IN ONE of his lovely books about the North Country, my old friend Sigurd Olson wrote about what he called the Ross Light. It is that brief period in the evening as the sun goes down, when everything is illuminated in a lambent glow, hints of amber and gold bringing a timeless warmth to any scene—but especially to North Woods shorelines. Pine trunks and rocks and the waters themselves are, for a short time—only moments perhaps—seen in an entirely different light. Literally.