Regaining my identity after a prolonged absence

I Need To Immerse Myself In Nature To Feel Alive

I stood on the boat dock with three small children. My husband cranked the radio phone to contact, Lee, the owner of Wilderness Bay. Our groceries and belongings lined in a row awaited transport. We lingered with some apprehension, straining to hear the sound of a motorboat. Was this vacation to a remote cabin such a good idea after all?

My friend and her husband had come home after a week there. She related glowing details of the place, “It was the most peaceful, relaxing get-away we ever had.”

Soon a white runabout boat motored in our direction. A frothy wake fanned behind as it rounded a distant island. I squeezed Brent’s hand, “We’re committed now.”

Lee, a tall outdoors-looking man wearing a red plaid shirt and jeans, cut the motor. He glided the boat to the dock, coming to rest against a tire. He tossed the tie-up rope to Brent and stepped with nimble grace onto the dock. Securing the rope to a cleat, he stood, focused on our 17-month-old son, Paul, and grimaced.

“I didn’t know you had a toddler with you,” he said, hesitating to take us on board.

I felt he didn’t want to be responsible for a little tyke, who might drown. “Don’t worry about him,” I said, “he’ll be throwing pebbles in the water all week.”

Lee deposited us at our dock which had a small motorboat and canoe tied to it. “Enjoy your stay. If you need anything, the lodge has some staples and ice cream bars. There’s an information packet in your cabin with a map of the area.”

We carried our gear and boxes of groceries up to Cabin one. We stepped through the screen enclosed porch. Knotty pine walls in the interior beckoned us. The cares of the world dissolved within that rustic decor. Everything functioned on propane: stove, refrigerator, and mounted wall lights. The kitchen sink had a small water pump anchored to one corner. A kettle rested on a stove burner to heat hot water. “Oh, how that brought up memories of my childhood.” I felt right at home.

This former fishing camp occupied a peninsula at the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. Evergreen, Birch, and Aspen trees surrounded us. A patch of submerged cattails grew at the water’s edge. Leopard frogs were half submerged among the reeds.

Our oldest son, Bob couldn’t resist trying to catch them. He held a wiggling frog in his hands with pride before releasing it. Christine, our firstborn, chased after colorful butterflies feeding on wildflower blossoms. Paul tossed tiny pebbles into the lake, fascinated by the ripples they created.

Before long my children asked to use the bathroom. We walked up a path to the outhouse behind our cabin. All three balked at using the facility. They came from a city with flush toilets. “You have no choice,” I said, “this is it.” In time, they accepted the outhouse despite initial resistance.

This experience was going to challenge my entire family. Whereas, I felt content and happy to be back in a wilderness setting. Had it been 16 years since I left my rustic mountaintop?

I left home after college, joined the Army Nurse Corps, and met Brent at Ft. Bragg. We married and settled in his Illinois hometown upon his discharge. Six years later we had three children. At Snowbank Lake I realized I had lost my true identity.

Nature presented us with wonder and excitement every day we spent at Wilderness Bay. The loons fascinated our family with their distinctive cry and plumage. The females had babies hitching a ride on their backs. The takeoff before flight was spectacular. It has the most haunting wilderness cry I’ve ever heard.

Go to this link to learn @ the loon & enjoy several calls.

https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/common-loon#bird-about

Bob was a better fisherman than his father. How we anticipated frying breaded fish for dinner. There was a separate fish house where the men could clean their catch.

A former Girl Scout, I taught everyone how to paddle the canoe. We explored inlets and lily pad areas. Beavers fell young saplings to add to their dwellings, ignoring our floating canoe.

One day while hiking a forest trail canoe campers passed us. They portaged a canoe on their shoulders to the next lake. After walking right into the water they dumped their burden in relief. Then packs reloaded, they assumed bow and aft positions. How I longed to join them as they paddled out of sight.

A black bear would wander past our cabin at dusk, hunting for something to eat. She knew where the garbage shed was and tried to break in. Lee scared her away with a pellet gun.

Riding in our motorboat, we spied a bald eagle perched on a huge nest high in a pine tree. Its mate plunged talons into the lake and flew to the nest with a writhing fish.

A silent merganser glided the shoreline with eight chicks in a row. A great blue heron would lift off from a boulder, surprising us. We had thought it was a piece of driftwood. Sometimes a fish would leap from the water while catching a mayfly.

Some evenings we followed a path behind our cabin to a rock outcrop. We built a small fire in a designated ring of stones and roasted marshmallows for s’mores. The western view provided the best spot to witness spectacular sunsets.

Our youngsters began to use nature’s gifts of rocks, twigs, moss and pine needles to construct villages. My brothers and I did the same as children. They were acclimating. I was proud of them.

It was a bittersweet day when Lee transported us back to the landing. We made reservations to return the following year.

Before getting into the car for the trip home, I faced the lake to say, “Good-by” and I swear I heard the wilderness reply, “Come back, come back.” And I knew, I was going to embrace my roots once more. I am a nature child at heart!

This is in response to a nature prompt by Dr. Preeti Singh in Reciprocal.

Two authors of Reciprocal I highly recommend are:

Josephine Crispin

I enjoyed reading this article by Josephine Crispin. I’m a tree lover myself. They serve us freely, supplying oxygen and providing shade. I need their presence in my life.

Jo An Fox-Wright Maddox

Like Jo An, I grew up in New York State. The winters were harsh and cold. I’m also in the last chapters of my life so I can identify with her feelings. Yet I continue to love snow. Cross country skiing and snowshoeing are two of my favorite activities.