Swamped

I am pretty sure that this might be the moment that broke us as a state, after being so strong for so much. And knowing that, of course, people matter so much more than things — but that values might ,after more than people.

Last week, my BFF's friend daughter K, who was a counselor at Widji, posted photos of the fires they evacuated from. More compellingly, though, she posted one called "And down they go!" showing how the wooden canoes (woodies) were deliberately swamped in order to save them as camp was evacuated, in order to save them.

I don't have K's photo anymore, but here's the one by Anthony Souffle of the Star Tribune, and here's the article:



This all hit me like a ton of rocks. Every Widji camper knows that that is theoretically what you do if the woodies are threatened, but I've never actually seen it have to be implemented before (the article says it's the first time they have done it). 

I've gone on trail with Widji canoe #1 before. It's a beast. But it's also strong AF, and a symbol of history.

I looked at K's photo on Instagram and thought "Of course that's what you do." Followed almost immediately by "WTF!"

Quite possibly because of the haze and so much change and so much else, these pictures have me sobbing every time I see them.

But, as deep in my soul as Widji is, I am not the only one. I've seen photos from multiple news sources of these boats, quietly rocking underwater. It seems to have shaken all of us.

And now the news is starting of Minnesota's most august camps beginning to cancel sessions for the rest of the summer. Not all of them, yet. But enough to make a difference.

It's really easy to dismiss climate change — to think that there's nothing just one person can do, or that you just don't see it. I mean, didn't we all stop the hole in the ozone layer when we stopped using Aqua Net?

It's even easier to become paralyzed, to not know what to do next, to try to make sense of some new articles that say you should do one thing and another that says something else.

But take away our woods and our lakes? The thought is almost incomprehensible. The very though that it's bigger than all of us makes me feel so helpless.

I don't know. It might all be too much.


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