Naked in the Lake

Outrage ensued. And even though I liked the maneuver, I couldn’t support it.  As it turns out, I grew up on the Great Lakes. I knew the Great Lakes. I worked beside the Great Lakes. The Great Lakes were friends of mine. Senator Leahy, I pointed out at the time, Lake Champlain is no Great Lake. (Thank you, Lloyd Bentsen.)

I discovered that yet again when I returned to the greatest of Great Lakes — Lake Superior — for a paddling trip with Ruth. The lake’s crystalline waters (which I can drink as I swim) and ancient rock, its botany and wildlife, its Ojibwa lore and pictographs, its horizon so wide that you can sense the curvature of the earth — well, nothing compares, certainly not Lake Champlain.

Now that the fall warblers are coming (and my field season is nearly over), I have time to wonder: Can a place be burned into our DNA? And if so, if we know the place and love it like a family member or dear friend, will we care for it for as long as we walk this earth? I think so, even if we’ve moved on to love another place (like Vermont). And these places of ours need not be wild — they might be Fenway Park or an art museum or a bridge. Our capacity to love a place — and with it an experience — is great. And it’s something I intend to explore more in thought and in writing to come.

Until then, I’ll leave you with more photos and the news that Ruth and I will explore Lake Superior yet again — with you — during our presentation Naked in the Lake: A Superior Adventure on February 15 here in Montpelier. Yes, it’s another in our “Naked in …” events for North Branch Nature Center’s Naturalist Journeys lecture series (which previously brought you Naked in Norway, Naked in the Canyon and Naked in Montpelier).

In the meantime, I’ve got other talks scheduled, featuring mostly wildlife in flight. Find them on my Events Calendar.

Now, a few Superior images (the naked stuff — both the metaphor and the skinny dipping — will come during our talk in February).