| Chasing Dreams |  |
| Across Canada by Bike and Kayak | |
| by Joe Bodewes | |
| Leaving
my kayak in a scraggly stand of stunted spruce trees at the bottom
of the 70-foot waterfall, I hiked up to the top of the falls to fix
my lunch. I settled myself on a rocky granite ledge at the top of
the waterfall and started cooking my lunch on the stove beside me,
as my feet dangled in the cool mist. Suddenly, I noticed a stranger
walking up the steep path toward me. He had long black hair and a
beard, and was wearing mud-streaked pants and a baggy sweater that
hung loosely around his thin frame. A mosquito head net flipped up
over his head was held in place by a red bandanna. Approaching, he
sat silently down beside me. I offered him some gorp, and he nodded and took a handful. After a few munches, he finally spoke: "Nice breeze, no bugs." Feeling somewhat unnerved by the man's demeanor, I asked him if he wanted some water. He shook his head and helped himself to some more gorp. As I stirred the boiling noodles, my curiosity rose. We were deep in the woods on the Pigeon River, near the Canadian-Minnesota border-a long way from any road. I was traveling alone, and hadn't seen a soul in more than three days. In the 12 days since I had climbed into my kayak, I had already paddled 250 miles down the fur trader's historic border route over 32 lakes and down three rivers. I had carried my gear and kayak over 30 portages and, if my luck held, I would get to the infamous nine-mile Grand Portage that leads to Lake Superior in just a couple of hours. Since the start of my trip, I had been charged by a mother moose, been harassed by bears, waded through thigh-deep mud on portages, and run numerous unmarked rapids in my 18-foot sea kayak. Through it all I had been tormented by hordes of bloodthirsty mosquitoes that would make a preacher swear. I had come to take all of this as part of a normal day, but this guy was definitely out of the ordinary. |
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