Reprising my grandparents’ canoe tripping in the Boundary Water Canoe Area (BWCA) of northern Minnesota along par of the 5,529-mile border with Canada (marked by the 49^th parallel), three of us brothers set out to chase the mythology of a generation and an era gone by sealed in family lore. It was to be a full-circle experience in which we would be participating in our family heritage while in total engagement with God’s classroom of glory.

The lakes shimmered in the gentle winds just like we knew they would. The brilliant blue skies reflected on the subtle iron-rust-reddish waters, flushing it in dark blue against the backdrop of the abundant evergreen landscape. The warm air, mixed with refreshing splashes of water from our paddles, cooled our skin, the droplets magnifying the sun’s rays to redden our shoulders. The fresh scent of pine and the visual accent of the paper-white bark of the birch trees completed the total immersion into a complete package of creation’s finest indulgences. We feasted on fish right out of the lake: bass, lake trout, northern pike, and walleyes. Birds entertained us from above as they plied the skies: eagles, blue herons, and seagulls. And the iconic loons, the virtuosos of the north country symphony–-no canoe trip is complete without the glorious sounds of their four different calls (which children as well as adults continually try to emulate by blowing into hands clasped just so).

One night we slept on a rocky outcrop with no light pollution, not even moonlight. The starry sky was glorious, and the beauty and awe of the Milky Way exceeded that of any National Geographic photo. Mike regaled Jim and me with his learned studies of the cosmos, identifying constellations and nebulae (which we couldn’t see but trusted that they were where he said they were). It was all magnificent, something I have not experienced before or since.

To be sure, our memories of our grandparents were kept fresh. While we had all known them in our young adult lives, it was Grandma’s super-8 videos and boxes of Kodachrome slides that fueled our imaginations and swelled their prominence in our minds as the iconic heroes of the wilderness. I am sure there were other pioneers of canoe trekking in the BWCA, but none could compare with the heroes in our minds. Truth be told, anyone who would take the time to know them would arrive at the same assessment. I write this as an adult of more than seventy years, so this is no longer childhood hagiography or adoring exaggeration—it’s the truth!

Mike had lived his entire adulthood in Minnesota, mostly in and around the Minneapolis-St. Paul area (popularly called the twin-cities). After our family stint in Hawaii, he took his bachelor’s degree at the University of Hawaii, then moved to Minnesota to achieve his master’s degree in public health, doing, among other things, research in the Lake Superior waters near Duluth. As a result, he had more contact with the extended family than Jim or I, both with our grandparents and our parents who moved back to the Ely area to care for their parents on both sides and live out their days. But despite the proximity, Mike had never taken a canoe trip and thus had not yet come full circle to his family heritage.

I, as the middle brother, left Hawaii after high school and moved to Oregon for no other reason than it seemed like a cool place to live. I wanted the freedom to go my own way and taste all the world had to offer. The Pacific-Northwest seemed like a rugged place to live. After graduating from Oregon State University in 1972, I moved to Buffalo, New York, where I began my adult life working in scientific research at Cornell Aeronautics Labs. Within just a few months, I began my own life-long passion for the canoe, enlisting various others to join me in trekking up to Algonquin Provincial Park in Canada, north of Buffalo, and then past Toronto. The terrain was similar to the BWCA, but it would be years before my re-enactment of my grandparents’ trips.

Jim, being the youngest of us three, left Hawaii after graduation, following in my footsteps to Oregon State University. He remained in Oregon for all of his adult life (apart from a brief sojourn in Ft. Collins, Colorado). His outdoor interests were mainly in skiing (what else, when you live in the shadow of Mt. Hood?) and fishing, and later in life to include hunting with his son, Brandon. However, despite his outdoor propensity, he had never been on a canoe trip, much less to the BWCA.

Living so far apart (Oregon, Minnesota, New York/Ontario), our only family reunions would be at the death of immediate family members. But we brothers all felt the same, life would not be complete without fulfilling the BWCA dream at least once.

To Minnesotans, this missive may sound melodramatic, for many have tripped into the BWCA, but it reflects the childhood enamor of wonderful grandparents. They were the stuff of legends. Though living in somewhat obscurity to most, they resided hugely in our memories and emotions. If someone with skill wrote of their lives it would easily capture the imaginations of the masses, who long for an escape from the mundane rat-race of city life. Canoe-tripping to Grandma and Grandpa was as normal as driving to the store. And they excelled at it long before most old-time canoers today were born.

So Jim and I flew into Minneapolis, met Mike, and headed up to Ely before paddling into the BWCA. We had arranged with an outfitter to gear up with canoes, tents, sleeping bags, and the rest of our necessities. Among our food we bought fresh steaks as is customary for the first night out. The outfitter offered a cast-iron griddle at no extra cost; my experience in portaging resisted the extra 8-10 pounds, but I chuckled when Mike volunteered to carry it along. With all our gear, our packs weighed in at probably 60-70 pounds. I didn’t need the extra baggage! I believe Mike regretted his decision.

From the old grainy super-8 footage, we were able to trace out a typical route our grandparents would have taken, and followed that course as best we could. At one portage, lest he get heady over his superior knowledge of the night skies, Mike flipped out of the canoe! Fortunately, he was a good sport once he realized that panicking wouldn’t help. And the fact that we were close to shore left us all with a good experience, as in, “Until you capsized at least once, you can’t say you are a seasoned canoer.”

Our conversations were frequently around our grandparents and how they did what they did. Their tent was canvas, which must have weighed a ton, with no insect netting. Ours were made of lightweight ripstop nylon with netting double-stitched in and water-sealed to keep us bone dry. They cut down small trees to form the tent poles, ours were lightweight aluminum (and it was against the BWCA laws to cut down any living tree). We often asked, “What would Grandma and Grandpa do?” (WWGD). We even mimicked a video-op to mirror one of the super-9 films where Grandma had set up her camera on a rock and filmed her and Grandpa paddling up to the shore.

We did it, we came full circle with our hereditary upline, our forebearers before us. While we cannot trace our family tree back to a famous world leader, or someone written about in history books, or featured in the New York Times bestseller list, the story of our grandparents is lived out repeatedly in our minds and memories, and now by imitating their experience, resides at the top of our personal best-seller list.

This reminds me of what the Bible teaches about living out the story of Jesus Christ in our lives. Years ago, it was popular to wear a “WWJD” bracelet, standing for, “What would Jesus do?” Just as my brothers and I asked, “What route did our grandparents take?” we can also ask, “What route would Jesus take through our life, through my life now?” The Scripture says,

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.” (Eph. 5:1–2)

 I want the story of Jesus to be my story, so that others will see me and become interested in learning more about Him.