Sam Cook Tries to Sleep on the Ground

Canoe trip from Basswood Lake near Ely. Nellie, nine weeks, helping Sam Cook evaluate

a possible site for sleeping on the ground. | SUBMITTED

Cook [CENTER] on a Boy Scout canoe trip, 1964, to the

Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Ontario’s Quetico

Provincial Park. | SUBMITTED Duluth’s David Spencer [LEFT] and Cook await a float

plane pickup on the Winisk River in northern Ontario,

1991. | SUBMITTED

By Eric Chandler

In 2018, Sam Cook retired after 38 years of writing about the outdoors for the Duluth News Tribune (DNT) newspaper. Almost three years later, we asked how it was going.

“There aren’t any days that I wake up and think, ‘Well, what am I going to do today?’ Let’s find the clothes we need and get going, you know?” Cook said. “Here’s how sick I am. I keep track of the number of nights I sleep on the ground every year. This has to be in wild places, it can’t be in your backyard.”

Cook’s earned the right to do what he likes after publishing outdoors articles for the DNT for 1,976 weeks. Starting in 1980, he wrote story after story, week after week, year after year. That is 38 deer season openers, 38 fishing openers and just about everything in between. Cook’s career in outdoor writing is admirable and will be impossible to imitate.

It all started in the small town of Sabetha in the northeast corner of Kansas. Cook was born there in 1948, but his family moved every few years to places like Topeka; Grand Island, Nebraska; and Omaha before finally moving back to Sabetha for high school.

“Dad was kind of always looking for a better situation. We were pretty poor,” Cook said. “It was hard to move that much, but I think in some ways being the new kid over and over again might’ve provided me some strengths that came through when it was time to go out and meet a lot of people and interview them.”

Two important things happened to him as a high school sophomore. First, he met his wife Phyllis. “I was sitting next to her in biology class. And we started dating and never stopped. We were kind of meant to be, I guess,” he said.

And second, that same year of 1964, he made his first trip to the Boundary Waters. “We made a nine-day trip up into the Quetico and all over. To a kid growing up in Kansas...it was just unbelievable,” Cook said. “To hear a loon for the first time. It just about knocked your socks off. The memory of that trip stayed in my mind. Phyllis and I didn’t get back there until ‘73 after we were married. Once we made a trip up there, we started thinking about moving up. We both quit our jobs in Topeka after five years and moved to Ely to work for a canoe outfitter for one summer. And I’m sure our folks thought we were nuts, you know?”

That 1976 foray led to a job working for the Ely Echo newspaper, then a daily newspaper in Longmont, Colorado, and finally the DNT in 1980.

“We wanted to get back to Minnesota,” Cook said.

He listed two big reasons for his plentiful writing opportunities here: increasing outdoor recreation options and Duluth’s spot on the globe. First, the growth in activities.

“If you look at what’s happened over that time period in the outdoors, it was phenomenal. It wasn’t just going to be hunting and fishing. It was going to be paddling and hiking and anything you could do outdoors,” said Cook. “I just decided that was all going to be part of it. And it was going to be male and female and it was going to be young and old. I just wanted it to be very inclusive and I think that’s how we are in the outdoors up here. What’s come on since I started that job with sea kayaking, mountain biking, hiking, the trails; everything just blossomed during that time.”

Second, Cook sang the praises of the region.

“You also had just so many places to go. You could be an outdoor writer in Des Moines or Kansas City or someplace and not have what we have in our backyard

with the North Shore and Lake Superior. I started two years after WLSSD [Western Lake Superior Sanitary District] came online and the St. Louis River got clean and the walleye fishing exploded and then trolling on Lake Superior was really getting cranked up. And you had the Boundary Waters, the Apostles, Isle Royale, Rainy River, all these lakes between here and I Falls and over into Wisconsin, the Brule River and all that history on the Brule. I mean, you just couldn’t ask for a more diverse and fun place to go play outdoors than we had here.”

When asked about his most memorable writing experience, he couldn’t really settle on one: “There’s just too many, I guess.” But, when asked what his most memorable outdoor experience was, Cook didn’t hesitate. He immediately talked about canoe trips to the far north.

“Paddling to Hudson Bay in 1983 on the Gods River was among the really high points,” he said. “It was the first whitewater river we’d ever done. I think that trip was 250 miles. We were gone for a month and on the water for three weeks. And I was doing it for the paper. Everything was new and wild. Big brook trout. Phyllis and I paddled it together and stayed married. [laughs] It was great.”

He talked about several different paddling trips, but circled back to that first one to the Gods River.

“I think I felt as fully alive as I ever feel on one of those trips, any of those trips, and to do the first one with Phyllis. Ken Gilbertson led the trip. I was sitting up in the front of the van with him and everybody else was asleep. Years later, Ken said, ‘I remember us riding back in the middle of the night. And we were up there and just talking and I remember you telling me, Sam, you said, I’m ready to have a kid now.’ And I didn’t even remember saying that.”

Not long after, Sam and Phyllis had a daughter in 1984 and a son in 1990.

At one point during his time with the DNT, Cook had a chance to seek greener pastures with another newspaper in the Twin Cities. He was in correspondence with Irv Benson, a character who lived on a remote island on Saganaga Lake. Cook told Irv he was thinking about “moving on or moving up.” In a typewritten letter, Benson wrote back, “If one has a good readership following in the writing field, and is reasonably free to elaborate on subjects of ones [sic] choice, then to me this could be summarized by saying that one could do what he wants, where he wants, whenever he wants, and even get paid for it. Kind of hard to beat a situation like that, don’t you think?”

Lucky for DNT subscribers, Cook stayed put. “I just didn’t think I could haul our family down there,” he said. “Our kids were young and Phyllis was on board with me, too. We liked raising kids here; no regrets.”

The pressure of writing stories every week is off after 38 years. Having more time gives him perspective on his working life.

“The biggest thing that sticks out for me is, how the heck did I do that for so long?” he said. “I don’t mean to say that I work harder than anybody else works, but I knew in the moment that I was running as hard as I could. Thank goodness that Phyllis was supportive and she was working too, you know.”

Cook had some advice for writers: “If I had one piece of advice, I’d say read novels, nonfiction, whatever. I don’t care, but just read. I guess the other thing I would say is move around, travel some, put yourself in situations where you’re a little bit uncomfortable. Putting yourself outside your comfort zone. It could be on a river going to Hudson Bay, but it could be in Paris, too.”

Cook leaves us with one simple adventure tip. “You can call it a sense of wonder or curiosity or whatever, but you don’t go out looking for cool things to happen, but you go out knowing that cool things could happen every time…I just tell people, just go, just get out. You don’t have to always get out of town. You might watch an owl come down and snag something out of the snow. You never know what you’re going to see, but you aren’t going to see it in the living room. You have to be there. One of my thoughts over the years is just: Get out.”

So, while the rest of us go off to work, Cook will be scouting the countryside for a place to lie down. “I think my high one year was 35 nights sleeping on the ground. I only had 25 last year. And I’m thinking, Sam, I think we can do better than that. [laughs] It’s an arbitrary thing to keep track of. But to me, it’s symbolic of how much time we’re spending in good country…to make sure I’m getting out enough into places that I really value.”

Phyllis and Sam Cook slide their canoe over a drop between lakes on a trip in the Ontario wilderness north of

Lac La Croix. | SUBMITTED

Sam Cook of Duluth holds a walleye he caught on a canoe trip in Ontario’s Quetico Provincial Park. | SUBMITTED

Cook tends the eggs and hash browns on an October 2020 canoe trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area

Wilderness. | SUBMITTED

[TOP LEFT AND RIGHT] Getting creative with sailing positions during the long first crossing. [ABOVE LEFT] I arrived at Little Todd campsite after 40 miles. I had to roll the boat ashore with boat fenders. [ABOVE RIGHT] This was the one time I flipped.

Largest Lake—Tiny Sailboat

photos and story By Matt Graves

Do people discourage you or tell you that you can’t? Sometimes it just takes a small adventure or challenge to avoid other peoples’ limits for you. I’ve lived different for most of my life and the discouragement gets easier to ignore. I started a YouTube channel (Adventures In Reach) because I want you to experience the freedom of living differently, making your own choices, taking healthy risks and trying something new.

If you’re like many of us, you might watch adrenaline sport videos and think that it’s out of your reach, but do you actually want to fly with a wingsuit or do you just need more excitement, challenge and accomplishment? Listen. You can learn the skill. You can gain the knowledge. You can purchase some equipment. The rest of it comes down to you, your mentality, your approach and your drive to make it happen.

I truly believe that with a few experiences added together, you have essentially done everything else. You’ve never been rock climbing? You’ve likely been at height climbing a tree, relied on the rope for a swing, hiked on rocks and relied on others. That’s essentially what rock climbing is, so stop waiting.

I’m not an accomplished sailor, but I do have survival, swimming, rescue and camping training and experience. The Sunfish wasn’t the best model, but it was free and functional. There are no examples of how to pack a Sunfish for a trip because almost nobody else does it, but I figured it out. Remember that everything is impossible until it’s proven possible.

The weeks before I launched to visit the northeast end of Isle Royale, and sail 150 miles over a week on the world’s largest lake, I heard the same lines repeated: “that’s crazy,” “impossible,” “you should take a bigger boat…” I reminded myself of the equipment I had been organizing, the plans I made, my training and experience. I had purposely sailed the boat in 45 mph winds, 5-foot waves, and loaded it for a few weekends of testing. I was ready, whether they believed me or not.

I launched twice from the Grand Portage Marina. The first day offered light winds in the wrong direction that would have extended the 23-mile crossing by several hours. The following morning (8/22/2020), I returned and launched in dense fog with favorable winds. My doubts came in the middle of the crossing. Not from being 11 miles from land. Not from the immensity of the lake and the trip before me. Not from the doubts of others. It was the seasickness. I had never experienced nausea on my Sunfish before. It was the lack of wind and the rolling waves that got to me, and for a half hour I slipped into the water beside my boat to cool down and reduce the rocking.

The wind picked up and I reached the island in about 6.5 hours. The wind was blowing directly where I needed to go and I had been delayed by several days, so after a 23-mile crossing, I continued up Isle Royale’s north shore. Most decisions were made due to safety. The north side of the island is rocky with few places to safely go ashore. Continuing meant I could pass that obstacle with perfect conditions. After 40 miles of sailing in a tiny boat, I had arrived at Little Todd campsite for my first night.

My precautions for the big lake were thought out months in advance. I was wearing long johns under a drysuit, neoprene booties and had a Spot beacon strapped to my arm. My life jacket contained food, flares, a whistle, knife, strobe light, and a GPS. My emergency bag was clipped near me with more signaling devices, a marine radio, neoprene hood and gloves, and additional food. If my boat broke apart and sank, I was ready to float safely until help arrived. I planned for an eight-day trip, but had 13 days off of work and told my supervisor that I wouldn’t return on time unless I could do so safely.

I had never completed a trip quite like this before, but I never felt scared. My comfort zone expanded as I experienced more challenging conditions and realized that the boat could likely handle whatever I could. My first morning the forecast predicted 7-foot waves in the afternoon. I talked to the camera and said: “I better get going

Just a normal day on Lake Superior with spray flying as I pounded through the waves.

Leaving the Grand Portage Marina with all my gear strapped on. I’m paddling out to better wind.

soon because there’s no way a Sunfish is going in 7-foot waves.” The next day I was in swells blocking the horizon. The crests were several feet over my head, but the wind was consistent, the boat stable, and I felt in control. Later that day I rounded the northeast point, sailing against waves that were tall enough to periodically block the wind from my sail. The mast is 15 feet tall, and I’m guessing the waves were about 10 feet. The 7-foot waves weren’t a concern any longer. I still felt in control of the boat and my skill increased. My brain adjusted.

At this point you may be thinking that it had to be scary, and that I was reckless or stupid. But consider for a moment, how many things have previously felt that way to yourself. Driving a car on the highway or in snow, diving to the deep end of a pool, downhill skiing, riding in a plane… When it’s a foreign experience, it seems crazy, but I assure you it was not. Exciting, requiring concentration and forward thinking—yes. I reminded myself of the drysuit, the warm clothes and my emergency bag. I thought about my lifeguard and swiftwater rescue training. I looked at the more welcoming spots on shore and considered how I could ferry my body to them, then ride the back of a wave in. I noticed how the boat sat low and stable, and fit in the trough of the waves. I also remembered how the boat cannot be swamped or sunk unless it breaks in half. The cockpit full of water is only about 15 gallons. The rest of the boat is a sealed chamber with air and foam. I took a deep breath, looked around at the beauty, and chose my direction.

I had some interesting exchanges with others on the island. A group of shipwreck divers thought I was insane, yet during this trip I was most nervous swimming over a shipwreck. A refreshing family sailing a 36-foot sailboat was again astounded that I was circumnavigating on a tiny boat, but I considered docking such a large boat to be more nerve-racking. It again goes back to what your experience has been.

The trip did not go as planned, yet I had accounted for flexibility. I only stayed in one campsite I had listed on my permit. I missed some destination sites and found others. It all turned out well. I was able to visit the Rock Harbor Lighthouse, the Edisen Fishery, a cave, and hike to the Mount Ojibway lookout tower. I met some very welcoming people, heard a moose, and gazed at amazing scenery.

The sailing was challenging as the winds remained high. On my sixth day, the wind was gusting to 35 mph and the seas were building. I waited for much of the morning before setting out in the winds that were supposed to diminish, but didn’t follow the forecast. It was a wild ride. The gusts made it unstable and unpredictable for sailing and the aggressive waves made it difficult to take breaks on shore to eat, pee, or stretch. I sailed against the wind for the last half of the day’s mileage and flipped from a gust only one mile from camp. I had my camera out filming with the drybag open, but managed to keep the opening out of the water, right the boat and make it safely to camp.

The final day included swimming over a shipwreck before making the long crossing back to mainland. The marina owners and campers were relieved I had returned and were overflowing with questions and excitement. It was mentioned the previous couple days, and again at the marina, that I must be the first to sail a Sunfish around Isle Royale. After some checking online, calling the Park Service, and asking around to other boaters I confirmed that I was in fact the first. That certainly wasn’t my intention, but a nice surprise nonetheless.

I encourage you to find your own adventure by looking for new opportunities, consistently saying “yes” to new and interesting things, surrounding yourself with others who challenge you, and allowing yourself to feel out of balance while you build your comfort zone.

If you are interested in seeing the footage from this trip or finding some inspiration and instruction for you own adventures, check out Adventures In Reach on YouTube. Don’t forget to hit the “subscribe” button. Send me a comment sharing your adventure. I’d love to hear about it.