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It all started in 1939 when my family drove to Widji to visit my brother, who was a camper. My brother was having a great time, but it was a tall good looking guy in camp named Harry Buetow who changed my life. Everyone called this 17-year-old fellow "Buets," and he worked in the kitchen at the time. He also served as a guide for guests like us. Buets took my father on a fishing jaunt to Hansen Lake, and my dad promptly cast left-handed from the bow of the canoe and hooked Buets in the finger with a big plug.
Needless to say, after my Dad removed the offending barb with his hunting knife, Buets was told to stay out of the dishwater for a few days. My sister and I eagerly offered to help out in his place.
Upon returning to St. Paul a short time later, I went to a fishing store and bought the biggest plug I could find, filed down all the barbs and mailed it to Buets. That started our correspondence, and in June 1944, we were married. We always said that Buets was hooked forever and by my father! Thanks, Dad. We went on a canoe trip for our honeymoon, of course.
Back in the 1940s, Buets and I became very close friends with Widji's Caretaker, Wilbur Jeffrey, and his wife, Betty. With Jeff, as we called him, there was never a dull moment. Jeff was a great wood carver. One summer, he carved wooden bow ties with elastic around the neck so that staff could "dress up" for the campfires and banquets. Jeff also carved beautiful furniture out of black ash trees, and Buets and I carried slabs of it in pack sacks all the way from Coxey's Pond. In return, we received a chair and a nice end table for our efforts.
Late one summer, a mixed men's and women's group came up from the Cities for a short canoe trip, and Jeff was the guide. I went along as his helper-assistant. First, we took a portage over an island in Burntside Lake, with the unsuspecting campers never questioning why we had to go over the island, rather than around it. Then Jeff said he had "inadvertently" left the knives, forks and spoons back at camp. So the group had to improvise with some interesting carvings for eating utensils. And, he always feigned such innocence!
On winter visits, Jeff would give us thrill rides on his handmade bob sled, pulling us behind his old truck and laughing gleefully when we were thrown off. After the excitement, I remember taking my turn sawing blocks of ice for Murphy's Resort, which is now Camp du Nord, and putting the ice in sawdust to keep it frozen through the summer. In the fall, I can remember watching Julian Kirby taking his early morning, freezing dip in the lake. He was a kind and venerable gentleman.
Then there was summer.
The bear in the root cellar - and Harry shooting the bear!
The great camaraderie of the famous alpine singers; Dick Norberg, Hal "Pont" Ponthan and Buets. Bud Nye writing the immortal "Madeline" for a campfire, with 'Buets leaping the falls but barely just." And, the uniforms of the guides - dark black Jefferson Driver boots with the big heel, canvas pants and red suspenders, checked wool shirt and beat up old hat. They looked pretty cool to me, especially on Buets. He was a guide the summers of '40, '41 and '42.
In the last 60 years, we have had many family canoe trips and lots of Widji involvement. Our three children: Christy, David and Eric, each were campers, Voyageurs and guides. I have special memories of them returning to camp from their Voyageur trips - always trying to outdo the others. Christy, the oldest and only girl, received a dozen long-stemmed roses from us when she returned.
David's group arrived in a float plan from Ely, landing at the Trail Building dock when we were waiting in the parking lot. Eric's group bicycled into camp. Then when Eric was a Voyageur leader, his group arrived with a team of sled dogs pulling the van. The circle keeps growing. Now, three of our grandchildren have their own Widji stories to tell.
In 1986, Buets planned a family canoe trip to duplicate the first trip he took in 1936. Three generations of Buetow’s came from as far away as Alaska, North Carolina and Grand Marais for the Fall Lake, Basswood, Crooked, Curtain Falls, Lac La Croix and down the Little Indian Sioux River to the Echo Trail. It was a memorable event, complete with caps and t-shirts that read, "Buets 50th Anniversary Canoe Trip."
Times have changed. The camp has grown. But many things remain constant.
The preservation and beauty of Widjiwagan. The spiritual walk through Camp to Chapel Point. The leadership and the staff. The camaraderie. They are still there.
And in the end, I've really been Buets' "Paddlin' Madeline" and have loved every minute of it. In 1994 we went on our 50th wedding anniversary canoe trip and I announced it was time for me to hang up my paddle. My memories sustain me. They are alive and well.
