March–April 2025

From the Editor

Walking in Canoe Country

Years ago, when I learned about the relatively obscure hiking trails in the Boundary Waters, I wondered why anyone would choose to walk a paddler’s paradise. It’d be like traveling to Egypt and ignoring the pyramids, I reasoned. But with age come fewer precious opinions, and I now view these scruffy trails as an essential supplement to the paddle-and-portage trips that are the main draw in canoe country.  

Last October my family and I rented a cabin off the Gunflint Trail, with plans to daytrip into the Boundary Waters by canoe. But strong winds forced a change of plans, and we spent much of our time hiking in and out of the wilderness on portions of the South Lake and Border Route trails. These rambles were rolling, rugged, and muddy—typical for BWCA hikes—and reminded me of Jerry Seinfeld’s old joke about the road less traveled being less traveled for a reason. But our hard work paid off. While hiking the South Lake Trail, my mother-in-law, who had never visited the Boundary Waters proper, was finally able to see the landscape that meant so much to her late husband, a lifelong outdoorsman who for decades made an annual trip to this wilderness.

The next day my kids and I hit the Border Route near Gunflint Lake, climbing 400 feet to a clifftop vista overlooking the water. From our perch, we could see Canada and a sliver of Magnetic Lake, which I’d once paddled on a Boundary Waters trip. In an instant, this elevated perspective deepened my bond with an area I’d mostly experienced by boat.

Ryan Rodgers, a frequent contributor to this magazine, had similar revelations last summer during an epic BWCA backpacking trip. “I want new perspective on my formative wilderness, gleaned through sweat and solitude along the state’s toughest footpaths,” he writes of his 140-mile journey (“Alone Through the Wilderness” ). Without spoiling the ending to Rodgers’ travelogue, I’ll just say that it’s a beautifully written reminder to seek out the world’s less polished corners—or, put differently, to look away from the shiny object now and then.

Chris Clayton, editor in chief