Dear John,
Morning light filtered through the thin nylon as I zipped open my sleeping bag. Outside, the faint sounds of water lapping against the shore drifted through the walls of my tent. Deep within the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, I dressed quickly, went outside, and grabbed a canoe pack. Then, I snatched up the water bag and headed down to the lakeshore. At the water's edge, I paused as I gazed down into the dark, endless blue of the deep. A fish darted beneath the surface and between a jumble of rocks. Farther out, I spotted a swan gracefully feeding in the reedy shallows. As the sun stretched its warming rays above the pines, the quiet world around me began to stir to life.
I dipped the water bag into the lake, letting the cool, clean water wash over my hands. The day promised to be warm, and I imagined we’d take a swim in the bay later. Hanging the water bag in a tree to filter, I filled a pot and carried it back to our makeshift kitchen. The camp stove sputtered as I lit the flame, staring as the blue light grew steady beneath the pot. I’m a wilderness guide in northern Minnesota, spending over 100 days a year in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Every day, I see firsthand how vulnerable this pristine, wilderness is to the potential impact of mining pollution. |
The water. This land—this Wilderness—is a place unbound by water and sky. With every stroke of the paddle, I’m reminded of this liquid landscape and how deeply it resonates with me.
These pure waters flow downstream into tributaries and eventually into Canada (after all the watershed of the Boundary Waters is unique in that it flows north!). Every drop matters. And every decision we make, big or small, ripples through this land, for better or worse. It’s up to us to protect this wild place, for ourselves and for the generations to come.
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