of $38,500, a staff of two, and a one-room office in the basement of the College’s Bobb Hall, the Institute commenced its operations on July 5, 1972. Matteson worked quickly to establish a prestigious advisory board for the Institute, and by October, the Institute had secured its first project-specific grant to support a study related to the Apostle Islands. At $22,500, it was the largest government grant received by the College to date.

As Bob Matteson would later exclaim, “Large trees from small acorns grow!”

Commencing in April of 2022, I am delighted to be facilitating a year-long celebration of the Institute’s 50th anniversary.

Over the course of the year, we will reflect on the many programs and achievements of the Institute, we will honor those who have made those programs and achievements possible, and we will look forward to the Institute’s next fifty years as we consider how we might best realize our mission to promote experiences of wildness and wonder in northern woods and waters, while working to protect wildlands for future generations.

As a preview of things to come, we are pleased in this issue of the Northland College Magazine to share first-person reflections on three of the Institute’s signature programs— LoonWatch, Apostle Islands School, and the Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Award.

Robert Matteson and Sigurd Olson.

Sigurd Olson in front of the newly built Institute in 1981

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THE APOSTLE ISLANDS SCHOOL A Rite of Passage for Chequamegon Bay Youth

By Erica Peterson For me, the history of the Apostle Islands School reads like a logbook—full of sketches, personal reflections, images, challenges, and surprising outcomes. It’s stuffed with lesson plans, menus, Ojibwe words, and most importantly, the life changing comments and stories from over five thousand students who spent three special days in the heart of Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.

The Apostle Islands are among the most beautiful places in the world. Lake Superior is a master at carving a landscape, painting a skyscape, adding adventure to any experience, and instilling a “beyond words” peace of mind and soul. Fifty years ago, the Apostle Islands were recognized as a national treasure and designated a National Lakeshore. Nearby the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute and Northland College have long regarded the Apostle Islands as a valuable resource for research and teaching.

The Apostles are part of my soul as much as outdoor education. It’s been important to me that my experiences be available to all, and especially to children. Because access is difficult and costly, few children from the region have ever visited the park even though the Apostle Islands have had, and continue to have, a great impact on the Bay Area’s development and economy.

In 1986, a vision emerged—providing Northland College students an opportunity to use the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore as an outdoor classroom for area sixth graders from the Chequamegon Bay region; the goal to instill in youth a sense of wonder and place. Working together, we birthed the Apostle Islands School, a three-day, two-night immersive backcountry camping experience.

Thirty-six years and counting, despite challenges, proves its relevance.

I see Apostle Islands School as a legacy program, an annual rite of passage for many area school children and an opportunity to jump start a college student’s career.

As an instructor in the early years, my favorite activity was the treasure hunt. The students were given a scrolled map with clues to natural highlights like the Emerald Pool, Persian Rug, and Pool of Life. The “X marks the spot” destination was two

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crisscrossing fault lines found on Stockton Island’s Anderson Point. Allowed to explore, socially chatter, discover, think, and absorb, the children, at first intent on the X, quickly became introspective, turned to the wildness surrounding them, and discovered the “treasure.” Their inquisitiveness and quiet concentration assured me that this group was leaving the island changed, that this experience had been epic, and that a spark had been ignited that would repeat itself in their future.

Environmental writer David Orr suggests that the real value of a program is in its potential to “build a constituency for the future.”

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On day three we’d form a circle, fixate on a memorable snapshot, and start an imaginary slideshow. When it was our turn, we’d hold up our hands to form a picture frame while describing our “take home” memory. I heard the students describe the lake “talking to me,” looking down the throat of a pitcher plant, waking up in their tent to bird noises, the lightning storm, making the sand sing.

I’d hear comments like “I cannot believe I got over not using electronics,” and “I learned that I am desperate to learn more.”

Change is everywhere and some things become outdated. Other things remain

Terry Daulton ’81

“Environmental writer David Orr suggests that the real value of a program is in its potential to ‘build a constituency for the future.’”

FOLLOWING THE CALL 50 Years of Love for Loons

By Terry Daulton ’81

Erica Peterson leads a group of Apostle Islands School participants.

forever relevant, like national parks and Islands School experiences. I see the mainland left behind in the wake of a boat, and all onboard seeking the “treasure” of the Apostle Islands.

Erica Peterson was the program director of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute when the Apostle Islands Outdoor Education School was started. She now resides in Bayfield, Wisconsin, where she is involved with the non-profit Friends of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.

My toes gripped the Canadian shield rock, allowing me a moment’s tottering hesitation before I plummeted toward the blue water ten feet below.

Cold enveloped me as my limbs thrashed to scrabble to a lower rocky ledge. Gasping, I stood, my body seeming to exude waves of cold. I looked across the lake and saw the ripples from my plunge melting into the reflection of sky and spruce. Then I heard the loon’s echoing wail for the first time. This Boundary Waters lake had only given up its ice a week ago, and my polar plunge had intruded on the loon’s solitude.

It was 1978, and I was a freshman at Northland College taking my first field class. At the time, entranced by the wail, I had no idea how much my future would revolve around loons.

Fast forward to 1989 when I was hired as a LoonWatch assistant. I had just finished my master’s degree at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point.

At that time, LoonWatch was starting to computerize data and expand programming in Minnesota. I soon moved up to

staff biologist, a position I held until 1997. My role grew to include supervising the Timber Wolf Alliance and projects around biodiversity, ecosystem management, and conservation issues following the Institute’s “thoughtful advocacy” philosophy.

The idea behind thoughtful advocacy was to engage in conservation policy through education and collaboration among audiences from different political and social backgrounds with a goal of building consensus.

This idea has stayed with me, informing my current work with Wisconsin’s Green Fire, a fiveyear-old nonprofit that provides science information and analysis to inform Wisconsin conservation policy.

Looking back, I can see I have never moved too far from loons.

I met my husband Jeff Wilson doing loon surveys, and we spent eight years working for Dr. Michael Meyer studying loons.

Loon research required field time, often in beautiful places, adding inspiration to my secondary vocation as an artist. I founded an art-science collaboration at the University of Wisconsin-Trout Lake Station called

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Terry Daulton ’81 at home with husband Jeff Wilson ’76

CELEBRATING THE BEST IN NATURE WRITING The Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Awards

By Mark Peterson “My task…which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel… it is, before all, to make you see.”

—Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim

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Drawing Water, which celebrates its tenth anniversary this year. My paintings often include lakes, but of late, loons have crept into my art. As I write this, my husband is preparing to publish his memoir, Wrong Tree—Adventures in Wildlife Biology, which includes my illustrations—several of which feature loons.

When I was working at the Institute, we celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary.

Since then, another twenty-five years have passed. I currently sit on the LoonWatch Advisory Council and sometimes ponder

the vision of those who founded this project before the term “citizen science” existed.

I also think about the need for “thoughtful advocacy” in a world torn by political turmoil.

Sigurd Olson’s writings inspire deep musings on the spiritual importance of wild places. That day when I was poised to jump into the depths of a Boundary Waters lake, I had no idea where that loon call might lead. That wail still resonates with me, as it does for many who work to protect lakes and wild places. No matter what touchstone beckons to you, follow its call and you will leave the world a better place for future generations.

LoonWatch, a program of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute, protects common loons and their aquatic habitats through education, monitoring, and research.

During her forty-plus year career, Terry Daulton ’81 has worked in environmental education, field biology, conservation policy, and perhaps closest to her heart, collaborative projects at the boundary of arts and sciences.

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“That’s an interesting idea,” said Elizabeth Olson. “Tell me more.”

I was sitting at the large maple table in the living room of Sig and Elizabeth Olson, around which countless conservation campaigns and strategies had been hatched over the decades. Even with Sig gone for eight years, the table was still a centerpiece for ideas in 1990.

I had come with a new idea to discuss with Sig’s widow, whom I met with several times a year to share progress about programs and projects of the Institute that carried her husband’s name and to get her wise counsel.

On every visit, she offered me freshly baked sugar cookies and coffee, a tradition for welcoming visitors. As I gazed out the room’s large picture window, I could see the converted detached garage that was Sig’s “writing shack.”

It was here he pondered and composed his thoughts into nine books and innumerable articles and speeches.

Writing was his passion, his craft, and through his words he enlightened and inspired generations to cherish and protect the intangible values of the natural world.

It was a fitting sight for what I was proposing to Elizabeth: That the Institute embark on a new program to highlight and celebrate the best nonfiction nature writing about the North Country Sig so fervently loved.

The award would bring the author to the Northland College campus to visit classes and speak to the community. The program’s objective would be to inspire people about the natural world and motivate them to work for its protection.

Elizabeth liked the idea and even went along with my suggestion that we honor Sig by naming the award after him. With that first hurdle of approval secured, the concept was further refined and brought before the Institute’s Advisory Board and the College Trustees for support. Books would be submitted every other year and judged by a panel of readers who would determine

A shelf of past SONWA winners

which book “best captured the spirit of the human relationship with the natural world and promoted Sigurd Olson’s values.”

Since the 1991 inaugural award was presented to Ely wilderness guide and author Jim Dale Vickery for his book, Open Spaces, the program has evolved and continues to flourish. In 1999, its scope was broadened beyond a North Country focus to include nature writing without geographical limitations. In 2001, Eileen Long, an Institute Advisory Board member, established an endowment to provide an annual cash award for authors, as well as funds to bring winning authors to campus. In 2003, a children’s category was added. Today, the Award receives seventy-five to one hundred submissions each year, and two dedicated committees of readers review the submissions and make final selections in each category. The recipients of the Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Award are announced each April—the month of Earth Day and of Sigurd’s birthday. All are invited to send in work for consideration.

Visit northland.edu/sonwa to see this year’s recipients and learn more about the program.

Elizabeth and Sigurd Olson

Mark Peterson has served in director roles with the National Park Conservation Association and the National Audubon Society. He served as executive director of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute from 1985-1991 before leaving to earn a PhD in the human dimensions of natural resources. Mark returned to the Institute at the end of his career, serving as executive director from 2012-2017, when he retired.

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2022

After two years of being apart, we are thrilled to gather with alumni and friends at Fall Festival in September 2022!

This year is extra special as we honor the 50th anniversary of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute and celebrate the 130th anniversary of our Northland fair.

Join us for four days of festivities and activities, including an SOEI environmental conference on September 21-22.

More details coming soon! Sign up to receive event updates at northland.edu/FallFest 2020 Award Winners Chris Case ’74

Environmental Achievement Award

Wade Grabowski ’85

Distinguished Alumni Award

Sjana Schanning ’00

Environmental Achievement Award

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2021 Award Winners Dr. Todd Rosenstiel ’95

2022 Award Winners Melissa Damaschke ’03

Robert Schopp ’69

Sarah Szymaniak ’17

Distinguished Alumni Award Distinguished Alumni Award

Environmental Achievement Award Young Alumni Award

Brownell Key Presentation to Classes of 1970, 1971, and 1972 in honor of their 50th anniversary since graduating from Northland College!

NORTHLAND COLLEGE MAGAZINE

2022

SHARE YOUR NORTHLAND STORY! Northland College is teaming up with Publishing Concepts, LP starting in summer 2022 to collect stories from alumni to create a unique oral history archive. Together, we will unite Northland alumni across generations, careers, geography, and life experiences.

This summer, we’ll invite you to share your memories to ensure our rich Northland history is preserved for generations to come.

More details on how to participate coming soon to your inbox!

SAVE THE DATE

Thursday, July 7, 2022 northland.edu/golfclassic

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AT H L E T I C S

WE ARE

TEAM NORTHLAND The spring athletics season is in full swing. Our baseball and softball teams returned from their spring trainings in Arizona and Florida, competing in non-conference games against teams from all across the country.

The men’s lacrosse roster is the largest ever at twenty-seven players, starting the season with several strong wins. Our soccer, volleyball, and golf teams are joining the spring athletes in utilizing our training and practice facilities in their non-traditional period to prepare for the fall season.

The entire Athletics Department joins me in thanking all of the alumni, friends, family, and fans who supported our recent fundraising campaign in March— still ongoing through the spring.

As coaches, teachers, and mentors, we are committed to nurturing Northland’s student athletes—on and off the playing field. Their spirit and perseverance motivate us every day.

Representing nearly 40% of the student body and filling 14 varsity rosters, our athletes are drawn to Ashland from all over the world. At Northland, they learn invaluable skills in and out of the classroom while forging lifelong friendships and unforgettable memories.

Through their acts of community service, our athletes represent a proud legacy of over a century of Northland Athletics.

As we look ahead, we are focused on growing our programs and developing new talent, laying the groundwork for victories to come. Your contributions help take our programs to new heights, building the teams of the future and elevating the caliber of experience for every LumberJack and LumberJill. With your help, we can’t lose.

Onward to victory, Seamus Gregory, Director of Athletics, Head Men’s Hockey Coach

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GIVING

In Gratitude and Recognition After decades of generous support, The DeWitt and Caroline Van Evera Foundation will sunset their operations this year and make a final gift to the College, providing scholarship awards to five Northland students.

It was Mary Congdon Van Evera, the first female chair of the Northland College Board of Trustees, who initiated the longstanding relationship with the Van Evera Foundation, named for her husband Bill’s aunt and uncle.

Mary was a lifelong friend of Northland President Malcom McLean, as the two grew up together in Duluth, Minnesota. She served on Northland’s board from 1978 to 2008, providing enthusiasm, leadership, and support to every major initiative of the era, including the Robert Rue Parsonage Fund for Student Opportunities, the restoration of Wheeler Hall, the renovation of the Dexter Library, and the construction of the Larson-Juhl Center for Science and the Environment. When Northland’s leadership insisted on naming the Visual Arts Center in her honor, she demurred, asserting that she did not need recognition for her deeds and “you get more done when others get the credit.”

Her son Stephen described her as “addicted to Northland,” fiercely committed to its mission, as well as the ethos of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute.

Mary appreciated that the College was not elitist, as she felt strongly about institutions that served the common good, making a place of dignity and belonging for everyone. A lifelong Christian, she identified with the Jewish concept of “tikkun olam,” meaning “repair of the world.” Mary’s translation was “go help someone, heal a wound, do a good deed,” her son remembers. A grateful college remembers, too.

Mary Van Evera passed away in 2018 at the age of ninety-six.

IN MEMORIAM Charles R. McDonald ’65, Madison, WI, 1/30/2019 John W. Smith ’73, Port Charlotte, FL, 4/5/2019 William S. Adams ’66, Port Washington, WI, 11/4/2020 Sandy R. Hendrickson ’76, Wausaukee, WI, 2/3/2021 Diane (Janmey) Pipik ’84, Amherst, OH, 8/2/2021 Marguerite (Johnson) Waters ’49, Negaunee, MI, 10/25/2021 Marilyn (Aspinwall) Butson ’64, Ironwood, MI, 10/27/2021 Laurie Nourse ’61, Ashland, WI, 10/30/2021 Raymond A. Morse ’62, Wisconsin Rapids, WI, 10/31/2021 Faye (Rostollan) Strome ’59, Huntsville, AL, 10/31/2021 Anthony F. Culmone ’76, Bogota, NJ, 11/1/2021 Francis J. Visocky ’60, Parker, CO, 11/7/2021 Nancy (Johnson) Needham ’07, Champlin, MN, 11/10/2021 Faith (Porter) Caskey ’53, Phelps, WI, 11/13/2021 John H. Fromholz ’77, Oakdale, MN, 11/15/2021 Kenneth R. Weiler ’64, Washburn, WI, 11/22/2021 Gary E. Thoni ’70, Olathe, KS, 11/23/2021 Thomas D. Steele ’69, Stevensville, MD, 11/24/2021 Jerry P. Fitzgerald ’62, Mosinee, WI, 11/28/2021 Ardis (Powless) Cloud ’76, Odanah, WI, 11/30/2021

Denton T. Kornburger ’64, North Las Vegas, NV, 12/1/2021 Lee V. Lamoreaux ’67, Phillips, WI, 12/2/2021 Thomas J. Mackie ’52, Battle Creek, MI, 12/12/2021 David R. Greene ’74, Duluth, MN, 12/20/2021 Michael R. Arnao ’79, Washburn, WI, 12/27/2021 Dolores (Utto) Rostollan ’51, Wakefield, MI, 12/28/2021 Thomas W. Wadzinski ’60, Anchorage, AK, 1/6/2022 Donald H. Buckman ’50, Shell Lake, WI, 1/6/2022 James G. Best ’58, Mosinee, WI, 1/7/2022 John Labellarte ’75, Vero Beach, FL, 1/11/2022 Shirley (Hicken) Gingles ’47, Shell Lake, WI, 1/12/2022 Cheryl (Mlachnik) Feldhausen ’70, Muskego, WI, 1/16/2022 Lissa (Plucinski) Andrews ’01, Ashland, WI, 1/22/2022 Thomas J. Dal Santo ’76, South Beloit, IL, 1/29/2022 Gavin D. Donaldson ’81, Buckhannon, WV, 3/10/2022 Thomas O. Arndt ’54, Oshkosh, WI, 3/12/2022 Theodore R. Bissell ’60, Boyceville, WI, 3/15/2022 James L. Peterson, Minneapolis, MN, 10/29/2021, Former Interim President and Trustee 2009–2010

SPRING 2022

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® NONPROFIT ORG U.S. POSTAGE PAID DULUTH, MN PERMIT NO. 1944

1411 Ellis Avenue Ashland, WI 54806-3999

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President Karl I. Solibakke, Julie Penn Coy ’78, John Coy ’80, and Marian Penn ’52.

The family established the Vina “Bunny” Penn Endowed Scholarship in 2017 and continues to contribute to it every year.

Marian Penn, below on the far left, practicing archery circa 1950.

Our extended family proudly boasts 39 Northland alumni among us. By giving to the College, we honor those family members and recognize the important role Northland has played in all of our lives.

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—Julie Penn Coy ’78