Breath of Wilderness Page 2
Like other kids, Sig didn’t always listen to his parents. When he was a young teenager, he and some friends saw men smoking in front of a nearby saloon. Sig’s father, L.J., a strict Baptist minister, always told him that “smoking was a great sin,” but Sig wanted to try it. He didn’t have any tobacco or money to buy a pipe, but he’d heard that pipes could be made from corncobs and filled with dried bark and leaves, what some American Indians called kinnikinnick. He and some friends gathered corncobs and bark from a red willow tree and created their pipes. Later, the boys crawled under a big box, lit their pipes, and inhaled the bitter smoke. When they heard L.J. walking toward them, they rushed to extinguish and hide the pipes and began singing gospel songs they had learned in Sunday school. Sig’s father peeked underneath the box and smiled as the boys sang louder. L.J. went into the house and told Sig’s mom that the boys were so good, he expected they would become elders in the church.
Two
Decisions, Decisions
After high school, Sig attended Northland College in Ashland for two years. He wasn’t sure what career he wanted to pursue, but he discovered that he enjoyed playing football and in no time became a talented athlete on the football team. One late October day, the sky was dark, and he sensed a storm brewing. He knew these weather conditions were perfect for forcing flocks of bluebills to take shelter in a nearby swamp. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation. Unfortunately, one of the biggest football games of the season, against Superior State College, was also that day. “What am I going to do?” he worried. “I can’t let down my team.” He heard the sound of the bluebills in his mind and imagined them riding the wind. He could almost see the flocks sailing in from the north out of the clouds.
Although he knew that he’d be in big trouble with his coach and the team, he couldn’t bear to miss the birds. He quickly grabbed some gear and headed for the woods. When he returned to school on Monday, he learned that his team had lost the game. He felt like a criminal when his teammates glared at him. The coach kicked him off the team, even though he was one of the best players. “You should never play football again,” the coach told him, ending his football career. While Sig felt shame, he knew in his heart that following the birds had been the right decision for him.
During Sig’s first year of college, his friend Andrew Uhrenholdt invited him to the hospital to visit his sister, Elizabeth, who was recovering from pneumonia. When Sig stepped in the hospital room, he felt awkward and couldn’t say a thing. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at Elizabeth before leaving. She was not impressed. Later, Andrew invited Sig to come home with him to his family farm near Seeley, Wisconsin, over the Easter holiday. Sig hit it off with Andrew’s father, Soren, who suggested that Sig live and work at the farm that summer. Sig quickly agreed.
Sig flourished on the farm. He thoroughly enjoyed his time outdoors working on the land. Soren was easy to talk with, and Sig admired his strong conservation values. Sig also made a better impression with Elizabeth. The next fall Sig traveled to the farm regularly to work and to see Elizabeth.
Back at Northland College, Sig considered becoming a missionary. He knew this would please his father immensely. In L.J. Olson’s eyes, there were
Elizabeth Uhrenholdt learned to love the outdoors as much as Sig did.
only three worthwhile professions: the ministry, farming, and teaching. After agonizing over the
decision, Sig realized his heart wasn’t in the ministry. He contemplated farming but decided that didn’t feel right either. After he finished his second year at Northland, Sig attended the University of Wisconsin in Madison to earn a degree in agriculture and biology.
Sigurd with his bags packed, about to head to the University of Wisconsin in Madison
After graduation, Sig decided to try the only other option his father would accept: teaching. He moved to Nashwauk, a small town on the Mesabi Iron Range in northeast Minnesota, to teach high school. At the end of each school week, he packed some supplies and headed out camping for the weekend.
In the spring of 1921, Sig received an offer from a gold prospector to travel to Flin Flon in the far north of Manitoba, Canada, to pan for gold. He ached to go, but Elizabeth had had enough. She calmly and firmly told him that if he took the trip, she would not wait for him. It was the wilderness, or her. Sig would have loved the adventure, but he loved Elizabeth more, and the couple set a wedding date for that August.
Sigurd loved to fish and would have spent all of his time
outdoors if he could have.
Three
The Meaning
of the Outdoors
In June 1921, another wilderness opportunity arose, and this one Sig couldn’t pass up. With Elizabeth’s support, Sig set out with two friends on a month-long trek east of Rainy Lake and north of the rugged shores of Lake Superior. It was during this canoe trip to the Superior Roadless Area along the Canadian border that the real meaning of the wilderness became clear to Sig.
Sig and his friends stood on the shores of Fall Lake, ready to head north, all the excitement of the adventure before them. They could hardly wait to explore the wild, unspoiled lake country and its thousands of miles of canoe routes. As Sig described the journey later, “And so we traveled through hundreds of lakes and rivers, drunk in the beauties of countless waterfalls, rapids and virgin forests.” He had never encountered a world so remote and untouched and yet so full of life. One night after they’d finished a long portage, he sat under the spruce and Norway pine trees next to the lake. He was bewitched by the clear water, smooth as glass, and the glow of the sun reflected there. Rocky islands floated in the distance; loons laughed their wild, screaming call; the smell of balsam filled the air. “Everything is so exquisitely beautiful that I cannot help wonder if this is not a fairyland,” he mused. He was enchanted by the splendor that surrounded him, a feeling that would change the course of his life forever. “I have fallen in love with a beautiful wilderness of lakes and rivers and forests known as the Quetico-Superior Country. I discovered … an emotional and spiritual significance
Sig found complete happiness in the wilderness. He once said, “I am in love with the out of doors and all of its beauties, its waters, lakes, and trees and everything about it.”
that was not with me before.”
Shortly after Sig returned from that fateful trip, his brother Kenneth, editor of the Milwaukee Journal, asked him to write an article about his canoe adventure to the wilderness near Ely. Sig’s account of the country that had taken hold of his heart poured out of him. The article, which also appeared in the Nashwauk Herald, was his first published article and marked the beginning of his long writing career.
On August 8, 1921, Sig Olson married Elizabeth Uhrenholdt under a white pine at her parents’ farm. Sig said that he “was only half alive” when he was away from Elizabeth, and she felt the same. Elizabeth knew that Sig’s need to spend time outdoors would be a fundamental part of their life together.
The day of the wedding, the couple broke the news to Elizabeth’s parents that they would be heading into the wilderness for a three-week honeymoon. It
Sig and Elizabeth celebrated their wedding outdoors with family and friends. Sig’s father officiated the ceremony.
would be Elizabeth’s first canoe trip, and they’d be following a route neither of them had ever traveled. Worried about the couple’s safety, Elizabeth’s parents tried in vain to convince them to go to a resort or another more typical honeymoon destination. But Sig and Elizabeth had made up their minds. They took the train to Duluth and transferred to the Duluth, Missabe, and Iron Range Railway, rode one hundred miles farther to Ely, and continued to Winton, Minnesota, where they began canoeing at Fall Lake. They paddled and portaged over rivers and lakes, including Knife, Ottertrack, Saganaga, Kawnipi, Agnes, and Basswood, and saw only two other people the entire time.
When they returned that
Elizabeth had never taken a canoe trip, but she quickly agreed when Sigurd suggest
ed they spend their honeymoon canoeing in the remote wilderness.
September, Elizabeth joined Sig in Nashwauk for a year. The next September, Sig enrolled at the University of Wisconsin in Madison to pursue an advanced degree in geology, but he stayed for just one semester. He felt homesick and restless and couldn’t wait to get back to Elizabeth and the wilderness. Just then a job teaching biology opened at the high school in Ely, and Sig and Elizabeth jumped at the opportunity to move closer to the wilderness canoe country. Sig took his students outside as often as he could.
Sigurd liked to teach his biology classes outside. His passion for the wilderness and the land made a lifelong impact on his students.
Sig and Elizabeth embraced the Ely community and volunteered with many organizations. Sig became a scoutmaster with the Boy Scouts and led the boys on many wilderness canoe trips. At the end of the school year, Sig accepted a job as a wilderness canoe guide, a job he would continue to do for many summers that followed. After a few years he split his teaching time between the local high school and Ely Junior College, which later became Vermilion Community College.
Sig guided many camping trips for pleasure and as a
paid guide. He is seen here on the far left with some unidentified companions.
The love and fascination Sig had for animals when he was a young boy never diminished. He had always wanted to ride a moose, and once he took the chance while canoeing with a friend. As they paddled next to one, Sig grabbed on to it, hoisting himself onto its back. He held on for dear life as the moose charged toward the shore. Sig planned to jump off the moose before reaching the shore, but he didn’t let go in time, and he fell off as the moose ran up the riverbank. The moose, clearly unhappy about the uninvited passenger on his back, reared backward and landed on top of Sig, writhing and thrashing about. Fortunately, Sig escaped serious injury, suffering only sore muscles. It was a frightening experience, but he laughed about it later. Offering some advice about what he’d learned, he warned, “Never trust a moose no matter where you find one,” and if you do, never get too close to shore without jumping off.
Although Sig was often busy sharing his love of the outdoors with others, he always found time to be alone in the wilderness as well. During one camping trip, Sig climbed Robinson Peak in Canada’s Quetico Provincial Park. He observed the blue lake below and saw the smoke from his own campfire. As he looked out at the stunning wilderness landscape, the fiery sun dropped and began to disappear. He sat in the fading glow until there was only darkness, feeling an intense connection to the universe that stayed with him long after.
Sig and Elizabeth had two sons: Sigurd Jr. (or Junior), born in 1923, and Robert (or Bob), born two
years later. Sig said he almost missed Junior’s birth because it came on the opening day of duck hunting season. Both boys developed a strong connection with the outdoors. Years later Junior said, “I inherited a love of ... wild country and natural things ... [a] feeling for wild places.”
Junior and Bob grew up in the wilderness, and theirs was a “Huck Finn” childhood full of adventure. When they were young, Sig often entertained them before bed with silly stories about the wild adventures
of a moose with rubber horns and chipmunks named Roscoe and Boscoe. All year round, the Olson family spent their free time exploring the wilderness. Summers included canoeing, campfires, picnics, berry picking, hiking, and fishing. The family took many camping trips, singing around campfires under clear skies. When fall arrived, the focus turned to hunting. One day while they were sitting in a duck blind together, Sig confided in Bob, “I never feel I am wasting my time when I am out of doors.” Winter meant cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, ice fishing, and skating. Sometimes the family even skied before breakfast.
Sigurd holding his first born,
Sigurd Thorne Olson, in 1923
Sig instilled his love for the outdoors in both his boys, but his talk of almost nothing besides the wilderness wasn’t always welcomed. At times his
passion overwhelmed and alienated his family and co-workers. “All we ever hear about is wilderness,” Bob once said. The boys didn’t understand why Sigurd, or Papa, as they called him, felt compelled to talk about it all the time. “He never thought about anything else,” Bob reflected years later.
As a child, Sig had been fascinated by the French voyageurs who traveled Canada from 1650 to 1850 by canoe to trade fur and goods with the
Bob and Sig Jr. learned to hunt at a young age. The family was known for their duck dinners.
native peoples. He shared their love for the wilderness and found the stories of their romantic explorations full of adventure and intrigue. Now Sig hoped his boys would become modern voyageurs. On one canoe trip to Curtain Falls, the outlet for Crooked Lake, Sig told the boys stories of the wilderness men of Hudson’s Bay who traveled down the chain of border lakes on their way to the Grand Portage Post at Lake Superior. To help the boys feel like they were part of the ancient tradition, he taught them the old French songs, and they camped and backpacked on the same trails the voyageurs used. The falls roared in the background as they landed at a smooth, black rock and got out of their canoes. Sig imagined that the boys were seeing the voyageurs’ canoes landing at the same spot.
Sig himself joined a group of Canadian friends for yearly canoe trips that lasted about three weeks and covered approximately five hundred miles. The men paddled the routes of the voyageurs through Canada’s Northwest Territories and Quetico-Superior Country. To invoke the spirit of the voyageurs, the canoeists read the original voyageurs’ journals and sang songs as they followed in their footsteps. Sig’s companions referred
to him as the Bourgeois, which is what the original voyageurs called their trusted leaders who were responsible for all major decisions. They relied on him to guide them and they gave him their total respect. Later fans of Sig’s also called him Bourgeois.
Sig described love for the wilderness as a love for a way of life, a love of danger, comradeship, hardship, and challenge, and a love for all of its elements, including flowers, trees, rocks, sunsets, all creatures, wind, lakes, rivers, and solitude. In nature he always found a strong connection to the past. When he looked at a boulder, he pondered its history. What people had walked or sat here? What rains or snows had fallen on it? He thought about the glacial ice sheets and the people who had lived and hunted near them. What clothing had they worn? In his mind he could see the smoke from their fires and smell the sizzling meat in the air.
Sig Jr., Elizabeth, Bob, and Sig snowshoed and skied in the early morning, after school, and under the stars during the winter nights.
Campfires were especially meaningful to Sig. He believed that each new campfire rekindled or brought back some experience from the past and that those who share campfires enjoy a special kind of comradeship. “My whole life has been a series of campfires,” he said. When Sig gazed into the fire, he imagined past generations staring into campfires just as he was, dreaming of their own passions, hopes, and fears.
Sigurd, nicknamed the Bourgeois, traveled Canada’s waterways many times with a banker, an ambassador, a military major general, and a journalist. On those trips he dressed as a French voyageur, or fur trader, from years past. His outfit included a multicolored sash worn around the waist to strengthen the abdomen, moccasins, a buckskin shirt, and leggings.
The wilderness had a powerful effect on Sig. Spending time there helped him to feel peaceful inside and taught him lessons about the world and about himself. He came to believe that there is nothing more important than protecting our wild areas, saying, “In saving any wilderness area, you are saving more than rocks and trees and mountains and lakes and rivers. What you are really saving is the human spirit. What you are really saving is the human soul.”
Sig showed Sig Jr. how to warm his hands over the fire. More than fifty years later, sitting in front of another fire, Sig Jr. remarked to his dad, “I’ve often wondered how many campfires we have sat around together.”
National Wilderness Scene
During the early 1920s, at the beginning of Sig’s career as a teacher and wilderness guide, a threat to the canoe country wilderness transformed him into a conservationist. It shocked and angered Sig to learn that local chambers of commerce and the US Forest Service were proposing that a road be built to every lake in the Superior National Forest – what they called the “playground of a nation.” The Forest Service wanted roads to allow them to fight fires more efficiently. The chambers of commerce wanted the roads for tourism. Sig realized that he had to act, but he wasn’t sure how. Until now, he had taken it for granted that the land would always be there in its pristine, wild condition. But if roads were constructed to reach every lake, the wilderness near Ely would be destroyed. And he knew that once the wilderness was gone, it would be gone forever. There would be no getting it back.
As a wilderness guide, he had met and become friends with many national environmental leaders,
such as Will Dilg, the organizer of the Izaak Walton League, and Charlie Heddon, a famous fisherman and fishing tackle manufacturer. Sig also knew editors and writers for national publications, like Don Hough of the Saturday Evening Post, who shared his love for the wilderness near Ely. They too were alarmed when he filled them in on the plans to develop the region, and they promised to use their influence and knowledge to help protect the area by bringing national attention to the fight. Under their guidance, Sig wrote letters and attended meetings, eloquently expressing his convictions and applying pressure on the decision-makers to enact policies that would protect his beloved wilderness.