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In the summer of 2018, I left the thin mountain air of Colorado for the dense woods of Ontario Canada, with my father, brother and his kids, and my sister. The quaint town was nestled into the side of a deep blue lake. The town itself was miles away from any big city, but this was only our first step off the grid. 

The lake was spotted with old Indiana Jones-style seaplanes and small fishing boats. The summer air was warm and sweet, like the smell of flowers mixing with pine. It was just past sunrise, and we were making our way to a small wooden shack with a pair of moose antlers over the front door. A wood sign, worn from the sun, creaked back and forth from the gentle breeze. The sign read Red Lake Outfitters. 

We walked through the torn screen door. Inside was a variety of fishing, hiking, and outdoor gear. A blue-eyed husky followed by a short grizzly looking man walked in the room. “Greetings,” he said with a friendly smile and a wave of the hand. The greeting was not what you would have expected from a man who looked like he spent half the year in the woods. “The name’s Harmon, I take it you’re the McConnell’s,” Harmon said with enthusiasm.

 “Yes”, my father replied, “we’re ready to get outfitted,'' he joked. Harmon smiled and gestured us to follow him through a door in the back of the shack. We walked down a hall, and into a large warehouse that was not visible from the front. It was like an outdoorsman’s dream. 

There were racks of canoes and kayaks, snowmobiles and ATVs, whole shelves of freeze-dried food and other camp ware. There was enough for two dozen people to survive in the middle of the forest for over a year. Harmon showed us to 3 long tables that were strewn with a variety of supplies, freeze-dried food, fishing poles, backpacks, etc. At the end of the tables three large canoes laid on the floor. All the gear we would need for the next two weeks was there ready for

us. After packing all the gear into 4 huge bags and a bear-proof container, we loaded everything up into a van, strapped the canoes to the top, and drove to a dock on the lake. Harmon handed us a map and a satellite phone, then pointed to the docks. 

Suddenly we heard the roar of an engine as one of the seaplanes propelled itself to the side of the wooden dock. We strapped two of the canoes to the buoys to keep the plane afloat, then loaded half our stuff in. 

My brother, my nephew, and my dad loaded up into the first plane. The plane backed away from the dock, then using the lake as a runway it took off. Just as the first plane took off, a second roar and another plane pulled up to the dock. My sister, my other nephew and my niece loaded the last of the gear and the last canoe up onto the second plane. We were each handed a pair of headphones to communicate over the deafening hum of the propeller. 

The pilot said a few words, then we were off in the same direction as my dad. We flew for over an hour. Watching the paved roads stretched across the landscape like veins turn to dirt. Became smaller, until they disappeared altogether, replaced by nothing but forest for as far as the eye could see. 

The landscape was freckled with lakes and ponds. More than I could count. The pilot pointed down to a large lake below us, clicked the button on his mic, and informed us to hold on, as we began to descend towards the lake. The plane skipped across the water like a smooth stone before slowing down and turning toward the other plane that was already getting ready to take off. My dad, brother, and nephew waited on the shore as the plane approached and we unloaded the remainder of our gear and watched as the last plane took off. 

Red Lake was away from any big city, but compared to the seclusion of our new location, Red Lake seemed like a metropolis. There was no sign of other people in any direction. It was silent. All that could be heard was the whisper of the wind and the occasional echoing peck of a woodpecker. We were at least 150 miles from the closest town and at least 60 miles from the closest road. We were alone in the wilderness. 

It was beautiful, the sun was at its highest point, reeds and cattails waded to and fro in the water, as fish jumped out of the lake trying to catch their next meal. We each picked a partner and hopped into the canoes. We had a long journey ahead of us to reach the extraction point. My dad set his paddle into the water and took the lead. Following the map, we crossed the huge lake and made it to the other side. 

What we were doing is called portaging. Essentially, you make use of bodies of water such as lakes, ponds, and rivers to travel faster with heavy supplies. When we reached the end of a body of water we would unpack and hike all of our stuff and the canoes to the next body of water, taking several trips, then start over. 

The first few first weeks were hard, but it was a complete joy to be away from the city, and be utterly surrounded by the refreshing feel of nature. The portage trails were difficult, especially after rowing for miles a day. Hiking all of our gear up to 5 miles between the back and forth was exhausting. We moved between 8-12 miles a day to keep pace on our route. We dipped in and out of huge lakes, with cliffs 50 feet high, tiny ponds full of fish, and long rivers swarming with mosquitoes and horse flies. 

The campsites for the first week was, relatively speaking, nice. We found flat places with soft dirt or grass to set up our camps and cook. We would fish for pike and walleye, pulling them out every other cast. After the first few days, we exhausted all the fresh food we had, so fishing was our main source of food other than the astronaut freeze-dried items. 

After that first week though, things started to get rough. As we pressed on deeper into the wild, the terrain, the weather, and the animals got wilder. After a pleasant day of rowing, and a single portage, we came onto what appeared to be a peaceful, beautiful lake. But as we searched the shores we realized there was no real place to camp, the lake was like a bowl. The shore rose at a rocky incline, all the way around. After searching for hours we had no other choice but to pick a spot and make the best of it. 

The tents were all angled, it was hard to cook, or to fish. Needless to say, that night was an unpleasant one. That morning through stiff necks and backs we loaded up and took off down the river that poured out of the lake. I have never in my life seen more bugs than were on that river. The constant hum of insect wings flickered past my ears before a mosquito or horse flies landed on my face to have their vampiric feast. I was miserable. And let me just say, city mosquitoes and flies, are far different than that of the wild variety. Instead of feasting on humans, these bad bugs relied on the blood of bears, and moose. Every bite was like getting a flu shot, and with thousands of bugs overhead, I felt like a pincushion. My youngest nephew hunkered himself down in the center of the canoe covering his head as we floated down the river for several more hours. 

Finally, we thought we had made it out of the swarms. All that was left for the day was one portage, then we could make camp. However, the trails had begun to get steeper, and more difficult. Trees had fallen on the path, and we had to saw them in half and drag away so we could get the canoes through. It was muddy and slick, and the 80lb packs did not make the trek any easier. 

That night after finally making it to the end of the trail, we had to make camp in high grass due to lack of options. There was no fishing for dinner... Unable to make a fire we hunkered down and ate the dried food in the tent. The buzzing of insects was constant outside of the tent. That morning I awoke unrested, covered in ticks and soar. But we had to press on. 

Along the way, we encountered more issues. A canoe escaped us for a while, there was a day with no fish at all. The hiking had become miserable, as we cut tree after tree to get through, and every time we stepped out of the canoe, leeches would creep up from the depths to attach to our feet. We would cross lakes with winds so strong it would turn our canoes like tops, and almost flipped a few times. 

We had three days left when we encountered our biggest challenge of all. We had been canoeing down a river all day, twisting and turning down the water. We came around a bend, and in the distance we heard a thundering sound that was unmistakably rapids, leading to a waterfall. We slowed our pace, then as the rapids came into view. We pulled off to the side, as huge rocks stuck out like jagged teeth, slicing the water until it was white foam. Downstream, the water suddenly dropped off as flowed went between and beyond massive boulders.

 My dad pulled out the map. It said that we were supposed to portage on the side of the lake we were on. I was sent ahead to try to find a trail. There was nothing, any sign of a trail disappeared into the trees. I forced my way through until I could see the river. There was no way we were getting the boats through the thicket of bushes and wood. When I got back my dad and I emptied a canoe and shot across the water paddling as hard as we could just before the rapids began. 

We found a path on the other side of the river, but any mistake meant getting swept into the rapids and down a 30-foot drop. For my dad, brother and I alone in an empty canoe, it wouldn’t have been a huge issue. But, with canoes full of gear, and my sister, nephews, and niece this was not going to be easy. My nephew sat at the edge of the water, his face pale, watching branches crack against rocks, as he realized that we had one shot, or it was death or severe injury. My dad turned to us looking serious, then gave some brief advice. He looked at each of us and said “listen and you live. Fear is a choice, but one that you cannot choose now.” We had to make it to the other side of it was 3 days back the other direction.

 We swallowed our fear, and boat by boat we shot across the river, paddling like fiends. One of the boats started to drift towards the rapids, but my dad managed to bounce off a rock and make it to the other shore. My dad got the nickname “the terminator” after that adventure. 

The rest of the trip after that was a cakewalk. We made it to the extraction point. We survived two weeks in the wild, and it taught us a valuable life lesson. We learned that fear is something that can be overcome, and humans have the strength to overcome anything.