When the Lakewalk isn't a Lakewalk anymore

Everyone, I mean everyone, loves Duluth's Lakewalk.Except maybe Duluth's millionaire crowd.

It's been almost 20 years now since the first stretch of it was built along the renovated shoreline of Canal Park. Tourists flood it in the summer. Locals beam with pride when they bring their out of town friends down for a stroll. Kids cruise it in strollers, with training wheels, and finally on their own, as far ahead of their parents as they dare.

Here's an image from this afternoon. If you look closely, you'll see people on the Lakewalk and in the water.

Now there's more of the Lakewalk to love. With the new extension, it's 3.9 miles of paved bike trail from the Marine Museum in Canal Park to the end of the trail at 36th Ave. E., in Duluth's Congdon neighborhood. The easiest way to get on the new section is to park behind the Holiday store on London Road and 26th Ave. E, just off the terminus of I-35.

But it's not exactly, shall we say, a "Lake" walk anymore.

I guess we should have known that the huge mansions along London Road are owned by folks who wouldn't take kindly to eminent domain seizure of their shoreline property so that the masses could continue their route along the shore. So about thirteen years after the last extension of the Lakewalk to London Road at 28th Ave. (or so), the newest extension opened just a few weeks back...and it runs inland, not on the lake.

Actually, just as with the rest of the Lakewalk, it parallels the railroad tracks:


The new extension adds about 0.8 miles. So it's not on the Lake, but it's still used more by walkers than bikers. And there's a scenic new bridge over Tischer Creek:


Like any facial tissue is Kleenex, and any self-adhesive bandage is a Band-Aid, any stretch of trail in eastern Duluth is a Lakewalk. Get out there and discover the new stretch for yourself.

2008 minigolf challenge comes to an end

It was a glorious season of golf for the Slade/Rauschenfels family.


We kicked it off with spring training in the desert Southwest. Sally discovered her inner golf champion on the "Optical Delusion" course in Scottsdale. She tried to fool us with the "How do you grip this thingie?" ruse, but her final scores gave her away. Final preseason ranking: 1) Dad 2) Mom 3) Hans 4) Noah


The North Shore golf season got underway for real in July, with a round at the cool new "GolfN Stuff" course in Grand Marais. It was July 4, we'd just escaped from the bugs at Sawbill Lake, and the competition was as fierce as the mosquitoes. The course is spread along a hill, so there was all sorts of terrain to challenge our clubs. This place was a total tourist magnet, with the added bonus of a climbing wall. But what is it about mini golf and the letter N? The vowels always disappear, like Toys R Us for the sporty set. Too many "i"s around the "n" in Mini? Should we call it Putt Putt golf instead?


The tunnel was a highlight.
Finish: 1) Dad 2) Mom 3) Hans 4) Noah


Noah and I took a boring summer day and made the most of it with a trip to FarPar, a very rustic golf center on the north edge of Duluth. The course was in awful shape. The astroturf was either worn thin or flopping up in ripples, so putting became a huge challenge.
Finish: 1) Dad 2) Noah


The grand conclusion (at least so far) was at Ely's new "Puttn in the Pines." WHAT HAPPENED TO THE VOWEL?? Note the poodle in the car parked at the curb. Chloe really wanted to practice her "paw"-ting, but we didn't let her. It was a vicious round, with lots of holes-in-one and a few holes-in-one-dozen. This was our first encounter with the classic spinning windmill and a mean set of spinning bowling pins.
Finish: 1) Dad, 2) Mom, 3) Hans, 4) Noah.

Yes, I am the champion, my friends.

Watch out...he's gonna jump!!

When my boys were little, I couldn't stay close enough to them to ensure that if they fell climbing on a rock, I'd be there to catch them. I'd take a bullet for them, so to speak.

One of the biggest thrills of young man-hood is cliff jumping. As our older son Hans roars past boyhood through his tween years and almost a teenager now, he's discovering his own thrills...and I'm learning to let go.

We discovered a great jumping spot on Tofte Lake, just off the Fernberg Road east of Ely. Tofte Lake is amazingly clear, and it has this one campsite right across from the boat landing with a terrific introductory jumping rock. The clear water makes it easy to scope out the landing zone for rocks, sticks, and other things that should give a father anxiety.



And then he's in the water, and everything is alright.


Fatherhood...life's lessons learned in leaps and bounds.

Hanging in Ely

To both of my loyal readers, who may be wondering about my next North Shore adventure, I just wanted to say I'm alive and well in the North Woods, hanging in Ely, hiking, canoeing, sleeping in.

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

If an adventure occurs, but there is no cable to connect the digital camera to the computer to post the photo to the blog, did it really happen?

I'll leave it at that.

North Shore plants...but in Montana!

As a North Shore naturalist, I have often explained how thimbleberries are found all around Lake Superior...and nowhere else in the eastern US. I tell folks that you have to go to the wetter western slopes of the Rockies to find thimbleberries again. So I was thrilled to find some of those huge leaves and delicious berries somewhere else---west! This is a geeky nature concept, but stick with me on it.

After three days of hiking at treeline in the Beartooth Mountains and on their dry eastern slope, Sally and I did a hike up Pine Creek, on the wetter western slope of the nearby Absorakas. Western slopes catch the moisture coming off the Pacific Ocean. And a parade of familiar plants had me feeling right at home. Not only thimbleberry, but also giant cow parsnip, wild rose, and these familiar fruits:

Not exactly Minnesota blueberries, but Montana huckleberries. Here's the plant itself with a berry:

As a naturalist, I'm always tossing out fun facts, some of which I only know from books. It's particularly nice to confirm what I've only read with real-life experiences like this!

I hate my dog...isn't she CUTE?

I hate our poodle, Chloe.

She's a standard poodle, supposedly. But she's small for her breed, the runt of the litter and nowhere near as "fun" and "loving" as poodles are supposed to be. I call her a sub-standard poodle. My friend Lisa Johnson of KUMD wanted a label here for Chloe...here's her first AND ONLY post, just for you Lisa.

Here's Little Miss Prissy-Pants and I at Artists Point in Grand Marais:


Sure, she's adorable, until she eats your coin purse or your watchband. If she likes you, and finds anything that smells like you, she destroys it.

Yeah, we had some fun this spring checking hiking trails, when she gets to run off leash because no one else is out mid-week in May. And after a long hot hike at Split Rock Lighthouse State Park, it was sort of cute the way she drank up half of Little Two Harbors Bay.

Now, if we ever wanted to leave home as a family, we have to ask "What about the dog??" And darn it all if she doesn't enjoy the outing, the hike, the party. And it's pretty cute the way she sleeps so solidly after a five mile hike, wittle doggie dweams and all.

Aren't you a good girl now, aren't you??!!

I saw three ships come sailing in...

On a perfect summer afternoon, three tall ships sailed into Duluth to kick off the maritime festival. It was one of those "I love Duluth" days. If I didn't live here already, I would have been talking to real estate agents before I left town. But as the picture suggests, we live here already and were swimming in the luscious water as the ships came in.

I love that feeling of being in the water with something magnificent. Chemistry tells us that a body of water is fundamentally one long string of connected water molecules. So as we're in that water with those tall ships, we're very nearly touching those ships, even though they were 2000 feet away.

The ships had been gathering far off shore all afternoon, waiting for their planned arrival time.

Then at 4:00-ish, right on schedule, they lined up and came, full sails a-flying, through the Duluth ship canal. "Little" Schooner Madeline led the parade. The "Pride of Baltimore 2" set off its cannon when it reached the piers. The US Brig Niagara, not to be outdone, set off its cannon too when it hit the piers...suffice to say, the bigger the ship, the bigger the cannon.

Yeah okay, I love Duluth. The crowds in Canal Park were super bad with the ships in port, but we expect that anyway, part of the price of living here. This could be a great annual event.

Putting me in my place

In my selfless quest to find all the North Shore has to offer, to find every view of that blue horizon, to experience those unique activities, and to share these experiences with the public, I bring you, my reader, the fourteenth green of Duluth's Northland Country Club and my finely-practiced putt.

(Get that title??..."PUTT-ing...ME...in MY place")

Okay, so this was my first time actually playing golf on a golf course in over 30 years. I've gone sliding on golf courses, skied on golf courses, picked blueberries right off of fariways, ate at some clubhouses, but never actually played. Until this summer, when I was talking with a friend about public golf courses around NE Minnesota and how they are these great open spaces that average Joes like me can't experience. This friend happens to be an active golfing member of Northland Country Club, which happens to be one of the best and most sought-after courses in Minnesota. And much to my surprise, he invited me to play. That's a bit like asking me to pinch hit at the World Series.

The photo was taken by my friend Duke Skorich, who is embarrassingly good. He finished the day three over. Check out his Northland Country Club blog.

As I explained to my kids, when they asked me how I did, "Well, par is 71. I finished at 75...over par." Actually I lost count on about the eighth stroke of the third hole.

The most memorable single stroke was the one I hit off the second tee, which zoomed down into a draw forty yards away, struck a rock, and bounced right back to the tee.

So for all of you not as quirkily lucky as me, I can tell you it was beautiful...and hot. And at the next hole, #15, where the view down the fairway is even better than the green of #14...I totally nailed my drive right down the middle. Many many thanks to Duke for sharing his course and his knowledge of the game.

What's old is new again

Grand Portage is one of the oldest settlements in Minnesota, with Ojibway people living there for at least 500 years and a fascinating blend of European and native cultures since the 1700s. Visitors this summer will enjoy some new and meaningful ways to experience this history.

The National Monument has totally reoriented their entrance. The old parking lot on the northeast side of the stockade is blocked off and is regrowing native vegetation. The new entrance is on the west side of the stockade, and goes through the new heritage center.

The new Heritage Center at Grand Portage appears to be a tremendous new interpretive resource. I say "appears to be," because after a brutal hike to Mt. Josephine, we lost our energy to explore the facility. But I could see into the exhibit area and it looked terrific. You do have to pay the Monument entry fee to take in the exhibits.

One super cool new option this summer is a guided tour of the Spirit Little Cedar Tree, or "Witch Tree." Access to this North Shore landmark has been tightly controlled by the band and the community. Now, every Saturday and Sunday, you can sign up for a free 3:00 tour. Sign up by 2:30 at the Heritage Center. I recommend doing it now, before the program gets changed.

Go next weekend (August 8-10) for the annual Rendezvous Days. This is a combination of Grand Portage's annual Pow Wow and a big fur trade encampment at the Monument grounds.

Summer's color ride

There's a famous expression about hurried group travel through Europe..."If it's Tuesday, this must be Paris." We get so busy in our lives we lose track of where we are. As summer 2008 flies by, I am surprised and grounded not by my itinerary but by the colors of summer. In a very rough version of botany, North Shore wildflower colors have their own itinerary, from the whites of the earliest spring ephemerals to the yellows of goldenrods in August.

So if it's the white and yellow of daisies, this must be somewhere just past mid-summer. These daisies are right on the shore of Grand Portage Bay. And if we really are rolling past mid-summer now, I get a little blue. Or a little blue-grey like the hazy fog of Grand Portage Bay. The weeks are going way too fast, the colors of summer are a blur.

What colors do I have to look forward to yet this summer? These Hat Point thimbleberries will turn from green to a delicious red within weeks. Fireweed is blooming hard in the ditches, the one great run of purple. There's that one last camping/hiking trip coming up, amidst the blue asters. There will be that delicious week at the cabin, with the rich yellow of goldenrod again ruling the meadows. Then of course there will be the color landmarks of fall in the North Shore woods.

The highest place ON the North Shore

We hiked to the top of Mount Josephine today, up at Grand Portage. It's a very steep climb on a poorly maintained trail, so the challenge of getting there almost overwhelmed Sally and me. Ten hours later now and I'm still woozy from the muggy heat.

The trail had been recommended in the Falcon Press "Hiking Minnesota" book as well as numerous fliers and the Grand Portage Lodge visitor guide. So I was surprised by how hard it was to find the trailhead. Also, the trail itself really hadn't been maintained this year or, it seems, for years before. Where trees had fallen across the trail, the path had simply been worn around. Plus it seemed like no single map or trail guide had accurate distance measurements. The sign above? It was actually about .75 miles to the summit.

The trail uses long switchbacks to climb to a saddle, then crashes up the rocky outcrops to the summit. The actual peak of this trail was an ancient stone foundation, probably a firetower, with no real view. But a few steps off the trail, the view was gorgeous. Straight out across Wauswoganing Bay to Pigeon Point, the Susie Islands, even a hazy blur of Isle Royale.

I felt as if I could throw a rock off the summit all the way to Lake Superior. There are a number of peaks equally high (around 1300 feet above sea level) along the North Shore, but none that are this close. In fact, I did a little work on Google Earth and figured it was a 700 feet rise from the lake over only 1300 feet distance. No, I couldn't have thrown a rock that far, but compared to Carlton Peak or Oberg Mountain, this was right there ON the shore. A well-built paper airplane could have made it easily.

It was a tough hike and I really would hesitate to recommend it over Carlton or Oberg because of the overall difficulty, but if you find yourself in Grand Portage, maybe for Rendezvous Days in August, check it out! The total trail is 1.2 miles to the summit, for 2.4 miles total, taking 1.5-2 hours.

The lake is back

I've been up and down the North Shore this summer, including a beautiful day (above) on top of Corundum Point at Split Rock SP. But it wasn't until yesterday when walked out on our backyard Park Point Lake Superior beach and realized: the lake is up!

This big lake, always changing, but always the same. It's like an old friend, and how Simon and Garfunkel sang, "After changes upon changes, we are more or less the same." Sure, go off and try a new look, a new attitude, a new water level, but I know you'll be back, basically the same dynamic person...or lake... I've come to know and love.

In just one year, the Lake Superior water level has returned almost to normal. Lake level is 15 inches higher than July 2007. Of course it's been a gradual rise, but something about the lake yesterday made the change really hit me.

If you're into numbers and climate stuff, check out the Minnesota Climatology Working Group and their monthly newsletter. They go into all the detail statewide of increased precipitation, etc.

But for me, it's just a relief to see the water up where it should be. It was discomforting to have the North Shore shoreline so changed, so exposed. My rowing friends were sick of dodging logs and sandbars in the Duluth harbor. We need all the wake-up calls we can get about climate change and the warmer, drier North Shore that awaits us. But it's also comforting to have some constants in my life, for now. Old friends...they always come back.

Thrills up high, thrills down low

Which was the bigger thrill today? Fast loud and airborne, or slow quiet and earthbound?

Was it going to the Duluth air show, with jets screaming by at the, amazing acrobatics, trails of smoke, huge crowds, lines for the funnel cakes, then getting rained out just after the Blue Angels?


Or was it heading to the Park Point beach, just my wife and my nephew, after the rain stopped and the skies had begun to clear, and seeing...what is that?...a snapping turtle on the beach??!! Big one, at least two feet from tip to tail, wallowing in and out of the surf, completely out of its habitat.

I didn't go to the air show (my son took the picture), but I did see the turtle.

Maybe the biggest thrill of all was had by this guy:

When up high and down low all come together and he caught that perfect wave.

The turtle couldn't fly, and it was a lousy surfer. It was heartwrenching for me to see it flounder in the waves, so out of place in the big lake. But I wasn't about to carry it myself, fearing for my fingers. Did it flush down a South Shore river, maybe the Amnicon? When the waves settle down, will it wander across Park Point and reach the safety of the harbor?

New North Shore nook

McQuade Harbor, about halfway between Duluth and Two Harbors along Old Highway 61, celebrated its grand opening today. After decades of planning for North Shore harbors, and after some intense civic disputes in the last ten years, the finished product is there, very solid, large and real.

I walked away from the big white tent with all the muckity-mucks and the speechifying to tour the site. There is serious engineering at McQuade... not only does the boat ramp go under Old 61, there's also a pedestrian tunnel under the road. The parking lot is huge and was nearly full today with cars for the big event. The bathrooms even have running water.

I'm not a boater. I opposed this project in print when I used to do a monthly environmental column. But now that it's here, how can a non-motorboater make the most of it?

Two guys I knew were already out in sea kayaks...those are my people. Dudley said the kayak launch was a little rough and he was glad they had plastic boats. But there was a ramp just for walk-down launches like kayaks. I recall that the kayaking along this stretch is rather unspectacular, with mostly low beaches and mini-cliffs. For me, it's a nice stretch to paddle close to shore.

A walkway rings the eastern half of the harbor, out past some docks and then out into the breakwall. Not a hike, but not a bad place to get out of the car before hitting Lakeview Castle, Nokomis or the Scenic Cafe for dinner.

The tunnel under Old 61 reminds me of the underpass in the Harry Potter movie "Order of the Phoenix" where the dementors came after Harry and Dudley. Just needed some flickering lights, and a good cold depressing fog off the lake.

So it's a nice spot for a stop on your way up the shore. There are cool cement benches along the outside of breakwall for shorecasting that could be spectacular (and very wet) in a good northeast blow. But it's worth a stop on a sunny or stormy day to see the lake from another perspective. Check it out!

Reading the Rapids

If you can't go on an adventure, the next best thing might be reading about the adventure. So on rainy city days in Duluth I'm reading about rainy river days in Italy, thanks to Tim Parks' 2005 novel Rapids.

A group of English river kayakers heads for the Italian Alps for a week of whitewater training on the Aurino River, with an idealistic British instructor Clive and his Italian friend Michela. Themes of global warming and Third World debt run through the story (believe it or not).

What captured me wasn't the romance or the politics, but the whitewater and how Vince (one of the main characters) grows in response to the challenge of the river, the paddle, and the boat. Here's a quick excerpt from the page I'm on now:

"Then there was the downward rush of the stream. With extraordinary vividness, Vince was in it again. He was shooting down into the rapid. He felt the acceleration of the plunge. I want to do it again, he realised. If I could. That rapid, those impossible manoeuvres. The speed and wrenching when he dug in his paddle, the icy foam and the slam of the rock on his helmet and the wild slewing and turning to the limit of control and beyond. I want to do that again. I want to do that again!"

Here's a guy my age or a bit older being overcome by a new physical challenge...and thriving. I've had just enough whitewater experience myself to know a bit of the feeling, but I've never gotten much past the scared silly part.

I got the book through Interlibrary Loan since the Duluth Public Library doesn't have it. You can also get it supercheap used through Amazon.

The importance of good grooming

This photo shows the Summit Ledges Trail at Hawk Ridge in Duluth, this morning. Tall grasses and wildflowers have reached their summer peak of growth. It's time to groom. I love trails. I think the act of building a hiking trail for public use is one of the most noble things you can do. Unfortunately, hiking trails need more than just one construction season. They need regular brushing and maintenance.

In the winter, I follow the work of ski trail groomers as closely as I follow the chocolate chip supply in our cupboard at home. It's really important to me that the trails are groomed within a day or two after snowfalls. Summer hiking trail maintenance isn't nearly as frequent; one brushing may be all they need. But when they don't get it by mid-July, it's rough hiking for the next three months in those scenic open ridges until the grass dies back on its own. At Hawk Ridge, the trails today were hard to follow and easy to lose, especially at intersections.

Fortunately, a Duluth parks trail crew, led by the super-able Judy Gibbs, was out on the trails at Hawk Ridge already that day. A freshly brushed hiking trail is almost as attractive as a freshly-groomed ski trail. If the trail builders are nobililty, the trail brushers are gods.

Trail grooming concerns aside, here's what I really like about the Hawk Ridge trails. Open bedrock, a clear paint arrow pointing the way, dramatic lake views. When the hawks are rolling through in the fall, these trails are abuzz with people and kettles of birds. Today it was me and the rock and the overgrown grass.

Okay, I get the message

I hiked the Superior Hiking Trail from the Stewart Creek area to the Castle Danger area today. For those like me who navigate the North Shore by pie shops, that's basically from Betty's Pies to the Rustic Inn.

It's a five to six mile hike through some nice rugged country, but virtually the entire hike has these signs along the way that say, in essence, "Stay on the trail, loser."

Some are official. Signed by the Encampment caretaker, this one made me know I should STAY ON THE TRAIL.





Some are specific. No camping, no fires...but how about a polka party...ON THE TRAIL?






And some appeal to your better nature. I couldn't quite figure out what the sensitive area the sign referred to as I walked carefully ON THE TRAIL.





There's about a full mile of the trail with no trespassing signs on both sides of the trail; the trail exactly follows a property line around the edge of the Encampment Forest Association. It's beautiful but a little creepy, hiking the gauntlet of these signs. When I finally got to a section without these signs, I stepped off the trail to sit on a nice rock with a view of the valley below. Then I lit a fire, put up my tent, and got all insensitive. No, no...I got back ON THE TRAIL.

To go where you've never gone

Ever heard of Artists Point in Grand Marais? I had. I knew where it was. I knew how to get there. I knew people liked it. Heck, I could even tell you its geological origins and its obscure land ownership. But had I really been there? No.

Fourth of July was family tourist day in Grand Marais, for us and for another 500 families at least. We had just escaped the horrid blackflies of Sawbill. After a nice stop at the Cutface Creek wayside rest southwest of town, we headed for the East Bay beach for a picnic lunch. Then, on a whim, I took my bug-wary family the 200 yards out to Artists Point.

First sign of something cool are the porta-potties, perched right above the gravel beach of the East Bay, these are among the most scenic porta-potties I've ever seen. Already, you can "go" where you've never "gone" before. But it gets way better.

After the scenic outhouses, you get out on the point itself. What a cool spot! I love open ledgerock shoreline, it reminds me of slickrock in Utah. But what makes Artists Point super cool is the breakwall itself, that starts as low bits of concrete wall stitched into the bedrock and winding past splash pools. I love natural landscapes, but I find a bit of human artifact...a trail, a lighthouse, a kayak...can make the whole thing more beautiful.

Anyway, those places you've never been but go by often? Go...explore...be a tourist in your own backyard, or right off of your own commute. Go where you've never gone before.

Thimbleberries in bloom

Thimbleberries. It sounds like the friendly neighbor family in some British kid novel "Say there, Rufous, go and see if the Thimbleberries would like to come for tea."

But here by Lake Superior, thimbleberries are one of the secret pleasures of a North Shore summer, along with skinny dipping in August, the cry of glorious herring gulls (not the dorky ring-billed) and the smell of wet lichen on the ledgerock.

The thimbleberry flower is this huge fragile white bloom, like tissue paper cut carefully out in perfect patterns by a woodland fairy, then laid out just so onto the wide maple-shaped leaves. The blooms only last until the next wind or rain storm. I don't know what bird or insect does the pollination, but they have to act quickly.

The photo above is from my parents' driveway in Little Marais. The thimbleberry is found all around the shores of Lake Superior...and basically nowhere else in the eastern US. Like its blooming buddy tall lungwort, it's a disjunct. How cool is that? A plant that needs Lake Superior, for cool, for moist air. The only other place as moist and cool are the mountains of the Pacific Northwest.

The End of the World, the beginning of the World Wide Web

Just a quick news note here: Minnesota's own Itasca State Park is adding Wi-Fi service.

After our bug-ridden debacle at Sawbill Lake campground, I actually piqued Noah's interest in more camping by mentioning that the Grand Marais RV Park and Campground has Wi-Fi (plus a swimming pool) so we could camp there for some of our last Hiking Club trails...

ARGH! Camping in the bugs

I always forget, and then I always remember, how bad it can be to camp in June or July in northern Minnesota. The bugs can be truly devastating, especially if there are kids along for the trip.

In a fit of camping frenzy, I packed up my two boys, Hans and Noah, along with my nephew Cormac, for what was to be a two-night camping trip on the edge of, and into, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. But this is last week. July 1. Being a total camping smarty pants, I planned to arrive early/mid-week, to ensure getting a good campsite.

We headed up the Sawbill Trail to Sawbill Lake and the very nice campground there. The Sawbill campground is a Superior National Forest campground with 50-plus sites. It was an easy pick to list as a top 23 North Shore campground in our book Camping the North Shore. It's beautiful and piney, with ten really primo sites on a bluff about Sawbill Lake itself and most of the rest in beautiful white and red pines. Sawbill Outfitters is right next door, with camping equipment, a small store, even canoes to rent.

Much to my surprise, Sawbill now takes reservations on about half the sites, through www.recreation.gov. So all of the lakeshore sites, with their potential bug-blowing breezes, were either occupied (no surprise) or reserved (big surprise). We drove the loop and picked the nicest remaining available campsite, number 45, with tall pines and the coolest climbing rock in the campground.

It only took a few minutes after arrival for the insects to find us. And to focus on us.

The boys were troopers, standing for the bug repellent spray, helping get the tent up, but as soon as the tent was up they were in it. Wondering what that sound of rain on the tent roof is? Black flies inside the tent or between the tent body and rain fly.

The day was saved briefly by a trip to the lakeshore to get into the westerly breeze and swim. But eventually it was back to the campsite for a buggy dinner, a first try of a mosquito rigging for 2-3 kids, then a second retreat to the tent.

Black flies during the heat and humidity of the day, mosquitoes by the dusk of evening. Oh, and a great rumbling thunderstorm in the night.

After a visit the next day from Cormac's parents (my sister Helen and her husband Joe), I staged a strategic retreat. Instead of Night #2 in the awful bug-ness, we headed down to the North Shore itself, where we would find fewer bugs.

THDUNK! That's my palm hitting my forehead. Geez, why didn't I think of how bad the bugs can be in July?

The Hiking Club challenge continues

Early this summer, I challenged my two sons, Hans and Noah, to hike every Hiking Club Trail in every North Shore state park, from Jay Cooke to Grand Portage. We did the third of the eight trails today, at Split Rock Lighthouse State Park, and it was a doozy!

I really can't imagine how the boys still tolerate this. I am a total dork out on the trail, with layers of gadgets around my neck and shoulders. I GPS every trail, I photograph the most bizarre things, and I'm writing notes as I go. Plus I wear the clothes of El Dorko himself, including a floppy wide-brimmed hat that the boys used to wear for their cowboy Halloween costumes. I must look like the Park Ranger from Dweebland. Fortunately, Sally came along today.


The first third or so of the hike was pretty fun. The Split Rock shoreline is so much more than the light-house...it's one secluded cove after another, separated by dramatic, climbable headlands. Here's Hans scouting out the upcoming trail.

But much of the trail is ski trail in the winter, which makes it wide, grassy and sometimes wet now in the summer.

For the middle third of the Hiking Club Trail route, the ski trail kind of goes on and on, through a lot of dead and dying birch. Then the last third, as we did the loops, was on the wide, paved Gitchi Gami bike trail, which was absolutely no fun in the midday heat and sun. I had anticipated this and we had stashed bikes by the Split Rock River; Hans, Noah and Sally rode the rest of the trail while El Dorko hiked it.

Three trails down, five to go...that's almost halfway!

The Lupine are blooming

Come to the North Shore for the colors! No, not the fall show of red and orange, but the early summer show of purple, pink and blue. The lupines are at their peak right now, all along Highway 61, and it's gorgeous.

This photo was taken from the passenger seat of the car as we cruised back from a hike at Split Rock today.

I've heard some folks say that the lupine is their favorite North Shore wildflower. I can see why. Old fishermen's homesteads are ringed by them. They are virtually untransplantable and difficult to grow in a Twin Cities garden.

Of course, they aren't a native flower, but who cares? In lupine season, it feels like we're all native.

A break from the boys

Don't get me wrong, I love hiking with the boys. All else being equal, I'd rather hike with someone else than hike alone. But sometimes I just gotta go. So yesterday I just went, up to the Two Harbors area to scout two potential hikes for the upcoming hiking book.

I'm looking for new hikes, not the same old same old, not the ones that have been in other hiking guidebooks. And I found two good ones.

First is this new set of trails north and west of Two Harbors, in the Lake County Demo Forest.

The trail itself is fairly typical, with no great views and basic Superior Hiking Trail style construction. What puts it over the top though is a very nice interpretive guidebook, keyed to numbered signs around the trails.There are four loops, all intertwined; combining them all you get about a 3.2 mile hike. The guidebook goes into history, ecology, forest management and more.


The next "hike" was from the Burlington Bay camp-ground around Lighthouse Point, connecting the two "bays" of Two Harbors (Burlington and Agate).

It turns out that the Sonju Trail is just the beginning. The wide gravel or paved path is nice for kids on bikes or the elderly with strollers. But for the adventurous hiker, the official path is just an excuse to get to the unofficial, unmaintained trail right above the lakeshore...or to reach the breakwater with its wide surface inviting a stroll right out into Lake Superior.

The North Shore state park hiking club trail challenge picks up again this Thursday, with a multiple use attempt on the Split Rock Lighthouse State Park trail...one of the longest Hiking Club trails in the state!

Hiking Club trail #2, done!

The Slade boys family challenge continues, this time joined by the extended family. Hans, Noah and I conquered the Tettegouche State Park Hiking Club Trail, the very fine outing to Shovel Point. We invited my brother George and his extended family along, including cousins Juliet and Laura and partner Stephanie and her two boys Milan and Amory. The picture here is of the whole clan at the cool platform at the end of the trail, at the exposed and weathered tip of Shovel Point itself.

Hiking with a full crew like this is completely different from one of my solo sprints out from the Gunflint Trail. I'd forgotten how much work and how much fun a three-year-old can be. Good thing I brought a first aid kit and water for the little one. He tried running down the trail, but ended up with a good bloody knee bash.

The Hiking Club booklet says the hike is 2.0 miles long. My GPS said otherwise, around 1.3 miles total, or about 0.65 to the tip of Shovel Point.

But at 1.3 miles...is it a hike? Well, for a three-year old it was a challenge, but for me the challenge was mostly crowd management. We started with the rambunctious poodle on a leash, but that was just too much, so she and I sprinted back to the parking lot and she stayed in the car.

The Shovel Point trail has terrific views up and down the shore, including a number of very pleasant viewing platforms. A lot of the trail is boardwalk or wooden steps, to prevent damage to the fragile vegetation. Maybe not a hike, but still a fun outing. Just bring enough Band-Aids.

One down, seven or more to go

I've laid down the challenge to Hans and Noah: Hike the "Hiking Club" trails in all the North Shore state parks, from Jay Cooke to Grand Portage. This summer. 

With some grumping and a bit of grinning, we've finished one already. Two days back, on Saturday June 14th, we hiked the Silver Creek Trail at Jay Cooke State Park. First though, we stopped at the visitor center and picked up the official Hiking Club fanny packs and club handbook. 

The Hiking Club is actually a pretty cool gimmick. Each of the state's state parks has one trail designated as the Hiking Club trail. Most are in the 1.5-3.o mile range. They may not be the most popular trails, but they generally are very nice hikes. Many are loop trails. You follow "Hiking Club Trail" signs from the trailhead through any intersections. Somewhere along the trail, a sign is posted with the "password." The password is typically some rock or bird or flower or fish that is symbolic of the park or the trail. 

When you finish the hike, you write the password in your handbook, along with the miles. Then you start to add up the miles. At 25 miles, you bring your handbook in to a park staff person, they check your passwords and miles, and if all is in order you get a 25-mile patch and sticker. The stickers and patches go all the way up to 200 miles. 

The Silver Creek Trail is a ski trail in the winter. That's an immediate red flag for me. Ski trails tend to be wide, grassy and muddy. And sure enough, this one was all that, in spades. And some early mosquitoes were buzzing. 

Muddy: so much for Hans' new white sneakers. 

Buggy: Not awful, but who needed it?

A family group that left on the trail soon before us came sloshing back at us, the 3-4 year olds pointing back down the trail and saying "Don't go that way!"

In retrospect, this is definitely not one of Jay Cooke's best trails, at least not in spring and summer. There are very few views, and the trail bed is consistently wide and often wet. The trail does take you right by an amazing "grove" of yellow ladyslippers. 

And unfortunately, as the first hike of the great challenge, it set a poor precedent. Maybe tomorrow we'll do the Shovel Point trail at Tettegouche.

Oh, and by the way, Noah said he'd find a way to post the passwords on line so others don't have to suffer like he did. I forbade it, but kids are smarter about this than I am!

Be afraid...be very very afraid

...that you will lose your favorite North Shore campsite. As of this week, Minnesota state parks are taking reservations for campsites a full calendar year in advance. It used to be 90 days. Now, if you really have to have that terrific site by the beach at Temperance River State Park for Memorial Day 2009, reserve it now.

The reservation website is here. 

Do it. Do it now!

Escape from Lake Superior

A big old lake wind kicked in overnight off of Lake Superior, plunging all of Duluth back into a familiar spring feeling. Not only "colder by the lake," but rawer and more forceful. Part of me really loves these big blows. But after a few days of it, I get pretty itchy. The wind is a constant nagging. I remember being windbound while on long canoe trips in northern Ontario. After a day of wind, it takes on an evil presence. Here, in town, I can still go about my life. But walking the dog isn't the same stroll down the Park Point beach; it's a exercise in survival. The wind blows right off of that scenic 300 mile fetch right into our backyard.

So for the dog's exercise and my own sanity, I did the nearly unthinkable: I drove to a dog walking trail. In day-to-day life, I really dislike driving in order to walk or bike. Duluth of course is full of hiking trails, but I wanted one nearby and, importantly, out of the wind. So we went to Chester Creek. It's about a three-mile drive there. I parked on Fourth Street near the old food coop (now the Burrito Union). It's gorgeous in there, with tall white pines, fresh little waterfalls, and more. A volunteer crew was clearing brush and regrading trails, led by trail-worker extraordinaire Judy Gibbs.

Chloe and I had a great walk up around the loop. I don't run or jog, but with the dog in the lead we had some good quick steps both uphill and down. The creek discharge has dropped significantly from its snowmelt peaks of a few weeks back. There was a nodding trillium just off the trail, and a few huge spruce had fallen down across the trail. One of the big spruce had been cut off the trail by someone using an axe...I'm guessing it was local trail angel Dan Proctor.

I know people flock to the North Shore to enjoy the oceanic views and the power of big water. But sometimes I need to get away from that power and the view that turns into a storm.

Exploring the Gunflint Trail

I spent the last two days up the Gunflint Trail, that slice of civilization reaching deep into the Bounday Waters. Accustomed to the North Shore, I get excited about the wildness and ruggedness of the Gunflint. Just off Highway 61 on the North Shore you find wide pleasant trails and lots of housing developments; just off the Gunflint Trail, you find wolf scat and a few campgrounds.

The Gunflint does not have a huge reputation for hiking; it's more of a canoeing and resort destination in the summer. The hiking trails off the Gunflint are either super long (the Kekekabic Trail or the Border Route Trail) or super short (Northern Lights Lake, Honeymoon Bluff). Where are the sweet 5-8 mile day hikes?

On the way up, I checked out a couple of the well-known shorter walks. Honeymoon Bluff is gorgeous but so short (0.4 miles) it's not a hike at all. I camped at site #18 at Trails End campground, one that's featured and pictured in our book Camping the North Shore.

Following hunches, I did two day hikes in one day. First I hiked the Kekekabic Trail from its eastern trailhead 3.5 miles into Bingschick Lake. This was fascinating, especially with the combination of the 1999 blowdown and last spring's Ham Lake fire. The trail was rough, just a wilderness trail with far less maintenance than a state park trail. Over half the route was in open areas of burned down trees.

Bingshick Lake, apparently known for its brook trout, had been burned all the way around and seemed pretty desolate. But the campsite had a few standing trees and made for a nice break.

I finished the first hike early in the day and headed for a delicious lunch of a walleye quesadilla at Gunflint Lodge in their new Red Paddle Bistro. After lunch I was totally stuffed but was able to roll over to the Loon Lake boat landing. Some maps had shown a trail running along Loon Lake and up to the Gunflint ski trail system. This was the Bryce-Breon trail.

As devastated as the forest along the Kek was, this forest was old, vibrant and luxurious. Ancient cedar trees along the shore of the lake, scampering over roots, an osprey swooping in to its nest high in a standing dead tree made it feel like the Land of the Lost, the land that time forgot.


So, two nice mid-length day hikes on the Gunflint Trail. Plus an ungodly number of ticks and black flies.

Tough questions in Maple Grove

Camping equipment cash magnet REI has a terrific new store in the "Fountains" shopping center in Maple Grove, MN. Before yesterday, I didn't really even know that Maple Grove existed. What once was cornfields is now a shopping complex. One big difference though from the classic cookie-cutter Mall Land was the wind turbine spinning lazily away in the background. Plus, instead of more mall-lets just beyond the Fountains, there is a massive gravel operation, with tall piles of multi-hued rock that looked for all the world like a North Dakota badlands scene.

I did a program at the REI store last night, on camping and exploring the North Shore. What fun to get a group of North Shore fans in a room and talk about cool things to do on the shore! But there were some tough questions, mostly about how to get a campsite when you don't have a reservation. Two of the parties were headed to the shore for Memorial Day weekend and did not have a campsite reserved. One party could leave late Thursday, one was stuck in the Cities until Friday evening. What to do?

There are almost always open campsites to find, I opined. Maybe not at your first choice campground. And maybe not on the shore proper. Go inland, I suggested. Try Ninemile Lake, or Two Island Lake, or maybe Indian Lake outside of Brimson. They have a bunch of site that are only seldom taken.

But also, I preached a bit, don't worry. You're on vacation. You'll find a campsite. After the tent is up and you've got a fire going, it will feel a lot like home. If your campsite isn't right on a lake, or The Lake (Superior), walk around and explore.

Say no more, say no more

This sign caught my attention today on the way up the shore to plant some trees at Sugarloaf Cove. It says it all. I was in a hurry to get to the tree-planting program, so I made a mental note to take the picture on the way back down. Much to my surprise, that mental note stuck to my forehead like glue and I actually remembered to stop.

The sign is right on Highway 61 (Minnesota's North Shore Drive). just east of Tettegouche State Park. It must have just gone up this week. I totally understand the schema here, because I've done the same myself...people speeding by because they are anxious about a campsite. I hate that anxiety...will there be a site? Will there be a nice site? I remember a long anxious drive into the Squaw Flat campground in the Needles area of Canyonlands; that's a two-hour drive into a dead-end part of the national park, and if there was no site we were out of luck.

Campground reservations have taken a lot of the stress of camping away. Or shall I say the adventure of it? No, it was never a good stress. This sign captures that stress from a sardonic local perspective. Very funny.

Wildflowers on the web

I spend half my time online in winter checking ski conditions. Every last bit of snow is analyzed, every track set described in flowing prose.

Why can't I find online what flowers are blooming? Or how mucky the trails are at the state parks nearby?

Winter is holding on

A certain significant someone in my life has her birthday on March 26. If we can go cross country skiing on her birthday, that is a good thing. Though snowfall has been below average this winter, the snow we've received on the North Shore has stayed on the ground. So the birthday girl might just get a ski outing for her birthday. The city of Duluth groomers seem to have turned their PIsten Bully in for spring, but with recent small snowfalls and highs around 30 degrees, it still feels like winter.

It's been really a classic long-term weather pattern here, with big high pressure systems sitting on top of us in northern Minnesota and sending snowstorm after snowstorm along tracks south and east of here. Madison, WI has been hammered with snow, for example. They got more snow on one day last week than we've gotten in months. That storm track could still move north when it's cold enough for snow, and then we might get yet another big dump.

Camping the North Shore is out!

Our second book (or fourth, depending on how and what you count) is back from the printers and headed out to bookshelves around the region. It is so...serious...to get this done. One book could be a fluke. But two books? With matching covers? It means that we mean business. There and Back Books...here to stay!

This is a great book and I really hope it finds a lot of readers. Not just because I want to sell books, but because I really want people to camp. Car camping in an organized campground may not be the most adventurous, wild thing you've ever done. But compared to another night at home around the TV or in a generic motel room, it's memorable, challenging, and fun.

Winter rolling along

I've gotten so used to squeezing in ski times when the weather allows, in those wondrous days in January or February when we finally get some snow. This year, I've been able to stop that panicked feeling of "if I don't ski today, I won't ever ski again." We've been skiing in Duluth for over two and a half months.

Here is a picture of the Piedmont ski trails in Duluth, my regular haunt.

Ach! The tragedy! Der Pisten-Bully ist kaput

The groomers at the city of Duluth have been doing a great job turning "luge run" trails, frozen over by time, rain, and 30-below nights, into reasonable ski trails again with their deep-tilling groomer. But, according to the ski trail hotline (218-730-4321), the groomer is broken. Badly. It won't be back out for a while.

Which gets me thinking. How important is this technology to my pristine outdoor experience? Not only do I drive my high-tech car miles to the trailhead, but I really like the trails that have been run over first by the even higher-tech groomer.

Back in the day, when I was working up in Ely at Camp Widjiwagan and skiing on the trails out the back door, it was a huge deal to go out and snowshoe the trails after a big snow, then ski them afterward to set the track. But mostly they all got skied in. "Skier-groomed" is the term, I think. Then I discovered the thrill of groomed trails and nearly never looked back. My kids have learned on groomed trails and hardly know what to do with themselves without an even set track.

Well, yeah, it was nice. But City of Duluth groomers, get that part or whatever it is you need quick, okay?

Lots of snow...we need snow

According to the weather folks, we have about 12" of snow on the ground here in Duluth, or about average in terms of percentile. I've been skiing for two months already. But we need snow...new, fresh snow. Yesterday the forecasters tempted us with visions of 4-6" of new stuff, but only a half-inch fell. Tragedy.

Maybe drive to Brule and the Afterhours Trail?

Two websites you gotta bookmark for monitoring winter conditions in Minnesota:


This is updated every week (on Thursday) and gives you snow depth statewide. One map gives you the current snow depth, and the other shows you how this week's snowdepth compares to snowdepth historically, i.e. what percentile this amount of snow falls into compared to other years.
http://climate.umn.edu/doc/snowmap.htm

This shows Lake Superior conditions. Click through to the latest "Great Lakes Surface Environmental Analysis." It combines lake surface water temperatures with current ice coverage. Yes, Lake Superior is frozen over as far as my eye can see, but there's still open water in the middle. The crazy ice anglers are headed out from the mouth of the Lester River.
http://coastwatch.glerl.noaa.gov/glsea/

Making snow

Night before last I got to play Mother Nature. At Chester Bowl, the tiny little in-town downhill ski area in Duluth, I volunteered for the first shift on the snow gun. It was 11 degrees, apparently great snowmaking weather.

As soon as the chairlift stopped and the last of the little snowboard dudes made it down the hill, we hiked up the hill and set it all up. Big serious power cord ran down the hill to one of the lift poles. Fire hose went across the hill to a water pipe. The pump started up, the water flowed, I threw the valve and voila, snow!

In one machine, in one set up of pipes and power, all those little miracles that add up to snowfall had been captured and focused. Instead of a warm air mass bringing Gulf of Mexico moisture, it was the a pipe and a pump pulling water from Chester Creek. Instead of ...well... some chemical-physical process in the upper atmosphere, it was the "moleculizer" in the snow gun.

On one of my hourly trips up the hill to check on the machine, I made a point of walking up into the snow, to feel it on the breeze and under my feet as I'd experienced so many real snowfalls before. It felt okay.

And for all that machinery, all that work, it was as much snow as a good lake-effect storm would bring. Only it was in a tiny area, half the size of our little backyard.

Which, to me, makes the power and breadth of a real storm that much more impressive. Instead of just a few hundred square feet. a good storm dumps over hundreds of square miles.

But it was pretty cool to be part of it, for a bit.

Dog on the trail

How badly should we hate the person who brings their dogs on groomed ski trails? How shady are those shades of gray?

I got out on the Magney ski trails here in Duluth on Saturday. Magney is Duluth's wilderness giant, way out on the west side of town in the thick of old growth maple forests. It was mid-late afternoon and only about a degree above zero, so I was just a little anxious to get through the ski soon. The idea did occur to me of wrapping myself around a tree on one of those downhills, breaking my neck and freezing to death. So I took one of the official short cuts, and rather than the glorious full 7K loop I ended up at about 5K.

Right before I got back on the main loop, a very fast skier came down the main loop on a great long downhill. And right behind him was his dog, some mid-size blue-ish dog, bounding along and keeping up with the speedy master.

The trails had been groomed a few days before and there was a light inch of snow on top of the grooming. So a mid-size dog wouldn't break through the crust. I'm not a trail Nazi. I don't snarl at people going the wrong way or even yell at folks two abreast on a double-tracked trail. If I'd had the chance to converse with this guy and his dog, I probably wouldn't have said anything.

Of course, speedy skier lapped me way too soon, along with his dog. It turns out that I know the guy. He's actually a famous Duluth skier and musician and entrepeneur. And he said, right off as he zoomed past "Hey, I'm a lawwbreaker." He explained that he got on the trails thinking they hadn't been groomed.

And the hound wasn't really affecting the trail, right?

But I wished I could have brought our dog along. She would have crashed through the snowcrust and ruined everything.

Dogs don't belong on groomed ski trails. But it was darn cute.

Ski program cancelled due to snow

It's 7:30 PM. I was supposed to be in Saint Paul right now, starting a program on Skiing the North Shore for the weekly meeting of the Rovers. But, based on the forecast last night for today, both in Duluth and the Twin Cities, I cancelled. I was excited about meeting the Rovers and finding out more about their club and activities.

Ironic, though...ski program cancelled due to snow. Normally it's been the other way around.

Ah, snow! Ah, Piedmont!

Just got out for my first ski of the year...ahhhh, nice. It snowed heavily on Saturday the 1st to kick off December in style. After shoveling out over the weekend and working all day Monday, this was my first chance to get out on the trails.

I went to Piedmont, one of those gems of a trail found here in Duluth. It's my regular backyard trail, except it's a ten-minute drive up there. And more snow was falling. So the drive was scary. But the skiing was fine.

When I first moved back to Duluth, I was a cynic about Piedmont. Too quaint. Too small. No Lycra to be seen. But over the years I've come to really love the trail. Jerry Nowak built it himself decades ago and eventually handed it over to the City of Duluth. Jerry still installs the goofy signs, though those weren't up yet.

Piedmont is basically one loop of about 4K, with some short-cuts and a newer advanced loop that sweeps down off the hillside. First ski of the year I take it very easy, so 4K was perfect. I don't know if they're called abductors or adductors, but there are these muscles or tendons in my thighs that get amazingly sore two days after the first ski of the year.

The snow was already falling hard. By the time I finished the loop, my ski track was smoothed over with new snow. Now the snow is just dumping from the sky here down by the lake. Real lake-effect snow, right here on Park Point.

Ah!!