Dragonflies to Dakota Drowning to Camp Chippewa to What's Next?

Camp Chippewa, Minnesota
Dragonflies hurt. The poor little guys. There they are flitting along enjoying the feast of bugs along the highways and here comes this guy on his motorcycle. Suddenly it is all over. They hurt the worst on the hands. I can handle them smacking my knees and shins and thighs but when they are plastered to my hands then I am truly disturbed. When they explode I get wet too. Then for a while my hand is slimy with whatever goo they were comprised of. My pant legs are covered in bugs and my windshield has a protective layer of smashed insects. It is kind of a testament to my length of my travels.

I started running into the dragonflies in Northern Minnesota where I am currently staying. They were as thick as...well...flies. I don’t like hitting them. Sure it hurts, but they also consume millions of mosquitoes. So a lost dragonfly means life and liberty to countless demons of the air (refer to my comments on Astoria, OR) and thus pain and misfortune on would-be happy vacationers in this beautiful part of the country.

My last few days have been ones that have tested me considerably. I have not been found wanting, thankfully, and have proved to myself and to whoever needs proving that I possess determination and endurance. Today my butt is truly sore for the first time. Monday I trekked about 770 miles from Snoqualmie Pass, WA to Billings, MT. Tuesday was from Billings to Mt. Rushmore...about 400 miles. Wednesday was spent covering 750 miles from Mt. Rushmore to Cass Lake, MN.

Those many miles stretch over very stunning parts of the US. I’ve described some of it but there was so much that I really struggle with even remembering all of it. Montana is called ‘Big Sky Country’ because there are parts of it where there seems to be more of it than anything else. While much of what you see is a clone of the previous sights it is still enjoyable to look at and I find myself paying more attention to what I am passing by then watching the road. Out there the highways are mostly straight and there aren’t that many fellow travelers to be worried about.

Wednesday was hard not only because of the sheer number of miles I covered but also because for several hours I plunged headlong into a massive thunderstorm system. I stayed dry under all of my leather and was able to keep cruising fairly quickly and so most of the time I was just trying to outrun the rain. South Dakota is quite large and flat and many miles before I hit the rain I could see it as a large and ominous mass in front of me, the strutting tops of the system rising like giants out of a fog. Enjoying the last fleeting rays of sunshine I pulled over and donned my gear and then resumed the march to battle.

There was a strong sense of accomplishment when I finally began to break free from the clutches of the storm. I opened my visor again and took off my gloves. Unlike the rain in Washington in which I felt cold, the rain across South Dakota was warm and I was burning up inside my little leather world. It was still overcast and gloomy but I could see breaks in the clouds up ahead and that the road aimed straight for them. Above me the sky appeared like it was a lump of bread dough that had been stretched and twisted and spread out too thin. It was as if all the rain that could be squeezed out had fallen and what was left over was the fragile and wispy remains of a once proud thunderhead. Such is life.

I have been coming up to what we refer to as “Camp” since before I was even a thought or the definite gleam that I’m sure I was in my parent’s eyes. Camp Chippewa is in my blood and many of my boyhood adventures took place here. Set on the shores of two lakes, Cass Lake and Buck Lake, Camp has been a haven for our family since its conception in 1935 by my great-grandfather Otto Endres. His sons built their own cabins next to the camp and each summer there is a reunion of sorts as the sons, grandchildren and great-grandchildren gather to enjoy the benefits of Camp.

Arriving at around 8:45 Wednesday evening I was inundated with snapshot memories. With each turn down familiar roads I was thrown back to specific memories of that spot. It was like riding down memory lane with an extra dose of nostalgia. Describing Camp is a difficult thing to do as there isn’t a way to break it down into simple words. It is more feelings. Memories. And ideas. It is something that helped develop me in ways that have even prepared me for the journey I’m currently on and as I mentioned Brian and I were constantly remembering things from our days as campers.

For the most part my time here has been another series of relaxing days. I have not had concentrated time with my Uncle John (JP as he is affectionately known around here) and Aunt Cammy (JP is my mother’s father’s brother) for a very long time. JP was the director of the boy’s camp here but has since turned over the office work to a guy who has been coming to camp almost all of his life. JP now gets to enjoy the spirit of camp but without worrying about paying the bills or doing the paperwork.

The first camp session hasn’t started yet and there are only a few of the staff here helping with getting things ready. As a result it is very quiet and I can walk down the trails and hear only the chirping of the birds and the swaying trees in the wind. Several times I’ve glanced up and caught views of the majestic bald eagles that nest in one of the large trees on camp property. After my long dash from Washington I have been grateful for these couple of days to unwind in a place that is dear to me and that provides such deep reaching peace. On Friday I decided to take a half-hour nap right after lunch and thoroughly enjoyed it. They had to wake me up though and I was startled to be informed that I was to get ready for dinner. My half-hour turned into around 5 hours. As we surmised I sorely tried my endurance the first part of this past week and I hadn’t allowed for my ‘batteries’ to recharge. I shirk away from the thought that those three days could do such a thing to me but I suppose that when you combine the vagabond status that I’ve maintained, and a steadily moving one at that, with those three days then I can allow for fatigue to truly set in.

Being in Sudan taught me that the body does have limits and that if you are not smart you’ll shoot past them and then seriously regret it. I can remember being skeptical of the sheer exhaustion complained of by one of our international team members. I had just arrived and was green as I could be and didn’t understand what happens to your mind and your heart and your body. As my time there evolved into months and months I quickly began to see the folly of my naivete and realized that exhaustion is real and debilitating.

That being said I am glad for these breaks that I have. Being able to just sit and stare at the water of the beautiful lakes, watch the eagles, write, play tennis with JP...it is all part of a great package of ‘rehab’. I’ve also been able to show my pictures of Sudan and answer questions about my time there and offer my comments on the things that go on there. I enjoy that every time I talk about it as it gives me opportunities to keep it fresh in my mind and to be able to revisit in thought some of my dear friends there.

This evening, Saturday, I spent with some close friends of mine who are mennonites in this area. Several of them have worked at one time or another at the camp and one in particular has done much of the construction and renovations over the years. The pastor of the local mennonite gathering and his family are particularly close to us and I actually lived with them for three months a little under ten years ago. They have children that were a little older than I was and I suppose the idea was to have me experience life on a small farm and learn life skills that would serve me later on. It was there that I learned some basics in construction and also hunted for the first time and with some help bagged my first deer. I was a punk 12 year old (I turned 13 while I was there) from the suburbs of Southern California and probably didn’t appreciate what opportunity I was being given. When I look back on it I see it as a very good thing in my life and there are many developments now that could probably be traced back to that time.

Their family has grown quite a bit since I was there with the older children getting married and poppin’ out grandkids and the evening was an interesting one with all them toddlers and little kids running around. With my current appearance of long hair and a full beard I was probably a little frightening to them and it took a little while for them to warm up to me. I don’t bite and am generally pretty good friends with little kids but I can imagine that for a three year old I could be huge and scary looking.

My plan is to leave tomorrow morning after breakfast and shoot south down to Minneapolis. Another of the Endres family (my mother’s father’s side), CJ and his wife Terri live there and so I will be stopping in for the night and to catch up with them. I’ve seen them up here at camp over the past few years (although it has been two since the last time I was here) but it has been 12 years since I was last at their home.

Before getting that far south I’ll be stopping at a friend of a friend who has become my friend and who is also involved in the wedding of our mutual friend. Keelan (the friend of a friend who has become my friend) is one of the guys who went camping with my friend Justin Lonas (the mutual friend who is getting married) when I was with him towards the beginning of my trip in Tennessee. He lives on the way to Minneapolis and so I’ll stop for a couple of hours.

From there the plan is to shoot over to Monroe, Wisconsin to see another member of the Endres family, my Great Aunt Helen. It has been a long time since I have seen her and I am more than thrilled to swing through her place.

Then I’m going through Chicago and there is a possibility that I’ll be able to see Matt Cain with whom I worked in Darfur. Insha’allah.

Then it is back to the home of my friend Jordan Niednagel in Middle-Of-Nowhere, Missouri. I’ll be there until I leave which will probably at the end of June.