I went away.

I went away for July.

I went away in place and time.

I went paddling in Canada, canoe paddling, that is. And I found a little bit of myself, a little bit that was once a big bit, a little bit that I had let go dormant for 5 years. And I breathed life into that bit. It was difficult. It taxed my bones and my mind, but it was the best kind of difficult.

When I was in college, I spent my summers near Ely, Minnesota guiding canoe trips for Boy Scouts in the Boundary Waters and Quetico Provincial Park. I learned about a million and one things including J strokes, wet-foot portaging, and donut frying in the woods. But really, all of those sappy life skills like self reliance and confidence and living in a certain stillness made up the truly valuable bulk of my gained knowledge.

Then, I did things like internships and graduate classes and vacations in the summers ever since. I had burned out, so to speak, and thought that part of my life was over. Each summer I'd put out the feelers and see if I could go up. Maybe I could squeeze in a trip or two? And then I'd back out. There were valid reasons, but there were also excuses to stay away.

Until this summer. My good friend from Ely, Mr. Fred Marks, had begun directing another Boy Scout base in Bissett, Manitoba, a teeny, tiny gold mining town about 3 hours northeast of Winnipeg. And he encouraged me to return. Again and again. So finally, I did. And I spent some time paddling in the Atikaki Provincial Park.

Can I tell you what it means to go back to your college job, a job that you loved so much it became a part of your identity during that time in your life? Even though I was at a different base, guiding Boy Scouts through the wilderness once again gave me some severe flash backs. The gear, the smell of it, the tents airing out, the canoe bruises on my forearm, the trail food, even the few people I know who continue to work for the base, their mannerisms, it brought me back in such a poignant way. And I was admittedly overwhelmed. But now that I am back here in Indiana, I can see that I really needed that perspective to show me how much has happened in my life since college, how deep down, I am still the same person. And that is a person I like. I always want to be the person I was when I was 20. (*Thank you for teaching me that lesson, Fred.)

Then:

Now:

Not much has changed, right?

While I was there, I read a book by two employees of the base. I know real authors! Fred Marks and Jay Timmerman, both guides, paddled from Lake Superior to Hudson Bay, a journey of about 1400 miles (!!!)...and then they wrote a book about it, a book I stayed up late reading with my headlamp and the mosquitos and a chill in my bones during the truly frightening parts. Jay and Fred and several other former guides packed up a few summers ago and portaged and paddled along historic fur trade routes once traveled by Native Americans and voyageurs alike with York Factory on Hudson Bay marked as the last stop. The story of this adventure is recorded in Far Distant Echo: A Journey by Canoe from Lake Superior to Hudson Bay.

Fred and Jay both describe every, darn detail of their expedition from food packing to navigation, from legendary North Woods folks to the welcoming people who call the area home today. Delicately interwoven into the logistics of their story is the route's historical relevance. This mix of logistics and context helps the book remain not just an account but a window into a place and a culture. Despite their no nonsense writing styles, the emotion comes through when either Fred or Jay write of a particularly interesting piece of history or an inspiring adventurer.

The real climax of the story occurs on Lake Winnipeg, a massive lake the crew must cross while heading north...a distance of about 250 miles. Imagine, if you will, the wind and waves whipped up on a lake of that size. Do so in the safety of your own bed where you can rest at ease. For me, reading this book even on my week long trips this summer gave me the heebie jeebies and real anxiety. Jay talks of crew members praying as they paddled thinking they had seen the end of their days on such harrowing water. This setting is where the group is truly tested and the reader finds out who will push on and who will back out.

Anyway, I couldn't get enough of Far Distant Echo and strongly encourage you to read it whether you consider yourself at home in the great outdoors or if you'd prefer living your adventures vicariously. And if you don't believe me, check out this review. We both agree!

I promised Fred that every library I'll ever work in will have its own copy of Far Distant Echo. And that is a promise I intend to keep even at my new elementary school library where I start work in 4 short days! More on that later.