Gunflint Trail

Hello from the end of the Gunflint Trail! I’ve taken a wee bit of a hiatus in writing blog posts as I’ve been in the process of packing and moving to a very remote area of the state. My partner in life, Mark, took the job as the executive director of the Chik-Wauk Museum and Nature Center 3 summers ago. After 2 summers of living separately, I have joined him and now work here as well for his third summer up here.

This is still a remote and wild place. It’s a 54 mile trip from Grand Marais, MN, which is not exactly a huge metropolis, but it is the last place where you can buy food and gas to get you up the trail. The trail ends a mile after the museum at the aptly named, “End of the Trail Campground.” From there, you enter the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness and on the other side of the lake, it’s our northern neighbors, Canada.

Isn’t it fascinating how life is like a river that is constantly moving with unexpected twists and turns along the way? As a child, my biggest delight was any opportunity to travel “up north.” I attended college at Bemidji State University, another northern destination, but never thought I’d be living this far north again in my lifetime. I love taking canoe trips, or spending a week up here in the winter for cross country skiing, but the opportunity to actually live and work up here has been such a unique opportunity and gift.

It has become clearer to me here that I am the intruder into the wild ones’ homes. There are the grouse, who I rarely see, but frequently hear making noise to send me away. The squirrels who holler at me from the tree branches. The backwards glance of this young moose we came across as she looked back at us as if to say, “Why, just why are you bothering me?” There are some beavers who are working on some new water development program who smack their tails to let me know that they are in charge. I do not disagree. The bird feeders must be taken in at night so that we don’t inadvertently lure bears. The black flies and the mosquitoes are experts at chasing humans anywhere but in their presence. Tiny in size, powerful in scope. The loons, whose haunting calls stop us all as we gaze at the babies riding on their mom and dad’s backs, tenderly caring for their young together.

All of this beauty that I am fortunate enough to witness. The same time I was entering their world, my world reported on what we humans have wrought, to not only our world, but their world. The Secretary-General for the U.N. warned of dire consequences if we do not take drastic actions, now, to protect our world. And what is one person to do? How does one make sense of the constant dire warnings of the future, the very near future? And who explains to the creatures of the forest that their way of life is under imminent threat?

It is hard to reconcile this negative information and still hold hope in the awe-inspiring beauty which surrounds me. Chacha and I took a walk down a gravel road next to a swollen, rushing creek. Chacha turned, wagged her tail, and I kid you not, smiled at me. She is in her element here. So much to fret about, and yet so much to glory in at the present moment. The Loggins and Messina song, “Watching the River Run,” popped into my head. I sang it with gusto to the creek, sky, beaver, birds, trees, and whatever wild creature cared to listen.

Maybe my job is just this, “listening and learning and yearning to run, river, run.” I, we, are not alone in this climate crisis. We do have each other, and that’s a lot.

If you’re not familiar with this tune, here’s a link to the song. And here are the lyrics, just for fun!

Watching the River Run

If you’ve been thinkin’ you were all that you’ve got Then don’t feel alone anymore

‘Cause when we’re together then you’ve got a lot ‘Cause I am the river and you are the shore

And it goes on and on, watching the river run Further and further from things that we’ve done Leaving them one by one

And we have just begun, watching the river run Listening and learning and yearning to run, river, run

Winding and swirling and dancing along We passed by the old willow tree

Where lovers caress as we sing them our song, Rejoicing together when we greet the sea

And it goes on and on, watching the river run Further and further from things that we’ve done Leaving them one by one

And we have just begun, watching the river run Listening and learning and yearning to run, river, run

Songwriters: Jim Messina and Kenny Loggins