We wake early to so we can break camp and paddle during the morning calm. I’m slow to get around due to the short night of sleep and my overall reluctance to leave this place that has made my soul sing for the past week. After a cup of coffee, we watch the mist rise from the lake, and we are paddling out of camp at 7:30 am.

The water is pure glass, easily the best paddling of the trip. The portages are uneventful, our navigation is true, our paddle strokes smooth and confident. In addition to all the learning we’ve done regarding this vast wilderness and the skills needed to survive here, we have learned a great deal about each other…and ourselves.

The paddle across Sag is sublime, with pure glassy water all the way to American Point. We exit the park at 2:30 PM. The trip is now over, but the memories of this first canoe trip will remain for a lifetime. I “regale” Claire with some of these memories as we ride back to Tuscarora, and it feels odd to ride in a car and talk to another person that isn’t my paddling partner. Shawn and I say our goodbyes, I peruse the gift shop, and begin my drive home.

A week prior, I had been on my phone talking to my family to the last possible minute when driving up the Gunflint Trail. Today, I am hesitant to turn my phone back on at all. I try to imprint the image of every sentinel white pine I see, and to breathe in every last whiff of balsam one last time, before calling my family as I enter Grand Marais.

I am still processing what this trip means to me. What lessons have I learned this week that remain deeply embedded, lying dormant inside until a moment of adversity, perhaps years later, will cause it to burst forth? What lessons will the park have in store for me in the next ten years? The next twenty? The Boundary Waters has touched the depths of my wild heart…and I will return.

And next time, I’ll remember the leeches!~Ester Lake, Ottertrack Lake, Swamp Lake, Saganaga Lake