Wilderness Inquiry family adventure through Voyageurs National Park

Our guides, Virginia and Max, purposely swamp the canoe for a "tip test," a lesson in getting it upright again.

Life lessons in the wild
Finding strength despite challenges of ADHD and Crohn's

Kate leads the paddle back to Big Sky Island, Voyageurs NP.

Photos & story by Lisa Meyers McClintick
Originally published in Minneapolis Star Tribune

With bandanas on their heads à la Willie Nelson and bug bites visible across their legs, a group of six boys whoops into the piney woods at Namakan Lake in far northern Minnesota. Their mission: Find the best new spot for a dig-it-yourself latrine.

The adults grin at their unexpected enthusiasm. It's amazing what friendly competition will do for the most dreaded duties at our camp on Voyageurs National Park's Big Sky Island. Or maybe it's a healthy shift of perspective.

Ditching daily comforts, rattling routines and rising to fresh challenges were key reasons we were on this family trip through Wilderness Inquiry (WI). Founded more than 30 years ago, the St. Paul nonprofit organization welcomes participants of all abilities, ages and levels of experience. Last year more than 16,700 people took WI trips, including outings designed for city youths, many of whom received scholarships and grants to get them into the outdoors. Every trip can be modified to fit a group's abilities.

Lori heads into the woods.

Our group was all newcomers except for Laurie Davis of Minneapolis, who was on her fourth WI trip with her two sons. She first signed up when the youngest was only 4. They've since learned the wilderness ropes and tallied a wealth of inspirational experiences, such as seeing a teen trade a wheelchair for the graceful glide of a kayak and a fellow camper who had lost her eyesight get back on a bike with the help of a tandem rider.

"We like to celebrate everybody's uniqueness," says our leader, Max. And indeed we do.

Getting to know each other
 We meet as strangers on a warm June afternoon, introducing ourselves in a circle outside the Ash River Trail visitor center. It's always a grab bag seeing who comes together. Our group gets lucky with a concentration of six boys, ages 7 to 14.

The boys loved clowning around & exploring the woods.

Besides Laurie and me as Minnesota moms with boys in tow, we have Coloradoans Mary Ellen Anderson with two grandsons; plus her brother, Drex Douglas, with a reluctant grandson and 24-year-old son, Jeff. We later find out Jeff has a developmental disability known as fragile X syndrome. He shyly ducks from introductions and avoids eye contact, but warms up quickly as playful energy amps up among the six boys.

My son and I arrive with our own struggles. Jonathan, now 11, has attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. A steam locomotive stops faster than his mouth near bedtime, when thoughts and emotions pop out like firecrackers. At school and at home, he's constantly being told to calm down, stop breaking things and getting into trouble. It's a tough load to shoulder.

That constant energy and impulsiveness can shred relationships like cats clawing at furniture. This trip is our chance to heal, to enjoy some rare mother-son time away from twin sisters, and to escape the usual chaos of home life.

Jonathan and I enjoy campfire brownies.

It's personal, too. I yearn for my children to see me as strong and adventurous -- not as a mom who naps and growls with middle-aged migraines. I also have pushed myself to new limits since 14 years of drugs, chemo-like infusions, where-is-the-bathroom vigilance and multiple surgeries finally cowed chronic Crohn's disease, a digestive disorder, into submission.

I'm still wary of sudden setbacks, but feel confident these guides with their calm demeanor can handle medical emergencies.

That's not to say I'm keen on dig-it-yourself latrines -- even if the boys do find a dandy location. I tell myself to suck it up. This is worth it. And, really, it is.

Settling into a camp groove

It takes a full group effort to paddle voyageur canoes across Lake Kabetogama and unload our gear up a steep embankment and into the forest. As we make meals, gather wood and wash dishes, Jeff gleefully and repeatedly asks, "Are ya workin'?" with such comical zeal and upward lilt that it's like teens asking, "Are you ready to par-TAY?!"

Jeff loved fishing from our island.

Jeff's repetitive phrases cause a few exasperated groans while others make us laugh and become part of our camp vocabulary. The patience needed to repeatedly untangle his fishing line is offset by his determination to catch a fish and his absolute joy in everything.

My son, whose emotions can flare like a rocket, marvels at Jeff's calm and smiling face after Jeff accidentally slips in the lake while getting dishwater. He returns to camp soaked and doesn't seem to mind.

The six boys glom together quickly. They dare each other to jump into the dark, tannin-dyed water and try to show off their best campfire-building skills. They tear through the woods with imaginations fully fired. It leaves the adults with a few rare pockets of quiet time.

Big Sky Island's granite dome edging the lake pulls at us like magnets. It's a theater for nature's daily show and heavenly to soak in the sun. It's here where we most often swap life stories, chapter by chapter, taking stock of where we've been and where we want to go.


The beauty of camping isn't just the setting. It's the ability to declutter and distill life to the basics: Stay warm. Sleep. Eat. Look, listen.

Lady's slippers.

'The beauty of camping isn't just the setting. It's the ability to declutter and distill life to the basics: Stay warm. Sleep. Eat. Look, listen.'

I don't realize how mentally ragged I've been until escaping daily demands feels like dropping a heavy backpack from achy shoulders.

Excursions and stargazing

Mornings start with cowboy coffee. Our guides whirl the pot of boiling water and loose grounds like all-star pitchers doing a wind-up. Centrifuge acts as the filter.

Sipping that first brew, Mary Ellen places a hand on her hip, takes in the boreal forest and says, "God, this is so cool!"

She came to share her childhood passion for paddling with her grandchildren. She's an adventurer, too, who has taken them to Turkey and volunteered with them in Senegal. She offers impromptu tai chi lessons on the granite dome, reaching for the stars or out toward the loons.

"I love the enchantment and innocence of childhood, and it's here," she says. "The kids just go with the flow. This is a whole six-week summer camp in five days."

While Big Sky was our base, each day includes paddling excursions where we perfect our strokes, learn to rudder voyageur canoes and mentally muscle our way through brainteasers our guides offer for entertainment.

We wander an abandoned logging camp, collect wild blueberries and strawberries, set up a pasta salad picnic and enjoy a whitewashed outhouse with toilet paper on a roll. It feels like the Ritz.

Later, shrieks echo across Hoist Bay as our guide Max grinningly rocks and flips the huge canoe, dumping the boys with a splash and coaching them through the "tip test." They scramble to hang on, dog-paddle when needed, and get the canoe back afloat. Jonathan, who thrives on amped-up fun, asks to tip again and again.

Jack shows off karate moves at sunset.

Seven-year-old Jack has been our most reluctant camper. He loves his couch and video games at home in Colorado and wasn't thrilled about the itchy, unpredictable, wet outdoors. But even he warms up to life in the woods.

As group members fish, read or tidy the campsite, I spy Jack along the shore reveling in the one-on-one attention of our guide, Virginia, a sweet and cheerful college student. They playfully challenge each other to new karate poses, balancing and laughing on the ancient rocks.

Later that afternoon, as adults relax by the campfire and older boys chase through the pines, Jack stares up at a massive upturned pine root stretching at least 10 feet high. He scales it like a muddy climbing wall.

We smile across our coffee mugs, silently applauding Jack's can-do transformation. It's a thumbs-up moment.

Freedom and joy

Better than a campfire: gathering on our island's granite dome.

At bedtime, families regroup in their own tents. We whisper about the day, play cards by flashlight, trade a few giggles. In the morning, the sun fights through clouds and out of the blue, Jonathan pipes up, "Thanks for bringing me, Mom."

I know the other boys feel the same.

For parents and grandparents in a digital age, it's grounding to see how little -- and yet so much -- can grab kids' attention and keep them happy.

I feel a rush of gratitude, too, for my son's joy and the freedom to go, go, go. He releases explosive energy across this rocky, ancient island with few corrections or commands to stop, slow down or act like someone else. Yet there's gentle guidance and life lessons for all of us sneaked into daily camp life, tucked between chores.

As Mary Ellen says, "You give kids an 'aha moment,' and the 'aha' stays with them."

We leave our island with admiration for one another, gratitude for life's luxuries and a fresh appreciation for its simplicities.

Our Big Sky Island crew in 2010.

CHOOSING A WILDERNESS INQUIRY TRIP

One of the easiest and most economical Wilderness Inquiry trips is the three-night Itasca State Park Family Adventure. It's a bargain at $190 for adults and $95 for kids who want to explore the Mississippi and old-growth pine forest. Two-night St. Croix River trips also run six times through the summer ($135 kids, $265 adults) and offer wilderness camping closer to the Twin Cities.

Don't want to rough it too much? Try this: a base camp with running water, platform tents and showers at Little Sand Bay among Wisconsin's Apostle Islands ($195 kids, $395 adults).

Trips for adults run year-round. While many are based in Minnesota, others are elsewhere in the United States, and in Central America, Africa and Australia.

More information: 1-800-728-0719, www.wilderness inquiry.org.

Dr. Bauzan Visit to Minnesota Highlighted in StarTribune

Dr. Nury Bauzan's visit to Minnesota features centrally in a new story in the StarTribune about the Minnesota-Uruguay Partnership.

More than 200 people turn out for Estol book events

We were delighted with the success of the June 15 (Saint Paul) and June 18 (Montevideo, MN) events that highlighted Federico Estol's new book, Hello Montevideo. Photos forthcoming!

The events brought together some 200 guests (longtime volunteers, new members, judges, lawyers, businesspeople, social workers, scholars, artists, students, farmers), and drew significant media attention, with stories running in the Star Tribune, West Central Tribune, and even an investment advisory blog based in Buenos Aires.

Special thanks to Moonstone Farm (Audrey Arner, board member) for donating spectacular cuts of grass fed beef to feed 100 people in Lagoon Park, and Duane Ninneman (board member) for the fresh healthy greens at the asado.

Bargain family travel: Free National Parks Day

Geysers and waterfalls often nab the attention at Yellowstone National Park, but quieter Lamar Valley has its own beauty.

See more than presidents at Mt. Rushmore.

Celebrate the start of summer
In honor of the longest day of the year, the National Parks Service is offering free admission on Tuesday, June 21. It not only kicks off the summer peak travel season, but gives you the longest annual stretch of sunlight to explore America's best trails, scenic drives and historic sites across the country.

It's a great travel bargain if you're visiting parks that normally charge $10-$25 for a seven-day pass. Granted, you'll need more than one day to see America's most majestic national treasures, such as Yellowstone National Park, but for those you who are revisiting familiar parks or those that are smaller, such as Mount Rushmore National Monument, this is a perfect incentive to hit the road.

We're choosing Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore near Traverse City, Michigan, this year, but can highly recommend Rocky Mountain National Park, Estes Park, Colo.; Mount Rushmore, S.D.; Badlands National Park, S.D.; Theodore Roosevelt National Park, Medora, N.D.; and Yellowstone National Park.

Minnesota travelers take note: Admission wasn't charged at either Voyageurs National Park or Grand Portage National Monument last summer. Both are excellent for explaining the rich history of local tribes, fur traders and voyageurs.

Have a favorite national park? Leave a comment and share your tips.


--Photos by Lisa Meyers McClintick

Minnesota's Cuyuna Lakes mountain bike trails open

You'd never know this ultra-clear lake near Crosby was formerly a mine pit.

Former mines transform into a premiere playground

Jenny Smith heading through Boot Camp.

One of Minnesota's best-kept secrets, the Cuyuna Lakes State Recreation Area, won't be under the radar much longer. The buzz has been building for years among mountain biking fans. License plates from across the country already have showed up in the parking lot since some of the rugged new trails opened just before Memorial Day weekend.

They're spectacular--and that's just the Boot Camp section for beginners. My son and I did about eight miles on May 27 with guidance from Jenny Smith, owner of Crosby's Cycle Path and Paddle. It's a blast.

We love the exhilaration of swooping around corners, riding into dips and rattling down hills. Terrain goes from pines to birch and hardwoods, from sand and soil to the red dirt and jagged rocks from iron mining days.

For hard-core mountain bikers, who can rumble and launch across 250-foot slag piles, it's an adventurous 22-mile, tire-shredding nirvana.

From diving and kayaking to IMBA destination
The International Mountain Biking Association has been working with the Minnesota Department of Nature Resources for years to carve trails through the former iron mine property. It sounds gritty and industrial, but it's surprisingly gorgeous. The hills created by excavating ore rise up steep and wooded, while the 500-foot pits below them form 17 emerald-green lakes. It feels like a mini Boundary Waters Canoe Area, but much closer to the Twin Cities.

How clear is it? This is one of the most popular spots for Scuba diving in the state. Really. Check out the excursions and beginner classes through the Minnesota Dive School in Brainerd, which also does dive trips to Lake Superior.

It's also amazing for kayaking. On my first paddle here about three years ago, I have to admit the thought of a 500-foot drop below me was a little creepy. But then the surrounding beauty takes over, and it's pure fun.

You'll find a few anglers here, too, as the deep, extra-cold water supports trout. And if you need an ideal way to cool off after a sweaty good ride, there's nothing like a mine lake.


Celebrate the trails' grand opening

Keep an eye out for iron ore and interesting rocks.

The trails' official grand opening and the first Cuyuna Lakes Mountain Bike Festival is June 10-12. Hans "No Way" Rey, a California-based German mountain biker who travels the world, will be part of the fun. He's doing an extreme skill demonstration in the Yawkey Expert Skills Area and an outdoor big screen movie of his global mountain biking adventures that have taken him to pyramids, jungles and the ancient Petra ruins.

There will be a Night Ride, Grand Tour, Kids Bike Parade, Kids Bike Race, Trek Time Trial, and the Kryptonight Crusher cross-country race.  Not surprisingly, Red Bull will be there, too, along with assorted bonfires, live music and beer and wine to make it an official party.

A few Cuyuna Trail tips:
Bike with a buddy. 
The terrain is rugged and remote. Local EMT crews have gone through special training to deal with trail emergencies, but that doesn't mean it's an easy task--especially if no one knows you're there.

Wear long pants or leggings. You'll protect your legs better and shield yourself from the poison ivy. One crash off the trail, and you may be swimming in it.

Take extra tire tubes. Some of the most extreme areas have the highest potential for tire-shredding terrain.

Start with an expert.
If you've never tried mountain biking, go with someone who can coach you through it. Jenny at Cycle Path & Paddle also may be adding some family mountain bike sessions or do some women-only sessions as the summer progresses.

My first time on a mountain was on North Dakota's Maah Daah Hey Trail. It took about half an hour for me to loosen the death grip I had on the brakes. Cuyuna's boot camp session isn't quite as challenging, but if you're brand-new, you need to feel comfortable enough to trust momentum, let it carry you down the hills and back up the next one.

Trust me. You don't have to be a Red-Bull-slammin' extremist to enjoy this exhilarating sport. It's a joy ride no matter what level you're at.

If you need pavement beneath your wheels, Cuyuna has a fine paved trail system, as well, and you'll get some of the same picturesque views of the mine lakes and forest--just not the whoops of triumph when zooming up and down mountain bike trails. Consider it a mostly silent sport.

For maps, details on the celebration, and info on rustic campsites, check for updates through the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.

June 15 Reception in Saint Paul

Uruguay's Foreign Minister, Dr. Luis Almagro, and a delegation of officials coming from Uruguay to Minnesota next month have confirmed they will be attending our June 15 reception to celebrate the United States launch of Hello Montevideo, a new book of photographs by Uruguyan artist Federico Estol.

The reception will take place on Wednesday, June 15, from 5:30 to 8:00 p.m., in the Founders Hall reception area of Metropolitan State University, at 700 East Seventh Street, Saint Paul, Minnesota. The artist's work will be on display and copies of his book will be available. Light food fare and wines from Uruguay will be served (voluntary donations appreciated).

Please see the program at right. RSVP to erikbrand10@gmail.com or 612-242-1863.

Thunder Bay, Canada, Family Road Trip

A disgruntled Fort William employee gets ready to start a fierce argument that will land him in jail.

Fort William delivers lively look at fur trade

An apprentice cowers from the fiery argument.

By Lisa Meyers McClintick
Written for Star Tribune Travel

The argument started like any would: insults building to a spittle-flying shouting match. A man waved his tankard of ale and told high-hat superiors just what he thought of their rules and questionable politics.

Apparently life wasn't easy during the 1815 fur trade.

The feisty ale imbiber was portraying a Fort William employee in Thunder Bay, Ontario, and as he carried on, modern gawkers drew close to the hubbub while a few costumed actors cowered by the blacksmith shop and behind the well.

Fort William's offices and one of about 40 historic buildings.

Like other lively history lessons throughout the fort, this fiery debate quickly sucked in our kids, ages 6 to 10. They snapped to attention when a smart-aleck 21st-century boy told officers "I know everything!" when questioned about a scandal. Constable Tate hauled him off like a sack of potatoes to a windowless slammer.

Our son laughed and begged to join him -- briefly.
It was one of many entertaining moments that made Thunder Bay the highlight of a summer road trip tracing the routes of Voyageurs from Grand Portage, Minn., to Thunder Bay, and from Canada's Quetico wilderness to Minnesota's Voyageurs National Park.

Visitors can learn historic dances from the early 1800s.

My husband, Bob, who kept falling behind to admire the craftsmanship of Fort William's 40 historically accurate buildings, said it felt on par with Virginia's Colonial Williamsburg.

Fortunately for Minnesotans, Fort William's hands-on, living history is easier on the wallet and much closer at just 40 miles beyond the border.

A hands-on look at the fur trade
It was that international border -- and ensuing U.S. taxes -- that led the Northwest Fur Company to build the grand Fort William in 1803 to take the place of the humbler Grand Portage trading post on the American side. Fort William actors generally portray the year 1815, by which time the fort was bustling.

We hadn't even reached the fort, with its imposing palisade fence, when our kids eagerly ducked into a tepee outside its walls. Elaine Foster-Sergeant, one of many "fort nerds" and a longtime volunteer, portrayed a Metis woman whose heritage blended Native American (or First Nations as it's called in Canada) with European, usually French. She invited them to crawl across fragrant, pine-cushioned bedding. She showed them the native way of life, from sleeping on curly-furred buffalo robes and drying food to gathering moss for makeshift diapers.

A life without Pampers boggled their modern minds, but before they could learn more, bagpipe music beckoned us to the fort's main entrance and a humble stretch of the Kaministiquia River. We arrived to see costumed dancers circling and promenading, keeping time with a lively fiddler, and visitors linking arms to give it a whirl.

Kylie holds an heirloom chicken.

A jolt of historic reality

We arrived too late for the fort's morning wedding ceremony, but enjoyed plenty of pomp as fort officials in coats and top hats and the colorful Metis residents sent off a departing officer. As he was paddled away, a cannon boomed a farewell. Smoke drifted across the water as dancers headed back to fort posts.

We followed them back to the fort, where the kids gingerly held heirloom chickens in the barn and grubbed around the garden, triumphantly yanking out a fresh carrot or two. When a fort crew pumped water from a vintage firefighting wagon, youngsters shrieked and darted away, only to taunt and beg for more.

We ducked in and out of buildings, enjoying the surprises within: a woodworker turning a bowl with a foot-pedaled lathe and a tinsmith crafting a lantern. Inside the bakery, with the heady aroma of wood smoke and baking bread, our kids eagerly grabbed rustic brooms, eager to trade a chore for a tasty sample.

The doctor's office and primitive apothecary.

We ended our fort visit with a fresh appreciation for the modern age after seeing the doctor's office with its lineup of mysterious medicinal powders and rustic surgical tools. Even gingerly testing a primitive electric shock machine didn't have the same jolt as seeing 16 ominous razor blades on a "mechanical leech." The kids squirmed as the doctor's wife explained how they were used with heated glass cups to bleed Fort William's sickest residents.

"I'm glad I don't live here," our son, Jonathan, exclaimed with sudden enthusiasm.

Breakfast at Hoito's.

Feasting Finnish-style

We began the next day gorging on Finnish pancakes. Thin and deliciously crispy, they spilled across the edge of plates at Hoito's. This local institution in the lower level of the historic Finlandia Club blends Ikea-like simplicity with church-basement hospitality and timelessness.

Our waitress patiently and easily rattled off explanations of viili (clabbered milk), kropsu (an oven pancake), mojakka (beef or fish stew), and salmon sandwiches. We opted for the giant pancakes with red sausages that carry a sweet hint of nutmeg or allspice. We got a little daring, and despite having no chance of pronouncing it, ordered lohiperunalaatiko, a tasty rice pudding nestled in a moccasin-shaped rye pastry crust.

As we feasted, our waitress chattered away in Finnish with diners at the next table. Thunder Bay, it turns out, claims the highest Finn population outside Finland.

You can't go wrong with breakfast in Thunder Bay. Besides the fame of Hoito's, the city is known for Persians (a strawberry-frosted pastry), as well as 30 doughnut shops mostly ruled by Tim Horton's and Robin's Doughnuts. Anyone who grew up with these chains tends to scoff at America's Krispy Kreme fanatics.

A few of our treasures from the amethyst mine.

Finding Canada's real gems
About 34 miles northeast of Thunder Bay lay the day's big attraction: Amethyst Mine Panorama. The elevation makes it a good vista point for spying Lake Superior in the distance, but it's also been a working mine since the 1960s. It's one of a few open mines that tap the vein of purples that formed in cracks of granite hills west of the Great Lakes. The Lukinuk family dynamites and drills out the best pieces to sell, including $30,000 amethyst boulders for millionaires craving something flashy for driveways and gardens.

We climbed a platform to gaze into the mine, where deep purple, lavender and white streaks ripple through brown rock. Then we joined other visitors at what looked like a gravel pile. We grabbed hoses to wash off rocks and look for flashes of purple.

"Look at this one! And this one!" we repeated, holding the best of the best up to the sun to show off the prettiest patterns and shades of purple.

We left with 15 pounds -- $45 worth of rocks -- a hefty souvenir from a gem of a day.

'Niagara of the North'

Our last stop in the Thunder Bay area -- a thundering 131-foot drop of the Kaministiquia River -- left us gasping. The impressive Kakabeka Falls curves and horseshoes, giving it the deserving moniker "Niagara of the North."

Interpretive signs were there to tell us more about the fur trade, but it was hard to pull our gaze from the sheer power of the falls. Like turning amethyst around in our hands, we savored views from every angle.

When we finally pulled ourselves away, it was with the satisfaction of discovering yet another Canadian treasure.

Dawson Creek campsite, Quetico Provincial Park, Canada.

Camping in Quetico

Read more about travel to Canada and Greg Breining's feature on paddling through Quetico in this Sunday's Star Tribune. If you want to an easier trip, Quetico does have a Dawson Creek campground for car campers. Go mid-week or reserve early for the best chance at a spot along the beautiful lake. And take good bug spray in case there's a fresh hatch.