Birthday Blueberries
When I was four years old, my life changed forever without me even realizing it. Four years old was the magic age my dad had decided when my brother and I were finally old enough to join my grandpa and uncles on our first canoe trip. Little did I know, canoeing and these wild adventures would forever change my outlook look on life.
I had heard many stories from my dad, grandpa, and uncles about their previous trips north canoe camping. Seeing them arrive home with their photos, the old aluminum canoes attached to the vehicle, and their well-worn clothes, I knew right away I wanted to be a part of these adventures.
That summer at the end of July I would finally turn four. My dad, older brother, grandpa, and uncles would load up their gear and travel the five hours north to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness for four days of paddling, portaging, fishing, and camping. This time, however, I would be able to join them on their adventures, spending what would be the first of many birthdays in the wilderness on a canoe trip.
Up until this point in my life, like many other kids, my time was spent outside playing with friends or embarking on incredible outdoor adventures of my own that only the mind of a young person can create in their backyard. I will never forget my first moments in the wilderness and realizing how much there was yet to explore in this world outside of my backyard adventures. I stood; looking up at the towering white pines with a seemingly endless expanse of waterways and adventure before me. Our gear loaded carefully in the canoes, and we pushed off from shore and into the wilderness. Being too young to do much, my brother and I were given small paddles we could “use” from the middle of the canoe as the adults paddled in the bow and stern of the boats. Once we had decided we had contributed enough and the wave of exhaustion finally hit our little arms, we settled with the luxury to sit, listen, and observe. Sitting in a canoe on a remote lake to this day fills me with this same excitement, joy, and wonder. I can only imagine what was racing through my head as we navigated those first lakes and streams under the summer sun and its vast landscape.
For this trip, we stayed at just two campsites to limit the packing and moving of all the stuff. This allowed my brother and I to thoroughly enjoy our time exploring our camps, the ridges, swimming and spending countless hours fishing.
I remember returning from one of our explorations one day and saw a small bowl filled with what looked to be blueberries. Curious about where those came from, I asked my dad. “Come take a look at this,” he said. Bringing my brother and me to a ridge along our campsite. Blueberry bushes spread as far as our eyes could see into the woods. Like Christmas, our eyes lit up in pure excitement, while frantically eating as many as we could pick.
The evening's mission quickly became to fill our bowls of blueberries to bring back to camp. Strutting back, proud of our gatherings, we sat by the fire, telling stories, and eating the berries until the sunset was replaced by the expanse of the night sky, filled with millions of stars. One by one, each of us made our way to the tent with a belly full of blueberries and a night sky of stars to dream upon.
The next morning, the echo of loons across the lake awoke us. The crisp, foggy morning brought us to the fire to start our morning where the coffee was made and breakfast started. “Happy birthday, Zach!” my dad said, sitting alongside the fire. “What a beautiful day for a birthday. Why don’t we fill this bowl with blueberries and make we will make some blueberry pancakes for breakfast?” said my dad. Without hesitation, I bounded to the blueberry patch, picking away to have enough berries for breakfast, while eating my fair share along the way. By the time everyone had made their way out of their sleeping bags and to the fire, a fresh batch of blueberry pancakes and syrup was being passed around for all to enjoy.
While eating my breakfast, my grandpa said “Come here, Zachary,” cheerfully as he stood by his tent with his hands behind his back. Bringing his hands forward, he opened them and held out a birthday present for me. My eyes wide, I opened my first fishing lure. A black and white Rapala that reflected elegantly with the sunshine beaming upon it. “This one will catch you all the fish,” he said with a smile. Sensing my immense excitement about my gift, he tied it on the rod and I ran my way down to the point and christened it with its first cast. I have realized since that trip, I do not remember how many fish were caught that day or throughout the trip. Long before I knew who Henry David Thoreau was, I realized on that trip, that fish or no fish, Thoreau’s quote, “Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after” rang true. Sitting on a lone, glaciated rocky outcrop, with the fog sitting on the placid water and the best group of people to enjoy the experience with, I didn’t know how it could get any better.
Like all trips, this one came and went all too soon. My first trip into the wilderness had me hooked, and my mind, filled with excitement and adventure had me needing more of it. Throughout the years since my first canoe trip to the north, the last week of July would be reserved for a rendevous of close family and friends to venture north. The 29th of July, my birthday, always filled with blueberries, a new fishing lure from my grandpa, time spent fishing, and appreciating the little things in the north.
As the group got older, it naturally became harder for everyone to participate in this yearly trip, though we would find ways to reconnect at our cabin, at the hunting camp, and through other events throughout the year.
As I approached high school, I had the opportunity to instead do a month-long canoe expedition in Canada during the summer. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, to spend much longer than a week doing what I loved so much. Little did I know that this trip and the program would take up my summers for the next seven years as a participant and guide, returning to the north, canoeing and exploring its beauty year after year.
To this day, I try to return north every summer with a canoe trip in the north. I like to reminisce and think of my first experience and the impact it had on me. The adventure, company, and doors that opened to a world of wonder have that have carried with me since. On July 29th, in the prime of the blueberry season, I still spend part of the day enjoying the traditions that began so long ago in a similar way. On the search for the best blueberries, picked from plush bushes that do not compare to any bought in the store and trying my luck with a few casts for a fish that might bite.
