Below are excerpts a Boundary Waters trip story that John Focke shared on his blog, Tales from the Focke.
If my body had a low battery light, it would have been blinking. We had just finished the unofficial first half of the WNBA season, which was condensed due to an extended Olympic break right in the middle of the season. My wedding was 12 days away, but I had a few free days to recharge before everyone descended upon the Twin Cities. 
After talking things over with my fiancee, Ali, we decided we were in a good spot regarding the wedding details and I could bounce to the Gunflint Trail.
Our family has had a cabin on Hungry Jack Lake, just off the Gunflint Trail in northern Minnesota, for many decades. Originally purchased by my great-grandpa, I have made it up there every year of my life but one (shoulder surgery knocked me out in 2000).
There are two cabins, a big cabin and a little cabin, and we are just a short paddle across Bearskin Lake to the Boundary Waters--the crown jewel of Minnesota.
There is running water and electricity, but no cell phone access, TV or internet--the perfect place to unplug and charge up.
After unloading the car, I took the kayak down to the lake and immediately hopped in. The clouds were low and gray and no wind moved as I glided across the glassy surface of the lake. The silence wraps itself around you up there. I paddled to the far end of the lake into a bay and just drifted, leaning back I closed my eyes and felt totally at peace. I was just a small speck floating in a big lake. My mind drifting, but not thinking of anything--finally letting go.
The sun was shining the next morning as I hopped in the kayak, even though it was early I could already hear the kids down the lake splashing and paddling around. I paddled down to the first portage, one I have done a million times. Shouldering the kayak, I crossed the trail into Bearskin Lake. From there I had to cross the lake to the Daniels Portage, there was a little more chop on Bearskin Lake--as there always seems to be.
Looking to my left you could see the rocky top of Caribou Trail, to my right several canoes headed out from Camp Menogyn and others crossing the lake towards the Duncan Lake portage.
As I slid into Daniels Lake, I paddled along the bluffs on the left side. I remembered coming here as a kid and fishing off those big rocks where the water was so clear you could see down to the even bigger rocks below and the shadows of fishing swimming around. I remembered lunching on those rocks and the way the sun warmed your skin as we reclined on the rocks. Each of us finding our own little "easy-chair" to relax in.
I paddled further into the lake, debating on making the link up from here to Rose Lake but not feeling the effort of that seriously long portage.
The sun was high and not a cloud in the sky, just a deep blue with a light wind. I paused at the far end of the lake, drifting and watching the shoreline reflect on the surface of the lake. Our wedding was a little over a week away, the hay was in the barn as my brother liked to say. I was excited to welcome everyone in town and more excited to pledge my love and my life to Ali. She loved coming to this place too, and the thought of one day bringing our family to follow some of the same trails that I trod as a kid was a great vision.
Heading back to the portage I ran into a guy and his brother, about my age with their two kids climbing into their canoe. The guy mentioned it was his kids' first trip to the Boundary Waters. He said he had been coming up for years, but finally the kids were old enough to handle the canoeing and camping so they were headed out for a few days. It was so great to see another generation of kids heading into the Wilderness, learning to love it as their parents did. That’s what this area needs--defenders of all ages, people who understand the importance of preserving it for the next generation and the one after that and so on.
Later, I paddled into the lake and let my thoughts drift over to my vows: how do you tell the woman of your dreams how much she means to you? How do you put into words how much you love and care about her? Is it possible to take all those feelings and compress them into a few sentences? The thing about Ali that I knew right from the start, was how right it felt. How comfortable I was, how I could be myself without judgement, how all I wanted to do was make her laugh and spend time with her.
As I floated thinking about all those things, I thought about this land too: how do you put into words how special this area is? How can someone who has never put a paddle in the water and floated through a crystal-clear lake understand why we shouldn’t allow a mining operation on the edge of the Wilderness?
It can be hard to put into words what this place means to people. It’s a silent place that can’t speak for itself, you need to show people what it means. This is why I thought the Freeman’s Year in the Wilderness was so important. To shine a light on this area, bring it to the public mind, help people understand we don’t have many spaces like this left and how important it is to keep it wild.
I relaxed on the dock that evening, listening to the sounds of the loons as the sky faded to black and the stars began to come out. The sound of the kids playing in the lake slowly quieted as it began to get dark and the silence was total. It was a quick trip, but it was amazing what it did to recharge my battery and fill my soul. I closed my eyes and imagined for a moment sitting here in the future with my wife and family, soaking in the beauty of this place and hoping that it would stay as it is for that to happen.
John Focke lives in Minneapolis, MN. John is the radio play-by-play voice of the Minnesota Lynx and the executive producer and studio host for the Minnesota Timberwolves. John has been going to the Boundary Waters for his entire life with his family--thanks to his grandpa's cabin on Hungry Jack Lake off the Gunflint Trail. It has always been a very special place to John and everyone in his family. He wants to protect the Boundary Waters so that future generations of his family get to experience it in the same way that he was able to.
