The place I call Four Pines is near a small lake in the Kawishiwi River watershed. This interestingly spaced small grove of giants forms  a near perfect circle, with some cedars filling in the gaps. It's a ways up from the water, and has always felt like a sacred site to me, or like a very old camping area. This intriguing circle is in an area that was logged before the BWCAW was formed. Why did they leave these trees? They don't fit the normal pattern of trees left by loggers. A nice stand of virgin trees rises not far away, so the Four Pines spot is in a transition area between older growth and new. Transition areas are generally nice spots to see and hear many species of creatures.
           
It is fascinating to listen to how the symphony of an area changes over the seasons and years, and in what ways it stays the same. Four Pines has become one of my favorite sitting areas in which to learn these changes and similarities.

The place I call Four Pines is near a small lake in the Kawishiwi River watershed. This interestingly spaced small grove of giants forms  a near perfect circle, with some cedars filling in the gaps. It's a ways up from the water, and has always felt like a sacred site to me, or like a very old camping area. This intriguing circle is in an area that was logged before the BWCAW was formed. Why did they leave these trees? They don't fit the normal pattern of trees left by loggers. A nice stand of virgin trees rises not far away, so the Four Pines spot is in a transition area between older growth and new. Transition areas are generally nice spots to see and hear many species of creatures.
           
It is fascinating to listen to how the symphony of an area changes over the seasons and years, and in what ways it stays the same. Four Pines has become one of my favorite sitting areas in which to learn these changes and similarities.

What I call Guardian Lake is a fairly small enchanted sliver in the Kawishiwi River watershed deep in the BWCAW. Whenever I am within a radius of about five miles of this area, I feel that the spirits of the past are thick. Strange weather occurances and even mishaps always seem to happen when I pass through, as if there are invisible protectors and influences. Randy, a good friend of mine, came with me on one of my trips through here. Sure enough, great puffs of wind which felt almost personal beat us back at the perimeter. He felt it even more than I did. We turned back, camped, and did a pipe ceremony addressing these spirits and our purpose. All was fine after that. Since then I've learned to stop at the unseen doorways on the perimeter of this area, to introspect on my purpose and purify the intent of my mission.

Two Creek Island SE

This was a glorious frosty morning. I awoke around 3AM, made a campfire and coffee and hiked across the island to the southeast side, where two bubbling creeks gurgle into the lake from the mainland 30-50yds away. I placed the stereo microphones so that each side would emphasize one of the two creeks. I was all set up by 4:58 AM, but even then, I was late for the party as you can tell from the first segment. These 5 symphony segments are a nice example of the sunrise spike that occurs in the baseline symphony. On the last segment the spike is clearly declining in volume and intensity.

There is an area deep in the central BWCA, in the Kawishiwi River watershed, that I call Home. After my first trip there in the mid 1980's it latched onto me. On subsequent trips I began to realize it left me with a particular longing feeling. The area just feels like Home to me. When I visit my folks in southeast Wisconsin, it is them, not the place on the landscape, that feels like Home. There is a special campsite in this vast Home area which in my mind is the Home site. I believe it to be an ancient camping site used for centururies. Larger than most BWCA sites, it looks to me that it was once far larger, such is the logical layout of the land, as well as the evidence of cans and bottles buried shallowly in various spots a ways from camp. Everything about it seems perfect to me. I think many people have such places. Sometimes I imagine it was given to me before I was born. When I'm there I caretake it, ensuring that the first impression of anyone else who visits it is that of being pristine and wild. I've hauled out bags full of old cans and bottles which had been shallowly buried, indicating that the site had been used extensively long before the BWCAW was designated. I comb the area and fireplace for garbage and leave nicely stacked fire wood by the grate. I feel wistful each time I leave, and thus far have been elated to discover that others seem careful to leave it pristine as well.
 

Shift Change Celebration

Spring came late quite in 2014, and the lakes were not free of ice until May 13. Forgetting that a late spring can correspond to later species activity, Jessi and I had been wondering about the absence of certain creature sounds. So, over the 2 weeks of our trip, each time we heard a new sound for the first time of the year, it was cause for excitement. Late in the evening of May 25 we heard the first American Toad chorus in earnest, and the following sunrise of May 26 felt like a celebration to me. When the new shift of morning creatures came on, the toads kept at it for a long while, returning in little waves to give more voice. Water and songbirds seemed particularly active and playful. I imagined arriving at, or waking up to, a beloved place I hadn't seen for the better part of a year. I would probably feel particularly joyful as well.

 

There is a large area in the BWCA that I call Home, or Medicine River. In this vast area there is a special camping place which in my mind is the Home site. After various journeys through the area I began to realize this site left me with a particular aching longing feeling. It just feels like Home, like a return to deep roots. Because of its characteristics and placement on the waterways, I believe it to be an ancient camping place used for centururies by natives and Europeans alike. When I'm there I caretake it, ensuring that its first impression on any visittor is that of being pristine, healthy and wild. I've hauled out bags full of old cans and bottles which had been shallowly buried. I comb the fireplace for garbage and leave nicely stacked fire wood by the grate. I've been elated to discover that others seem careful to leave it pristine as well.


 

South Cove 

This tiny south facing bay is intimate and sheltered. Due to nearby island and opposing shoreline placements, echoes here are stellar when the air is still, as the loon calls on the "Loon Echoes" track illustate. One evening years ago, when my dog Tuco was aging but still active, we howled together from shore and I imagined that the uneven shorelines were like a cassette tape, recording her spectacular echoes forever like a pictograph.
 

Names are powerful tools, symbols of something real. If a name does not conjure up that "realness", then it can be counterproductive, prejudicial. I often give my own names to things if I find the original lacking, or to camoflage identity. Virgin forests are a rare find. I stumbled on one years ago in the Quetico and couldn't figure out why I felt an unknown exhilaration and tranquil perfection. Unknown until then. As I walked around I realized the area had never been logged. Subsequent experiences in different virgin areas have been similar. Being in such a forest transforms me, and at those times I realize such places are healing, perhaps even necessary to our mental health. They are to mine. I found such a patch of virgin forest deep in the BWCA in the Kawishiwi River watershed. Knowing the power of naming, I chose to call this area "Life Pines" because they bring me life.

 

Virgin Pine Cedar Line

 
This is an equisite virgin section where the ancient pines give way to a cedar forest. Recording symphonies became an excuse to just sit for hours in this lovely enchanting wood. If I walk 75 yards further I come to a striking line where the woods become tangled, brushy, and chaotic, obviously unhealthy. This is the far more familiar once logged area. The difference is so strking that literally anyone having seen the two would notice and feel the difference. Unfortunately there is so little of the virgin variety left that most of us never know what we're missing.
 

Cedar Rivulet forms the northwest boundary of the old growth pine and cedar woods I call the Life Pines, a few hundred yards from the hill top. On a grey morning with a misty breeze I visited a lichen covered rocky point at the rivulet mouth. I put a piece of plastic on a tree branch above my microphone to protect it from the moisture and recorded the Eagle Rings and Grey Day Dialogue tracks. The close flaps of the wings of an eagle surprized me. Looking up, I saw it had something in its beak. This set off many responses from creatures near and far, and is a stellar example of a major concentric ring, a deviance from the baseline symphony. Rivulet Wind was recorded 100 yards upstream beneath a huge cedar, where I went to shelter my recording equipment from the misty rain.