Absorbed in an ocean of green, a 4x6 opening of grass and protruding stones draws me in and volunteers to serve as a homestead for the night. For my roof, I try tying a tarp to a burly pine tree. Spotting a trail of ants scaling the bark, I pause to study the army. Approaching the rope like a car to a speed bump, they timidly crawl across the foreign object and continue their journey. Adventuring through the natural beauty between Minnesota and Canada—the Boundary Waters—I am not only in search of finding myself, but the mystic wonders concealed in the raw landscape.

A sheet of spongy moss lives with the patchy grass acting like a cold, living mattress ready to accommodate species of travelers. Laying down a half inch thick pad with a cozy sleeping bag on top, I hear the calming call of a common loon, echoing across the earth, washing my mind, eluding my soul of stress and unease. Unable to rest, I walk to escape the surrounding grove, arriving at the undisturbed lake in time to catch pair of beavers gliding through the still water.

Situated on a boulder, partially submerged in the clear lake, flies land on my limbs. While I swat left and right, I occasionally knock one to the water. A school of minnows sit and stare appreciating the free snack. Down the embankment, I see a family of mallards waddling in a straight line. Like elementary students following the teacher down the halls, one by one they hop in the water. As a unit, they paddle around the lake, never letting a family member fall behind. It reminds me of home.

Arriving at my shelter, I set up a mesh cover over my bed, like a coffin allowing me to breath in the heavy, damp, dirt-smelling atmosphere. The thin casket stands as the barrier between the airborne insects and my unbitten carcass. The black sky, sprinkled with stars, pokes through the leaves, creates a calming canvas for my manic mind to dream on to. The simple, serene symphony of nature soothes my soul like a back massage, surrendering the stress and absorbing the environment. Resting my head on my pillow made of moss, I await the bright beams over treetops, transforming the lake into a pool of golden honey.

With the sun peeking over the horizon, I pry my eyes open and let out a yawn. Dew engulfed the 4x6 opening, leaving a shimmering coat of water reflecting the limited drops of sunlight visible from my fortress. I pack my belongings up as to not disturb the natural beauty that served as my campsite, thanking it as I strolled back to the shore. Fog lingered across the water muffling the sun’s reflection, as I take a mental picture hoping to never lose this experience of wonder.