Moonburn on the Kawishiwi

The last time I looked at the thermometer it was -18 F. But it was too much effort and much too cold to turn on my headlamp again so I watched my breath unfurl into the night air. I could see the full moon through a frosty hole in my sleeping bag. I watched a satellite move slowly across the sky and a little star flash red, yellow and blue. The wolves were howling from the other side of the river where we had skied earlier in the day. One low and mournful howl slowly filled the night air and then another higher, yippy and then the whole pack joined in. There must have been a half dozen wolves raising their heads to the moon a couple hundred yards from where we lay. There was no other sound. Everything else in the world had frozen solid. I could hear the blood in my veins. I imagined the wolves running on our ski trails, stopping to sniff our tracks before slinking into the woods. I tried to keep my eyes open to see one crossing the river under the full moonlight.

We were camped on the Kawishiwi River, east of Ely at the edge of the Boundary Waters Wilderness. I was double bagged in down and cozy enough to enjoy the moonlight and ponder everything that had ever happened in the world.

I saw my little daughter’s eyes looking into mine. I saw, as I often see, myself dancing with her. I am holding her and swaying to music in the living room while Megan is watching us from the kitchen. My tiny little baby daughter has her head on my shoulder and then she gives me a level eyed gaze and looks deep into my eyes, straight into my timeless core. At that point I am two years old and she is 38, taking care of me as much as I take care of her. Or she is 28 and I am 64 and we are dancing together on her wedding night. Or she is 52 and I am 88 and she is taking care of me in my old age as I take care of her now. I can see our lives stretch out together and the future is written in the surety of her gaze. We’re a pack. We run together through the woods.

And then I thought of the new little critter coming into our lives in September. I wondered what the little cub would be like. And how it would feel to be a full, bonafide pack. I could hear the wolves running almost silently through the woods, only the sound of their huge paws pushing through the snow and their breath unfurling behind them in the moonlight. They are running together for the rest of their lives, nuzzling, playing, fighting and nurturing one another, the blood dried on their fur. The moon was so bright and so full I wondered if I would have moonburn in the morning when I got out of my sleeping bag and put my cold boots on. I fell asleep as the warm nuzzle of a wolf pup pushed me deeper into my sleeping bag, making those little wolf pup noises, and looking into my eyes with eyes that look like mine.

Boundary H20

We took a quick little trip to the BWCA-W this past week. Myself, father, brother and sister. It was a first, and proved mighty successful. We drove the Jetta up and back, with 4 people + gear and a canoe on top (loaded!) averaging 75mph on 12 gallons of diesel. That’s 500 miles, folks. I was very happy with that indeed.

We had a simple paddle into beautiful campsite, sans portage. I cooked good food (fresh Northern… ummm Shore Lunch). Nobody drowned. Juliana “there’s something eating out there” Weizel didn’t get eaten by a black bear, though she was somewhat sure that it would happen. Brother Ben caught all the fish. And father Jim seemed to reconnect with his old fishing self. The weather was very near perfect. Glass smooth water in the evenings. Campfire smoke drifting out over the lake. Early morning clear sunrises. It does a body good to be outside for an extended period. We stocked up on fresh air, quietude, fireside chats and then returned to our lives in the city.

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