Of Inukshuks and a Stroll Through the Park
by Jim Carrier

Division of camp labor took shape early. Gary cooked. Eddie did dishes and jerry-rigged solutions for “technical malfunctions” involving our camp stove, lantern, tent zippers, fishing reels, and whatever else broke down. Young Ben became camp “go-fer.” He fetched kindling, hung laundry, filled water jugs, untangled fishing line, re-built fireplaces, and did anything else we asked of him. I assisted with cooking and cleaning chores, and kept our site orderly.

Fishing trailed off markedly after that promising first evening. With slow fishing and with long hours of Summer Solstice sunshine to enjoy, our days featured refreshing swims and productive afternoon snoozes. Eddie’s swollen knees benefited from therapeutic soaking while his aching back craved alternate rounds of sunning, then stretching on his “lumbar rock.” Big Ed kept us in hysterics retelling stories from our youth or describing his dental “victims.” With no TV, VCR, Nintendo, or computer to distract us, conversation flourished well into brilliant moonlit evenings. Ben soaked up our reflections of “yesteryear.” He ably shared his own experiences, earning full rights conversationally as a member of our troupe. Wilderness and solitude encourages that sort of sharing. Days later, when we parted, Big Ed would pull me aside and say, “Jim, your son, Ben, is a really good man.” Our go-fer, my rising twelfth grade son, this soon-to-become-man, fully blossomed during this trip. Ed’s words served me as a coming-of-age benediction for Benjamin. I acknowledge him as a full partner in all we might share, in and out of Quetico.

Despite competition from a luminescent Full Moon, bigger and brighter than any of us could recall, the Northern Lights treated us to spectacular shows each evening on Jean Lake. White light twisted and twirled in myriad and spasmodic combinations of atmospheric dance, reflecting waves of solar energy channeled by our Earth’s magnetic field to the North Pole. We sat in awe and “wowed!” The Jean Lake “light shows” served up special and poignant memories for me. My only previous visit to Jean was in 1998 with my closest buddy, Tom. We camped at the same spot, saw the same show of stars, lights, and moon, and shared campfire camaraderie… just like this troupe of ’03. Tom – a lover of wilderness – passed away tragically and unexpectedly not long ago. Nevertheless, in the Quetico, a spiritually limitless place, he seems near, still… in the spiraling Northern Lights, in the play of otters, and in the joy of campfire conversation and friendship. I cannot return to Quetico, without being mindful of Tom’s blessing upon my life.

Jean Lake fishing was active enough to keep our interest. However, keeping future portages in mind, we dined on Brunswick Stew and other “heavy” packed-in meals. Only after Gary happily retrieved his favorite lure from high atop a tree – the result of an errant toss for which we gave him much grief – was our group allowed to consider breaking camp and pushing forward on our fourth day.

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Jim Carrier