Between Water and Stars:
Night Paddling on Louisa Lake

 

 

Journal entry from Northern Tier, 16 August 2003

Words by Calvin Gabriel

Pictures by Calvin Gabriel and Brian Pomeroy

 

 

 

  

 

We wait with anticipation on the sandy north shore of Louisa Lake as the sun sets, then load up our canoes and paddle out a little. Holding the canoes together, we rest after a long day of paddling and portaging, sharing our Thorns and Roses and reading aloud “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” Bats fly around and among us, and we are thankful they are harvesting the few mosquitoes that followed us out here. We lean back on packs and decks and listen to a flurry of loon calls as darkness falls.

 

  

 

Once it’s completely night, we separate a bit and paddle slowly down the lake. The stars come out one by one and we recognize many constellations. The Milky Way makes its ghostly appearance. Then Mars, glowing so red it startles us, rises dramatically over the hills ringing the lake. Starlight in the water makes the canoes silvery shadows trailing shimmering wakes.

 

Often we just silently drift on this cloudless, windless night. The dark tree line is deeply silhouetted between the star-filled sky and the lake. Ahead of us, the water is so flat we can recognize constellations by their reflections. Are the stars above us, or are we above the stars?

 

  

 

Loons near and far sing their many songs, and from all directions haunting notes drift across the water. One loon calling loudly in a cove to our right hears its entire laugh completely echoed and repeats it again and again as if irritated by this poorly mannered mimic. No one says much, and when we speak, it is hushed and almost reverent—this is, after all, a sanctuary for the wildlife, and we are the guests.

 

  

 

Finally we hear the sound of Louisa Falls as we quietly approach the bottom of the lake, four miles and two hours later. There’s supposed to be a campsite up ahead across from the portage trail, and somehow our Charlie Guide will find it in the dark and we’ll set up our tents. But for now, we are silent and humble visitors, suspended in canoes between water and stars in this awesome, timeless wilderness.