Tuscarora Lodge & Canoe Outfitters

If there’s one thing I’ve learned at Tuscarora, it’s that the work is never done. Case in point:

Much has been made of the things to be “finished” here at the end of the 2010 season, which included a stack of dirty tents as tall as me (5 feet 11 inches) and a list of dirty canoes that grew daily starting in August. For the better part of three workdays last week I diligently scrubbed canoes, averaging 15 minutes a boat and feeling proud of myself. I put the last Grumman back with a sense of accomplishment, knowing too well in the back of my head that of course I was not done. Clients have come in and out since then; I’ve cleaned about six canoes this week and there are seven more sitting out there. I get to them when I can, usually in between driving clients to and from drop-off points, which is my favorite part of the job.

For the record, I have enjoyed talking with you all. It sure beats cleaning gear. But I have been astonished at how interested in me everyone has been. People love to ask me about myself. But, you know, I can only be as honest as someone who is getting paid to help you can be, so I figure since everyone who came here this season got to learn a little bit about me, I would flip it around and tell all of you what I’ve learned about you. I’ve written it as an old-fashioned ode:

Ode to a variety of clients:

to my jealousy of all of your camping trips (even the rainy ones);

to people who had never sat in a canoe before this summer,

and to being asked which end is the front;

to the many people who thought I knew way more than I do (especially about fishing);

To all the groups that either departed from or arrived at the Windigo,

17 miles from Tuscarora and otherwise known as entry point number 47 –

driving with you was my pleasure.

Thank you.

To the groups that brightened my day;

to the groups we thought we would have to go looking for;

to the groups we did go looking for;

to the Boundary Waters Family, whatever it is (I’m still not sure);

to helplessly watching you struggle to take off of the Round Lake beach

on stupidly windy days;

to telling the story of the Ham Lake fire

800 times;

To the man who looked at the scorched and treeless hills on the Canadian side of Gunflint Lake and said, “Cutbacks?” –

that was probably the funniest thing anyone said to me this season;

to all of you

take it from someone who will have spent four months living and working on the edge of the BWCA and gotten to go camping one night at a time:

it is a privelege to experience this wilderness.

I hope you all had fun trips.

– Zach

Yesterday I took my camera with me. The day was something.

The water on Sag was as clear as the sky.

These plants—some relative of horsetails, or maybe just a form of horsetails without the bristles. When the kids were really little we used to take them apart and almost put them back together, like toys. I think somebody told me a common name for them was tinkertoys. Or we made that up, because it fits. They have silica in them–so they are a little like sandpaper–know the ones I mean?

The squirrels are so so busy. Denali feels the need to supervise….she keeps an eye on them at all times.

It looks like an apple, but it’s actually a fat rose hip.

For flowers–this time of year—we get purple asters. Not bad!

And then there are the pines.

And the enormous sky——it was a day.

This little woods game entertains all ages….it works best in the spring when the balsams have lots of sap bubbles.

Shelby and her friends videoed it this summer…..I still love this trick.

I don’t know why it always surprises me so much. Woosh. Suddenly it’s Fall. It’s OK actually, Fall might be my favorite season, but I still drag my feet when everything switches up. (I know I’m not supposed to capitalize the seasons, but I happen to think that particular grammar rule is wrong. If Wednesday gets to be a proper noun, then I personally think Fall ought to be one too)

Anyhow, Labor Day weekend was lovely, now the kids are in school, the woods are oh-so-quiet. We send a few groups out every day—people who have discovered the secret, and are willing to bring their warm clothes for fall camping–for the chance at spectacular stars, sharp colors, silent woods.

We have a tradition that marks the last day of summer. We do a little hiking, a little swimming, a little playing, a little eating, and hang around the campfire –and I love it for a number of reasons.
1. It has always been fun.
2. These are really really nice families.
3. The woods are great, but sometimes in the summer I forget that Lake Superior and the North Shore are beautiful too.
4. The kids still swim—even when the water is freezing.
5. It’s really fun.
6. These are really nice people……………………………………………………………………………

In a life that seems to change so much, I sure do like traditions.

Wow, it’s great to be alive on morning like this.

The reason the people paddle out in the rain and the wind…is just for the chance to wake up to a morning like this.

Saganaga is a pleasure on a morning like this.

The first frost—the promise of winter can’t even compete with the promise of this sunny day.

I love the adolescent forest on the Sag Channel. It reminds me of the playdough haircutting station that the kids used to have. You’d put the little plastic bald guy with scalp holes on the stand.. Then you’d press the lever and the playdough hair strands would squeeze out, all the same length, just like all these little trees that squeezed out of the ground about 15 years ago.

A perfect day for a tow to Cache Bay, to start a Quetico canoe trip….even for cleaning tents, it’s just a perfect day.