Reflections of the North [antikvár]

Northwords AN INTRODUCTION In Portage, Wisconsin, there is a prominent sign in a roadside park. It states plainly and proudly: "Where the North Begins." Portage rests well south of the 44th Parallel. It's a mere thirty-five miles north of Madison, the state capitol, and about 180 miles north of Chicago — hardly the hub of the north. But maybe there's some truth here. The Portage sign, a chamber of commerce slogan, went up in the 1930s. In the '30s, even in Southern Wisconsin, you could find solitude, wildlife and undisturbed ecosystems. Back then, along the Wisconsin River bottoms near Portage, all these elements were present. Tbday an enormous power plant smokestack is visible from the "Where the North Begins" sign. The river on a hot summer day is alive with people. Let's be kind and concede that Portage might be "Where the North Once Began." So where is north now? While north is a state of mind rather than a line on the map, "northness" does evoke predictable images. Ask anyone who loves the north. They will speak of smoky gold tamaracks on sunny October days, bold granite outcrops erupting from pristine blue lakes, a moose swimming across a quiet bay at sunset, or of a stand of white pines old enough to remember the chansons of the voyageurs. They may also describe, or try to describe, the visual symphony of northern lights at twenty below, the impossibly white head and tail of a soaring eagle, a lake trout dancing on a light rod, and of course, the echoing call of a loon breaking the stUlness of a northern night. These are the images of "The North." You might encounter some of these sights and sounds in northern Illinois, central Pennsylvania or even in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. Tb find the whole package, though, you have to travel beyond the cities, suburbs and farms. I've always believed that the north begins where the cornfields stop. Perhaps we can best define it by what is missing. Like golden arches, shopping malls, car washes, movie theaters, four-lane highways and easy money. Those who live in the north don't worry much about those missing amenities. There are plenty of Big Macs in Milwaukee, Boston, Detroit, New York, Chicago and other concrete canyons to the south. Anyway, those "EAT" signs on the roofs of backwoods bars have character. And if you want your car washed, you can always wait for rain. In the pages of Reflections of the North you will encounter the northern experience. You will absorb the sounds, the silence, the pristine landscapes, the pure waters. You will probably recall your own northern adventures, and experience that inexorable magnetic pull to the north. Follow the compass of your soul. It doesn't matter if your north is New Hampshire's lake country, the Minnesota/Ontario border country, Alaska's back country or the bush country of the Northwest Territories. What counts is how this country/eeis. You have to want and need the simple feeling of being there. As Mark Peterson, Director of the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute, describes so insightfully (p.52), we may argue about where the north precisely begins, but "we instinctively know when we've arrived." Mark learned about the north from the master, wilderness crusader and author Sigurd F. Olson. Olson was the most profound and poetic of all northern writers, capturing the north in many timeless metaphors. His evocative descriptions of the ' 'singing wilderness'' define the essence of the northwoods. For Sig Olson and many others, the north is a spiritual home. It has quiet power. It works slowly and relentlessly on your psyche. It gets into your blood, your soul. While the north is powerful, it is also fragile. Its wild country is a delicate community. We must fight the urge to absorb too much of it, to hold it so tighdy that we squeeze the life out of it. We must keep development forces in check. One more lakeshore chopped into two-acre "estates"; one more innocent gravel road bulldozed into the woods; another fly-in camp planted in a pristine wilderness may be small changes individually, but collectively they change the face of the north. The north does "keep getting farther north every year.'' Just look at the loon's story. For many the symbol of the north, the common loon has lost a lot of ground. At the turn of this century, loons nested south to the 42nd Parallel - a line running roughly from the northern California border to northern nitnois to northern Connecticut. At the turn of the next century, loons will be lucky to hold the 45th Parallel in most of their range - a loss of nearly 300 miles. Did we really lose that much of the north over the past century? Can we hold the line in the 21st century? These are questions not for scientists who study range maps, but for us - people who cherish the spirit of the north. Let's draw the line now. - Tom Klein, 1991 Minocqua, Wisconsin