Wolves, and the Northern Lights
Bill Lyons has canoed for many years with family and Boy Scouts, in the Midwest and the BWCA.
His first canoe was a third-hand, fifteen-foot wooden canoe, in southern Illinois. His stories have
appeared most frequently in Canoeing Iowa.
Carly and I put in on the Little Indian Sioux River North, an hour west of Ely off the Echo Trail.
We came north a half day, our loaded canoe discreetly topped by two folded lounge chairs, into Upper Pauness,
setting up a base camp at the north end, a quarter mile off the route other canoeists would take as they went up to
Loon Lake or into Canada. From our site we could take day trips, loops, without taking down camp and setting it up again,
and we could "single portage" with just the canoe and a small pack.
Yes, a deer came to the water near where we sat, and a moose swam across our cove, and an otter stood practically
on his hind legs, in the water, to give us a quizzical eye. New for us were the wolves, and the Northern Lights. They
both happened on the day before we were to come "out," the wolves in the morning, the Northern Lights
preceding a night rain.
As we sat on our smooth lakeside rock, eating breakfast, the wolves began to howl, a mile west near Wolfpack
Lake. Their voices rose in chorus, presumably to greet the day. Carly and I looked at each other and nodded,
acknowledging yet another evidence of wilderness.
That evening, before clouds moved in, we stood in the open, next to the lake, and marveled at the stars, more than we
could remember having seen, even in the western mountains. Then the lights came, flashes lasting longer
than lightning.
Our view to the north was partly blocked by trees, but as the broad white lights flashed on and off, the trees
became silhouettes that added to the show. No streaks, no color, just repeated releases of bright white, starting
in the north and lighting up much of "our sky," now mostly cloud covered and reflecting the light.
Simple pleasures.
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