What If?

by Rollie J.

The parking lot was empty which only added to my deep sense of aloneness and isolation. The air was still and temps hovered in the low 40’s bringing a crispness that quickened my pace and sharpened my sense of alertness. The thick scent of pine and moist poplar leaves filled my lungs with clean, fresh air. It was a good day to be alive and back in the far north.

I had arrived at the Mudro Entry Point on the edge of the vast and expansive one million acre Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. The Boundary Waters is a sacred area of no roads nor motors, where nature can be found and experienced as it has untouched for millenia. Here for a rare, do-it-yourself, solo trip I planned to combine two skill sets: wilderness canoe travel, and a bowhunt with my homemade longbow. This was an epic long shot at best, and anyone with half a brain would take the Vegas odds at a million to one in favor of the wilderness.

Complicating this hunt was the timing. Hoping to catch these wilderness whitetails with their guard down, meant coinciding my hunt with the rut. So here I was paddling icy cold lakes starting November 1^st. I was hoping to sneak in and out undetected and cheat the odds of the imminent freeze up. This not so small concern had me more than a little nervous.

Normally going alone I use my faithful 15’ cedarstrip solo canoe. Nicknamed the “rocket,” it is narrow and fast, but those same qualities also make it a bit tippy. Knowing the potential for disaster if I were to tip in water and air temperatures like this, I opted for my 17’ tandem Chestnut Prospector. This workhorse of the north is deep and wide and can haul full loads. Sitting in the bow seat and facing backwards made a stable, comfortable and efficient paddling platform.

Paddling quietly through the initial narrow stream I entered Mudro Lake proper. The absolute stillness of the day made for mirror like conditions on the water. The pine and spruce covered rocky shoreline became a perfectly matched parallel reflection. The bow of my canoe quietly sliced the glassy surface and only the dip of my paddle, and trickle of water drops could be heard. To speak, would have been sacrilege. Paddling my canoe with its gorgeous amber, honey and mahogany colors brought a deep satisfaction as it blended in with its surroundings. I wondered if the cedar was grateful for returning to the land from which it was born?

One of the many benefits of going solo is silence. And when there is silence from our modern technology based world, one can begin to hear one's own thoughts more clearly. Issues and concerns bubble up from within because there’s no cell phone to beep, buzz, or ring to divert your attention, and distract you from what is really important. You are forced to face yourself and deal with what is going on internally. And then…if you are a person of faith…God has room and time and space to speak into your soul. And if you persist in the silence, God will lead you beside these still waters… and restore your soul.

Three portages and more quiet paddling took me deeper into the wilderness. I wondered where the nearest human was? Where was the nearest wolf pack? The nearest moose?

Soon a large beaver silently glided out in front of me. With only his head and back exposed, the “V” shape of his wake formed a perfect arrow pointing me in the proper direction towards Fourtown Lake. Grateful for the companionship, I gave thanks for the personal escort service. After a long swim, he slapped his tail, exploding the water surface, shattering the stillness of the morning and bid me adieu. I was alone now, truly alone and this vast expanse of spruce, rock and water threatened to swallow me whole.

Choosing a camp on the eastern shore of the lake, I set up my hammock, with a large tarp and canoe for protection from the wind. The nearby fireplace would make things cozy and provide both heat and light for supper and reading of a good novel for the long and dark nights. Looking around I felt a deep sense of satisfaction, and contentment for my newly established temporary home. Like a young kid building a fort in the woods, I too took delight in creating a cozy space to live.

I spent the next few days roaming and exploring the deep forests and open hillsides behind my camp. The vastness and immensity of terrain was a bit overwhelming. And finding a good buck in this massive tangle of spruce, swamp and rocky terrain seemed like mission impossible. This was well beyond the proverbial needle in the haystack.

I did eventually bump into some deer, found several good ground scrapes and tree rubs, and even found a beautiful large antler shed from a monster buck just a stone’s throw from my campsite. These secretive ghosts of the north were here for sure, but they played their homecourt advantage superbly. I was a foreign invader, and they knew it.

Day three turned cold and blustery. Strong winds from the northeast brought chilly intermittent snow showers that spat and swirled all day long. From the perch of my tree stand, the landscape took on a mysterious, ethereal quality as snow gusts danced across pines and made the naked poplar and birch obediently wave to the whim and whirl of the wind.

And with the darkened slate-gray of the sky and the ghostly wind and snow, so too went my mood. As the day progressed, I became more internally agitated listening to the anxious imaginations of my thoughts. What if I get snowed in? What if the ice freezes overnight? What if I tip over trying to break through the ice? What if I can’t make it out? What if? What if? What if? What if?

“What if”… that nasty phrase that takes us out of living in the peace of here and now with God, and launches us into the fairytale land of some obscure, non-reality called anxious imaginations of the future. There is no peace nor contentment of living in this land of worry and anxiety. It is unhealthy spiritually, emotionally, and physically. God never designed us to live in the unreality of a fantasy future.

What time is it? “NOW!” Where are you? “HERE!” We are designed to live in loving trust with Jesus who meets us only in the here and now. God promises us abundant strength and grace for this day. Yet most of us expend great amounts of the energy given to us for today, by letting it drain away in worry and fretting over tomorrow. And we then wonder why we are so spent and exhausted today with little reserve in the tank at days end.

The morning following the snow, after a restless night of no sleep, I rose early with an anxious and agitated spirit. I hastily packed and paddled and portaged my way out. To my surprise, as the morning wore on, the sun came out, temps rose into the ‘50s and stayed there the rest of the week.

As I drove home, I wondered about the many possible gifts, insights, blessings, and potential benefits I had now missed out on, because I had listened to and acted upon my anxious imaginations. I had foolishly given in to “what if” thinking. The many things we fear, so rarely come to pass.

Maybe today we could trust God more. We could embrace where we have been planted this day. Maybe we can better blossom and bloom where we are instead of wishing we were somewhere else. Maybe it’s time to say a little prayer, to ask the Holy Spirit to bring us back to the here and now where Jesus lives. Maybe it’s time to confront and let go of our anxious imaginations. And what if… we asked God to help us let go of our What if thinking?

-- Rollie J.