Every year about this time we witness the ritual of parents rushing to buy camping supplies and preparing to send their sons and daughters off to sleep-away camps and nature trips. Such experiences are seminal, and ones we tend to remember clearly the rest of our lives. I remember my camping-like experience one special summer when I was a Chicago teen at the tender, wilderness-ignorant age of 14. I may not remember all of my 37 years since, but my canoe trip into the boundary waters and the pristine wilderness north of Minnesota known as the Quetico Provincial Park seems like it happened last year.
The full content is for Supporters only. Log-in if a Supporter.