Recently, I returned home from spending a summer up north, just outside of Ely, Minnesota, on the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. As a born and raised “East Coaster,” there was no way to expect what I’d experience in the rural midwest.
I’d spent two summers in a small town in Colorado before — receiving a healthy dose of culture shock while immersing myself in western dirtbag society for the first time. I remember spending about a week pretending to know what a “14er” was before I finally had enough cell service to look it up. (Colorado has more than 50 mountain peaks more than 14,000 feet elevation known as “14ers” or “fourteeners.”)
Before Minnesota, as to not repeat my previous mistake of driving across the country to live in a place I had barely researched, this time, I was prepared.
My knowledge of Minnesota consisted of: nice people, cold winter and putting Cool Whip and Jello in a bowl and calling it “salad.” Despite the fact that I was going to spend my summer working, living, and playing in the Boundary Waters and the surrounding area, I had a lot to learn bout the outdoors in Minnesota.
Along the 20+ hour road trip, I stepped out of the car into the parking lot of a Holiday gas station just north of Duluth, Minnesota. Three months later, I stopped at that same gas station on my way home.
In that span of time, I became a supporter (and even a defender) of Minnesota and its outdoors.
Here are some takeaways from the summer, in case you too find yourself headed for a trip up north and full of questions.
Berry picking culture:
I was fully unprepared for the late-June explosion of wild berries. Raspberries, juneberries, thimbleberries, blueberries, even blackberries! They lined trails and houses. Spotting one berry sparked something primal inside of me. I would see one, then another, then one more, until next thing I knew I was waist deep in a berry patch covered in scratches. I began showing up late to work as every berry I saw would stop me in my tracks until I was able to pull myself from my berry-picking haze and continue walking.
Loons:
Minnesotans love their loons. The state bird somehow makes its way onto every piece of merchandise imaginable. My favorite by far was the loon cribbage board I saw in a gas station. One could easily decorate their house with nothing but loon-themed objects purchased in Minnesota.
The loons are worth the hype. Their heads are impossibly smooth and black with shining red eyes. At night, their calls create a haunting chorus across the water. Each time I saw a loon floating in the lake felt as spectacular and singular as the last.
Almost makes you want to buy a decorative loon soap dispenser, ya know?
Essential outdoor gear:
Across communities, the art of the subtle flex looks different. In the outdoors community, it might come in the form of a tattered piece of clothing, or a sticker placed so nonchalantly on a water bottle that its owner can pretend to forget about it. Perhaps the most essential piece of gear, it must communicate to others how hardcore and outdoorsy you are, without you ever having to say a word.
Depending where you are, there are different ways to subtly flex on your fellow outdoorspeople.
In North Carolina, it’s enough to have a sticker from a thrift store in the mountains stuck onto your very old water bottle. Out west, a well-worn Mellie (Melanzana) strikes envy into your fellow outdoorsperson. But up north, the subtle flex comes in two forms – a handmade wooden canoe paddle, and an article of clothing from Wintergreen. It’s important to have both, to show strangers how outdoorsy you are both on and off the water. Canoeing the Boundary Waters with your wooden paddle while wearing your Wintergreen pants? Now that’s a lethal combo.
Bayhg.
Bayhg. Beeg. Baeg.
Or as we say in the South, bag.
Minnesota was full of surprises and complexities that go beyond a stereotypical picture of the state. Except, when it comes to the word bag.
Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness
I would be remiss to leave out the Boundary Waters on a list of my favorite outdoor surprises in Minnesota. Over the weeks I spent traveling through the Boundary Waters, I saw white pines, cedars, lily pads, otters, swans and a stunning variety of lakes.
The Boundary Waters have a quiet beauty. It is a beauty that sneaks up on you, almost unnoticeable, until you look across at the still water reflecting the colors of the sunset, or the light filtering through the needles of pines. The soft sound of waves hitting the shore, punctuated by loon calls and mosquitoes buzzing.
It is not that type of beauty that leaves you breathless, or full of awe. It is more comforting than that. It is the type of beauty that requires explorers to stop and look around. To notice the birds chirping, fish jumping, or a beaver tail splashing in the distance. It comes together in a web so detailed and beautiful it might be mistaken for a painting.
It is still and solid, a reminder of all the history that has passed through and a question of what will happen next. It is wild and changing, with winds that kick up waves or lightning that crackles in the sky. The beauty of the Boundary Waters invites you to pull up a chair, and stay a while. And I happily obliged.
About the author:
Alexandria deRosset is a senior at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where she is majoring in journalism and global studies with a minor in Spanish. From a young age, Alexandria was interested in the natural world but never considered a path in outdoor writing until returning from a summer job as a whitewater rafting guide in Colorado. She hopes to use journalism to share the beauty of the natural world, the importance of conserving it, and tell the stories of the communities who depend on it.
Alexandria was born and raised in Raleigh, North Carolina. When she’s not in class, you can find her spending time with family and friends, whether it be on a hike, in a boat, or sitting around a dinner table.
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