No Refuge Alone

Dear Paul,

Thank you for inviting me into your home last fall to reflect on the trip. I apologize I was quiet for so long. I’d dreamt of reporting progress on goals inspired by a summer of quiet in solitude. Unfortunately, I’ve found little to say beyond glib platitudes on the wonders of nature. It helped to spend the day chatting over tea in your greenhouse. The conversation warmed against my mood as the stove did against the wind howling across Superior’s whitecaps outside.

All the folks that were so generous with me are still asking about the trip. There is no succinct way to share four months of paddling over 1,300 miles. The trip was a jumble of unplanned successes overlapping devastating failures. The risks I took… You called the worst of them stupid. I don’t disagree. In my defense I wasn’t blind to the dangers, but at the time they seemed trivial next to what was possible. It will take some time to sort it through.

In many ways the trip was a triumph. The grandeur of kayaking across the Great Lakes and a summer camping in the north woods was a revelation. Lake Superior was so gentle and nurturing I began affectionately calling it “Mother Superior”. Bad weather always broke in my favor. None of my injuries were debilitating. My equipment held up. There were always folks offering advice, supplies, and support. The most invaluable were my family and Bridget. I reached Montreal as planned, a day early even.

But to what end? Lake Superior was sublime. The trip provided a deep peace and new perspective. Honestly, in a word, I felt ‘baptized’ by Gitchee Gumee. But I wasn’t there looking for self-renewal. I was listening for the profound in the quiet of the wilderness. I heard something else.

Superior isn’t as you remember it. It’s become a playground. They roll up in RVs, clear-cut the forest for cabins, the wake of their boats erodes the shoreline, and the buzz of their ATVs rip through the tranquil air. But we shared the Great Lakes and came away better for it. We all hiked the trails, dipped in the icy waters, marveled at the sunsets, and slept under the stars. They laughed at the absurdity of kayaking 1,300 miles without a vehicle. Then they gave me hot meals and offered rides into town before expressing well-wishes as I continued on.

I’ve decided that my reflections can’t just be for friends and family. They need to be for all the good folks I met on the trip too. Without a conversion of heart for all, there will be no refuge for any. Maybe we can listen for that voice in the wilderness together.

I’ll be sharing about the segments of my trip every 2-3 weeks over the summer. If you’d like to be notified, you can sign up below.

Thanks again.

Humbly,

Frank