Pack it up, pack it in, let us begin!
Sunday, August 10th, was a whirlwind. Lionel had just wrapped up five fun-filled days with his cousins from Portland, Oregon. Saying goodbye to them was hard enough as they were headed back home, but he also had to part ways with Popup, Grammy, Mommy, and (most heartbreaking of all) Boris, his beloved bear who has been by his side nearly every night since he was ten months old.
As much as I wanted Boris along for the ride, I couldn’t risk him disappearing into a lake from a tipped canoe or being left behind at a campsite. Instead, Lionel brought Nuts, a Beanie Baby squirrel my mom had kept tucked away in a drawer for thirty years.
Packing for the Boundary Waters is an art form. Forget something, and you’ll regret it. Bring too much, and you’ll regret that too as every ounce ends up on your back, hauled across rocky trails. I skipped short sleeves almost entirely (the bugs would eat you alive) and didn’t bother with shorts, except for one pair of swim trunks. To waterproof everything, I sealed clothes into Ziplocs and lined my backpack with a heavy black trash bag. As an added bonus, they kept dirty laundry smells from oozing out.
We rolled up to Charlie’s house at 11 a.m. sharp. Unfortunately, two important items, a compass and a weather radio, were still en route from Amazon. Charlie was ready otherwise, except for the canoe, which he was borrowing from friends Brad and Dan (huge thanks to them for trusting us with their beautiful vessel). We decided to push on without the gear, but just as we picked up the canoe, Charlie’s phone buzzed—the package had arrived. After some debate, we turned back. The detour cost us time, but in the end, we had everything we’d hoped to bring. Finally, we were off, bound for Grand Marais at the far northeastern tip of Minnesota.
Lionel passed the long drive listening to his new favorite series, The Wild Robot. He sat glued to the story for hours, captivated by Rozz and her woodland adventures. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, already envisioning how the book’s theme of resilience, and survival might mirror what lay ahead of us.
When we pulled into Grand Marais, we were treated to a feast by my old friend Thomas Joyce and his wife Gina. It had been twelve years since I’d seen Thomas, back in my first year in China, but it felt like no time had passed. We caught up, shared stories, introduced our families (their little girl, Shea, is absolutely adorable), and ate like kings. It was the last warm, fresh meal we’d enjoy for days.
Bellies full, we pressed north another hour. The Boundary Waters is remote, and before reaching our outfitter, we stopped on the roadside to make one last phone call home. Xiao Hong’s voice wavered as she spoke to Lionel, each sentence was peppered with “I love yous.” It was a tender moment and reminded my that some of the challenges of the trip would be emotional as well as physical.
By dusk, we pulled into Voyager’s Outfitters and moved our gear into the bunkhouse. Charlie and I laid everything out one final time, redistributing clothes, food, and camping gear into their designated packs. The room was barebones just two bunk beds (bonk beds as Lionel calls them) with three bunks each and a light switch that barely worked, but perfect for our needs. Lionel, though, struggled without Boris. He tossed and turned, clutching Nuts as I lay beside him until he finally drifted off. Only then did I move to my own bunk, bonking my head for good measure. I fell asleep, dreaming of the adventures waiting for us in the morning.
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