Boundary Waters, Part IV

[Sorry this one didn't follow the one-a-day theme. Thirty-hour workweeks are no fun. Enjoy!]

Day 4 - July 30

The most exciting thing that happened on this fourth day of our sojourn deep into enemy territory in the way between Man and Nature was the weather. We awoke to soporofic, pillowy clouds, which saw fit to dump some fairly mild, scattered rain on us throughout the day. Later, the clouds fractured and by dusk were confined to the edges of the horizon, so we were treated to a fiery last rally of the sun, unencumbered by cloud for virtually the first time that day before it sunk behind the tall, beautiful firs on the far shore.

Out here, we all took particular note of the weather. In our modern lives, the weather has a lessened effect on us. But when you're out in it, it's a different story. The above description of a day in weather isn't even all that exciting, but it's what we all noticed. You can see alot more sky in the BWCA than you can with a roof over your head, and so it's inevitable that you pay more attention to it and its subtle moods and changes.

As for us, we oozed around the campsite and our lake, blissfully wiling away the lazy hours, conscious of the beauty of this wilderness lake. We voyaged to see the beaver dam, so permanent a fixture of the landscape that it had quite a sizable pine growing out of it, that held this lake at its present water level. A solitary camper took the other campsite on this lake, but he made no noise at all and we only saw him flitting about the lake in his one-man canoe. It is funny that all of us seem to lower our voices naturally here. At night it is quieter than my bedroom at home; no wind, no train whistles, only the otherworldly, beautiful song of the loons and the soft slop of the water against the rocks. We are provisioned like kinds in the wilderness. After a majority of our trip has been taken, our food supply seems quite undented. The freeze-dried food exceeded expectations, but was inconvenient because one package was not enough, while two packages was much too much. We didn't even eat supper on the 30th, because of a very late lunch and the urge to get the food out of the camp, so that nighttime marauders wouldn't bother us. We made up for it the next morning with an enormous breakfast that lasted till 11. In conclusion, an immensely lazy but immensely fulfilling day.

The Book

Many's the time I've beheld a book
Just begging to be taken and read in some nook.
A book is a suitcase for story;
Of mirth, of magic, of glory.

It transports me to some far distant shore,
Where I'll watch Frodo and Sam making their way to Mordor.
Or I'll feel the salt spray on H.M.S. Surprise's bow,
And I'll see Beanstalk Jack being traded a few beans for a cow.

The best books are portals into another dimension;
To the perils of Leonidas, to D'arcy's condescencion.
The list goes far on, for there are many more,
the legends, the sagas, the myths and the lore.

As I open the book, my troubles meet relief.
From Saul's defeat to David's humble belief.
Like the Road to Damascus, and the one to perdition,
The best books are stories without termination.