The following was a paper I wrote for class on my Boundary Waters expedition two years ago...
I stood on the threshold of two worlds. The flickering glow of the campfire competed
with the unfolding blanket of the night sky while its smoke hung in banks and
wisped over the water. The moon appeared
with an orange glow as it rose. Speckles of stars seemed almost within reach,
when to my dismay I found what I was longing to escape from—civilization. Two
blinking satellites disrupted the heavenly mood I had come to find. In today’s
postmodern society some find solace in the technological advances of the newest
video game, finest cell phone or top edition of the I-pod. Indeed the world is fast
advancing and we are mere disciples who forget that the best things in life are
those unseen or unheard. My story is that of the latter. In a place with busy lives, the Boundary
Waters is the place to find peace and quiet in a world so disrupted.
I paddle for an hour twisting through a lush swale of
wetland spotting ducks, loons, a couple of beaver lodges, and even a bald
eagle. The russet of the whispering sedge takes on a metallic sheen andwhite
lilies on green pads dot the waterway. The riverbed troll hair is thick, and
the current pulls it downstream. My
shoulders are tight and there is a burn in my neck, but this stretch of water
refreshes my body and spirit. I leave the past in swirls of blue and gain
memories of a world unfamiliar with time.
We arrive at camp and build a fire. As the group reminisces about the day I stare
into the flames thinking of nothing and everything.
“Kristi?” my friend Bridget yells, “Would you like some
Gorp?”
“No thanks I’m good.”
“Do you want to go explore and find the ladies room?”
“Sure!”
Walking beyond the edge of our campsite, we search for the
perfect rock to claim as the ladies room. Distant voices drift from the
campsite but we hike away from them and pursue a low rumble. A few hundred
yards later a waterfall is revealed. Bridget and I stand facing the glimmering
yellow cast of the setting sun and watch until the last vestige of the glowing
beam, disappears from the surface of the water. A bald eagle crosses above. So
frequently spotted here they border on common, but to me the eagle's simple
beauty elicits silent awe. I want to capture the moment and never leave but the
return to camp is necessary.
Back at camp and the boys are found with no measureable
catch, so we subsist on granola bars and Gorp. A partial moon appears above,
casting a long v-shaped shadow on the lake’s surface. One by one the group
leaves the fire and retreats to the comfort of a sleeping bag. I decide to stay
up, on a rock by the water, listening to the waves lapping upon the shoreline.
Looking, listing, waiting; unworldly voices whisper in the mist speaking of
those who had passed this way before and those who may come later. I say a
prayer “May the good company of my friends always last and may we always
remember one other when we end up worlds apart”. The solitude of the moment
rejuvenates my spirit. I am alone but not lonely. Is there something wrong with
me that I don't technology? I gaze to the stars considering this and other
questions, residing on the fact that I am seeing, experiencing, and feeling the
world with fresh humility and honesty. I am immersed in the present, which
requires my full attention. After a long silence I decide to retreat to the
solitude of my tent, coil into my sleeping bag and drift to sleep to the song
of frog and Loon.
I open my eyes in the morning, but remain motionless, taking
in the smells and sounds of the wilderness. The frequent splash of fish jumping
near the shore, the echo of Loons, and the distant purr of water cascading from
the waterfall leaves me in astonishment. It’s surprising how one can go from dense
population to deep wilderness in just a few hours. Departing from my tent, a
show of pink and purple hues welcomes me to a new day. Today will be another
great day to return to silent paddling in the unspoiled landscape of the
Boundary Waters.
So much I now understand after seeing the best of both
worlds. The escape from civilization proved that while being lulled to sleep by
one’s I-pod melody is good, silence in an unhurried atmosphere is better. We have lost so much by becoming accustomed
to wireless connections, instant meals and fast paced transportation. If the
world could learn to sit back and watch life from the unhurried pace of a
canoe, perhaps we could realize all we have been missing for so long…the unseen
beauty that comes without the need of flashy lights or bold sound, the beauty
that God placed here naturally for all to enjoy, the beauty of silence.
