The Land of 10,000 Lakes

Eric views rapids Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell
Nate Newell views rapids
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate Newell pulling in front of canoe Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell
Nate Newell pulling in front of canoe
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate pulls canoe on shore Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate pulls canoe on shore
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate takes a break Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate takes a break
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate Newell with Eric Newell providing rudder Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate Newell with Eric Newell providing rudder
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Portaging Path Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Portaging Path
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Eric and Nate Newell portage canoe Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Eric and Nate Newell portage canoe
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Portaging the Canoe & Contents Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Portaging the Canoe & Contents
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Eric portaging the Canoe Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Eric portaging the Canoe
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Nate in Front Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell Nate in Front
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell

Minnesota, in the Dakota language (mnisota or mní sóta) translates to “sky-tinted water.”

A year ago, my alarm blared in the pitch-darkness of the bunkhouse at Packsack Canoe Trips on the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

5 AM comes fast.

I turned off the alarm, swung my legs out of my sleeping bag, and planted my bare feet on the cold plywood floor. I turned on the light. My adult son, Nate, squinted at me from the adjacent bunk. Flashing a groggy grin, he muttered, “That was a short night.”

The day before we drove from Minneapolis to Ely, Minnesota. After a late start and a dinner stop, we drove the last couple hours in the dark, down State Highway 1—the Voyageur Highway—a narrow two-lane strip of asphalt, with no shoulder, and crowded in on either side by endless forests.

Our forecast was for highs in the 40’s, a stiff wind, and scattered rain showers. If I didn’t live 1400 miles away, I would have been happy to wait to paddle for another day, but this was the window of time we had. And, as the Eagles sang so profoundly, “We may lose and we may win, but we may never be here again.”

Most canoe trips into the Boundary Waters are days to weeks long, but you can get a good sampling in a long day on the water.

By 7 AM we were at the Fall Lake boat ramp where our rented Kevlar canoe was waiting for us, as promised. All our good paddling gear was back in Utah, so we placed our day packs in garbage bags to keep them dry, and pushed off into a headwind, which also meant no mosquitos.

Traditionally the homelands of the Anishinaabe people—also known as the Ojibwe or Chippewa, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness includes more than 1,000 interconnected lakes, extends for 150 miles along the US/Canadian border, and adjoins Canada’s Quetico Provincial Park. Combined with Voyageur National Park, the three areas create nearly 2.5 million acres of internationally protected land, lakes, forests, and waterways that connect to Hudson Bay and the Arctic Ocean. In April, a twenty-year mining ban in the vicinity was overturned that poses a risk to the pristine waters.

The Boundary Waters is the most visited Wilderness Area in the United States, but not on a day like this. Nate and I zipped our jackets up, put our heads down, and paddled towards an island ahead that provided some refuge from the wind and a chance to rest. We continued picking our route this way, finding the sheltered coves and shorelines when possible and powering into the wind when we had to.

We portaged Newton Falls in a drizzle, then worked our way across Newton Lake, and portaged Pipestone Falls to Pipestone Bay on Basswood Lake. We paddled to an obscure portage route that led us to Azion Lake—a small lake 150 vertical feet above Basswood Lake. We ate lunch on the shore in light rain. The wind died down and we paddled a lap around this double-lobed lake on glassy water with several loons.

For our return voyage we had a light tailwind or no wind. The portages were long enough that we were grateful we paid extra for the Kevlar canoe rental. All in all, we paddled twelve miles, made six portages (three each way), paddled on four lakes, and I plucked three ticks off my pants. Nate seemed unbothered that they liked me more than him.

Though we were a bit soggy, both of us were smiling as we finished out, just a father and son paddling in sync, moving across the dark glassy water, tinted by a gray sky overhead.

I am Eric Newell and I am wild about wild lands in Utah and beyond.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin and Anderson, Howe, and Wakeman.
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

Boundary Waters Canoe Trips & Log Cabins In Ely, Minnesota, PackSack Canoe Trips and Log Cabins by Nicholas Ott, https://www.packsackcanoetrips.com/

Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, 2026 Explore Minnesota Tourism, MN.gov,
https://www.exploreminnesota.com/destinations/boundary-waters

Explore Boundary Waters Canoe Area, Friends of the Boundary Waters Wilderness,
https://www.friends-bwca.org/explore/

Quetico Provincial Park, Camp Quetico, Atikokan, Ontario, https://queticoprovincialpark.com/

Voyageurs National Park-Minnesota, US National Park System, US Department of the Interior, https://www.nps.gov/voya/index.htm

Save the Boundary Waters , SavetheBoundaryWaters.org, Northeastern Minnesotans for Wilderness (NMW), https://www.savetheboundarywaters.org/

Lawrence, Beatrice, Why mining in Minnesota’s Boundary Waters matters to Wisconsin, Wisconsin Public Radio, April 30, 2026, https://www.wpr.org/news/why-mining-minnesotas-boundary-waters-matters-wisconsin

Kraker, Dan, Trump ends ban on mining near the Boundary Waters, Minnesota Public Radio News, April 27, 2026, https://www.mprnews.org/story/2026/04/27/trump-ends-ban-on-mining-near-the-boundary-waters

Haunted in the Forest

Haunted in the Forest: Witchy Ghost of a Plant Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer
Witchy Ghost of a Plant
Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer

Leaf Skeleton Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer Leaf Skeleton
Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer

Jaw Bone Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer Jaw Bone
Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer

Tree Canker Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer Tree Canker
Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer

Costume Change Chrysalis Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer Costume Change Chrysalis
Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer

When life throws scary at you, what do you do? As we increasingly consider mental and emotional health issues and strategies, I find that my answer is that I go to the forest. Of course, I go there when things are going smoothly too, but I agree with Henry David Thoreau when he wrote, “When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood.” He, in fact, recommended the “most dismal swamp,” but that is a little too slimy for me. I will stick with solid soil.

A few weeks ago I spied a bat dangling from the bricks on my front porch as I gazed at the moon just as I had asked my young students to do. It reminded me of how in Janell Cannon’s picture book Stellaluna, a young bat survives a predatory owl’s attacks, falling “down, down…faster and faster, into the forest below.” She clings to a branch until her strength gives out, then “down, down again she dropped” into an unlikely predicament. Bats and harvest moons are iconic figures of this season, and as I ventured out for a sanity walk in the Cache National Forest, everywhere I looked I saw more.

Fall forests are full of chilling scenes, and I was first struck by a gruesome sap bleed from a gaping evergreen canker. The yellow ooze seeping seemed beautiful somehow. I don’t remember ever being so captivated by a wounded plant, and because I lingered, I also spotted a chrysalis containing a caterpillar’s costume change on a neighboring tree. Next to that were the witchy remains of other withering forbs.

Beneath my hiking boots was a toothy jaw grinning amid fragile leaf skeletons scattered on the forest floor. Even as I swapped away the cobwebs I didn’t see ahead until it was too late, the eerie beauty of nature eased the tormenting worries in my life. There’s a Chinese Proverb that says, “You can only go halfway into the darkest forest; then you are coming out the other side.”

A good walk outside is great for the distressed heart and mind. I needed to find the unlikely power in autumn icons. As Mary Shelley wrote for Frankenstein, “Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.” Next time you are frightened by the unknowns or scarred by the realities, consider falling into a forest.

I’m Shannon Rhodes, and I’m wild about Utah.

Credits:

Images: Courtesy & Copyright Shannon Rhodes, Photographer
Text & Voice: Shannon Rhodes, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University https://edithbowen.usu.edu/
Additional Reading Links: Shannon Rhodes

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Posts by Shannon Rhodes https://wildaboututah.org/author/shannon-rhodes/

Cannon, Janell. 1993. Stellaluna. New York: Harcourt Brace & Company. https://www.amazon.com/Stellaluna-Janell-Cannon/dp/0152062874/ref=sr_1_1

Shelley, Mary Woolstonecraft. 1818. Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/84/84-h/84-h.htm

Thoreau, Henry David and Brooks Atkinson. 2000. Walden and Other Writings. New York: Modern Library. https://www.amazon.com/Walden-Other-Writings-Modern-Library/dp/0679600043

John Muir and Wilderness

John Muir and Wilderness: John Muir at Glacier Bay Courtesy US NPS, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve
John Muir at Glacier Bay
Courtesy US NPS, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve

John Muir and Wilderness: Roosevelt and Muir at Glacier Point President Teddy Roosevelt and John Muir standing on rock at Glacier Point, Yosemite, May 1903; Yosemite Falls and cliffs of Yosemite Valley in distance. [RL012904] Courtesy US NPS Roosevelt and Muir at Glacier Point,
President Teddy Roosevelt and John Muir standing on rock at Glacier Point, Yosemite, May 1903; Yosemite Falls and cliffs of Yosemite Valley in distance.
Note: Muir visited Glacier Bay in Alaska and the Unita mountains in Utah to explore how glaciers formed Yosemite valley. [RL012904]
Courtesy US NPS

An aerial view of Margerie Glacier. The glacier begins high in the mountains and meanders down the valleys like a river of ice.  Courtesy US NPS, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve An aerial view of Margerie Glacier. The glacier begins high in the mountains and meanders down the valleys like a river of ice.
Courtesy US NPS, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve

John Muir at Muir Glacier Courtesy US NPS, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve John Muir at Muir Glacier
Courtesy US NPS, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve

I’ve known of John Muir much of my life. A recent kayaking trip to Glacier Bay in Alaska added to my appreciation for this remarkable early American naturalist, author, and Wilderness advocate. Muir first visited Glacier Bay in 1879, where he witnessed firsthand how glaciers transform the landscape, bolstering his prescient theory of glaciology. Upon returning home, I did a bit of research on his 1877 visit to Utah. Muir was taken by the wild beauty of the Wasatch Mountains as he so eloquently expressed.

“The glacial developments of these superb ranges are sharply sculptured peaks and rests, with ample wombs between them, where the ancient snows of the glacial period were collected and transformed into ice and ranks of profound shadowy canyons, while moraines commensurate with the lofty fountains extend into the valleys forming far the grandest series of glacial monuments I have yet seen this side of the Sierra.”

In addition to Muir’s contributions to understanding how glaciers sculpt landscapes, he used his political acumen to initiate the Wilderness movement, culminating with the 1964 Wilderness Act approved by the U.S. Congress. “A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.” – written by Howard Zahniser, the principle author of the Act.

The U.S. Congress has preserved 110 million acres of the fifty states since the Wilderness Act, 1.16 million of which are found in Utah. About half are on National Forest lands, the remaining residing with the Bureau of Land Management agency. Another 3.2 million acres are managed as Roadless lands titled Wilderness Study Areas.

Other Muir quotes which champion wilderness- “Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity.” and “Wilderness is a necessity… there must be places for human beings to satisfy their souls.”

I’ve spent many years as a seasonal Wilderness ranger and Wilderness advocate here in N. Utah in the Naomi and Wellsville Wilderness. Managing these precious spaces to retain its wilderness character has become ever more challenging with a warmer, dryer climate enhancing wildfire, flooding, and loss to massive insect outbreaks. As Glacier Bay and Glacier National park glaciers retreat ever deeper into bays and meadows, their names may become a misnomer.

Although John Muir’s famous “Muir Glacier” had receded several miles away from where it once met the ocean, I feel blessed the few tidewater glaciers we encountered yet remain. And I feel further blessed that the U.S. Congress has seen fit to protect Utah’s wildlands by deploying the Wilderness Act- “…where the Earth and its Community of Life will remain untrammeled by man…”

Jack Greene for the Bridgerland Audubon Society, and I’m wild about Utah!

Credits:

Picture:
Audio: Courtesy & © J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin https://upr.org
Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Lyle W Bingham, Webmaster, and Jack Greene, Author, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

Jack Greene’s Postings on Wild About Utah, https://wildaboututah.org/author/jack/

Glacier Bay From Above(Video), John Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve, US National Park Service, https://www.nps.gov/media/video/view.htm?id=C16C2BB8-1DD8-B71C-0783F58C054561C2

Fields, Lauren, Here’s what John Muir — the father of national parks —thought about early Utah, The Deseret News, Apr 20, 2018, https://www.deseret.com/2018/4/21/20643789/here-s-what-john-muir-the-father-of-national-parks-thought-about-early-utah

John Muir in Utah, Utah Stories from the Beehive Archive, Utah Humanities, https://www.utahhumanities.org/stories/items/show/180

Public Law 88-577 a.k.a. Wilderness Act, Sept 3, 1964, U.S. Government Publishing Office: https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/STATUTE-78/pdf/STATUTE-78-Pg890.pdf

Biek, Bob, Willis, & Ehler, Buck, Utah’s Glacial Geology, Survey Notes, Utah Geological Survey, Utah Department of Natural Resources, September 2010, https://geology.utah.gov/map-pub/survey-notes/utahs-glacial-geology/

Hansen, Wallace R, The Geologic Story of the Uinta Mountains, Geological Survey(USGS), US Department of the Interior, 1969, 1975, 1983, https://pubs.usgs.gov/bul/1291/report.pdf

Finding Remoteness

Finding Remoteness: A remote area in the Bear River Range Courtesy & © Josh Boling, Photographer
A remote area in the Bear River Range
Courtesy & © Josh Boling, Photographer
‘Remote’ is not a characteristic I would assign to the city center, a major metropolis like where I grew up. But I also remember summers spent high in the crown of our old magnolia tree, where my 8 year old self may have begged to differ. There, I found wildness—forgot about time and place and the civilization that occupied them. Finding Remoteness

What does ‘remote’ mean? Take a moment, if you will, and conjure a memory—to the most remote place you’ve ever been. Where are you? Why did that particular place come to mind? Was it the distance from cities and towns? Was it the absence of other people? Was it the darkness? The quiet? What makes a place “remote?”

This question has been tumbling around in my head for a while. So, naturally, I took to the internet for answers. A definition: ‘remote’—an adjective—“(of a place) situated far from the main centers of population; distant.” Seems straightforward at first, but the quality of remoteness is open for interpretation. I might argue, for instance, that Lhasa—the Tibetan capital of almost half a million people—is far more remote than the most isolated corner of Utah’s redrock labyrinth. Perhaps that’s an apples to oranges comparison, though.

Bear-shaped remote region in the Bear River Range Data and Photo Credit: Hunter Baldridge
Bear-shaped remote region
in the Bear River Range
Data and Photo Credit: Hunter Baldridge
The Means family from Florida is trying to quantify remoteness and document the most remote place in all 50 states. Project Remote, they call it, defines remoteness as “the point that is the farthest straight-line distance from a road or city [or] town.” According to the Means family, Utah’s most remote location is deep in the High Uintas Wilderness–9.5 miles from the nearest road; a two-day trek from the closest trailhead.

Project Remote inspired me. Their definition seemed reasonable enough, but I was curious about whittling down the parameters of ‘remoteness.’ I wanted to identify the most remote location in Cache County, where I live; so, I reached out to USU Geographic Information Systems instructor, Shannon Belmont, who has been working on this question with her students for several years. As it turns out, the general consensus from Belmont’s class projects produced a fittingly bear shaped swathe of canyons and peaks in the high country of the Bear River Range as the most remote region in the county. There were dozens of other definitions offered through Belmont’s project, of course.

‘Remote’ seems a relative term—relative to the perspective of a traveler and their perceived distance or isolation from the center of whatever world is familiar. When avalanche danger in my home range subsides, I’ll click boots into skis and plow my way to the heart of that bear-shaped expanse of peaks and canyons, trying to find what ‘remote’ means there. Then, perhaps I’ll redefine the word entirely— changing it by season, mode of transport, or state of mind. Until then, maybe I’ll find an old tree to get lost in.

I’m Josh Boling, and I’m Wild About Utah!Defining Remote
 
Credits:
Photos: Courtesy & Copyright Josh Boling, Photographer
Uintas Graphic: Courtesy Josh Boling & Hunter Baldridge, Copyright © Hunter Baldridge
Sound: Courtesy & Copyright J Chase and K.W. Baldwin, Utah Public Radio
Text: Josh Boling, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University https://edithbowen.usu.edu/
Additional Reading Links: Josh Boling

Sources & Additional Reading

https://www.outsideonline.com/2314611/roads-around-nowhere

Project Remote, https://www.projectremote.com/

Utah’s Remote Spot in the High Unitas, Project Remote, October 3, 2019, https://www.projectremote.com/blog/utah-remote-spot/

Belmont, Shannon, Final Project – Identifying the most remote location in Cache County, GEOG/WILD1800, SJ & Jessie Quinney College of Natural Resources, Utah State University, https://wildaboututah.org/wp-content/uploads/boling.josh_.GW1800_Final_Project_RemoteLocation.pdf