Beyond the screen at the Boundary Waters

Our world is over-stimulated and it’s no surprise that many of us are reliant on our screens when it comes to the information we consume, the connections we crave, the careers and income we depend on. And with so many of us adopting a hybrid or remote lifestyle that ensures we’re getting a more than healthy dose of screen time it’s easy to assume this is just how it’s supposed to be.?

At a time where governments, companies and people are navigating through this post-pandemic new normal you could argue that we’re starting to accept that this is standard. But, it isn’t. No one actually knows how to do this, or if we should do this forever. There’s no guru or guide book that could tell you (sorry LinkedIn thought leaders) and so I’ve adopted my own standard: to continue to observe, question and brainstorm how one successfully thrives in this screen heavy new normal. In one word: discernment. Cue Bowie singing ‘rebel rebel’ and try to use your individual cognitive function in a world that’s asking you over and over again- to avoid just that.

I love technology, and I love that screens help me do a lot of things I love: interact with customers of the brand I work for, write both personally and professionally, and to research.I’m excited at the idea that AI could make a positive impact on our world if we use and regulate it with thoughtful intention.

This summer, I wanted to create a “low stim” summer instead of brat summer (can someone explain what that is, I think I’m in) I’ve actively tried to find ways to avoid my screens too- so opting for a regular ‘phone call’ versus a video and reading a book I can hold in my hands. Preferable if it has the book store or library smell. I’ve tried to take in the “real screen,” which this summer presented itself to me as the view from my campsite at the Boundary Waters Canoe and Wilderness Area.?

When a friend from a past white-water rafting trip reached out to gauge my interest in a canoe trip in Minnesota in July I was quick to start packing my bags. I’ve been known to race at the chance to sign up for unique travel opportunities with women, bonus if it’s off grid. How did I arrive here? I can’t say for sure, but I think somewhere deep inside of me is a girl screaming for a low stim summer – reminiscent of growing up in the 90s - we stayed outside for hours before AIM lured us to sit near our modems. The rest is history. So if going to northern Minnesota meant no screens, no service, and no neon signs I was ready to book a flight. What better way to challenge myself mentally and physically than with a group of women who were looking for something different. Something we’d actively have to hunt down because it’s certainly not being served to us via our instagram feeds. Something that would challenge us while challenging us to stay away from scrolling mindlessly, numbing what it feels like to be alive on this planet.?

The next obvious step was to map out an ambitious canoe portage trip through one of the most remote areas in the country and on the planet. BWCA boasts over a million acres of pristine nature - lakes and rivers where bald eagles fly, and where humans can drink from (with a steri pen) It’s a way of life for native Minnesotas, but it also attracts a small percentage of out-of-state visitors during the summer seasons. Again, not sure at what point I became one of these people who try to get as off grid, dirty and physically challenged as possible but along with 3 friends, I dove into what it means to portage a canoe through unmarked trails. Trails that would bring us into lakes and rivers where we’d encounter the cleanest water many of us ever have,? or will - in search of an increased sense of strength, confidence and joy. I’ve come to find that everytime I do this, I shock myself when I start noticing how capable I am. Chat GPT is great, but I don’t want to make my life so convenient and predictable that I completely erase any sense of self-reliance, accomplishment, and holistic growth.?

Our canoe trip began in the town of Ely, a charming remnant of small town America that you wouldn’t just find yourself driving through to get somewhere beyond - if you’re heading here it means you are planning to enter the BWCA. Generous with wisdom, our outfitter gave us a tutorial on how to heft our canoes overhead while mucking through trails - all while concealing any potential doubt they had about our ability to do it. How refreshing it was to hear the “you’ve got this” when all indications pointed otherwise. Imagine if we could drill that mantra into our minds on the daily… instead of becoming distracted with comparisons that serve to diminish our self worth. We got our gear, enjoyed a homemade dinner in the bed and breakfast shared kitchen and awaited our 6am coffee call, 7am shuttle ride.?

A foggy morning on a loon inhabited lake that smelled better than any “fresh lake air” candle I’ve ever come across is where the paddling began.My canoe buddy and I were gasping in breaths of it, challenging the yankee candle gods to create something that smelt this potent, this real. Within a few hours we were lost, caught in a storm and swarmed by hungry mosquitos who considered us an all you can eat appetizer, main course, and dessert buffet. Our first tough moment was making the call to adjust our route and skip a day of paddling. We hadn’t even encountered a first mile long, mud soaked portage. Any hesitance I had when we made the call quickly dissipated as I found myself carrying a 45lb canoe over my head, stepping through mud and stepping over downed logs - while it rained - for nearly a mile. A portage trail is a primitive, unmarked trail- you have to work to “find the opening” and then you get the pleasure of unloading your boat, and journeying it all to the end of the portage, where you load and activate your paddling self once more.?

The more steps I took on the portage, the more confident I became. I felt happy knowing I could to this ( I COULD DO THIS!!!) and I started to feel a shift through the blood in my veins. Which probably attracted more bug bites. Somewhere inside of me, I felt like I was supposed to do this. And maybe it was less about the specific canoe carrying and more about the signing up to challenge my strong, bad-ass self to promote feeling strong and bad-ass on a daily basis. Carrying my worldly possessions and my ship towards my destination… and doing it in an environment where there is no easy way forward,? backwards or out of. It’s stronger than any cup of coffee or drug out there. And we’re not addicted to it, until we learn about it ... .and then we get hooked when we experience the grandeur of it.?

Once you establish how you’re going to move through this new world you’ve decided to investigate and explore… every step further proves that you are committed to welcoming whatever comes next. In our case, it was spending hours paddling through fast-moving water while it rained, looking for our campsite which would be unmarked and would require us to look closely at the land we paddled by. From there, we started to learn what camping at the BWCA is all about: rushing to set up your bug tarp, cooking and cleaning it up immediately so as to not attract bears, and rigging up your bear bag into any robust branch you can find. Every move you make requires attention, and everytime you fail you have to figure out a new solution. As we struggled to rig our bear gear, we found ourselves faced with the truth that it was just us. No one was coming. No one knew the best way to do it, or how to improvise if said robust branches were non-existent. If you get your rope tangled and stuck on a smaller branch like we did, you’re on your own in terms of how to untangle it. The more challenging it got, the more my brain returned to its former, pre-screen, pre-adult self. It was the moment you remember what it is? to be a child: no playbook, no experience, pure instinct - using my reasoning, critical thinking and creativity to solve problems. If only I could bottle up ‘wilderness challenge me’ and carry it around - if only I could have more opportunities to have real problems I have no experience with solving… again…why is this the fun I choose? In all seriousness, when you’re free of not knowing what outcome to expect, when there is no bias because it’s unchartered territory - the answer is: the limit doesn’t exist. And sometimes, you hear it exactly how Lindsay says it in mean girls. Bonus if you do. The point is - we know so much, and we show up to life with what we’ve learned, which is great. It can also stunt us, if we’re expecting the same results based on what we’ve thus far seen.? For me, the stretch in my learning takes place when I don’t know all the answers, but need to come up with one to move forward, to take the next step. It’s a blank canvas where you know what came immediately before, have some idea of what has to come next. I have no idea how to rig up a rope to keep bears out of my food, but I have a rope, a branch and a desire to avoid bears in my campsite.?

Around the campsite, mostly everything we did included an element of work. Untie your canoe to go fill up your water bottle from the middle of the lake, tie it back up. Spread out your dinner, eat every bite and then rinse your dishes before packing it all up into your bear bag. Use a pit toilet that you hike up a hill to get to, and promptly get swarmed by the biting bugs. No walls, no mirrors, no sinks. You’re constantly proving to yourself that you can do it, and you do it. You tackle what’s staring you in the face, what’s in your hands, or in your immediate view. All the information you need is physically present, and there’s no google. You’re forced to trust your embedded human instincts, and you find out just how capable you are, at the core of your humanness.?

Going to sleep under the stars, waking up to the cacophony of forest opera before the sun comes up and drinking the water you’re surrounded by slowly convinces you that you need more of what this is. And this is the ability to exist without air, noise and light pollution. Without worrying about your calendar obligations, or the chores around the house, or the deadlines waiting at work. The conversations you’re either re-playing in your head or anticipating having. It’s having nothing to do other than to survive (and hopefully enjoy your trip). There’s no screen other than what you’re staring out at, which in our case was a lush pine filled shoreline, set to the soundtrack of loons singing and calling. We’d watch this view as the sunset trickled in, like you might watch a movie cut from take to take. Mesmerizing to the point where the longer you looked, the harder it was to look away.