Ethan Curtis

Personal Narrative
ENGL 102
Becoming familiar with Isolation

My whole life I have loved one thing more than just about anything that you could

compare it to and that is taking some time to free my mind by going camping. Camping has

something about it that sets itself aside from really any other activity possible and that is

isolation from the external world. For a short bit of time, it is nice to truly be on your own in a

situation where you have to rely on yourself completely for the simplest of things like keeping a

fire to remain warm. The inevitable adversities that are faced when camping is a great test of

character. Our most defining moments as humans come from adversities similar to the one that I

faced this past summer. It is something that I am glad to have experienced, but certainly an

encounter with adversity that I do not hope to relive.

Not long into summer my best buddy Carter Slette and I decided we were going to make

a trip up to a state park that we had enjoyed the previous summer named Mille Lacs Kathio.

Carter and I would certainly agree that Kathio is one of the most diverse parks that Minnesota

has to offer that isn’t a haul from the cities, both for its gorgeous scenery as well as its extreme

abundance of wildlife. Honestly, there is just something unexplainable about Kathio that just

really sets it apart from any other park for me. So nonetheless, we made our date for just a couple

weeks after getting back from our spring semester at school, him at Concordia Moorehead and

me at North Dakota. I had looked forward to our first camping trip for a very long time, so you

can believe the hype going into this adventure in store for me and a life long friend. The time

drew near for our trip and before I knew it we were on our way north a couple of hours toward

Mille Lacs for three days and nights. This was longer than Carter and I were used to, but that was

only a plus in my mind at the time.

 If there is one thing that Slette and I find ourselves doing a lot of together is taking trips.

Given we can’t afford a plane ticket every week it entails a lot of driving with one another. A

favorite drive that Slette and I enjoy making together is the one that runs north in Minnesota

from the cities to the Brainerd and Mille Lacs area, interstate one sixty-nine. I think it’s that we

are both fans of the simplicity that the ride brings you, as soon as you leave the cities that is.

Along the way, we witnessed an old thrift store what seemed like every five miles, listened to a

lot of willie nelson and CCR, and got our head cleared for the inevitable amount of individual

experience that was to come with our trip. It wasn’t long and we were hugging the shores of the

immaculate Lake Mille Lacs which meant we were coming close to our destination. It wasn’t

long until we encountered the park which was highlighted alongside one sixty-nine by a large

arrowhead sign that was carved out of wood, by the looks of it this sign alone had to have taken

an expect carver months too derive. We made our turn into the park and our first stop was at the

ranger station to check-in.

Upon arrival the weather was grim, the short-lasting summer warmth supplied to

Minnesota had yet to show face and June was just around the corner. The sky showed a shade

that suggested it was ready to leak and I was not looking forward to the near eight miles of

walking Slette and I had ahead of us. The backpacking campsite at Kathio referred to as Black

Bass was the campsite furthest from civilization. It was the most isolated campsite that Kathio

has to offer, but that comes at the price of the hike it takes to get out there. After our short

conversation with the gentle and hard-working old-lady at the ranger station, we set out for our

campsite. The journey began with a walk alongside our familiar friend, Interstate one-sixty.

Following the directions provided by the fragile old-lady, we came to the opening in the part of
the forest adjacent to the road. It was this opening in the tightly packed forest that would lead us

to our home for the days to come. It was time, let the eight miles begin.

Feeling the weight of my pack, I continued on my way. Mostly focusing on how

uncomfortable the fishing poles and cooler I was forced to carry by hand were, I watched the

forest around me as it went to rest. I watched as night fell from the top of the scotch pines and

birch trees to the moist vegetation flooding the forest floor. As time went on during our walk my

body started to lose feeling from the weight of all the things I was having to carry. For the

majority of a hike that long I prefer to keep mind empty and the talking to a minimum, but this

was a difficult task when there are constant distractions in the form of wildlife. It seemed like

every step would stir up a garter snake at our feel and every few hundred yards a deer would

make its presence known. Luckily, it was relatively cold and the mosquitos that usually haunt

Kathio were relatively subdued. Time rolled very slowly until we had mastered the terrain at

hand. Coming up on our site was a massive relief, the little sunlight that was left in our day

illuminated our campsite that sat 10 feet from the water. The first night we arrived on our site

was comprised with getting all of our ducks in a row. This included getting the fire going along

with good supply of wood to accompany it, getting our hammocks and rain fly in order, getting

nourishment, and then finally cashing in for the night pretty early due to the draining hike.

The next morning was centered around getting some fire-cooked food in our bellies and

taking in the beauty of our campsite because we arrived so late the night before that we could

barely see a thing. As soon as I got some food in me, I was ready to wet a line in the lake that

was conveniently located 10 yards from our campsite. Not long into fishing, I caught a decent

sized northern pike, which is surprisingly great for eating. It was this that made me feel on top of

the food chain where I belong, so I cleaned the fish and threw him in the pan Slette had prepared.
The slabs of pike were met by a loud sizzle as I draped them onto the very hot pan that contained

butter and garlic. This was one of the best lunches that I have ever had simply because it was

completely from the land that we were so lucky to inhabit. The time came and went in our day as

we enjoyed it by living off the land that we were allotted. Slette and I took turns gathering

firewood and attempting to get food. The day drew older and the sun began to set on the lake.

It was this night that I would have an experience unlike any other. The night had exposed

itself so Slette and I took refuge around the fire we had kept going the whole day. Slette decided

he was going to go to bed, he said something about a short nap, but I knew it was going to be the

last of Carter being awake. It wasn’t long before I was alone around the fire and left to sift

through whatever thoughts I could gather. Being alone in a very secluded location makes you

feel quite alone and honestly quite unsure of your abilities to provide for yourself at times. It was

this night for some reason that I would feel my most alone in my entire life. Slette is one of the

hardest sleepers I know, so when he’s going to sleep, he is going to sleep for good. No more than

an hour after he went to bed, I heard the violent crashing of water along the shoreline adjacent to

our campsite. I didn’t put much thought into this first crash but the one that followed seemed

much closer and earned my full attention. I still was posted alongside my fire that seemed to be

just about out of breath, I looked around for what I could use as a weapon in the worst scenario

that I was constructing in my mind. It is amazing the things your mind will bring you too when

you are experiencing this level of loneliness. I thought perhaps I could seek the sounds from

Interstate 169, but the comfort of simply hearing a car passing in the distance even eluded my

companionship.

Time passed between the time I was initially greeted with the fear that comes with being

alone. The few birds that were singing quiet songs had gone silent. I panned left and right with
the beam from my headlamp; nothing. Another noise in the water alleviated the happy thoughts I

struggled to collect. I peer my head over the short brush along the shoreline. My light pans left

and then right only to introduce me to the stare of a full-grown Black Bear. I looked at him for

what seemed like minutes but realistically was limited to a handful of seconds. As visual contact

is lost, I feel my position on the top of the food pyramid shift in a new direction. I felt the hair

standing up on the back of my neck. I could hear my breath getting heavier without me being

able to alter or stop it. Soon the washing in the water turned into shuffling through the woods.

The feeling of aloneness grew. When I was scanning for something that could be used as a

weapon, I decided my hatchet was the best option. I inched down the log I was sitting down and

peel my key to life from the stump I had left it in. I clutched my salvation, fed my fire, and went

back to my thoughts. The noise faded to nothing. Time passed and the bear would never come to

my campsite. The sweat dried on my brow and my mind began to reset.

To this day I have still never fully discussed this experience with anyone. Not even

Carter, not while we concluded our camping trip, not during the return home, and not in the

times we would spend together after this. I just held this experience to myself and I always

reflect on the feeling of helplessness. I have aggressively pursued not ever feeling that feeling

again because it’s not a feeling that I ever want to feel again. I think that we all eventually

experience a feeling of being alone and desire any sort of relief from it. It amazes me how

quickly life can be takin from somebody and that feeling of walking the tightrope between life

and death defined the fragility that each life possesses. Going from the happiness derived from

all the things that had gone into this trip to the lonely feeling of inferiority all in a matter of

seconds was an experience of a lifetime. The reality of how alone we are in this life comes as a

surprise to a number of us. The fragility and independence of life can be learned with
experiences that give a glance at the other side of life, death. Unfortunately, a decent amount of

people will never have the experiences that lead to this recognition. For those without this

experience, in everything you do, pay respect to the precious brilliance of life.