I hadn’t heard of Dorothy Molter when I headed up to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA) for the first time in 2016. Ely Outfitting Company, the tour company I decided to go with, had a “Dorothy Molter Experience” trip, but I didn’t want to go in June during high mosquito season. So I chose their “Women in the Wilderness” trip, run that year in October, instead. After four days full of unforgettable experiences canoeing in the wilderness (including our guide playing her fiddle in the middle of a lake crossing), we were greeted back in Ely with a bottle of Dorothy’s Root Beer.

Though I didn’t know any of the five other people before that first trip, I traveled in the Boundary Waters with four of them again in 2022. Even before we fought the wind to reach our final landing, we were already talking about coming back for another trip, this time visiting the original site of Dorothy Molter’s cabin on Knife Lake. (It has since been moved to Ely, where it’s become a museum.)

I’d had the root beer bearing her name and image a few times, but I didn’t know much about Dorothy until I saw The Root Beer Lady at the History Theater in St. Paul with Jill, one of the women I’d canoed with in the BWCA. Dorothy Molter was training to be a nurse in Chicago when she first visited the Boundary Waters in 1930 and fell in love with the place. She lived there from 1934 to 1986, becoming the last non-indigenous resident as, over time, the nation’s definition of wilderness changed.

I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I’ve been fascinated with the show Alone, where contestants are dropped off in the wilderness alone (most often in remote locations in Canada, shortly before winter) and must stick it out longer than the rest to win $500,000 (or $1 million, depending on the season). The extent that we depend on modern conveniences–and other people–quickly becomes clear. As does people’s ingenuity and determination when they’re on their own.

The Root Beer Lady, written and performed by Kim Schultz, was a one-woman show, though she also occasionally played the roles of Dorothy’s father (Cap), Bill Berglund (original owner of the Isle of Pines Resort), a reporter, Dorothy’s sister Ruth, her neighbor Bennie, a visitor from the government, and a few animals. With the play’s limited cast of characters, the title a reporter once bestowed on her–“the Loneliest Woman in America”–seemed apt, despite her protestations about the thousands of people camping, fishing, and canoeing in the Boundary Waters who visited her (and bought her homemade root beer) each year.

However, when I later read Root Beer Lady by Bob Carey, some of the main source material for the play, it became clear how many people supported Dorothy, especially as various methods of transportation–motorized boats, float planes, and snowmobiles–were banned in the wilderness and the only way to reach her home was by canoe (with many portages) or by snowshoe when everything froze. As she became older and was no longer able to manage in the wilderness as she once had (she was almost 80 when she died), she had a dedicated group who made sure she had what she needed, “Dorothy’s Angels.”

I felt disappointed by the reality of the situation, and it took me a while to figure out why. A few weeks back, the Swedish word of the day via The Local was ensamhet, or loneliness. Jag bor ensam means “I live alone,” which is true for over 40% of the Swedish population–and for me. I think what I was looking for in Dorothy was a role model for being happy living alone, far away from even her nearest neighbors. A number of years ago, I’d tried to find something similar in May Sarton, who celebrated living alone in her memoir Journal of a Solitude. Swedes may celebrate independence, saying, “ensam är stark,” or “alone is strong,” but that doesn’t mean it’s fun.

Coming at it from another angle, I’ve read books and articles that explode the myth of the solitary genius, which are reassuring in some ways and maddening in others. Yes, certain egotistical folks wouldn’t have gotten as far as they have without the (often unacknowledged) community around them, but at the same time they had a community around them. Which isn’t true for everyone, or at least not as true as we’d like it to be. While I’m not the loneliest woman in America, that’s not a competition I want to be doing as well in as I am.

What is your favorite art relating to loneliness?

Reading: Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places by Colin Dickey
Listening: Journaling with Nature podcast (I was recently reminded about this podcast when I skimmed through Create Naturally by Marcia Young)
Drinking: Grasshopper tea (chocolate and mint flavors) from TeaSource