The Kids and Grand Kids are visiting. The little men (2 & 4) need some captions here. Let me start…”Don’t tell Grandpa we took the boat”. How about “What did Grandpa mean when he gave us fillet knives and a box of band-aids?”
Go Ahead and have fun with it… maybe they will tell me how they got them!
PS…No I didn’t actually give them knives (for you literal people).
The wilderness calls often. I answer yes when I can. I send out an invitation e-mail to friends, family, and others who can one man carry a canoe and a pack over rough trail. I get e-mails back like “Yes, but when and where are we going? Can I catch a fish this time or will you hog all the action? last time you tried to kill us with all those portages so do not ask me again! Can I bring my brothers friends nephew who needs to get off drugs?” And the questions keep coming. By trip #58 one would think I would have learned to invite the three people who will call me the boss and then tell me what to do. 
My personal gear list is simple and so are the instructions: Pack personal gear in heavy duty garbage bag. Pack sleeping bag in a stuff sack and in a separate garbage bag (all of which goes into a #3 Duluth pack with another persons gear so pack light).
Put fishing tackle in pocket tackle box or fanny pack.
BWCA Personal Gear List: Rain gear, Sunglasses, Eye-wear strap, Cap, Bandana, Shoes – wet & dry pairs, Sweatshirt – hooded, Shorts/swimwear, Long pants, T-shirts, Underwear, Socks, Towel/washcloth, Toothbrush-paste, Slingshot, Sunblock, Insect repellent, Lip balm, Gloves, Camera/batteries, Flashlight-batteries, Compass, Pocket knife, Fishing license, Fishing rods & tackle, Fish stringer, Sleeping bag, Wool sweater, Warm jacket, Ground pad, Life jacket, Mug (unbreakable), Fanny pack, Handkerchief, Clean clothes to leave in truck for return trip, Check fishing rods & tackle before trip, Extra garbage bags, Soap, deodorant, Bear repellent.
More questions: Where do I find bear repellant? Oh my word they took me serious, that’s what the sling-shot is for. Do I really need to pack my gear in garbage bags? No, wet bags will work unless you to do the teenager thing and just chance your gear not getting wet (that would be considered a miracle in youth director circles). Can I use tennis shoes for wet shoes portaging? Yes but leeches can suck the blood out of your foot through the shoe (not really but they won’t believe that sharp rocks can maim their feet for life). I have some plastic rain gear, is that OK for this trip? Yes, it will last about half-way across the first portage so bring 20 pairs and hope it only rains a couple times. I don’t have a compass but I always know which way is north, do I still have to bring one? I have fourteen reasons do you want to hear them all so you can decide? 
Will we catch fish? Probably; I know I will.
Do you plan
on fishing?
Can we eat some fish with our meals? Do you solemnly swear to have the time of your life come wind, rain, cold, mosquitoes, black flies, bear, stair-step portages, and Sasquatch noises outside your tent in the black night when you can’t hold it any longer from your five cups of hot chocolate?
We just came back from fantastic trip #58….and yes, all survived except for not a few fish. I also think my clothes absorbed half the campfire smoke. two ticks died trying to cross my smoke filled sweater.
Check out the BWCAW and plan a trip. Look for some pictures of Boundary Waters.
Be sociable and comment as well. By the way; A portage is the trail between two bodies of water that a canoe cannot go (around the rapids or between lakes) so you hoist the packs and canoes on your shoulders, grab rods and paddles and carry everything you brought over to the next canoe-able body of water.
We were young once. Almost half a century later some of our stories (even the true ones) might sound a bit far fetched. By the time this picture was taken we drove the tractor and the pick-up on the farm. We milked the cows by hand, made home-made slingshots, dwindled the farm-yard chicken numbers as well as some of moms canning jars and some windows. The red tailed hawks in the area took the blame on the chicken numbers but somehow, our parents always seem suspicious.
We lived in Northern Minnesota where fields, forests and water could be exploited daily. Our creative energy and resourcefulness was only bound by our lack of time spent thinking things through. We discovered that climbing a very tall and very skinny tree to the top made it gracefully bend down to the ground and spring back when we let go. The bigger trees only let you down halfway, and the wrong species (most of them) broke off just below your hands when you threw your body out sideways to begin the exhilarating decent.
One of our brilliant breakthroughs (and I still don’t think it was my idea) came with the discovery of logic. If one kid could bend over a small 15′ tree by swinging the top over just think how big and high a tree three little people could bend to the ground. Cousin Vern (who was much bigger than us) was persuaded to climb to the top of the “perfect” monster tree first while two of us followed. Giddy with excitement we counted to three and threw our bodies sideways towards the setting sun. The familiar “Crack” of breaking wood had all three of us flashing Vern’s life before our eyes as two of us lit on Vern unharmed. We figured Vern was dead as he was not breathing. I guess it took a while for his lungs to figure out how to get some air. We asked him if he saw Jesus and judging by his look it wasn’t Jesus.
Vern taught us how to play “chicken” with our bicycles. Everybody and everything lost. We healed but the bikes were never the same. I guess Vern expected to win at that one. I remember Vern conceding when I said “two out of three?” Yep, you are catching on…slow learner here!
My brothers seemed to escape pain more than me for some reason. One was reasoned off the peak of the barn roof to try the umbrella thing from a lower starting point. I might have jumped before reason began. We learned to pole vault with a long and stout stick in the barns haymow area unto the second story ledge; well my next two younger brothers learned anyway. Both went on to set records in that event in high school. I quit trying after I missed the soft landing area. We could grab a stout stick and pole vault our cattle fences but found out the cousins from the city couldn’t. One even tangled himself in the barbed wire electric fence. The cartoons are correct in the facial expressions and hair standing on end renditions of this predicament.
Life was good for me growing up on a farm until my worst of all encountered accidents. Most accidents have a certain recovery time and it’s back to the adventures again but this one changed who I would become and what I would do forward. After milking the cows we would carry the pails into the house. In the basement we would put the milk through an old hand crank cream separator by pouring the milk into a bowl on top, turn the crank at a certain rate and the crème and milk were separated. We found that a circular saw blade fit perfectly on the top spindle. One would crank and the other could saw. we graduated from paper to small wood pieces then 2″ thick wood. At 11 years old I could really turn that blade.
I was cranking when the saw blade came off and cut across both my arms near the elbows. My median nerves were cut, I saw my bones instantly and then a river of spurting blood. I don’t remember but bits and pieces after that but I ended up in extensive surgery after a dash to emergency and a 100 mile ambulance ride. A neurosurgeon happened to be on duty that night so he tied my nerve ends together. Veins and arteries were also sewn and tied as well as the arms. No feeling below the elbows, except for pain and mostly numbness for a long time.
Scars just are. They verify the craziest of stories behind them. We are fragile and resilient at the same time. I have a unique sensitivity toward the stories behind scars. I identify with Jesus Christ telling a doubting Thomas to reach out and touch his scars and believe that the story of his resurrection was true. I also identify with Thomas the skeptic until he saw the scars. All this from whence we came, and we know where we are going.
Now almost a half century later I see a few kids (but not many who get beyond their phone or pad) who could be tree benders. Kids who would push out an old forsaken boat onto a lake with a couple of oars and one would fish while the other bailed water to keep from sinking. Kids who will someday become psychologists, managers, teachers, youth directors, personal trainers, nurses, and great upper management (my siblings). Kids who would become followers of Jesus because they believed the scars like Thomas even though it’s been a couple thousand years.
Earlier today I heard “excuse me sir, could you help me? My car broke down and I need gas to get my wife and kids on the road to go home to Minneapolis. I need help, I’m out of money-could you help?” I smiled at him and made eye contact as my mind raced (I’ll tell him “let me move my snake to the back seat first so we can get you some gas) , what if he is telling the truth? How do I know?
Maybe it’s where I live or my upbringing or my natural default system to believe people first and ask questions later. My arms were full of packages as I walked past him and in the door of the post office. “I’ll give you a ride to your car and your family and we will see how I can help” I said. I put the packages in the mail box inside and turned to talk some more to this needy stranger but I could see through the glass door that he was already crossing the street the opposite direction. I guess I was not very clear about my intentions to help.
How do you really know when someone is lying, scamming, or being deceitful? They don’t make lie detector apps (yet) and they wouldn’t work on people who believed themselves anyway. If this young man was not trying to scam me he probably thought he should not get a ride with a stranger. You think? Several scenarios went through my head but it seemed not to matter anymore because this guy was not interested in my help. I drove away muttering unintelligent comments to myself and coming up with more one liners for the next scam artist I encountered.
I know there will always be people who will lie, cheat, and steal. I also know that my response to their character matters not to them, but it does to me. Cynical is easy and probably hurts the cynic as well as those on the other end. Handing out a couple of dollars is just as easy and probably encourages the panhandlers to keep panning. Offering some kind of relationship in the middle of the lie is harder, full of risk, and may someday actually find someone who is being honest about their need.
I will always remember my fathers example about how others show us our character. Dad was getting his masters degree at a nearby university when he opened the door for an outspoken woman who quickly challenged him about his motives. “I suppose you opened the door because I’m a woman” she snapped. “No mam, I opened the door because I’m a gentleman” said dad.
In some ways it’s impossible to know those people who may have an agenda at our expense. Rather than viewing others as a potential win-lose situation, could we not view it as a challenge to all involved that character and people matter probably more than our money or our problems. So really, why do we need to know?
A penny for your thoughts (that’s all I have left)
I am an avid outdoors-man. I write songs and play a mean keyboard. Cliff diving is a great rush as well as skiing the mountains. I have enough woodworking equipment to start my own business. Photography, yes lets talk about the hard to get shots in the rain or -20 winter temps in the middle of high winds (see picture above). I could go on and on until someone asks what my real passion is. Seems like every thing I do is just for the fun of it. If I were an animal I think the Otter comes to mind.
At my age I should have found the perfect job for my passion area by now but instead I have found the problem to passion. In reality my passion is adventure. Writing, public speaking, hunting, fishing, and taking a recent mission trip to Guatemala have a common thread woven into them. It’s the red thread of adventure. I looked up “Jack of all trades, master of none” the other day. It sort of means I will never be really great at anything (my rendition of Wikipedia). I’m still not sure what I will do when I grow up. Whatever I do it will have the red thread of adventure woven all over the place into the fabric of my life.
I do have a couple of feathers in my cap when most of my life is set in front of the mirror. I have a great marriage to a wonderful lady closing in on 36 years, three fantastic kids and five grandchildren who oddly enough have some otter in them as well. Meanwhile, I am gathering little fishing rods, .22 shells, more camera equipment and planning on legacy building with my red thread. We will have more talks of parents, God, friends, sports, and the evils of cliff diving while we adventure together. Can’t wait for each of those times.
What adventures await you this summer? What is your red thread?
Just when it was starting to show signs of spring. No global warming here this year.
Last year at this time it was 70 degrees. This morning I plowed snow with the bumper to get to work and getting home was really wild. In northern Minnesota I have found that sometimes we have to think outside normal parameters to get things done. Right now I can’t even open my back door to use our deck.
I really don’t like the progression here!
I have ribs soaking in a special marinade for grilling while the snow is now well over my knees on the deck; but I have a plan. My wife just snickered when I went looking for my Alaskan snowshoes . I told her she could take a picture of me grilling on snowshoes. While they are handy I probably need them on my feet to shovel off my roof as well. I think it will work better than using my skis to gently push the snow off the edges of the roof. I was OK until my skis were not exactly straight sideways to the edge of the roof. The good news was the snow drift was almost up to the roofs edge. The bad news was the two foot opening between the drift and the house. I have siding burn on my face. The other good news is that I lived to try a little smarter. My little step-ladder on the snow drift still works well to get on the roof and I have a shovel to go with my snowshoes. What could go wrong?
Anyway, I’m waiting for this nagging feeling in the back of my head to go away. One doesn’t get to be my age without paying attention to those little voices sometimes. I’m pretty sure I just need a different shovel or something and that feeling of doom (which I should have listened to earlier) will go away. I wonder if I just forgot an ingredient in the marinade?
Your comments on marinade recipes would be appreciated!
Antigua Guatemala. Riding in the back of a small pickup to a mountain village where we will build three small homes. Cobblestone streets built in the 1500’s make photography challenging while hoping to stay on board. Lean over and lose your face on another vehicle passing from either way and any direction. In the States six feet is an encroachment. Here six inches is plenty of room. Our driver slapped someone as we passed by. Turns out they were friends.
Lesson: We use their tools to build a small home. In our culture we would find a way to use the best power tools to maximize our time and get the job done. Here we are willing to use their tools with our sweat labor and time (we don’t realize how much and how often we flaunt ourselves sometimes) in work clothes to present a family a home.
The cement is mixed by hand on the ground. With buckets of water gathered by the family they will have a block foundation and cement floor. They will have walls, a door, and a roof that does not leak or allow animals and other intruders. In the rainy season they and their few belongings can be dry. This home will cut down on disease by over 70%. This is but one step in helping the people of Guatemala as God’s Child organization will also continue to work with the family and the children.
“Extreme Makeover” of another kind. In the presentation the mother was able to say (through our interpreter) “I can only say thank you and then I run out of words because there are no words to express how much this will mean to our family and my children” and her sobs communicated beyond our language barrier. There are few times in life where we might communicate so deeply it reaches the soul and this time our souls touched. Everyone in the room felt it. It’s too sacred a place for words to go. 
A local man came to our table at a restaurant one evening and thanked us for coming to Guatemala to build homes. “In this way you show God’s love for our people. They respect that and listen because you are willing to work with them instead of just sending money. Lots of people send money to help the poor. They will say thank-you without respect. You are willing to come and this they respect greatly. I thank you for my people.”
I am beginning to understand the depths of Christ’s Gospel which seem to only get deeper than our understanding can fathom. Words are only the outer shell that anyone can repeat and thus think they “know”. The embodiment of this Gospel is the blood, sweat, and tears from a heart of love where words should be formed from the inside and out to those around us. How much do we really understand the significance of the cross? Can Christ’s sacrifice be contained in words? Can believing in Jesus Christ be communicated in words only?
All we originally set out to do was raise some money, gather 17 willing people, hop a plane and spend some time building three very small homes for disadvantaged families. In reality we actually dove off the high dive into another world (our own Narnia journey) beyond words, where souls met in a tiny spot on the side of a volcanic mountain. Now we have come up for air. We are back in the world of words and catch phrases and wonder if it was real. Did that family really take their sleeping blankets to make a place for privacy in the toilet area? What if we don’t remember our thoughts and feelings? Can I just punch the people who want a 30 second “how was it?” I do remember and understand more what St Francis of Assisi said “preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.”
In the words of one of our team members “we are like little kids just off their first ride…Again. I wanna go again.”
I just sent my final letter for a project my wife and I are doing. Put it on your bucket list if you are so inclined if you haven’t yet. It will be rewarding I believe
In a couple of hours the 17 of us will take off on our journey to Guatemala. Thanks for your prayers and gifts to make this happen. A simple thank-you seems small at this time.
We will live from our carry-on bags and leave a couple of suitcases full of donations. A small amount of money and my old cell phone (probably an original first generation) will tide us over as our team (we have four teams) will help build a home for a family with no home. The kids sleep in under sugar cane stalks used for a lean-to. We will help in an orphanage and also help in a food distribution center for homeless.
The household will be well taken care of thanks to a network of people and a great house sitter while we are gone. It’s a strange thing to make endless to-do lists of all the things that need attention when we will be gone such a short time. I think I will quick check and make sure I have my passport (for the 23rd time) and money belt with money in it. We have an old camera and a journal each to jog our memories later should we think we have run out of stories.
This morning My wife said to me “what if the people we build a house for don’t appreciate it?”
I had thought about this earlier when I’ve given gifts that I’ve seen on a garage sale later. I know it’s a small matter compared to all the people in the world who have rejected Jesus and what he gave to us. It will not be a small matter when we someday see him look into our eyes when this life is over. I guess that is why we have not taken this project and all the support we have received from you lightly.
Gary
Words and numbers tend to be abstract to most of us unless we have been there. Stories help and pictures even more. I remember a wide eyed 15 year old kid at a gas station in Georgia asking me to roll my window down and saying “you guys are never going to believe this but there is an electrical cord hanging out the front of your car”. After the laughter died down in the car we assured him we were from Minnesota and many cars needed to be plugged in overnight to stay warm enough to start in the extreme cold. He walked away in a huff saying “you guys are jiving me!” (OK, the language dates me to my college days and we were headed to the Florida beaches for spring break). I have since marveled at how many people have no concept of cold weather (or how to stay warm). As I write it’s noon on January 24 2013 and it is -7F, up from -25F this morning with a wind chill factor of -35F. This means that your exposed skin can be frozen solid in 10 minutes and you will lose that skin. Frost bite is real.
So what does cold weather look like? The woods surrounding our house looks the same in 30 degree weather as it does in -52 below zero (the coldest I can recall here). Maybe some pictures will help a little. 
I think most of our fishing plans happen in the foyer after church.
25 degree pictures, walleye fishing with the kids taken the same day as temps dropped.
I suppose there are some subtle hints about how cold it might be and what kind of clothes we use to keep warm. Pictures can be deceiving. My trout picture was taken in the midst of a blast of wind and snow when it was about +35F (hence the bare hands ready to release). My wife has the coldest picture here at zero degrees.
It gets cold enough here for ice to reach 36+ inches thick and drive a logging truck across the lake. We start driving on the lakes when the ice reaches 12″ of clear ice (the sanity and safety of driving on a lake with a thin layer of ice is for another day).
My youngest brother picked up this nice pike recently in our winter weather. I fish much of the time in the open air and do well but I now have two fish houses and a heater.
Just as darkness is the absence of light, cold temperatures are merely the absence of heat. Our response is to cover our body well enough to trap our body heat. When I have gone winter camping the number one rule is “don’t get cold”. It is possible to camp in the wilderness and stay warm in very cold weather. It’s actually a great time if done right.
We build insulated houses up here (up to R80 insulation in the attic) with thick walls and insulated windows. Speaking of insulated windows, I have a few that need replacing. My best picture of what cold weather will do was taken a couple of day ago at -20F from inside my house.
It’s pretty! pretty expensive (absence of free windows).
There is a spiritual object lesson that I often think about when I am out in the cold (which I will be in a few minutes). I am reminded of the abstract concept of evil. It’s a lot like the cold in that we cannot see it but the the effects sure makes a lot of news. Evil takes it’s place in the absence of God. When I am outside in the cold and I build a fire to get warm, my body shuts down and rely s on external heat. If I walk away from the fire it does not matter how good my clothes are because my body has quit producing heat on it’s own. My high tech clothes can only trap the body heat to keep me warm so I get cold. My natural response would be to stand there and shiver. It’s actually hard to get motivated enough to run in the snow or start working hard enough to fire up my body again and get warm. God is the source of all good…whatever good we have came from our creator not us. If we walk away from God we walk into a dark and cold place and into the absence of heat, light, and good. As always feel free to comment
I just stepped in the door from an exciting afternoon adventure. I’m still hunting for our winters table fare with a black powder rifle. I think I was in Narnia, somehow, maybe. I even brought the camera.
I held the gun ready after a ruffled grouse sailed straight at me and set down in front of the deer stand looking back clucking and jerking her tail. I figured a deer had spooked the bird and was coming my way. I was probably right but the big doe came an hour later as silent as a ghost in the new snow. This is Narnia I thought. Wild life could appear and disappear so quickly I couldn’t grab the camera fast enough. I opted to hang unto the gun instead. There are bucks hanging in the area. Bucks big enough for my hand to fit in the tracks they seem to drag through the snow. At least the does make a clean track by picking up their feet. 
I think I have found Narnia. The portal is a frame of mind. The wonderment frame to be exact. I thought I had been there before as it was familiar.
I walked out in the dark with my headlamp and millions of crystals pretending to be eyes peering back at me. A funny thought crossed my mind as I saw my parked car at the woods edge and Narnia morphed instantly into the woods I have hunted from my first gun. I think it’s easier to find God than Narnia, all that takes is faith, and not much of it. 
Gary
garyfultz 
