I went canoeing last week with my 13-year-old son, Ben, on the boundary lakes between Minnesota and Ontario. Away from phones, radios, and any other means to communicate with the outside world, we focused on the strenuous, but relaxing, journey across lakes and portages.

We’d prepared earlier in the summer for some heavy lifting and I, in particular, lost 35 pounds to avoid including that weight in the canoe. You know the Boy Scout motto? “Be Prepared.” (Maybe, call it standard work.) We tried.

But on the fourth day out, a changing weather pattern delivered heavy headwinds as we portaged to Casche Bay, the entryway to Canada’s Quetico Provincial Park. The canoe rocked in waves that splashed to my hip as we loaded our gear. The weight of equipment and three voyageurs provided some stability in the swells, but left little margin for fluctuation: just a few inches between water and gunnels. “We need to stay perpendicular to the waves,” our guide shouted above the winds as we pushed off. “Paddle hard.” That last instruction was not needed. Seated in the bow of the canoe, I was already paddling hard and privately wishing that I’d lost 35 more pounds.

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