Canyoneering in Utah, thinking of Minnesota

Hans on the first big rappel. Not as scary as the last one, though.

Earlier this month, the Slade/Rauschenfels clan took our spring break week, added a day on either end, and headed back out to the canyons of the desert Southwest. For the first time, we had two full-blooded teenagers with us. In order to get them off their friggin' iPods and experience the real, wonderful world, we threw in some extreme adventures you can't even do while holding an electronic device. By far the most extreme was a day of canyoneering, outside Moab, Utah. 

Canyoneering is a relatively new outdoor pursuit that takes you safely down and through canyons. There's a lot of scraping along rocks and through sandstone crevices. This was not 127 Hours Reloaded, but a safe guided experience with the small Moab firm Desert Highlights. Hans and I met them at their storefront in Moab, packed our minimal gear into special tough canyoneering packs, and headed up with our guide Herb to the top of the mesa. 

Herb and Hans at the crest of "Granary Canyon".

 Herb, it turned out, is a former YMCA Camp Menogyn guide, so he knew a thing or two about our Northwoods/North Shore background. But he is now fully at home on the Colorado Plateau, and he skipped and hopped through complex slickrock terrain. Desert Highlights calls this trip "Granary Canyon", but it was really a stunning series of canyons, pinyon-juniper mesas, and heart-stopping cliffs that had to be passed.

Hans on the first rappel. Note the Denfeld Nordic ski team shirt.

Hans was a total trooper. He had never rappelled before and really had no idea what he was getting into on his first shot down. On the second rappel, with a big open-air part, once he was hanging in free space he yelled up to Matt, "I'm SPINNING! Is that OKAY!?"


It was the sort of desert experience Edward Abbey would have appreciated. We got sunburned and thirsty and a little scared. The desert winds picked up and blew sand up our noses. I scraped up my leg and pants. We were totally off the beaten path; the only path was in the mind of our guide. 


Now, we've got canyons on the North Shore. People do try to hike through them. The Kadunce River has invited hikers up its stream bank for years. But how many people go down those streams? What if you took a month like August when the rivers are running low and tried to explore the deep recesses of these rivers? Even the most popular rivers, like the Gooseberry or the Cascade, have inner canyons few if any people have seen. 

This is not a totally new idea. In fact, I wrote about it here on this blog a few years ago, sharing a video of two dudes coming down the Kadunce. Another dude tried to explore the Devil Track River from the base, got a ways in, and made plans to come back down it.

Me, inelegant.

Of course, then you might have to see something as gruesome as yours truly, coming down the edge of the cliff toward you.

Make your North Shore campsite reservations now

After six months of repair and frustration, the Minnesota DNR's state park reservation system seems to be up and running. As of today, you can reserve your choice of North Shore campsites as far as 12 months in advance. 

Act quickly: most of the popular weekends are already filling up.For Memorial Day weekend, as of today there were a few sites at Cascade River State Park and a few more at Judge CR Magney State Park, but the rest of the North Shore state parks are already full. For Fourth of July, things are a little more open, but that might just be because the Fourth falls on a Wednesday.

If a Memorial Day weekend trip into the Boundary Waters is more your style, get to the federal recreation reservation site ASAP. Popular entries near the North Shore are already filling up. Sawbill Lake entry is completely taken for the Friday of Memorial Day, and there was one permit available for the Saturday.

Of course, the wise camper can almost always find a campsite near the North Shore. For all sorts of great North Shore camping tips, pick up a copy of Camping the North Shore: A guide to the 23 best campgrounds in Minnesota's spectacular Lake Superior region, using the icon on the upper right side of this blog.

See you on the shore this summer...somewhere!

Freaky early spring in the North Woods

Alder catkins at Bear Head Lake State Park. March 24, 2012. Note open water.

It's March, and the frogs are calling outside Ely. The ice is off all but the biggest lakes. Nearly every sign of spring is coming a full month early. It's as if winter never happened, which is sort of true.

Leftover lake ice stack on the shore after break-up, Bear Head Lake.

Finally by the end of February the weather got as cold and snowy as a typical late November...and then on March 1 we jumped right past winter to weather more like May.


Of course the lakes opened up early; they hardly even froze. Of course the snow is all gone; we hardly even had snow on the ground.


The woods are already drying up. Streams are already running low. It's freaky and I just don't like it.

Why I live in Minnesota, not in Germany

 

Seventeen long years ago, Sally and I lived in Heidelberg, Germany for about seven months.  Germans love to hike, and we had a network trails heading up into the hills above the town. One weekend, we sought a little more adventure, so we headed out of town for the Wolfsschlucht. 

Germany has so many people and a culture passed down for centuries. Part of that culture includes naming nearly every natural feature that can be distinguished from the surroundings. For example, most hiking trail maps will mark where you can find important trees, and nearly every cliff has a name passed down through the generations.

Wolfsschlucht translates as "wolf's gorge." No doubt a few centuries ago some villager encountered a wolf here, and the legend lives down to today. It sounded like a wild place, maybe steep enough and remote enough that it still could feel wild, wild enough to have been the last refuge of a besieged European wolf.

To reach the Wolfsschlucht, we took the train about ten miles up the Neckar River, then got off at Zwingenberg. We followed a stone path that traversed up through old walls and then cut away from the Neckar into a steep side valley...the gorge.

I couldn't find any photos from that hike in our scrap book, but here's one I found online that captures the spirit of the hike...in more ways than one:

Note the sturdy stone bridge...and the large crowd of people. The only thing better than hiking for a German is to hike with a large group of people.

A sign at the trailhead (also found this one online) warned just how dangerous the Wolffschlucht was, only for practiced hikers, with danger of sliding and being hit by rocks on the unsecured path. No danger, however, of being eaten by wolves.

It was a great day and an adventure that combined culture and nature in a way that almost never happens in the US. 

So this weekend, Sally and I headed out for a hike here in Duluth. No streetcars here, so we drove, with the poodle along for the ride. We went to the Willard Munger Trail, since we guessed it would be dry and sunny. One of the scenic highlights was passing through a steep railroad cut, a gorge if you will. And wouldn't you know it, on the far side of the gorge, we found wolf scat, four or five piles along the edge of the paved trail.

 

It was a real wolf's gorge, our own actual Wolfsschlucht

In Germany, you find little pockets of wildness surrounded by fields and cities and highways. In northern Minnesota, you find pockets of settlement and trails surrounded by wildness. In Germany, wolves are only found in the most remote and broad forests along the eastern border. Here, wolves are almost everywhere.

I like it this way better.

It's not THAT warm

After a lovely late winter snowfall and a fine Tour Duluth cross country ski experience, record warm temps rolled into the North Shore area and have thrown local folks in a tizzy. Last weekend, spring-hungry Duluthians were out doing the bizarre. Out past the ice piles left by the Leap Day Blizzard, two guys in a canoe drift alongside the Park Point beach, right where one year ago the ice volcanoes were still blowing. It's not THAT warm.

Although about half the Park Point beach is still covered in blue-ice boulders, there was enough sand for at least one person to stroll barefoot. It's not THAT warm.

 This was a little more like it. Duluth's Lakewalk was full of strollers enjoying the sunshine. Maybe it WAS that warm; I sure enjoyed my walk.

Just to remind us here on the North Shore how long we've got to go before it's really spring here, there's been a poof of wind off the lake the last few days. Lake Superior water is about 38 degrees, so it's a cool poof. And as the Twin Cities reaches freaky high temps in the 80s, we are still a pleasant 45 here.So even if it is THAT warm somewhere else, it sure isn't here.

Tour Duluth 2012: SKI THEM ALL

Hans at Chester Bowl, Trail #5, 1:45 PM

Tour Duluth is the year-end celebration of Duluth's great cross country ski trails. It's organized by the Duluth Cross Country Ski Club, or DXC for short. Duluth has over 80 kilometers of groomed ski trails spread from far west to far east, and including both city trails, a private system, and the University's nature area trail. 

Mark at the Magney Ski Trail trailhead. Trail #1, 8:30 AM

We were going to SKI THEM ALL. Some people try to ski all 80-plus kilometers in a day. Not me. It was quantity over quality for me. I was determined to ski at least two kilometers at each trail system. I called my friend Mark the day before and invited him and his skiing teenage son to join us  for the big day, and he was game. He brought Logan and another Denfeld skier, Kai.

Hanging over the whole plan was a forbidding weather forecast. Way too sunny and warm. While the day started at about 22 degrees, it was going to climb into the 50s by the afternoon. 50 degrees was going to turn our ample snow into slush. The 2012 cross country ski season was going to end this day, and we were going to take it out with a glorious bang.

We went roughly from east to west, following the schedule DXC had set up. At each of the trailheads in the morning, we'd see friends and colleagues. Some were out for the Tour. More were out for the glorious day. The city groomers had been out the day before and conditions were the best of the year. I called Sally and urged her to join us at Piedmont, our favorite local trail.

Sally at Piedmont, Trail #3, 10:45 AM

At Piedmont, we felt like champions as we skied past the casual crowd. Lunch was at the famous Snowflake Nordic, home of Olympians and state champions. All of a sudden, our little promenade of underachieving skiers seemed teeny, as fancy racers with expensive skis glided circles around us. But were any of them going to SKI THEM ALL? I don't think so.

After Snowflake, it was about the pride. The next two trails had hardly been touched, even on busy Tour Duluth. Who could ever skip the roller coaster rides of Chester Park and Bagley Nature Area?! Obviously, some people just weren't in the spirit.

Logan at Bagley, Trail #6, 2:30 PM

We took a short break in the afternoon. Hans had to get ready for a date, so we left Mark, Logan and Kai to finish the challenge. I went out again at 4:30, as the sun was headed to the horizon, and skied my last two trails.

Me at Lester Park, Trail #7, 5:00 PM.

Tired and proud, I made it to the year-end club potluck, turned in my form, and headed home. I put away my skis and took the ski box off the top of the car. Ski season is over.

At middle age, it's hard to find those landmarks to check off as life passes by. Days turn into weeks turn into years. Suddenly our children are adults and my legs just aren't as strong as they were. But this year, 2012, is the year that I SKIED THEM ALL.

The great lake swirl: WAY better late than never

What an amazing day we had on Saturday here in Duluth. The meteorologists got it all wrong in the right way. What started as a forecast of an inch or two of snow overnight turned into the biggest single dump of snow we've had in over a year. 

Apparently, two air masses ran into each other over the western part of Lake Superior and the resulting lift sucked the moisture out of the open lake water and turned it into snow. Lots of snow. Snow that fell all day. We shoveled three times just for the joy of shoveling. Meteorologists, at a loss for words, called it a "lake swirl." Over a foot of fluffy snow fell over places in Duluth.

Here are the forecasters trying to figure out what was happening:

UPDATE...A VERY INTERESTING SITUATION WAS SHAPING UP ACROSS THE NORTHLAND DURING THE EVENING. IT APPEARS THAT A "LAKE SWIRL" HAS SET UP AT THE HEAD OF THE LAKES. HAS ALREADY BEEN A GOOD COUPLE INCHES OF SNOW ALONG THE HILLSIDE OF DULUTH AND INTO THE SUPERIOR AREA. HAVE NOT SEEN A SWIRL LIKE THIS FOR MANY YEARS PERSONALLY. FROM PREVIOUS RESEARCH...THE SWIRLS TEND TO SET UP WITH WE HAVE WEAK OFFSHORE WINDS AT THE HEAD OF THE LAKE...CREATING CONVERGING WINDS IN THE BOWL LIKE TIP OF LAKE SUPERIOR.  CONCERNED THAT WE COULD SEE SOME IMPRESSIVE SNOWFALL RATES OVERNIGHT. WILL NEED TO WATCH FOR POSSIBLE AMOUNTS JUMPING OUT OF THE ADVISORY CATEGORY INTO THE WARNING CATEGORY IF THE SWIRL CONTINUES TO JUST SIT THERE. ...WENT FOR 5 TO 7 INCHES THROUGH SATURDAY MORNING...AND WILL WATCH VERY CAREFULLY FOR THE POTENTIAL FOR HIGHER AMOUNTS.

It's early March in what had been a nearly snow-less winter, so our sense of the season was all thrown off. Not sure what to do, Sally and I headed for the Hartley ski trails. It was perfect conditions for snowshoeing, much less so for cross country skiing. In fact, I think we got passed by some snowshoers. But it was lovely and amazing just to be out in the midst of a big dump like that. I love this place. 

Three little words to warm a skier's heart

No, they aren't "I love you." Or "Time for bed." 

It's "Winter Storm Warning."

Here's the latest from the National Weather Service.

WINTER STORM WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 6 AM CST MONDAY

SNOW ACCUMULATIONS...STORM TOTAL SNOWFALL AMOUNTS WILL RANGE FROM 5 TO 8 INCHES...WITH 6 TO 10 INCHES POSSIBLE OVER THE ELEVATED TERRAIN NEAR LAKE SUPERIOR FROM FINLAND TO TOFTE TO GRAND PORTAGE.

Even though it's five words long, the phrase "elevated terrain near Lake Superior" is a total heart-melter. That puts me right back in to the amazing ridges and trails, from Tettegouche through Sugarbush all the way to Pincushion Mountain.

Let's go skiing.
Groom those trails.
Eat more pie.

On, Wisconsin: Great ski trail in Brule

I have a new favorite ski trail. Call me old-fashioned, but that trail happens to be the "Classic Trail" at the Afterhours trail system in Brule, Wisconsin.

It's been such a crappy snow year in Duluth and the North Shore, so I've been delighted to take a 45-minute drive through Superior and east along US Highway 2. In fact, I went twice this weekend. Not only do they have ample snow there, but they have this great 3.2 kilometer trail.

Unlike the rest of the trail system at Afterhours, the Classic Trail is just for us old-fashioned classic skiers...no skating allowed. So we don't get buzzed by those lycra-clad, stopwatch-punching racers training for their next Birkebeiner Loppet Korte-Marathon. 

The Classic Trail is mostly level, with few real climbs, but it still turns and curves majestically through a variety of forest habitats. It's lovely.

The only problem is, the Classic Trail ends smack-dab in the middle of the regular system and you have to work your way back to the trailhead on those same wide skating trails you were able to avoid so nicely before.

At the end of your ski, head for the cozy chalet. You can warm up, chat with your fellow skiers, then head out on the Classic Trail again. 

Ski it for yourself

The Afterhours Trail is about 25 miles east of Superior, Wisconsi on US Highway 2. Watch for a sign reading "After Hours Trail 1 mile" on the right, and then the turn onto the Afterhours Road. Parking is right above the highway. Day passes are $4.00 per person, age 16 and under free.

What to do with the poo?

On the regular morning tromp with the poodle to Duluth's Aerial Lift Bridge and back, I couldn't help but notice this little crop circle laid down on the sandy Park Point beach. Some dog walker had VERY CAREFULLY bagged up their dog's do, set it down on the beach, and drawn a two-foot circle around it. They must have kept on walking...and forgotten the poop bag.

Hats off to the artistic walker for at least bagging the stuff. 

Park Point is a popular dog-walking area, so we get a lot of poochies, many of them off-leash. Some dog owners seem to think that if their dog is off-leash, they don't have to worry about picking up poop. With what could be called an "extended January thaw," we are already seeing piles of abandoned excrement emerging from the thin-if-any snowpack. 

 

What a person does about their dog's poop says a lot about them, and how they feel about nature and society. Are public parks simply wilderness areas where your dog's excrement belongs just as much as wolf scat? Are you concerned about the impact of your actions on strangers who will follow? Would you drop a beer can on the beach as quickly as you'd leave your dog's poop? Simply, are you responsible for the actions of your dog?

Yeah, it's awkward dangling that bag o'poop as you finish your walk down the public beach. But it's way better than stepping in it, even if it's a total stranger doing the stepping.

In search of February ice at Shovel Point

View from Shovel Point, February 1, 2012

I went for a lovely walk yesterday out to Shovel Point, along the rugged shoreline of Tettegouche State Park. Mine were the first human footprints in the meager snow, along with a rambling deer's, a scattered squirrel's, and a deliberate fox'. 

The view from Shovel Point looking west is classic North Shore. Palisade Head looms in the distance. Cliffs and coves stud the shore. 

But there was something very important missing: the ice.

It's February, the freezing month. In a "normal" North Shore winter, the water of Lake Superior is finally cold enough this month that it can really freeze solid. Normally the ice starts in the little bays and coves, then on one dramatic cold and calm night it covers the lake as far as you can see. If we're lucky, a succession of cold days freezes the ice hard, and mere mortals can take off on the ice and down the shoreline.

Shovel Point observation deck

It was the same story at the far end of Shovel Point, at the dramatic observation deck perched on the storm-washed shore: no ice anywhere to be seen.

I love the feeling of walking out onto frozen Lake Superior, of gingerly stepping below tall cliffs, of feeling the thrill of a pile of ice slabs sliding underneath like well-greased cookie sheets. The lack of ice on the North Shore this year hits me nearly as hard as the lack of snow. Goldarnit, it's February, it's supposed to be freezing out here.

At long last, real skiing

FINALLY...a great day on the ski trails. It took a few good Lake Superior lake-effect snow dumps on the South Shore, but at long last we have decent natural snow within a short drive of Duluth. The Slade/Rauschenfels clan dove in yesterday, and though I nearly skied my legs off, it was totally worth it. It was the first real skiing I've had all winter.

What do I mean, "real" skiing?

• On natural snow, not manmade snow at a downhill ski area. 
• Longer, bigger trails that run through the countryside.
• A real deep classic ski track I can trust to guide me along.

We went to the After Hours Trail in Brule, Wisconsin, about half an hour east of Superior along Highway 2. Online reports had been very positive. Instead of another full day of house-cleaning at home, we packed up our gear and one of the boys and headed out.

Even at 11:00 on a 12-degree Sunday morning, the parking lot was full and overflowing to a nearby field. Skiers were abuzz in the parking lot, greeting each other as if it was Christmas Day all over again. 

 
The After Hours Trail runs in multiple loops and grids through the Brule River State Forest, just west of the Brule River itself. A few of the trails, like the River Trail above, actually run right alongside the famed spring-fed Brule.

Inside the warming hut at the trailhead, skiers were chattering away with the endorphin rush great conditions and an hour or two on silky ski trails provides. 

Perhaps the most pumped of all of them was our son, who not only skied the 15 kilometers he needed for some ski team letter points, but also had his first "real" cross country ski experience of the winter, moving through real terrain and covering real distance instead of looping around and around the artificial snow they've been on all year. "Real" skiing? Yeah, I think he gets it too.

Save the skiers...from themselves!

Nordic skating on Lake Superior from http://www.nordicskating.org/superior/mileout.jpg

Recently I wrote here about how delusional skiers are. They are over-the-top optimistic about the poor cross country ski conditions here in Duluth. 

But maybe it’s better that they stick to the trails and suffer than get out for the really wacky alternative stuff.

Skiers are giving up on the forest trails and want to go ice skating. But when you've got wild trails in your blood, you can't settle for a city ice rink. So skiers are buying special nordic skates they can attach their ski boots to, then having a great time on the Bay. Check out the pics and the gear at NordicSkating.org.

Biking down the St. Louis River by Hansi Johnson

Other frustrated skiers are using their mountain bikes to run down the frozen rapids of the St. Louis River in Jay Cooke State Park. 

A colleague of mine can’t find enough snow on the lakes for kite boarding, so he’s hoping for enough wind to go surfing. In Lake Superior. In January.

We need some snow. Save the skiers from themselves.

North Shore geology experiment

It's now a proven fact: Rocks move "down" the North Shore. Who'da thunk it? I was pleasantly surprised to see that a student at Duluth's Woodland Middle School's big annual Science Fair took on the task of proving that rocks do, in fact, move from "up" the shore (like Grand Marais) to "down" the shore (like Duluth). 

(Speaking of Grand Marais, do you suppose ace North Shore photographer Bryan Hansel authorized use of his photo in the lower right of the board??)

The student used Sparky Stensaas' great North Shore rock book to identify and label the classic North Shore rocks. Then the student used a geologic map of the North Shore to identify where the rocks came from. Then, using some mysterious calculus, the student found what direction the rocks on various beaches from Duluth to Tettegouche were from their starting spot.

The conclusion was unequivocal: North Shore beach rocks do relocate. The student even nailed some of the possible causes, listing the glacial period along with longshore currents, seiches, "and even humans."

As a well-educated grown-up, I know that glaciers were the main cause of this. And that they carried their loads from the northeast to the southwest..."down" the shore. I also know that what longshore currents there are on the shore drive rocks the same way, only very slowly. Check out the rhyolite shingle beach at Iona's Beach SNA for a classic example of this; you'll find a beach full of rhyolite cobbles just west of a pure red rhyolite cliff.

But isn't it neat that an eighth grader found out the same thing all by herself? I especially like her second conclusion:

This project is valuable in learning how the beaches of the North 
Shore were made and how their content is ever-changing.

Good job, Woodland eighth grader! Good for you and for all the rock hounds out there.

Skiers are delusional

I went skiing at Duluth's Piedmont trails last week, first thing in the morning on the day that The Big Thaw began. There was just an inch or two of snow on the trails, not enough for a classic track but enough to cover most of the rocks and sticks. I skied all 5 kilometers and left thinking, "Hmmm...not bad."

Must have been those feel-good endorphins speaking. It was bad. It was awful. Mid-January and there's not enough snow to set a track? Who was I kidding?

The Big Thaw has continued for five days now. Skiers are still finding snow, and they are either hugely optimistic or totally delusional. Here's a sampling from SkinnySki.com today:

"Only one part of the trail was basically unskiable" (regarding Boulder Lake trails)

"We saw some stubble, but really not bad at all." (from Central Gunflint trails)

"Enough rocks and roots present to make it an exercise in situational awareness" (about Snowflake trails) 

If you want to ski and actually would like some snow that is not awful, head up the North Shore to Tofte and ski on the Onion River Road. Or head inland to the Flathorn Gegoka trails. 

Yes, a bad day skiing is better than a good day at the office. And after all that time sidestepping logs and seeking out tracks deep enough to hold a Hot Wheel, you deserve to be proud. Delusional, but proud. 

"Not even eaten at all."

This bit of news from the Duluth News Tribune on February 10, 1898 sure was a relief to read. We're headed up to Ely over the holidays and would have hated to come across Mr. Cameron's remains.

The sun came back!

We made it through the longest night of the year. Last night, the sun (sol) stood still (stice) Thanks to dozens of bonfires and some drum circles along the shores of Lake Superior during the night, the sun did finally return this morning, right on schedule. 

The sun rose basically in the east, of course, but it rose 23.5 degrees south of east, the furthest that way it gets all year. Watching the sun rise over the cloudy horizon this morning from Park Point, it came up over Wisconsin. 

In the summer, from our view in Duluth, the sun rises right up out of the long end of Lake Superior.

Okay, that's the solstice, the first day of winter. It can start snowing now. Anyone got a drum circle for that?

Desperate times, 2011 edition

The winter of 2011-2012 is off to a slow start. Nature has not provided much snow to the North Shore area. I've chronicled desperate times before in this blog, from back in 2008, when we weren't skiing until late December and I biked on the beach and ran screaming down ski trails. I'm grumpy now, wanting to get out on real snow on a real trail.

The Duluth Denfeld Hunters Nordic Ski team has been skiing on snow for two weeks now. Thanks to the generosity of Spirit Mountain, the Denfeld team has been able to practice and race on the man-made snow of the slopes. 

It was a bizarre scene this week at Spirit when Denfeld hosted their annual ski race. Drizzle all day had turned into a heavy layer of fog perched right at the top of the hill in Duluth. Driving into Spirit there was just a dusting of snow in the woods. Then you walk out toward the racecourse and suddenly there's two feet of snow on the ground. There were more cross country skiers than downhill skiers, and those skinny skis stuck out in a ski world more about wide skis and wider snowboards.

The course started right by the chalet and went uphill. Skiers disappeared into the fog and dark. Less than a minute later, they zoomed out of the fog straight down the ski run, snowplowing or step-turning to make the big curve around the chalet. 

Although it was desperate measures for these desperate times, the foggy hilly race was  a lot of fun. The Denfeld boys took second place, behind the mighty East High School. It was actual real skiing at a North Shore ski area. Despite all that, I'm still grumpy. Maybe next time they'll let me on the course.

North Shore Christmas tree traditions

We're not all that into Christmas here. But I kinda thought we had a tradition going. For six or seven years now, the whole Slade/Rauschenfels family has gone up the North Shore a ways to get our Christmas tree. We go to Herb Sellin's tree farm, 2.5 miles up from the Highway 61 Expressway on Homestead Road. 

This last weekend, on a lovely Saturday afternoon, Sally and I headed out...without the boys. The older son was at a ski meet, and the younger son was feeling sick. So, in an early glimpse of future empty-nesting, it was just the two of us tracking along on one of our few holiday traditions. It was fun but a little...empty.

Herb's trees scatter across a large field, but we knew right where to head. It's tradition. Every year I suggest getting a white pine, and every year we head to the patch back and to the right...where the balsam firs are. For the last few years, I've handed the cutting over to our older son, who's done an admirable job with the Sven Saw. Now that job fell back to me. 

The tree sits in its stand on our back deck for a few hours...

Then gets brought inside and decorated. Tradition says we listen to Willowgreen's Winter album.

My own North Shore Christmas tree tradition goes back much further than this. From the family cabin in Little Marais, it's a quarter-mile hike through the birch woods to the old pioneer field at Granny's Beach. Over the decades, spruce trees have grown in to slowly cover the old field. Because they had grown in the open, the trees were fuller and greener than any conifer we'd find in among the birches. Still, the best of these trees was as spindly and awkward as the last tree left on any commercial tree lot. 

Family tradition also dictated that any tree that gets taken has to free up another tree to grow. That's an early lesson in sustainable forestry, I guess, but it also ensured that every tree was at least a little lopsided. 

I remember back before we found Herb's lot when I brought both boys out to the field to find a tree. The younger one was in the backpack, the older holding my hand and walking alongside. Coming back through the birch woods with our scraggly spruce tree, the older one got tired and I ended up carrying him in one arm, dragging the tree with my other arm, and still carried the younger one on my back. 

Herb's trees are full and rounded and nearly perfect. I'm good with that; I like how our trees fill up the room. 

What I'm not good with, quite yet, is losing my boys. Sports and sick bugs be darned, I've got a tradition to fulfill.

Downhill Duluth?

Duluth is a city on a hill...a sometimes very steep hill. What would it be like to strap on downhill skis and swoosh down to Lake Superior? This video was shot in British Columbia, but about half the scenes could totally be in Duluth's Central Hillside neighborhood. I loved the barking dog and the old guy with the bike trailer.