The gravel road is often bumpy, sometimes rising into long hills then rolling down to flatter terrain. Chunks of Canadian wilderness spill from its sides, mountain ash, birch, tamarac. Tall red and white pines spire the blue sky.
Our vehicle is a mere black dot traversing this wild and beautiful forest. We are on our way to one of my favorite spots on earth— Lake of a Thousand Lakes: Lac des Mille Lacs. The road we are traveling is 20 miles long. At the end are several enclaves of cabins. We are on our way to our small wilderness cabin on Lac des Mille Lac.
One of our favorite pastimes on this rough road is to watch for wild life. Over the past 11 years, we have seen moose, bears, wolves, and lynx. Herds of turtles have crossed this rough road and partridge frequently peck at its gravel. We’ve seen eagles and, one summer, a rare influx of yellow butterflies that covered the road with a yellow haze.
Sometimes we see nothing but an occasional robin or chickadee. I’m hoping for something interesting, but my optimism is tempered by reality. The forest is unpredictable.
We first see a hawk. Nothing unusual but something, then another hawk. We drive by a swampy area where sometimes a profusion of wild iris covers the surface with blue waves. Nothing today. The swamp is barely green. We continue and pass a low area where we spot a painted turtle sunning on a log. It slides into the water, and I can almost see a disgruntled look on its face.
We pass by another pond, a widened creek where, several years ago, suckers were spawning and at least half a dozen eagles waited in the trees to feast on them. We’ve also seen a golden eagle in this water and realized how huge these birds are. Today two bald eagles sit on high tree branches, but that’s all.
The rest of the drive is uneventful. We pull up to the gate, unlock it and drive down the final stretch. Half an hour later we finally pull up to our cabin and the shining water of Lac Des Mille Lacs.
With all this beauty surrounding me, I should be happy. But I look at my feet, as I hop out of the car and see—oh no—thistles – everywhere. Dick spots them too. They are impossible to miss. “I thought we got rid of them last year.” I am perplexed.
Dick agrees. Last autumn, before closing down the cabin for the winter, we sprayed the noxious weed with vigor. I say, “They look better than ever.” Indeed, they do. The plants are green and vibrant.
Despite the fact that we did everything we could to kill them off last year, Dick admits we will have to spray again. I finish unloading the groceries and we open the cabin, totally unaware of the future battle with thistles that we will be fighting.
To be continued…
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