- Water lilies on a log, Shoal Lake
- Lilypads on inlet to Shoal
- Cousins on Radiant
- Father – Daughter moment
- Boats in late afternoon; Petawawa R., Algonquin Park
- Crawford wind bound camp
- Ice on Birch
- Start of the journey
- Boundary Marker Knife Portages
- Pike and Walleye on Wood
- Put out your campfire. Cold-to-the-touch. By TMI. All rights reserved
- Southbound Again. Wood. By TMI. All rights reserved.
- Wooden bridge on 180-rod portage into Wood. By TMI, all rights reserved
- Crossed Swords on Horse Lake beach site
- Ice Out Sunset on Moose Lake
- Deep Blue of southern Cherokee Lake
- Bunkhouse at LaTourell’s: Waiting for Ice Out. TMI. All rights reserved.
- Devil’s cascade portage is done!
- Grazing Buffalo in Yellowstone
- Agnes in September
- A Cherokee Portage
- Cirrus evening twilight
- Early Morning Sun on Cirrus channel
- Caution – Canoe on car
- Rosy twilight Cirrus
- Late afternoon sun on Cirrus
- smallmouth and pike
- The return to camp with fish for frying
- October colors on Mudro
- Our crew at Brent Store
Anishinaabewaki
Anishinaabe land, where once was no pollution and springs flowed still clearly through the heart of mother earth; where flocks of eagles soared in the sky, whitefish abounded in the lakes and countless deer roamed the woods in herds. Traditionally, the People of the Anishinaabeg and the land are one. They are one complete thing.
– Part of the Anishinaabe Story of Life
“It’s as much about the feeling as it is the planning, the intent as it is the technique, the experience as it is the destination of the journey”
– Nandagikendan, Summer 2013 (to seek learning; knowledge)
How often we speak of the great silences of the wilderness and of the importance of preserving them and the wonder and peace to be found there. When I think of them, I see the lakes and rivers of the North, the muskegs and expenses of tundra, the barren lands beyond all roads. I see the mountain ranges of the West and the high, rolling ridges of the Appalacians. I picture the deserts of the Southwest and their brilliant panoramas of color, the impenetrable swamp lands of the South. They will always be there and their beauty may not change, but should their silences be broken, they will never be the same.
–Sigurd F. Olson, Naturalist and Author