When I was seven years old, I went on my first family canoe trip to the Boundary Waters. As I grew up, we started to go every year, eventually taking many trips to Canada’s Quetico Provincial Park. Those annual trips often included some combination of aunts, uncles, cousins or friends in addition to my parents and brother (and sometimes the family dog). The trips were even better when my paternal grandfather would join us. A dedicated outdoorsman, talented photographer and wildflower enthusiast, my “Grampy” was the ultimate camper. Grampy started camping in the Boundary Waters in the late 1960s. By the time I was in college, he was in his 80s and he didn’t carry much on a portage, but that didn't take away his enthusiasm. He’d still fish and would often sit in the middle of the canoe sharing stories from his years of camping experience. A few weeks ago, while in the middle of moving, I came across a paper I wrote for a college class in 1999. I can’t remember the exact class (or if this was even the final version of the paper), but it looks like it was for a creative writing assignment. The paper is entitled “Portage to a new beginning.” It recounts our last canoe trip with Grampy. I couldn’t have anticipated then that this paper would have so much meaning to me now, as my Grampy has since passed away, there are now threats to the Boundary Waters and Quetico from proposed sulfide-ore mining and I’m working everyday to protect one of his favorite places in the world.
Portage to a New Beginning
May 3, 1999
Ely, Minnesota: gateway to the Canadian wilderness and a 40-year-old family tradition. Summers ago, my grandfather dipped his paddle into the cool water of Agnes Lake and sometime during my father’s younger days he caught a muskie and the urge to visit again. The very spirit of my family can be found on the mysterious islands they visited back then as well as in the cool breezes, and in the deep waters we encounter on our canoe trips up there in the Quetico every year.
Last August my aunt, uncle and cousins joined us for one of these adventures. We took my 80-year-old grandfather up to the northeast end of Kawnipi to fish, relax, and to catch a bit of his youth again. Years ago, when my grandpa’s bones were stronger, he took the Death March Portages with my father and his college friends. They trudged all over the forgotten trails and braved the long, hard portages to reach a virtually untouched area of the park. Now, it takes all his energy to carry a backpack with his camera and he needs a walking stick on even the flattest portages.
This particular trip was special, as it was the first trip that included all the campers in my family and it may be the last trip my grandfather will ever take. This year, as we settled down for lunch on the first day, I realized just how important family trips are to my grandfather. As our footsteps became heavy under our packs and the heat of a midday sun on Meadows portage, we began to drag our feet and almost gave in to the pain. Tired and slowly losing steam, we slipped our canoes into the water and dug into our strokes until we fell upon a tiny secluded island, on the north end of Agnes. The loons sung to us as we slid up on the rocky beach and gathered under a large pine to avoid the sweltering heat. After lunch; hat bent over his bristling jaw, my dad lay on a rock while my mother kicked her feet into the deep blue and let the current play games 
with her toes. My brother, cousins and I laughed and fought as we stashed candy bars, lemon drops and fruit snacks in our packs for a late afternoon treat. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied my grandfather. He was sitting on a makeshift chair and his eyes sparkled with joy and love as he watched the family he helped create. The moment was too small and abstract for a picture, but seemed to find a place in my heart. I was reminded of what he has given me and realized that someday my dad might be sitting here. He could be the one watching over his grandchildren and I hope that he will have the same look in his eyes and that my children will love him as much as I love my grandfather. These trips I know now are proof of the strength and love in our family.
I know many people like me have family history with the Boundary Waters. We love to hear those stories. Please consider sharing your story with us. And please take a minute today to thank Governor Dayton for his recent support of efforts to protect the Wilderness for families and future generations everywhere.
Ellie Bayrd is the Communications Director for the Campaign to Save the Boundary Waters.
