I don't want to imply there is no internet in Minnesota, what I want to imply is there is an inverse proportion from the cooing of the loons to the bandwidth available.  On quick examination you might simply cast this aside and berate the author for even wanting to merge on the world-wide interbues while glassy lake water or crackling fire beckons.  It is true there is simply a time to throw the phone into the water, but rather than pontificate about my Yoda-like awareness of the universe or claim I bonded with the elements I think I'd rather just admit that the whole experience made me realize I am sadly invested, upside down in the virtual world.  I have read Walden at least ten times, so I will be apologizing formally to the estate of Henry David Thoreau.  It is believed old Hank headed out into the woods to isolate himself from society to understand it better, so maybe in a way my internet deprivation chamber called Tamarac Lake, MN might have similar enlightening qualities.

This lake is about 45 minutes from the regional center of the universe, Fargo, ND and it's metropolitan throng of 192,187 (this includes Moorhead, MN both towns straddle the often spring-flooded Red River).  But once you pass Barnesville, Minnesota and it's sign proudly beaming the beginning of Potato Days next weekend the coverage gets spotty as buildings and concrete is replaced by cattails, fields, and meandering cattle.

It is hard to go from being a full time internet content provider and consumer to the monk-like state it takes to sit in a lawn chair and stare across the bright green grass toward the calm water.  This is not aided by the fact that after 5 weeks my modern-era kids also welcomed my arrival with requests to have my phone and tablet for game playing, so for what little information trickled in I was not even able to access because virtual farms needed to be tended and zombies eliminated by forces controlled by those ten or younger.



Eventually everyone settled into lake-time: that aimless drifting of hours with the distant hum of motor boats pulling laughing kids across the water or the plunking of my own kids running off the wooden dock which offers just enough distance from the top of the lake to the bottom to perform all kinds of various dives and cannonballs.

I really only had one day at this lake as it is home of my kids' grandparents on their mother's side, it was only a way-stop before heading to my parent's summer spot along the Mississippi in rural St. Cloud where the online conditions are even more furtive.

It was enough though.  Long enough to realize I have been gone a significant amount of time, that this was an enviable enterprise.  For those of you not from the area, you have to understand that all the big cities empty thousands of people every weekend towing boats and campers to get exactly this, a life less-connected and complicated.  It is a mindset I lost a long time ago, even when I lived up here I was not one of the lake-goers but it is nothing short of a religion and the draw is undeniable.  For many the status updates begging for you to copy and paste this or that, or announcing check-ins here or there can just wait.



That kind of thinking is nothing to poke a stick at.

(The adventure continues in the next post as time away from the river and into a bin of old toys leads my kids to wedding planning)