"Let me ride through the wide open country that I love; don't fence me in. Let me be by myself in the evening breeze, listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees. Send me off forever, but I ask you please: don't fence me in."

- Cole Porter

I went out for a run a few weeks ago to a place we often go: the Middlesex fells reserve. Straddling I-93, this park serves as the home to the Winchester water supply. Getting out there is no walk in the park. At level one, it takes a good 45 minutes across the asphalt expanses of Somerville and Medford. The run back to Cambridge is arguably nastier, as the pavement's less forgiving the second time around. But that doesn't really matter. To be honest, I'm not sure what satisfies me more: crunching over the trails paved with pine-needles, or flagrantly disregarding all trespassing signs. After a while, I actually found some comfort in them. They were some kind of reliable companion, but a non-intrusive one. Beyond that, there were just trees. And a lake. And me. And it was good.

One can imagine, then, how liberating it was to be in the boundary waters of Minnesota. I felt like a prisoner on a conjugal visit: the release was indescribable and over before I knew it. If anyone's looking for a good workout, I would suggest 5 hours of sustained paddling with some half-mile treks carrying a canoe on your shoulders. It's surprisingly easy when you have views like these:

Chris