Today we head north on the Border Route Trail, one of the oldest long hiking trails in the United States. It is much less-well marked than the SHT, but we do have GPS points collected by two other hikers. We are quite confident that with the electronic data we won't have any trouble staying on or near the route. Of course we have good maps and compasses and brains as well, just in case the technology fails us.
Here are the words to a song that isn't as old as the BRT, but the words were published as far back as 1948. It's definitely been tugging at me ever since I learned it, and I hope our group will learn it. Marie and I like to sing, but I don't know about the guys! It's sung to the Irish Tune "The Road to the Isles."
It's the far Northland that's a-calling me away
As take I with my backpack to the road,
It's the call on me of the forest in the North,
As step I with the sunlight for my load.
By Lake Duncan and Clearwater to the Bearskin I will go,
Where you see the loon and hear its plaintive wail,
If you're thinking in your inner heart there's swagger in my step,
You've never been along the Border Trail.
It's the flash of paddle blades a gleaming in the sun,
A canoe softly skimming by the shore,
It's the tang of pine and bracken, coming on the breeze,
That calls me to the waterways once more.
It's the hiss and glide of skis on newly fallen snow,
It's the sparkle of the sun on snow and hoar;
It's the snap and tingle of cold air upon the face
That calls me to the snow-capped peaks once more.
See The Blog Plan for the Arrowhead Hike