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bwcasolo
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10/15/2017 12:28PM   (Thread Older Than 3 Years)
I've been home two weeks from Sawbill. My thoughts are still there at times, like when I hike with my wife here, smell a wiff of pine scent or see the north wind blowing the big northern clouds across the sky.

It's truly a magical place that feeds me! I never tire of it.
 
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QueticoMike
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10/15/2017 01:26PM  
I know the feeling.
 
10/15/2017 03:22PM  
Me too. I have never wintered over or lived there. But I sometimes imagine it. Me thinks we could acclimate. :) .If I could afford it ; likely all spring and fall.
The only I time ever ice-fished, there was 50' of rope and a bowline around my waist. :) Miss it too. oth
 
10/15/2017 04:12PM  
As beautiful as Alaska is, I find myself missing northern MN. I will return there in 10 days after 2.5 years in AK. Looking foreword to paddling her lakes next summer.
 
10/15/2017 05:23PM  

I think the BWCA/Quetico area has an indisputably unique beauty.

I think Charles Kuralt, founding "Sunday Morning" anchor and creator of "On the Road " CBS TV series back in the 1960's described it best ..." Anyone who has known the deep woods and the blue lakes, for a week or a season, puts himself to sleep afterward with memories of Ely. "

Charles Kuralt traveled all over the United States while doing his "On the Road" CBS TV series. And his favorite place was Ely, MN.

Charles Kuralt said "Ely appears to be at the end of the road. For people who love wilderness and beauty and solitude, on the contrary, it's at the center of the world."

"Its possible to walk into Ely fully dressed in a business suit and within 1 hour be fully charged,outfitted, equipped and paddling a canoe on wilderness waterways."

I miss the North and can't wait to paddle and fish there next June.
 
10/15/2017 05:29PM  
when you need to worry is when you don't miss it! :)

i've been gone almost a year. the transition is heart wrenching at times.
 
mastertangler
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10/15/2017 05:34PM  
Happiness is being content where you're at. Bloom where you're planted........beauty abounds across these fruited plains! I dearly love the north woods.......but I also love the western mountains and the Florida Everglades and everything in between.
 
10/15/2017 05:54PM  
quote Mocha: "when you need to worry is when you don't miss it! :)


i've been gone almost a year. the transition is heart wrenching at times."




Kinda like this guy I know who hasn't been able to paddle for a couple years. I get what MT is saying, and I like where I live. But I was just getting into my prime. Haha.
I'm planted in a good spot, so that's good. My son took time from work and family to be here for me. It was really fun a little bit ago to get a call from Chris aka poobah. He has a satellite phone and is base camping on Fourtown Lake. During the rain him and Dillon have played a lot of Uno. I was happy to announce that tomorrow isn't going to be to bad but Tuesday on looks beautiful.
 
mastertangler
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10/16/2017 06:28AM  
I gave a bit of thought to what bwcasolo has stated and despite my previous words I must admit to feeling exactly as he does after a trip. There is usually a period of about 2 or 3 weeks where I am constantly looking back and feeling a bit wistful and wishing I was back in the north woods again.

Probably a good thing.........makes going back that much more special!!
 
10/16/2017 07:57AM  
Good week to come back. Sunny and warm.
 
missmolly
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10/16/2017 08:08AM  
I love Scotland and England and Belgium and the south of France and Brittany too. I love Tuscany and Greece and Prague and Ireland. I love New England and northern Ohio and the hilly West Virginia and sprawling Montana. I love Cali and Seattle and the southwest desert.

But the north is special. It's not just another place. It's why I hope to buy a house in northern MN one day. A simple house, a place to store my gear and shower between trips.
 
10/16/2017 02:12PM  
quote missmolly: "I love Scotland and England and Belgium and the south of France and Brittany too. I love Tuscany and Greece and Prague and Ireland. I love New England and northern Ohio and the hilly West Virginia and sprawling Montana. I love Cali and Seattle and the southwest desert.


But the north is special. It's not just another place. It's why I hope to buy a house in northern MN one day. A simple house, a place to store my gear and shower between trips."




Boy, except I haven't been Europe way. I totally agree. Traveling coast to coast really confirmed how beautiful of a nation we have. But boy, I love it here.
 
SaganagaJoe
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10/16/2017 06:44PM  
Minnesota really is something special. Living south of Seattle a bit, I have all the hiking and outdoors I want about 2 hours away in any direction. It really is amazing. But I'm still seriously contemplating a move back to the Twin Cities. Everyone thinks I'm nuts. But they haven't been up nort yet. :)
 
bwcasolo
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10/17/2017 05:41AM  
quote nctry: "Good week to come back. Sunny and warm."

boy you got that right, i have no problem hopping in the car and driving the 6.5 hours to tofte.
 
10/17/2017 08:40AM  
quote bwcasolo: "
quote nctry: "Good week to come back. Sunny and warm."

boy you got that right, i have no problem hopping in the car and driving the 6.5 hours to tofte."




There will be a few people calling in sick a few days this week. Ah choo!
 
ozarkpaddler
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10/17/2017 11:01AM  
I know what you mean, missmolly. Although not as well traveled as you, I love the mountain vistas of the west, the wide open prairies, and my intimate clear water streams of the Ozarks. But the Northwoods...... there is something VERY special about the Northwoods! Heck, from 1984-2003 we took ZERO summer vacations that did not include jumping off from Grand Marais or Ely. Some folks said we were "Missing out" on not seeing more of the country? I think not, I wouldn't trade one of those trips! Well, I exaggerate, I WOULD trade one, our "Bear raid" of 1990.

I have this little cotton bag of balsam that I bought from the BWJ decades ago and it resides on my dresser. Most days, I give it a "Whiff" (it STILL smells like the Northwoods). Then, when I'm home, I get on this site to help scratch that Northwoods "Itch." I'd give anything to spend more time, maybe a whole canoe season up there. Maybe one day I WILL be fortunate enough to do so? I can only hope and pray!

I remember Charles Kuralt and Ely was the first place I planned a trip. But, due to my brother's cancellation and another group having someone cancel I was first exposed to the BWCAW via the Gunflint. Stick me in either area and I could be happy during canoe season. But, come winter, I want to be someplace where I can dip a paddle.

It's been a long, satisfying journey to become intimately familiar with the many variations of the haunting call of the loon, the "Sweet...sweet...Ca-Na-Da..CA-Na-Da..Ca-Na-Dah" trill of the White throat sparrow, the howl of the wolf, the chatter of the red squirrel, and the smell of balsam that the Northwoods has given me. I guess in other, scenic places I feel like I'm "Observing" the beauty, but in the Northwoods, I feel like I'm "Enveloped" in that beauty, if that makes any sense?

Thanks BWCAsolo for the insightful post!
 
10/17/2017 03:24PM  
Absence makes the heart grow fonder........indeed
 
missmolly
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10/17/2017 05:24PM  
Whoa, Oz! You could sell this: "It's been a long, satisfying journey to become intimately familiar with the many variations of the haunting call of the loon, the "Sweet...sweet...Ca-Na-Da..CA-Na-Da..Ca-Na-Dah" trill of the White throat sparrow, the howl of the wolf, the chatter of the red squirrel, and the smell of balsam that the Northwoods has given me. I guess in other, scenic places I feel like I'm "Observing" the beauty, but in the Northwoods, I feel like I'm "Enveloped" in that beauty."
 
10/17/2017 05:27PM  
I woke up in the Northland this morning on top of the world. Spent a week that included beautiful weather, beautiful fall colors, great fishing , and total peace of mind!! Nine hours later I find myself driving home fighting traffic around Madison, peace of mind fading fast. Aches and pains that have eluded me the past week seem to have returned, and the thought of going "home" to central Illinois does not brighten my thought process in the least. I have been debating about making a permanent move to the Northland weighing all the pros and cons, and the pros seem to far outweigh the cons. For my inner peace, and well being I think the Northland will soon be my new "home" . Time to get serious about finding my "place in the woods"...
 
ozarkpaddler
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10/17/2017 06:57PM  
quote missmolly: "Whoa, Oz! You could sell this: "It's been a long, satisfying journey to become intimately familiar with the many variations of the haunting call of the loon, the "Sweet...sweet...Ca-Na-Da..CA-Na-Da..Ca-Na-Dah" trill of the White throat sparrow, the howl of the wolf, the chatter of the red squirrel, and the smell of balsam that the Northwoods has given me. I guess in other, scenic places I feel like I'm "Observing" the beauty, but in the Northwoods, I feel like I'm "Enveloped" in that beauty.""


That is INDEED an honor coming from you!
 
missmolly
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10/17/2017 08:17PM  
quote ozarkpaddler: "
quote missmolly: "Whoa, Oz! You could sell this: "It's been a long, satisfying journey to become intimately familiar with the many variations of the haunting call of the loon, the "Sweet...sweet...Ca-Na-Da..CA-Na-Da..Ca-Na-Dah" trill of the White throat sparrow, the howl of the wolf, the chatter of the red squirrel, and the smell of balsam that the Northwoods has given me. I guess in other, scenic places I feel like I'm "Observing" the beauty, but in the Northwoods, I feel like I'm "Enveloped" in that beauty.""



That is INDEED an honor coming from you!"


Just tellin' ya the truth, Oz.
 
10/17/2017 09:19PM  
quote missmolly: "
quote ozarkpaddler: "
quote missmolly: "Whoa, Oz! You could sell this: "It's been a long, satisfying journey to become intimately familiar with the many variations of the haunting call of the loon, the "Sweet...sweet...Ca-Na-Da..CA-Na-Da..Ca-Na-Dah" trill of the White throat sparrow, the howl of the wolf, the chatter of the red squirrel, and the smell of balsam that the Northwoods has given me. I guess in other, scenic places I feel like I'm "Observing" the beauty, but in the Northwoods, I feel like I'm "Enveloped" in that beauty.""




That is INDEED an honor coming from you!"



Just tellin' ya the truth, Oz. "




I'd listen to her "Oz". You speak well!
 
Savage Voyageur
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10/17/2017 09:41PM  
Oh, I thought this was a thread about how the packers are missing being on top of the NFC North.
 
SaganagaJoe
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10/17/2017 10:17PM  
quote walllee: "I woke up in the Northland this morning on top of the world. Spent a week that included beautiful weather, beautiful fall colors, great fishing , and total peace of mind!! Nine hours later I find myself driving home fighting traffic around Madison, peace of mind fading fast. Aches and pains that have eluded me the past week seem to have returned, and the thought of going "home" to central Illinois does not brighten my thought process in the least. I have been debating about making a permanent move to the Northland weighing all the pros and cons, and the pros seem to far outweigh the cons. For my inner peace, and well being I think the Northland will soon be my new "home" . Time to get serious about finding my "place in the woods"..."


One morning I woke up on Seagull Lake at the end of a five day trip. Beautiful sunrise, calm water, loons. Northern lights the previous night. We were out of the woods by about 11 AM and on the road back to Minneapolis.

I'm ashamed to say that that night I turned down free Target Field tickets. I just couldn't bring myself to end the day in the midst of screaming fans and umpires and organs. That would have been too much for me. It was hard enough sitting on 35W waiting to get onto 94 in downtown Minneapolis at the top of rush hour.
 
missmolly
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10/18/2017 08:53AM  
Joe, your story reminds me of sailing to NYC with a couple rough-and-tumble Irishmen. My gal pal and I took the train back to Boston because she had a posh charity event to attend. That event was perfectly fine and lovely, but we just couldn't stay, not after a week with a pair of profane, funny sailors.
 
KarlBAndersen1
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10/18/2017 08:57AM  
quote missmolly: "I love Scotland and England and Belgium and the south of France and Brittany too. I love Tuscany and Greece and Prague and Ireland. I love New England and northern Ohio and the hilly West Virginia and sprawling Montana. I love Cali and Seattle and the southwest desert.


But the north is special. It's not just another place. It's why I hope to buy a house in northern MN one day. A simple house, a place to store my gear and shower between trips."



That choked me up.
 
missmolly
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10/18/2017 12:00PM  
Well, then, Karl, I hope this makes you laugh and cry:


My grandfather’s magazine covers showed solitary men or pairs, but always in red-checkered shirts and high leather boots and often beneath blackening skies. I loved the covers better than the black and white photos inside, which seemed smudged, whereas the red checks on their shirts were always bright and especially before the storms.
When I was fifteen, I finally asked my father to take me north. I’d read a story about a father and a daughter who canoed Lake Missanabie. Their canoe tipped beneath a black sky and the daughter drowned. The father swam to shore and found their campsite shredded by a bear. I showed Dad the article.
After reading it, he asked, “Did you read all of this?”
“Uh-huh.”
“To the very end?”
I nodded.
“You know she died?”
“I won’t.”
We did, however, sink.
I blame the 12’ johnboats. They were bought at Sears, along with two Ted Williams outboards. Atop our Wagon Queen Family Truckster, a red Chevy Biscayne station wagon, our johnboats nested inside each other like plastic glasses. For logging roads, our red Chevy was only a pinch more off-road worthy than a Lamborghini. Still, it held the six of us: my three brothers, my grandfather, father, and me.
Sadly, none of the men wore red-checkered shirts. Just me. Even more sadly, my grandfather wore his navy blue work pants and shirt with “Bill” embroidered above the pocket. That was sad because blackflies loved that navy blue. Bites deformed his face. Our aerosol can of OFF deterred as well as a white picket fence before the Blitzkrieg.
We were similarly unequipped with tents.
My oldest brother had said, “I’ll sleep under the stars.”
Mosquitoes love bloody fools.
So, I shared my slender tube tent, which became our sausage casing.
The water also teemed with blood suckers. I’ve never found another lake with so many leeches as our first. You’d wash your hands at lakeside and they’re flutter up to your commotion, then settle when you removed your hands, looking like wacky-hooked Senkos falling.
“Let’s swim way out there,” I suggested to a brother. They can’t flutter up from the very bottom of the lake.”
So, I swam around the boat, trying to stay warm by moving, while he clinched the gunwales. When we wrenched ourselves back into the boat, my brother looked like Humphrey Bogart back on the African Queen, freckled with leeches. I carefully plucked and he frantically plucked and we realized that we were right, that they couldn’t swim up one hundred plus feet, but they could move from the boat’s bottom to a boy clenching gunwales.
However, there were pike, which epitomized Ontario for me, as before that trip, I’d only seen them in those seemingly smudged black and white photos. We caught them at a river mouth, which meant a lot of weed wrangling, with and without fish. We took turns fishing, as the johnboats had so little freeboard that two to a boat was best. And we gorged like Romans.
We drove to Chapleau a couple times for supplies and passed many little lakes. My dad correctly guessed that no one would bother to fish such little lakes with so many larger lakes.
“Besides,” he reasoned, “we can fish three to a boat and easily swim to shore if something happens. Just make sure the person in the bow in sitting in the middle seat when underway so as to lift the bow.”
I fished with my father and grandfather, while logging trucks, big-tired behemoths launching road gravel, sped past. We didn’t care, for the lake did seem unfished, as the pike were fat and striking lures as if it were their first time. Then, just like that, my grandfather hooked our Moby Dick. It was literally white and as creaky as our Zebcos, for it came to the net quickly and without a fuss. We had our hootenanny and then my dad started the engine to show “the beast to the boys.”
That’s when calamity cold-cocked victory; my whooping grandfather didn’t vacate his bow seat and our Ted Williams motor drove our boat into the water instead of over the water.
My father was right; we could swim to shore.
Heroically, I saved a rod, as the Daredevle on its business end hooked my sleeve. I clung to a floatation cushion with one hand and held the pike, still in the net, with the other before tales of pike attacking outboard motors and oars had me releasing it, hoping it would be merciful to me.
I’m guessing that pike rightfully bragged for years about sinking us.
A day later, the guys left except for one brother. He and I spent another four weeks on our island, moving to the Coleman tent. Within a week, we achieved what was seemingly impossible; we grew weary of fishing and sick of eating those crispy, golden nuggets. So, we switched to exploration, working our way up and down the rivers that flowed to and from our lake.
We found a trapper’s cabin, with long-drying socks inside and drying racks outside. Then we found another built into the side of a hill. You crawled into a windowless hovel, which was worth it just to see the rusted cans of beans, still waiting to be opened, and hanging socks, still waiting to be donned. It seemed its builder valued his hovel enough to intend returning.
He wasn’t the only one who didn’t return. Decades later, my dad and I found a fishing camp. It was clear that no one was returning to it, as those not-easily transportable things of value were gone, the boats and motors. Even the refrigerator had been lugged and flown away; a dusty square marked where it had been. The stove remained, its base filigreed with rust. What remained was the sauna, bunkhouse, a little lodge, and empty fuel tanks, along with some saggy couches and chairs.
What confirmed its abandonment was the guest book had been left in a heap of paper, which mostly comprised newish fishing magazines with cover titles like, “37 Surefire ways to Catch Smallmouth Bass!” In that book, those who loved the camp wrote about fish caught, laughs had, and moose, loons, and eagles seen. But that book meant nothing to the last person out the door, less than a used refrigerator. They weren’t coming back, which is why it was our duty to spend a couple hours reading every guest book entry aloud and then centered it on the coffee table, removing the magazines to frame it with sacred space.
Nowadays, my father couldn’t reach that fishing camp. He’s too wobbly for the pitched Canadian Shield granite. So, I often go alone. When I was young and limber, I’d rise around sunrise. No more; I rise at four, when the sleeping bag is warmest and the day is coolest. I go because the gloaming, unlike me, is still young and the bass are ready to rise to a fly in the hushing fog.
Sadly, I wear no more red checkered shirts. My undershirts are now water-wicking microfiber and Lycra. My quick-drying overshirts have as many pockets and doodads as Russian generals have ribbons and bars. If only such shirts were red checked too, red checks to burn brightly beneath dark skies. However, my shirts do their job. They keep me on the water when it’s raining and cool and that’s all I need as I no longer tire of fishing or fish as I did on my first turn.


 
mastertangler
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10/18/2017 12:13PM  
Well done Miss Molly.......very enjoyable.
 
KarlBAndersen1
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10/18/2017 12:55PM  
quote missmolly: "Well, then, Karl, I hope this makes you laugh and cry:
"


You were right.
 
missmolly
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10/18/2017 12:57PM  
Mission accomplished!

Thanks, MT.
 
GirlOnARock
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10/21/2017 07:59AM  
Oh my...missmolly! Brought me to tears and felt shivers in my spine. Thanks for sharing your ability to put your heart on paper!
 
10/21/2017 08:26AM  
Good golly Miss Molly.

You have a gift for writing.
 
missmolly
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10/21/2017 01:58PM  
Thanks, Ms. Rock and Mr. 13! Let's all keep burning as brightly as we're able, red checks or not.
 
10/21/2017 02:21PM  
A very nice read, Missmolly. I've found myself wondering over the years what has happened to the builders of all those old, trapper/hunter cabins scattered across the North. Most that I have found were, no doubt, built by First Nation folks, and used only in winter. They would be HORRIBLE places to spend the warm months, as they were often located along sheltered, swamp bays. I remember seeing thousands of fur-bearer bones; ski-do parts; decomposing hides; drying racks; and abandoned, disintegrating wooden boats/canoes.

I think the North has always been a magical place--but also a place that can kill you in a heartbeat or tax your sanity at times. The easy living associated with the sun-splashed forests and lovely, tranquil lakes of the summer tourist become pretty unforgiving during the other 8-9 month of the year. Keeping busy and and adapting to each season keeps locals alive and well. I've noticed the same thing in the more remote parts of the West.

 
SaganagaJoe
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10/21/2017 06:46PM  
Never will forget the feeling I first had when we first pushed off into the channel that headed up to Saganaga Lake on my first trip. Nor the feeling when I first watched the sun set in canoe country that night, smelling the pines and slapping the mosquitoes, and hearing the loons' calls echo across the water. I've never been the same since.

Well done Miss Molly. PS. I love red flannel shirts.
 
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