As I found out on my last extended adventure
which required significant time spent outdoors, your body seems to set itself
in tune with the environment. I don’t mean this in a wishy washy, tree hugger, Pocahontas
talks to the animals type of “in tune”, but a physical manifestation of living
your life outdoors. Waking up with the sun rise and going to bed when it sets
is one of the most obvious changes that occur. Life has become much more simple
although much more primitive. The start
and end of your day have already been scheduled; the rest is up for you to
fill. For us, that means, more paddling.
This morning, I woke up as the sun
barely crested the tops of the trees over the river. Our camp faced west and
although the morning was chilly, it was not as biting as most of the mornings
of the past week. I managed to lace my boots on the first try, my shivering body
hampering previous efforts. Toby was still asleep so I decided to walk down to
the dock were we had pulled the canoe to shore.
I walked out to the edge of the dock, stopping at the end to admire the
view. The sun was now over the tree line, its rays piercing the thin blanket of
clouds creating what looked like holes to heaven. The river was entirely still.
The surface was like a mirror, causing the entire world above it to be
reflected perfectly below. One does not always see such serene landscapes daily
I thought. I said to myself that I should really be taking the time to
contemplate deep thoughts, such as the meaning of life, the universe, or God.
Before my groggy mind could engage in such thinking, a rather portly fisherman
in his boat sped around the reeds, breaking the tranquil aura of the moment,
his fat plaid covered belly and long white beard leading the way. The sputtering engine polluted the natural silence
and his wake shattered the illusion of a mirror the river had just moments
earlier. Any deep thinking would now
have to wait. My mind snapped back from
the profound to the mundane; I had a whole pack of bacon that needed fried as
well as someone to eat it. I walked back to camp, started the fire, and began
our morning routine; deep thinking would have to wait.
Our goal for the day was Grand
Rapids, a town of about 11,000, large enough to have everything you need, but
not big enough to have everything you want.
Within an hour of pushing off the dock the sun was already bearing down
on us. We are starting to have a similar relationship with the sun that most
married couples have with the thermostat. One spouse like’s it too hot, the
other too cold. Today was just too much
sun, the day’s before, too little. Toby had already gotten burned to a crisp,
his face, ears and nose taking the brunt of the damage ever since he sacrificed
his hat for my paddle on our little saunter through the headwaters forests. We kept layers on as long as we could to
protect our hides, but layers don’t protect you from heat. Stripping them off,
we hoped our awful fashion of wearing high socks, low boots and short shorts
would dissuade any more approaches by river vixens.
We paddled through a few small
lakes, small being relative in size to Lake Winnie. We took a few short cuts
through large swaths of lake grass, intent on reaching Grand Rapids. Our goal
was the Pokegama Dam. From there we will use a free of charge portage service
that will take us to where the river starts again, a few miles from the dam. We arrived at the dam, which is also an army
corps of engineer’s recreational site. We have decided that we will camp here.
We aren’t sure when we can have a warm shower again. After having nice conversation with our neighbors
about our journey, we decided that short walk into town for Chinese food would
be just fine. After all, all we have been doing for week is sitting, might as
well workout our other appendages. Toby was quite excited and explained to me
that it was only 2 miles away. I weighed options and decided two miles was the
limit I would walk for any type of food.
We had only had oatmeal that morning so the walk to the restaurant was
quite famishing. We hobbled in the door, hungry, thirsty, and our appetites for
Chinese greater than that of Genghis khan’s.
I am not going to say that in my
perspective all Chinese look the same, that’s offensive, and has gotten many
people in trouble, but what I will say is that most Asians restaurants my
budget can offered look the same, or at least offer the same experience. First, the awkward entrance: There is no
greeting or hello, but a prompt “How many!”. You awkwardly spit out the number,
sometimes holding out the same number of fingers, wondering if your single word
will be lost in translation. There are
large murals of the great wall, or some type of oriental infrastructure, which
to me, all the look same anyways. Unintelligible
music plays in the background as a little child, probably the niece or nephew
of the owner, makes dining area their play pen.
You ask for a coke, but they only have “Pessi” and the drink arrives before you’re even half way to the
buffet line. The place is half empty but
the workers still look like dinner rush is going on. This is why I love cheap local Chinese food,
its not only great food, it’s a great experience without having to travel.
As I chewed, or more likely inhaled,
my most favored crab Rangoon. I thought two things. First, would General Tso be
honored to have his name forever associated with MSG and Corn Starch glazed
chicken? And, what series of events brought a Chinese family to northern Minnesota?
I finished the meal without any answers.
With my belly full, I knew it would be a
long walk back to camp.
Like any good General, General Tso,
makes you do the walking for him. By
mile one I was already ready to get back in the canoe and paddle, my arms were
broken in but the boots I had bought a 4 days ago were not. I looked at Toby
and mentioned that these are pretty long miles. He chuckled and said that he
lied, it was actually 3 miles. Toby had
just really wanted Chinese food and knew I would protest if it was 3 miles
instead of2 or maybe it was revenge for all the accidental paddle splashes I had
sent his way. I guess if everyone walked
6 miles when they wanted a buffet, the world would be a healthier place.
We hope that we can get better
miles in as the river finally flows more south than east, the weather is
getting better and so are our bodies. We hurt less overall, barring toby’s sun
burns. It feels as if we have been on
the river for a month, not 8 days. Regardless,
down the river we go.
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