Sometimes I come across stories about people taking their Dads camping. Reading them gives me a vicarious warmth and I'd like to encourage folks to share their "Dad" stories, in this thread or anywhere else in this forum. I'd like to do that but mine would be pretty old, since my Dad died over 40 years ago.

Thanks

Koda I think you should still share a dad story - no matter how long ago they left us there's still lessons and stories.

My dad died in 1992 and he was only 42. He and my mom tripped to BWCA in home made cedar strip canoes with another couple back in the early 1970's. I still have their original #4 Duluth pack - it's huge and indestructible. I love the photos of them and would love to do the routes they did but my mom can't remember them. All she remembers is that they were hard portages and big lakes. Of course both of those are relative terms. Dad started us kids camping young but as we got older and more of us came along other things took its place. Still in all he instilled in me at a young age the desire for the wilderness. I've camped with my kids since they were toddlers but never in the BWCA. I'm sorry that I waited until this year to experience the BWCA for the first time. I'm looking forward to taking my son next summer on his first trip and for many more in years to come - thanks Dad.

Great idea for a thread - thanks Koda

My dad started taking me and my siblings to the BWCA when I was 5 years old. (30+ years ago!)

He packed us all up, drove two kids (my sister wasn't a fan of camping) up north, and portaged everything (including a giant aluminum canoe) except the tackle box that we carried. When I was 10, I started sterning. When I turned 13, he rented a solo canoe and I was expected to paddle it alone that trip. When I was 14, I started portaging the canoe. He taught me a love for the BWCA and a respect for it. My Christmas gifts now always include something that he found to enhance my trip.

Now my brother and I take my almost 70 year old dad back to the BWCA every other fall. We portage everything and HE carries the tackle box. We do the work and let him enjoy the place he taught us to love.

Thanks, Dad.

Dad's been gone 41 years, 7 months, 19 days. So, the family camping stories are told and retold through the fuzzy memories of a preteen, boxes full of Kodachrome slides, and that lingering musty smell of a continually wet and impossibly heavy canvas tent. Dad dragged us all over the country to pose in front of waterfalls, big trees, and park signs. I am forever indebted to him for instilling in me the desire to see great places, venture into the outdoors, and pass the same along to my own children.

Thanks, camp-n-scrap, I'll try, but I warn you I can get wordy. (Funny thing, I'm the same age as your Dad would have been.) Dad died July 14, 1966 during our vacation at the family cottage in western Michigan. I guess that would make it 43 years and change ago. He had just turned 44. I was 16, second oldest of 6. Schweady, you're about the same age as my youngest sister; I can relate to "fuzzy memories."

Anyway, I learned a lot from my Dad about the natural world and the skills needed to navigate it. We never went camping, but he helped me with Boy Scout stuff, and every year at the cottage we'd go hike the sand dunes, make fireplace fires (sometimes for cooking), and live outside as much as possible. We drove motorboats, sailed, rowed, fished, paddled, swam and snorkeled. We cleaned and ate fish, saw how the turtles and gulls cleaned up the scraps, watched the northern lights, walked barefoot, and discovered edible wild plants. I learned how to be self-reliant regardless of other influences in my life, and how to keep an open heart toward creatures both human and non-human. He also taught me music and art, but that's getting a bit off-topic for this forum.

What I most enjoy is hearing people talk about their relationships with their Dads from an adult perspective. Every story fills in a possible detail that's missing in my life, and that makes it indescribably fulfilling. It used to be a bittersweet experience, but now it just brings smiles - even when the stories aren't so happy.

So now, if you don't mind, I'll sit back and listen....

Koda, Great description of a Dad, mine was very similar, but more active in Scouts. We annually vacationed at Kirk's Lodge on moose lake, now part of the BW. Mostly stayed in cabins when I was really small, day trip fishing in motor boats, all over basswood. Then when I was about 9, my dad would take me, (only son, 3 other non campy, stay in cabin daughters) out on overnights in basswood, then by about 12 going for 3 or 4 nights to crooked lake with 4hp. square stern. Every year trip.

First trip into crooked, we are fishing, dad has new spin cast reel, very slick looking, smooth action, line already installed from the store. He gets snagged, and in yanking the snag, somehow the line spool, or cartridge, (not sure what it is called) pops off the front of the reel and falls in the lake. Not good, but my dad says, "well this is going to be a mess, but I can pull the line off the spool, and lift the spool back up. Well, he carefully pulls the line up and lays it in the canoe carefully, and comes up with the end of the line, which wasn't tied to the spool by the manufacturer. We have no spare parts or reels. Whoo boy, did I learn some fancy new words right then, for about 1/2 an hour. And I had a personal paddling guide for fishing the next couple of days, because my dad couldn't fish. We never were short a spare rod and reel after that. And that was a go to story for the rest of his life. Thanks dad.

Thanks guys, for the stories. In particular, those of you who lost your dads at a young age.

My sibs and I were lucky. Dad is still alive at age 86. He took the whole family on camping trips in Wisconsin parks since I was 3 months old. He was a can-do kind of guy, unassuming, quiet determination that was the hallmark of his generation. I have my parents original aluminum cook set complete with aluminum cups with metal handles that he said used to burn his fingers when mom poured his coffee.

Thanks Dad. Your love of the outdoors and spirit of adventure, modest as it was, has been handed down to your children and grandchildren.

As I sit here, back in Michigan, holding my beautiful bright eyed 3 week old baby girl(my first child)I can not tell you how anxious I am to get her in a canoe in the BW. I see that the magic age seems to be 5 years old for a BW canoe trip. I don't think I can wait that long. Maybe I will soon find myself with the family at Smitty's or one of the other places that you can camp on a northern BW lake and daytrip from. The stories you all shared touched my heart. Thank you and see you up there soon.

As I sit here, back in Michigan, holding my beautiful bright eyed 3 week old baby girl(my first child)I can not tell you how anxious I am to get her in a canoe in the BW. I see that the magic age seems to be 5 years old for a BW canoe trip. I don't think I can wait that long. Maybe I will soon find myself with the family at Smitty's or one of the other places that you can camp on a northern BW lake and daytrip from. The stories you all shared touched my heart. Thank you and see you up there soon.

jparks, the image of you and your daughter brings big smiles on this end. I should think you could incorporate her into your outings, though of course you'll always want to adjust your risk tolerance to her capacities.

I remember taking my daughter camping and changing diapers, so she had to be no more than two (she's now 30). Ditto with my son, now 27. We car-camped and the kids learned early how to do the usual camp chores. My daughter goes camping with her partner in the hills outside Albuquerque where they're in grad school. It isn't the BWCA, but clearly the outdoors bug bit her good. And now, after taking my son to the BWCA for our first trip there last summer, his fiancee is bugging him about going along next time.

I have no doubt that your daughter will grow up with her own ideas about the natural world, and that you'll be proud of her whatever she does.

My dad and I only took one real camping trip- trips with mom included a car and pop-up camper! But, in 1980 I invited my dad to come with me camping at Split Rock River falls. I gave him a big list of gear, and we packed up 2 old external frame packs.

Dad and I drove up from Mpls through Duluth to Split Rock. Back then you could park overnight on an abandoned section of Hwy 61 on the lake side of the Hwy(now a bike trail), and hike back along the north side of the river on the deer trails. At least once he asked me if we were following the dog (we were), but eventually I heard the falls and we headed to the river and the campsite.

Turns out I'd forgotten my spoon, but Dad carved one for me that I still have. With all my extensive list for dad, I was feeling cocky and hadn't checked a list for myself!



We spent 3 days, hiking up the river and picking blueberries for pancakes. He told me it was the most beautiful place he'd been since he left Colorado to marry my mom and settle in Mpls. Dad never got to go camping again- which I regret. He died in 2008, of Alzheimers.

dogwoodgirl, what a nice story. Sounds like that might be one of your fondest memories. Maybe it was your Dad's, too. Thanks for sharing it.

in time, hopefully one day my kid will post a story about me on here. his first trip was this year. 8yrs old

25 years ago my dad took my older brother and I to the bwca. 8+ hours away and I have been back 20 times. This past summer my 69 year old dad, my older brother, my wife and I and my younger brother and his wife all went. My 9 year old daughter says she has to go next year and "Grandpa too!". He won't be able to say no! So next year it will be my 70 year old dad...

Thanks, Dad.

I had a chance to take my Dad along on a canoe trip this past year. Nothing sappy about it, but it was about the best thing ever in my mind. We used two base camps and mainly went fishing. The best part was being able to share the experience with him and to have some time just sitting around talking. I was really glad he decided to go.

All of my best memories are of my dad taking me places though.

My dad passed away at 66 in 1986 and as Koda stated when he started this thread, reading your stories does bring about a "vicarious warmth". Growing up in Pennsylvania we had no idea the BWCA existed (which I suppose it technically didn't)and we usually only traveled as far as our 58 Chevy Bel Air would take us without overheating. So, we headed into the mountains and state parks and forests, hiking and fishing and occasionally taking a .22 rifle to hunt. We never hit anything though. I think Dad would have loved it up there but it feeds my imagination placing myself in some of the stories you share here.