On Minnesota’s Lakes
Dedicated to the memory of my grandfather Alden Risser, who would happily carry the canoe or the heaviest pack well into his 70s, as he led his kids, grand-kids, and countless kids from the tiny town where he practiced medicine deep into the wilderness of his native state. My love of the great outdoors comes from him.
When I was young we’d paddle far down Minnesota’s northern lakes
Deep into the wilderness we’d ride
And waking in the morning to the calls the loons would make
We gazed through dawn’s thick mist to the resplendent red-orange sky
It’s been 30 years since I’ve been back but I still recall so well
The sights, the smells, the whispers of that place
The water softly rippling by the shore as darkness fell
The majesty of vistas for millennia unchanged
(Chorus)
Oh take me back, take me back, I’ll carry the canoe once more,
On my shoulders over the portage trail to the next pine-covered shore
Then we’ll bring up the packs and paddles, and be on the water again,
Gliding deeper into this ancient realm, its secrets to attend
Out here the routine of the day is for nature to decide
You find a campsite when your shadow’s long,
Then set up home and stow the gear, cut wood by fading light,
And rope the food high between two trees so the bears don’t come along
(chorus)
