Author: Sue Ahrendt

The other day I was picking over Daniel’s fresh strawberries. He picked them in central Minnesota, while at the cabin with Granny and Gramps. The berries were small by grocery store standards, but huge by wild northwoods strawberry standards.

There were many layers of strawberries floating in the dish tub, so I had plenty of time to sort through strawberry memories. We went picking a lot when we were kids, with my cousins sometimes. I remember nasty hot rotten ones pelted in the patch. I recall my mom sitting in our teeny city backyard picking them over so she could make soooooo many jars of strawberry jam.

I have a particular memory of visiting my grandpa (Pop) in Wisconsin during strawberry season. He ate LOTS of strawberries, as he ate sweet corn during the corn harvest, and tons of raspberries when they were ripe…. This time, his 93 year old friend Roy Jones was visiting, so Roy came picking with us. Roy had once been a hired hand at my grandpa’s farm, at least during the summers, and they were pals. Pop said when his dad would call upstairs for morning chores, at 4:30 or 5am. No matter how late they had been out gallivanting the night before, all you would hear from Roy was “Yup, BANG” (the BANG was the sound of Roy’s feet as they hit the floor). Anyhow, Pop and Roy were chatting in the strawberry field that day, and the stories of their antics would just crack them up. I remember the way they were laughing made the years disappear; they were young guys and the shenanigans they had orchestrated were REALLY funny. For a minute they felt like they could have been my peers. Then, I remember feeling a little alarmed when suddenly Roy Jones wasn’t picking any more. He was lying between the strawberry rows. Not dead though, it was just time to take a little snooze.

When we first moved to Tuscarora, the strawberries were just ripe—as they are right now. One of the first things the kids and I did while exploring was to go out picking. We realized pretty quickly that it was a little futile to try to keep any. They just aren’t that plentiful, and they’re so tiny.

A mother bear and her two cubs have been hanging out around Round Lake road this summer. Jim Colbert caught them eating strawberries on the snowmobile trail last week. He was downwind, and when he startled the mother she stood up to get a better look at him. She huffed at him or maybe to her cub in the tree before she waddled away. Jim and I have both noticed that she has been raiding the ant hills along the road as well. (Jim has tasted the ants at one time too, and liked their limey taste). I’ll wager she is looking forward to the blueberries and raspberries ripening as much as we are. They’ll make for a more abundant lunch.

As I finished picking over Daniel’s stash, I realized that strawberries have been kind of a big deal in my life, even though I don’t even like them. I try at least one every year. They look so delicious that I forget that they make me gag. They sure are pretty though, I guess I’ll keep trying ….and looking forward to when the raspberries and blueberries are ready for me and the bears to start feasting.

Tonight when Cass(housekeeping manager) was wrapping up–writing up the morning schedule in my office–we were dead tired. The entire staff has been working really hard–it has been a big week. A whole pack of happy-go-lucky teenagers blew in off the water today, feasted on lasagna and salad, and headed home.

We stopped to look out the window; Daniel was out in the boat with Jim from Cabin 5, the guys from Cabin 4 were in fish surgery–cleaning their Saganaga catch, and a big extended family (preparing for tomorrow’s canoe trip) were squealing in the canoe yard. She said “Isn’t it great to share this place with people who love it as much as we do?”

Yes, it really is.

Yesterday, the kids and I had a chance to see the Canadian/US team of paddlers come into Saganaga. Check out the Heart of the Continent activities occurring this summer, in part to celebrate the 100th birthday of Superior National Forest (and Quetico…which is sort of 100 years old as well).

Wilderness Canoe Base and Gunflint Wilderness Camp came with North Canoes (the kind the Voyageur Fur traders used to travel the border lakes) and escorted the expedition members into Chik–wauk (a former lodge/historic site, future museum on the Sag channel). Local people gathered for a little shindig welcome/shore lunch (sponsored by the Gunflint Trail Histoical Society) program on the pleasant July day.

And here is our friend Jim Wiinanen, one of the US paddlers of this leg of the journey. If you’ve ever had the opportunity to take a trip with Jim, you’d realize that he wins the prize for really-fun-guy-to-paddle with, knows-everything-but-won’t-tell-until-you-ask, full of ingenuity and playfulness, most stable/longest-lasting trails wardrobe. I’ll bet you a dollar that he’s got his own personal T.P. partial roll right there in his right breast pocket–can almost guarantee that. Don’t be alarmed by the subtle change in his tripping attire—he is showing his pride for the Centennial Event in his best Finnish manner, by wearing the little centennial pin on his collar. (Can you tell he’s one of my long time favorites?—even from when I was 16 at Wilderness Canoe Base, and he looked exactly the same and I was just a little bit afraid of him. Pretty sure he still had that green hat, but he didn’t wear it when he was working, of course.) And he really does know an awful lot about camping in the Northwoods and the people…and the places..and…..

At any rate—the new crew, on the next leg of the journey, is paddling up the North Shore of Lake Superior today, back to Canada.

Northridge Middle School parents will be glad to know that we welcomed an enthusiastic bunch to Tuscarora around 8pm (16 hours from Indiana).
Now they are settled in for the night-ready to head into the BWCA right after breakfast.

And the Tuscarora escort champions get a little punchy at that time of night…

On Friday night, these two soggy urchins showed up at the office screen door just as it was starting to rain-again. All they wanted was some rootbeer. (Their mom was just down the path, their dad was loading the car). After they had their showers (and rootbeer), these devoted parents sat in the office and talked about the experience of being in the woods with their kids—un-distracted. At first I was thinking—‘Rats, I hope the thunderstorms didn’t wreck their entire trip.’ But you know what the kids said about being stuck in the tent with their parents? “Daddy, we’ve never HEARD you laugh like that before.”

During Fathers’ Day weekend, I had my radar tuned to the fathers that were coming through. When I took the time to zero in on them, I was heartened to notice a great bunch of guys—it gives me lots of optimism and faith in the future.

It’s a complex responsibility to be a good dad. Modern dads are supposed to be everything their dads were, and also everything that they weren’t.

They help run households and do dishes. They contribute to the family income. Sometimes as sole supporter. Then the pressure is really on, especially during harder economic times.

They’re supposed to be competent and successful in their careers. After all, they’re setting an example for their kids. They should also be following their dreams, because—don’t we all want our kids to follow their dreams too?

Then, there’s extra curricular activities. Chauffeur, coach, the referee, the fan, the troop leader, the tutor, the counselor. Dads are supposed to help build, help organize, help the community.

We all know that good dads fix stuff, because the stuff is always breaking. They really should exercise regularly, be fit and keep stress at bay. And—they should be sleeping at least 8 hours a night, because otherwise, they get a little testy and impatient.

On top of all that, when is the time to get to know their kids?

And who has time to go fishing????

The dirty rotten secret is that nobody has time to do it all perfectly. Something has to give. (The grandparents seem to understand this best—but that’s a different story).

The trick is—the “taking the time to get to know your kids” piece. It can be hard to quantify that, and it doesn’t fit neatly into the Saturday list along with mowing the lawn.

But the ones I saw this weekend have found one way. Once these families get into the BWCA—so many complexities fall away. Dads don’t burn the candle at both ends out there, so first they can relax and sleep. Phones can’t ring, laptops don’t work, can’t be late for anything really, the car can’t break down…..what a rare treat—well rested, no list, only “time to get to know your kid”.

And with that, I have a couple weekend Fathers’ Day stories to tell:

Boyscout Troop 74 from Manhattan Kansas came off the water on Saturday—each group had taken a different route all the way to Alice Lake (64 miles total)-a lot of dads, a lot of sons. All in Tuscarora Portage Survivor tshirts.

Dave M told Andy that he simply appreciated time to paddle the canoe with his son. They didn’t have to talk, they could just hang out and savor those hours. These are precious memories both of them can draw on when Dave goes back to Iraq next week, for another year of service. (Thank you for doing that for us Dave, by the way. Thank you)

Mike and his daughter had an adventure, and in case you didn’t know this, in June when the fish are REALLY biting, the bugs are biting too. This bright spunky girl spread her cheerful electricity all over the place when they came through. Overheard on the phone— when her mom asked her to rank the trip on a scale of 1-10 . “I don’t know mom, she said seriously. The bugs were REALLY bad out there. I guess I’m going to have to give it a 9.5”

Wade and his son are BWCAW veterans. Can’t you tell by looking at him that he knows EXACTLY how and where to catch fish on Tuscarora Lake? He’s got a wealth of information.

Our friend John (in the stern) began his 2^nd Tuscarora trip of this summer last weekend. (I’m putting in the photo of the father-daughter trip too—a couple weeks ago). When you hear John’s booming voice in camp, it matches his presence: straight out of the LA Law TV set. He’s a classic lawyer, in every way but one. He gave up his practice to become a stay-at-home dad. When he’s not busy running the PTA or community organizing, he custom-plans adventures with his kids. Right now these boys are headed on the border route to trace the path of the Canadian Voyageur Fur Traders, from Saganaga to Lake Superior. Including the Pigeon River, and the Grand Portage. Next Saturday we’ll pick them up at the fort on the Grand Portage Reservation. I guess they’ll never complain about the Tuscarora portage again. Too bad we don’t have a shirt that says “I survived the Grand Portage.” 9 miles. Whew. We’re just hoping they’ve found a way so that they don’t have to double-portage their stuff. (Andy was pretty excited about this one, because he got to re-live the days when he wore his red sash and muscled through it with the Swampers from Wilderness Canoe Base. Wayyy back when.)

Phil is part of the internet BWCA club- a chat room group, that has all the of inside information. (His handle is cowdoc -a veterinarian, if you travel in those circles). Anyway, Phil sparked his passion for th BWCA in his daughter Lindsay (Lil cowdoc) –who is now our foodpacker. He built her canoe, and their shared love of the northwoods obviously strengthens the bond between them—reinforced last weekend when he brought his boys up too. (incidentally, I forgot to say thanks for the Wisconsin cheese, Phil. Especially the smoked Swiss…tasty!)

Bryan is in the wilderness right now. He wanted to spend Father’s Day in the nothwoods, to honor the memory of his dad who recently died. Evidently, the peace of the place offers him gentle solace and joy as he’s grieving.

Know what? This is just one weekend of stories. The dads keep coming, carving ways to spend time with their kids. They have taken time to breathe here.Time to look at their kids. To know them. To laugh in a way that their kids will some day say “I remember lying in the tent and hearing Dad laugh harder than I ever thought that he could.”

A belated Happy Father’s Day to all the dads working so hard to be good ones. We sure do appreciate you.