The Voyageurs (A North Woods Canoe Adventure)

By Bruce Stacy

Ben, a 13 year old boy, is invited to accompany his Uncle Jake and their French-Canadian guide on their annual canoe-camping-fishing trip into the North Woods. They fly to Duluth, Minnesota where they are met by their voyageur-like guide, Mick. Mick then drives them to the fringes of civilization and they launch their canoes into the wilderness. The trip is an awakening for Ben, who overcomes his lack of self confidence while learning outdoor lore, the history of the North Woods, the voyageur culture, and solving a longstanding family mystery. This story is part educational, part history and part mystery wrapped in the magic of the northland . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257728015

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The Voyageurs (A North Woods Canoe Adventure)

The Voyageurs

(A North Woods Canoe Adventure)

By 

Bruce Stacy

Copyright ©1992, 2010 by Bruce Forbes Stacy

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means , electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names. characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No reference to any real person is intended or should be inferred.

Cover photography by Bruce Stacy taken in the BWCA in 1993

Published by Lulu Publishing, Morrisville, NC

www.Lulu.com

Printed in the United States of America

23456789

ISBN 978-0-557-31174-3

1-329840111

This book is dedicated to:

My fellow voyageurs and the times we shared fishing, camping and canoeing in the Great North Woods - Dave, Jim, Mike, Ricky, Toby

The ones we caught and the ones that got away. 

My children Samantha and Jeremy and their mother

Preface

This story is a culmination of 18 years of writing, editing, re-writing  and re-editing.  It is rooted in the first fishing and camping trips with my high school friends in the 70’s and 80’s near Cloyne, Ontario and my 4 years as an undergrad attending college in Ashland, Wisconsin. But it wasn’t until the early 90’s after guided fishing trips to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (Quetico-Superior) on the Ontario-Minnesota border that this story became real on paper .  We entered the North Woods as civilized men and exited it seduced by its magic. 

Into the North Woods

Dere's some'ting stirrin' ma blood tonight.

On de night of de young new year,

W'ile de camp is warm an' de fire is bright,

An' de bottle is close at han'─

Out on de reever de nort' win' blow,

Down on de valley is pile de snow,

But w'at do we care so long we know

We're safe on de log cabane?*

* Excerpt from the poem The Voyageur, by William Henry Drummond

Uncle Jake and I flew out together from JFK in New York. Our guide, Mick, met us at the airport in Duluth. "Bon jour, mon amis," he called as he spotted us outside the terminal.

I turned and looked. There was no mistaking him. He looked like a woodsman. His long straight brown hair was pulled back in a four-inch long ponytail and he had a well-trimmed beard, which accented his friendly face. He wore a black and green plaid shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, exposing deeply tanned and muscular arms. Brown leather suspenders held up a pair of brown canvas pants, the legs of which were stuffed into thigh high brown rubber boots. He was only five feet eight inches tall, but he looked big. His barrel-like chest was disproportionate to his slender and wiry lower body.  You knew from his appearance and the way he carried himself that there wasn't a weak muscle in his body. 

He strode confidently up to Uncle Jake and shook his hand exclaiming, Jake! You old spawnbag! How are you?

Just great! It's good to see you, Mick. Then Uncle Jake smiled slyly and said; Ready to lose us in the woods again?

Mick laughed heartily at Uncle Jake's remark and winked.

Then he stepped back from Uncle Jake, sizing me up through keen brown eyes, and asked, The smolt, is Ben?

Uncle Jake gestured at me and said, Yes, this is my nephew. Ben, this is Mick.

I was wary of the big woodsman, but I stuck out my hand, and said, Nice meeting you, er, uh, Mr. . . .

He enthusiastically engulfed my hand in his and said with a smile, Mick is fine.

I smiled back saying, Uh, Mick, and we shook hands, his big calloused hand surrounding mine. Our eyes met, he winked at me, and said, First time? Oui? Da nort woods? I nodded and he continued, Your uncle, he has told me about you. You will see. This place, you will never want to leave. Then we moved off toward his big box like old station wagon, on which there were two canoes, one the size of Uncle Jakes─ nineteen feet long─ and a shorter one, both tied upside down to the roof. The back of the car was bulging with a store's worth of fishing and camping equipment. We piled in, Uncle Jake in front with Mick, and me in the back with the gear, for the long drive to the North Woods.

We drove north for hours, deeper and deeper into the forest, further and further from civilization. Uncle Jake and Mick talked like long lost brothers the whole way, while I listened and watched the scenery through the window.

Spruce, oak, and birch trees flashed passed the windows. There was nothing out here but the North Woods. At that realization, fear began to creep into my mind. There was truly nothing out here. The woods were it.  

What if Mick’s car broke down? I dreaded that I would never see my home again, never be able to see my mother's smiling face, or feel my father's brooding but comfortable presence. That was scary, but I was committed now. I did not want Uncle Jake and Mick to think I wasn’t big enough to go on this trip with them. There was no turning back now. It was too late.

Uncle Jake came here to the North Woods every year. Ever since I can remember, whenever he discussed this trip he would get a faraway look in his eyes and his face would glow with pleasure. Those fascinating discussions always ended the same way─ with Uncle Jake dreamily saying, Someday I'm going to live up there in those woods. Though the thought of going into that remote wilderness scared me, going with Uncle Jake made it easier. He was my best friend and I would go anywhere with him, even if it was the scariest place in the world.

We rode for two hours when the pavement ended and turned into dirt. The road got bumpier and bumpier and narrower and narrower until it ended at the edge of a huge lake. We lurched to a stop with sand and gravel crunching under the tires and Mick leapt from the car bellowing, "Mon dieu! It is a beautiful day. Let us go, spawnbags! Time, he is wasting!"

We scrambled to help Mick unload the car. Doing something, anything besides sitting and thinking made me feel a little better and kept the Northwoods from swallowing me up. We put the canoes by the launch and piled our gear in front of them, while Mick parked the car in a nearby dirt parking lot. As he strode back toward us, he bellowed gladly, Ah, the lady of the lake, she smiles upon us this day. We are in luck! There is no one else here. We have the whole place to ourselves. It is truly a magnificent day!

Uncle Jake looked at me, smiling at what I am sure he thought was our good fortune. He said, Probably won't see another soul for the next few days. No phones, no TV, no deadlines, and no motor noise. This is living.

I forced myself to smile at him and said, Great! My skin crawled with uneasiness, but I didn't want Uncle Jake to see that I was sorry I had come.

While Mick and Uncle Jake sorted through the gear, I walked alone to the foot of the canoe launch and stared out at the primitive landscape─ water, rocky shorelines, and trees. I felt better when I concentrated on my surroundings and began to daydream. I'd read that the last glacier came through here only ten thousand years ago, scouring the land and exposing the roots of an ancient mountain range. This area was pristine. Even the air smelled fresh, clean, and untouched, it was as if we were the first humans to breathe it. Every breath filled me with a riot of emotions: a sense of anticipation, adventure, and ever-impending doom. I felt like I was getting ready to jump off of the high dive at the municipal pool: