SOLSTICE SOLITUDE

Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we experienced...You see how little nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content, is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external things; And I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to make a man happy in whatever state he is. This consists in a full resignation to the will of Providence; and a resigned soul finds pleasure in a path strewed with briars and thorns. ---Daniel Boone

Legendary early American trailblazer and famous woodsmen Daniel Boone was constantly exposed to daily dangers and perils of frontier life. Survival meant living off the land and evading Indian attacks. He would often disappear into the forest for weeks and even months on long extended hunts before returning home to his family. According to author Robert Morgan, "Boone sought oneness with the wilderness as a mystic seeks union with the creator or a lover yearns to merge with the beloved."

There is a story about how a hunting party heard an odd sound coming from the woods. Upon investigating, they came across Boone, lying on his back in a little clearing singing to the clouds, trees, and passing birds. Singing for joy. Singing for nature. For Boone, life in the wilderness was a sublime combination of fear and delight mostly experienced by traveling alone.

My solo kayak trips have bestowed that same familiarity for me. In the far off distant land of Minnesota, I use to strap my kayak on to the roof of an old Chevy van packed up my camping gear, some freeze-dried food along with a notebook and pen, then escape for an overnight, maybe a weekend or if I was lucky enough an extended trip lasting several days. Of course, the dangers were minimal, outside on falling off the roof of my van while unloading my boat.

I would slip off into some corner of the wilderness just around the bend from the boat ramp. Like at Lake Bronson State Park in northwest Minnesota for my first solo trip to a boat in camping site on an island. Paddling on the lake that first trip I had a great feeling of exhilaration, followed by terror coursing through my body. The dreaming and planning finally turned into a reality outside of my so-called comfort zone. Still, it wasn't long before I was feeling those mystic powers of the lake exercising my self-doubts.

"There is magic in the feel of a paddle and the movement of a canoe, a magic compounded of distance, adventure, solitude, and peace," wrote canoe guru Sigurd Olson, "The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness and of a freedom almost forgotten. It is an antidote to insecurity, the open door to waterways of ages past and a way of life with profound and abiding satisfactions. When a man is part of his canoe, he is part of all that canoes have ever known."

I brought my daughter's chocolate Labrador the next summer for a trip to Scenic State Park, near Bigfork, Minn. I had been dog watching Mazie all summer while my daughter was working at a summer camp. She was a natural water dog and enjoyed riding in my tandem kayak. I had brought her along for a few over-nights already. She would scare off any raccoons just by being in camp, kept my feet warm at night, and ate my leftovers

We paddled around the esker, a long ridge of sediment left behind by ice age separating Coon Lake and Sandwick Lake. From this point, I could see that the park lived up to its name. A group of black and white patterned loons was fishing nearby taking turns diving and disappearing into the water. The silence was then broken by one's tremolo, a wavering call of alarm announcing our presence on the lake.

Campsite #6 overlooks the Sandwick Lake. Several large pines had fallen into the lake camouflaging the site's boat entry. It was a spartan site, to say the least, equipped only with a fire ring and grill adjacent to a grassy spot to set up my tent. It would be my base-camp for that next couple of days while staying at the lake. My home away from home.

“To wake up on a gloriously bright morning," wrote American geologist and explorer Josiah Edward Spurr, while leading an expedition mapping the interior of Alaska, "In a tent pitched beneath spruce trees, and to look out lazily and sleepily for a moment from the open side of the tent, across the dead camp-fire of the night before, to the river, where the light of morning rests and perhaps some early-rising native is gliding in his birch canoe; to go to the river and freshen one's self with the cold water, and yell exultingly to the gulls and hell-divers, in the very joy of living."

"You alone?" questioned came from a group canoeists floating by my campsite on the next year's solo trip on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin.

"Always," I said. Which wasn't really true. I would take my kids along on lots of camping trips all the time. I loved sharing my adventures with my family, but my solo trips were special. They were my chance to get-away, to feel the joy of a vision quest and to be a modern-day Daniel Boone.

By day I would paddle around the lakes or rivers, exploring hidden coves and bays. I'd follow streams until my path was blocked by a beaver dam or stop just before the rush of some rapids and contemplate paddling on to the sea.

While at night, with the kayak beached, the tent set and campfire burning, I would enjoy some freeze dried stew with a bottle wine and watch the world come to a standstill, as the sun would either burned up in the black silhouetted pines or dissolved in a fiery glow into the lake. There I would melt into the warmth of my campfire under the stars, listening to the haunting reverberation of the loons. My thoughts of past and worries of the future would fade into the peace of the present.

"One day I undertook a tour through the country," said Boone, "And the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought."

Because being alone wilderness you can find the silence and solitude that can fill your heart and soul.

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max June 9, 2017.

SOLSTICE SOLITUDE

Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we experienced...You see how little nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content, is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external things; And I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to make a man happy in whatever state he is. This consists in a full resignation to the will of Providence; and a resigned soul finds pleasure in a path strewed with briars and thorns. ---Daniel Boone

Legendary early American trailblazer and famous woodsmen Daniel Boone was constantly exposed to daily dangers and perils of frontier life. Survival meant living off the land and evading Indian attacks. He would often disappear into the forest for weeks and even months on long extended hunts before returning home to his family. According to author Robert Morgan, "Boone sought oneness with the wilderness as a mystic seeks union with the creator or a lover yearns to merge with the beloved."

There is a story about how a hunting party heard an odd sound coming from the woods. Upon investigating, they came across Boone, lying on his back in a little clearing singing to the clouds, trees, and passing birds. Singing for joy. Singing for nature. For Boone, life in the wilderness was a sublime combination of fear and delight mostly experienced by traveling alone.

My solo kayak trips have bestowed that same familiarity for me. In the far off distant land of Minnesota, I use to strap my kayak on to the roof of an old Chevy van packed up my camping gear, some freeze-dried food along with a notebook and pen, then escape for an overnight, maybe a weekend or if I was lucky enough an extended trip lasting several days. Of course, the dangers were minimal, outside on falling off the roof of my van while unloading my boat.

I would slip off into some corner of the wilderness just around the bend from the boat ramp. Like at Lake Bronson State Park in northwest Minnesota for my first solo trip to a boat in camping site on an island. Paddling on the lake that first trip I had a great feeling of exhilaration, followed by terror coursing through my body. The dreaming and planning finally turned into a reality outside of my so-called comfort zone. Still, it wasn't long before I was feeling those mystic powers of the lake exercising my self-doubts.

"There is magic in the feel of a paddle and the movement of a canoe, a magic compounded of distance, adventure, solitude, and peace," wrote canoe guru Sigurd Olson, "The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness and of a freedom almost forgotten. It is an antidote to insecurity, the open door to waterways of ages past and a way of life with profound and abiding satisfactions. When a man is part of his canoe, he is part of all that canoes have ever known."

I brought my daughter's chocolate Labrador the next summer for a trip to Scenic State Park, near Bigfork, Minn. I had been dog watching Mazie all summer while my daughter was working at a summer camp. She was a natural water dog and enjoyed riding in my tandem kayak. I had brought her along for a few over-nights already. She would scare off any raccoons just by being in camp, kept my feet warm at night, and ate my leftovers

We paddled around the esker, a long ridge of sediment left behind by ice age separating Coon Lake and Sandwick Lake. From this point, I could see that the park lived up to its name. A group of black and white patterned loons was fishing nearby taking turns diving and disappearing into the water. The silence was then broken by one's tremolo, a wavering call of alarm announcing our presence on the lake.

Campsite #6 overlooks the Sandwick Lake. Several large pines had fallen into the lake camouflaging the site's boat entry. It was a spartan site, to say the least, equipped only with a fire ring and grill adjacent to a grassy spot to set up my tent. It would be my base-camp for that next couple of days while staying at the lake. My home away from home.

“To wake up on a gloriously bright morning," wrote American geologist and explorer Josiah Edward Spurr, while leading an expedition mapping the interior of Alaska, "In a tent pitched beneath spruce trees, and to look out lazily and sleepily for a moment from the open side of the tent, across the dead camp-fire of the night before, to the river, where the light of morning rests and perhaps some early-rising native is gliding in his birch canoe; to go to the river and freshen one's self with the cold water, and yell exultingly to the gulls and hell-divers, in the very joy of living."

"You alone?" questioned came from a group canoeists floating by my campsite on the next year's solo trip on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin.

"Always," I said. Which wasn't really true. I would take my kids along on lots of camping trips all the time. I loved sharing my adventures with my family, but my solo trips were special. They were my chance to get-away, to feel the joy of a vision quest and to be a modern-day Daniel Boone.

By day I would paddle around the lakes or rivers, exploring hidden coves and bays. I'd follow streams until my path was blocked by a beaver dam or stop just before the rush of some rapids and contemplate paddling on to the sea.

While at night, with the kayak beached, the tent set and campfire burning, I would enjoy some freeze dried stew with a bottle wine and watch the world come to a standstill, as the sun would either burned up in the black silhouetted pines or dissolved in a fiery glow into the lake. There I would melt into the warmth of my campfire under the stars, listening to the haunting reverberation of the loons. My thoughts of past and worries of the future would fade into the peace of the present.

"One day I undertook a tour through the country," said Boone, "And the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought."

Because being alone wilderness you can find the silence and solitude that can fill your heart and soul.

PROTECT, PADDLE & PETITION

In the spring of 2015, hundreds of activists in kayaks and small boats fanned out on Puget Sound to protest Shell Oil Company to resuming oil exploration in the Arctic. The paddle-powered environmental groups vowed to disrupt the oil company’s efforts to use of Seattle as a home base for their rigs returning from Alaska's northwest coast, saying that drilling in the remote Arctic waters could lead to an ecological catastrophe. Kayakers paddled around the rigs yelling “Shell No.” and unfurled banners for “Climate Justice.”

And just like that, the term "Kayaktivism" was launched. Ever since paddlers have rallied in places to protect on nation's waterways. In North Dakota, canoeist and kayakers gathered on the waters of the Cannonball, a tributary of the Missouri River to battle to stop the construction Dakota Access Pipeline.

Others groups spoke out against the dismantling of the stream protection rule, a safeguards streams from pollution created by mountaintop removal and surface coal mining. The bill was eventually signed by President Trump.

Lake Michigan

While in the Great Lakes region of U.S. and Canada many are sounding the alarm against potentially drastic cuts to an ecological recovery initiative for the Great Lakes. The Trump administration's potential cuts to the Great Lakes Restoration Initiative reported by the Detroit Free Press would slash annual funding for the $300 million program to $10 million.

“Lake Michigan is our Yellowstone,” Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel told Chicago Tonight, “That is our Grand Canyon. We have to treat it with that same type of respect and investment in the future"

So in an aim to protect wild rivers and public lands, Outside Adventure to the Max is joining in the efforts of American Rivers, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act in 2018. We are teaming up to ask Congress to protect 5,000 new miles of Wild and Scenic Rivers and one million acres of riverside lands. This then ensures that wild rivers flowing through public lands remain unharmed by development and pollution.

Otter Tail River

"As you probably know, fresh water is one of the big issues of our time. It is essential to our health, wealth, and security." Jeff Wiedner, American Rivers' Director of Online Community, wrote in an email, "But our rivers the main source of water for most Americans are under tremendous pressure. Too much water is being pumped out, too much pollution is being dumped in, too many dams block our rivers, and too much pavement is smothering riverside habitat."

He continued by saying that there are many challenges ahead but success depends on people getting involved.

"We believe every community deserves a healthy river," he stated, "Because communities with healthy rivers will enjoy ample clean water supplies, economic opportunity, and a high quality of life."

St Croix River

Sign the petition to Protect Wild Rivers
Support Protecting 5000 New Miles of Wild and Scenic Rivers

“In celebration of the upcoming 50th Anniversary of the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System, we urge you to defend and protect our nation’s 208 national Wild and Scenic Rivers and the public lands through which many of them flow. Join us in calling for additional Wild and Scenic protections for 5,000 miles of rivers and 1,000,000 acres of riverside lands across the country. At a time when we should be celebrating nearly 50 years of wild river protection, some of our best rivers flowing through public lands across the country are at risk. We urge you to oppose any efforts by Congress or the Administration that seek to weaken existing protections or transfer our treasured public lands and Wild and Scenic Rivers."

ST. CROIX DAYS

July 25, 2011...Nothing is better than sitting alongside the banks of the St. Croix River in Interstate State Park just south of Taylor Falls. The area is as beautiful as ever with a wall of rock shooting as high as fifty feet. I share the river with touring paddle boats and daring cliff divers. The water is the color of root beer.---River Journals

When I lived in Fargo, N.D, I always looked forward to this time year. Summer for me, and still is now, a time escape into the wilderness. Back then I would take extended paddling and camping trips into Minnesota. Like a modern-day voyager, I'd set off to find the most scenic waterway I could find,   unload my kayak and paddle its pristine waters.  Some of my most memorable days were spent traveling both up and down the St. Croix River.

The St. Croix River is a paddling jewel of the Northwoods as it runs south dividing both Minnesota and Wisconsin as its border. In 1968, the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway, which includes its major tributary the Namekagon, was established as one of the original eight rivers under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act.
 "An unspoiled river is a very rare thing in this Nation today." said President Lyndon Johnson upon signing the Wild & Scenic Rivers Act,  "Their flow and vitality have been harnessed by dams and too often they have been turned into open sewers by communities and by industries. It makes us all very fearful that all rivers will go this way unless somebody acts now to try to balance our river development."
Ever since the riverway has offered outdoor enthusiasts a chance to enjoy a wilderness experience and a variety of other outdoor recreation opportunities within an easy reach from a major metropolitan area. The upper part of the rivers has challenging Class I-II rapids for canoeists and kayakers, while the lower section of the river is popular for all recreational enthusiasts, who enjoy canoeing, boating, fishing, rock climbing and hiking along its scenic shores. State parks and forests line the border river providing an endless array of camping sites.

July 26, 2011...We were accompanied by the river tour boat for the first couple of miles, explored a rocky island and saw a large rattlesnake there. The river is wide and the weather was clear. 

In one of our first trip on the St. Croix, my son Cole and I kayaked the 14-miles from Interstate Park to the landing at William O'Brien State Park. We shared the scenic beauty of the famous Dalles of the St. Croix with historic looking paddle boats the Taylors Falls Queen and the Taylors Falls Princess.
The towering cliffs are made of basalt from the ancient lava flows. Looking closely at these formations, one can see layers of tiny, empty, bubble-like spaces running through the cliffs. Each of these layers marks what was once the top of a lava flow. From river level to the highest rocks, seven major layers visible forming the bedrock we see today.

Escaping the gorge, we spent a memorable on the river as it widens while intertwining with islands, sandbars, channels, and backwaters. Only two bridges marked our progress along the way. One a highway bridge and another a swinging railroad bridge. After 14 miles of paddling our campsite at William O'Brien State Park was a welcome sight.

August 21, 2012...The park is battered from last year's wind storm. It doesn't look like a tree was untouched, fallen trees lay everywhere. But, the St. Croix doesn't care as it heads toward the Mississippi.  I love this river, clear challenging and filled with beauty, along with cool camping sites.

My next voyage on the St. Croix River was a solo odyssey of paddling downstream and up-stream to camping sites along the river. Being alone and without a shuttle,  I based my van at St. Croix State Park Main Landing and paddled to camping sites.   They were, for the most part, quiet waters in a remote and beautiful, heavily wooded country on both sides of the river. I floated along in  Thoreau-like-fashion reflecting on the solitude of the journey. I found Eagle Bend campsite about 6 miles downstream just before some fast water to set up my camp. To go any further, I would have to battle back through challenging rapids on the way back.  I eat, swim and sleep with the sound of rushing water breaking the silence. Over the next couple of days, I paddle and camp along the St. Croix enjoying the solitude of my adventure.

August 24, 2012...A beautiful morning for paddling the St. Croix. A smoky layer of mist covers the river before the sun breaks over it. It's almost a shame I have to leave. It is so peaceful, so relaxing.