Tamaracks, the last gasp of summer

Went to Ely over the long MEA weekend.

Why do we still call it MEA weekend ten years after MEA merged with MFT and became Education Minnesota. Maybe because "EM weekend" sounds like a new-age meditation retreat. "MEA weekend" resonates with us Minnesotans as the last great glimpse of summer's freedoms.

Living in this tourist economy, it's striking how the fall color season has really stretched out tourism in this area. The Tuesday after Labor Day used to mean things just died on the North Shore, with a few busy weekend days later in the month. Now it's go-go-go all the way through...MEA weekend.

Maybe one reason that fall color tourism stretches out is the tamaracks. They are the last gasp of summer's ecological vibrancy, or productivity. And, in color, they're gorgeous. The only other leaf color remaining was a few yellow aspen, sometimes just two leafs clinging to a single slender sapling.

Tamaracks are the favorite tree of naturalists teaching tree identification. It's the "exception that proves the rule." A deciduous conifer, dropping its leaves just like a maple tree. Only later. And, at least this year, with more dramatic color. They also help define bogs (a closed, acidic wetland) versus marshes (an open, non-acid wetland versus swamps (a wetland with standing trees): tamaracks are often in bog swamps, if that makes sense.

There's a band of low country that runs between the North Shore and the range. This low country is known for its bogs and wetlands. Owl watchers know the Sax-Zim bog west of Highway 53. We drove up "the secret back way" from Duluth to Ely, along Rice Lake Road, which turns into Highway 4, just misses Biwabik, turns into 135, just misses Aurora, breezes through Embarrass, turns on 21, just misses Babbitt. The tamaracks were golden everywhere. And there were more cars on this "secret" way than we'd ever seen.

Just outside Aurora, the road crests over the biggest single hill along the route. This hill is the granite stub of the ancient Giants Ridge range of mountains. North of the hill, there were far fewer tamaracks.

We took Highway 53 back home on Sunday. 53 cuts through the same belt of lowland tamarack swamp in the area around Canyon and Cotton. The tamaracks were still glowing.

Some day soon, before the end of October, all those colors will be gone. The tamaracks will drop their golden needles into a blanket on the hummocky swamp floor. The last yellow aspen leaves will be blown off the slender twigs. And for a few weeks, the roads will be empty. After deer season, and before ski season, the one great quiet time of the year will come.