We were all awake in our bunks by 5:30am (…well, I may have gotten up at that hour to do an little run). The morning was beautiful and my route was a long gravel road surrounded by dense green trees to the tune of complete solitude and sunrise. We moseyed down to breakfast and loaded up, knowing the next few mornings would be oatmeal. As we ate, looking out the glass windows at the water, we noticed that despite a bluebird sky sunny day, the winds were picking up and chop was starting in the lake. While we all scoured the weather forecasts for rain and cold temps, what we neglected to look at was the wind forecast.
When my dad asked if we wanted to go to Boundary Waters last year, my response was instinct; 100%, definitely, absolutely. I took this trip 32 years ago, when I was 8, with my dad and our friend Charlie Gray, and his two sons Cleve and Cabel. I was the little boy my dad never had. It was an easy trip at 8; I threw my clothes (small clothes) into a backpack, he did all the planning, and off we went. Even while canoeing, all I did was sit in the middle while the 4 boys/men (Cleve and Cabel were only a few years older than me) did the paddling. It was a memorable experience then, so I could only imagine how the lens would change having the opportunity to revisit. For those who don’t know, Boundary Waters is as follows:
“I don’t want the journey to be easy, I only want it to be worth it.”
When is the right time to walk away from something you love?