Paddling Along Life's Journey

Way back in the 1980’s when women had really big hair and our business suits had massive shoulder pads, I left my desk job in Washington, D.C., for ten days and took a canoe trip to the lakes of Northern Ontario. I was part of a group of 12 people of various ages and abilities brought together by Wilderness Inquiry a nonprofit group based in Minnesota.

A motley crew

We were a motley crew.

One of us used a wheelchair because of an automobile accident. Another, a real outdoorsman, had recently had heart surgery and was looking for a way to get back outside with his son. A third had cerebral palsy. A fourth was blind. He used a cane and needed someone to help him navigate the trail and the portages (carrying canoes and everything else from one lake to another). I hadn’t been in a canoe in decades.

Reconnecting with nature

I was in my 40’s. My Girl Scout days were a memory. I loved the idea of being in the outdoors but all my friends were city dwellers for whom camping meant a motel without room service. This trip was my chance.

It was no walk in the park. We had to lug all our food and trust that we’d find a decent campsite. Yet I was happy. There were brilliant, sunny days and at least one of rain. I loved being the first up in the morning to build a fire and start the coffee. I caught a 10-pound Northern Pike and let it go (I have a picture). We saw a moose. I would have stayed in the North Country forever. I still miss it.

"I'm not brave. They are"

We were a pretty grubby band when we pulled into a diner in northern Minnesota on our way back to civilization. After breakfast as I paid my bill, the waitress quietly said, “You are so brave.” It took me a minute to realize that what she was meant. “Lady, what are you doing with these people?” “Oh no, I said, “I’m not brave. They are.”

What could this tale possibly have to do with macular degeneration?

If I went on one of the WI trips this summer, with macular degeneration in both eyes and wearing two hearing aids, I would need special help for some of the routine tasks. Would they trust me with starting a fire, for example? I’m now 76; the oldest person on my first trip was 65. Do they really mean all ages? I’d need a backrest for a day of paddling and a massage.

A solution for worry?

Wilderness Inquiry is still connecting people of all ages, backgrounds, and abilities to each other and the natural world through shared outdoor adventures. They’ve been at it since 1978 helping more than half a million people see the natural world in and themselves a new way. Perhaps one way of conquering my worry about the insults of aging (and AMD) is to take one of their trips, a short one.