North Shore Discoveries

Despite the amount of time I’ve spent on the North Shore, there there is always something new to discover. This week it was two “new to me” hiking trails. Admittedly I have spent more time cross-country skiing on the area’s trails, so it’s not too surprising that there are still plenty of hiking opportunities to explore.

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Root cellar once used to store food is the only remaining structure on the land.

The first was Sugarloaf Cove. This 34-acre site was formerly occupied by Consolidated Papers for their pulpwood rafting operation. Back in those days, thousands of logs dropped down a chute into the lake and were collected in a bay until there were enough to form a “raft.” Surrounded by log booms, 6-8 loads were towed across Lake Superior to Wisconsin each summer.

In 1988 the land was acquired by the State of Minnesota with the intent of turning it back to its natural state, and preserving it for future generations. A tasteful nature center was constructed, with green technology to minimize its impact. There is a lovely 1-mile self-guided nature trail through the property. It’s a beautiful trail on its own, including its pebble beach and lake views. But the numbered points of interest along the way also detail the history of the log operation and identify remnants that still remain visible.

The site has only a modest dirt road and little in the way of signage at the entrance, so it’s easy to miss. It’s just four miles southwest of Schroeder and is well worth a visit.

IMG_4540The second was finding the “split rocks” that may have given the Split Rock River its name. Although the exact origin of the name is still in question, the rocks are impressive. The Split Rock River Loop trail departs from the roadside parking area southwest of the lighthouse entrance of the park. Heading inland along the river, the trail follows the Split Rock River. About 1/2 mile in, it joins the Superior Hiking Trail and crosses the river which branches into East and West branches. The trail follows the East or main branch, closely following the water which boasts a continual flow of waterfalls and rapids along its course. With the foliage sporting that new spring green color as it emerged, and small wildflowers dotting the trail side with yellow, white and purple, it was an enchanting hike.

IMG_4542The trail maps weren’t clear about the location of the rocks, so we began to doubt our route as we continued to climb upward over terrain that was crisscrossed with tree roots and at times rocky footing. But suddenly there they were – huge, tall rocks with a split down the middle. And well worth the 2-mile hike to reach them. The view of the river from that spot IMG_4543was impressive as well, with high cliffs across the way.

To return, we continued up the river about another 1/2 mile to reach a bridge. It warned us that only one hiker should cross at a time – and we complied. On the other side, the trail proved to be gentler and more smooth underfoot. It was easy walking down, particularly when we veered away from the river. Reaching the Split Rock Shelter, we found ourselves at the top of a large plateau with unlimited views of lake and land.  A short spur trail took us back to the parking lot, for a total of about 5 miles of hiking.

It didn’t hurt that we had beautiful weather for hiking. But even without it, both trails felt like gems. Very different, but great discoveries. And I’m sure the North Shore holds a lot more.

 

Evening Arrivals

It’s not often that the Aerial Bridge opens just once for two boats. So when we saw the pair of boats headed for the canal, Rich and I quickly headed down to see them. It just so happened we were already nearby and had our camera equipment in the car – not so much of a coincidence, really.

IMG_4433 adjustedToo cheap to pay for parking in Canal Park now that tourist season has begun, we headed over the bridge and planted ourselves on the south pier. The sun was already behind the hill, but for a short period of time the boats were far enough out to catch the day’s last remaining rays of light. It made for a pleasing effect reflecting off the superstructures in the otherwise dim light of the evening.

They boats were a motley pair. Out front was the Lakes Contender, which is really a flat barge with a custom tugboat cleverly tucked into a slot in the back end to propel it down the lake. Behind that was the Pilica, a saltie that flies the Maltese flag but is owned by the Polish Steamship Company, was built in Poland and carries a Polish crew.  That vessel had much more pleasing lines.

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IMG_4441 adjustedRich and I took up different stations along the pier, each testing out different camera settings and composition. The boats glided almost soundlessly through the canal as our cameras clicked and whirred. Once past a reasonable position for a good photo, I could stop and take it in with my own eyes instead of through the viewfinder. It’s infinitely more enjoyable that way, but that’s hard to remember when in pursuit of good photographs.

Although it was a cool evening, the wind had dropped and I found I was oblivious to the chill while watching the popular spectacle. After a long absence due to the late spring and ice-clogged lake, it is wonderful to have frequent shipping traffic once again. And evening is a magical time to watch the boats come in off the lake and welcome them through the bridge.

Marathon – Not!

IMG_0894Despite the dark skies last evening and pouring rain, we were hopeful.  Even though the thunder boomed throughout the night, we stayed positive.  Driving to the start in rain and moderate thunder, we still planned to race.  We knew we were going to get wet – really wet – that was a given.  But still we were excited.  This was Katie’s first half-marathon and we planned to run together for that distance, then I’d continue for the full marathon.

We had a trusty support crew to cheer us on.  My son Erik (Katie is his girlfriend), and Katie’s mom had devised a plan to cover the Minneapolis Marathon course with their two cars.  If the rain cleared, Rich planned to follow us on his bike.  We were all set to go.

Our first inkling that things were not going well was the 1-hour delay.  Fortunately, we were able to wait it out in our cars and stay dry.  We sat and watched as the parking lot filled up with cars, but the eerie thing was that no one got out of them.  Not a runner headed for the start line as we awaited the next update on the race.

IMG_3200.JPGWhen the 7:00am update didn’t come, and time grew closer to the new 7:30 start time, we had little option but to don our garbage bags and head for the start.  There were plenty of other racers doing the same by then, and the rain even let up for us.  The starting chute seemed to be sparsely populated, and it lacked the excitement and energy that usually builds prior to the race.  The atmosphere was shrouded in uncertainty instead.  But we still clung to the belief that soon we would be running down the road, with many miles to cover.

7:30 came and went, and still the same somber crowd waited.  By 7:40 we really began to wonder.  About five minutes later, we saw streams of runners walking back the other way from the start.  Word spread quickly that the race was cancelled, but there was no official announcement – nothing to tell us that this big race was not going to happen.  It was such a non-event that we wondered if it was real.  But soon we had to face the inevitable, and accept that it had indeed been cancelled.  The crowd was surprisingly quiet as we made our way back to the parking lot.

WP_20140601_003With plenty of pent up energy, Katie and I decided we would run home. Sprinting away from the race venue it felt good to be pounding the pavement and doing something after all the time we’d spent waiting.  We pressed our speed, going faster than either of us has run all spring, pouring a marathon’s worth of miles into a shorter, faster distance.  Erik proved to be a trusty cheerleader, meeting us at points along the way with offers of water and Clifbloks for our “race!”  And we crossed the finish line at home, breaking the tape he’d constructed at the end  of the driveway.

Word came only after the fact that race officials and police were concerned about recurring thunderstorms and flash flooding, and made the decision for the safety of the runners.  I’m sure it’s a very tough call to make, and I support their decision to weigh in on the side of public safety.  I have to say, though, that it’s been hard to see the weather stay on the clear side for the remainder of the day.  Just being honest.  I’m sure the marathon folks are equally frustrated.  Better luck next time.

 

T-minus 2 days to Marathon!

Honestly, this part is hard.  All the training is done, the miles and long runs are behind me.  I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, and now I’m forced into “taper mode.”  For someone who’s used to running and pushing the limit every day, holding back is torture!

My last long run was a 20 miler two weeks ago.  It IMG_4214 trimmedwas made infinitely more bearable by running it with my daughter, Karen.  Although we’re training for different marathons, we both had the same long runs to do.  It was my last 20 miler, her first in the training regimen.  We set off together and used the time to good advantage, keeping up a constant conversation.  We covered a lot of ground and finally caught up on each others’ lives.  It was worth the 20 miles to have the time together.  Really.

This week I’m supposed to be resting.  Doing short runs, taking days off and gathering strength for the big day on Sunday.  It’s not working very well…  I’ve decided I am not going to sacrifice living for the sake of shaving a few minutes or seconds off my marathon time.  So although I’d already run this morning, I hopped on my bike this afternoon – it was just too nice not to!

Now it’s a mind game.  Checking the weather forecast.  Wishing I hadn’t.  Thunderstorms are not my preferred running conditions. Neither is heat.  Even this morning, the temperature in Duluth was a sunny 45 degrees as I set out for my run.  Minneapolis is predicted to get into the 80s on race day.  My body is not ready for heat.

I’m looking forward to the Expo tomorrow.  Packet pick-up is always an infusion of energy and excitement – the first surge of adrenaline for the race.  I love walking up to the table with registration packets, under the Marathon heading.  The big one.  That’s for me.

This is my first marathon in almost three years. And I’m ready.  Minneapolis Marathon, here I come.Minneapolis Marathon logo

 

Duluth’s legendary ice

Here it is May 28, and we still have ice on the lake.  That’s no surprise to anyone who spent the winter here.  There is no doubt we had sufficiently cold temperatures to generate enough ice to last a lifetime.  Or at least into June – we think.

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Some days it’s here along the Duluth shore.  Other days the wind sends it over to the Wisconsin side.  Today, the floating remnants filled the rocky shoreline along the Canal Park portion of the Lakewalk.  Although it was a brilliantly sunny day, the NE wind swept down the lake to maintain a permanent chill in the air.  It didn’t feel like a whole lot of melting was going on.IMG_4426 trimmed

Being a weekday, visitors were sparse.  But those who lingered after the Memorial Day weekend were clearly intrigued with this wintry phenomenon.  The ice featured prominently in many a tourist photo.

I just missed getting to the bridge in time to see the Paul R. Tregurtha arrive.  But I did catch the current it generated.  Ice floes bobbed in the canal, gliding under the bridge and into the harbor well after the boat disappeared from view.

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It would appear that the Vista fleet is finally able to venture out into the lake for its tours, after weeks of being confined to the harbor.  Those on board seemed thrilled with the ride, including the now famous ice.

With June 1 just four days away, the possibility of still having ice on Lake Superior looks pretty good.  Time will tell if this ice breaks that barrier.  I hope so.  It’s the stuff legends are made of.

In Search of Color

It’s been so drab for so long.  It didn’t help to wake up to dense fog, which obliterated all surroundings, brown or otherwise.  My morning run took me up to Hawk Ridge, where nature defied all knowledge of Lake Superior or even houses below.  With my senses screaming for stimulation, I went out on a mission to find color.

Knowing I’d need to get away from the lake to lose the fog, I headed up to Hartley Park.  Getting out of the car I could already tell the difference – the sun that had finally emerged packed some real warmth, and it wasn’t long before I was shedding layers in the welcome heat. The hunt was already off to a good start.

My primary mission was to find wildflowers.  That meant sticking to trails that were more out in the open, in the hopes that I would find a microcosm of spring where things were blooming.  What I found instead were nascent blades peaking through the fall’s dead grasses, ferns beginning to take form and little else.  I realized I might have to lower my expectations, and look for color in other forms.

Reaching Hartley Pond I found a IMG_4294 trimmedpeaceful scene.  There a lone loon dove and surfaced in the calm waters.  I gradually became aware of the birds singing in the trees and the sounds of nature surrounding me.  I decreed that the blue of the sky reflected in the pond, surrounded by the green trees qualified as color.IMG_4279

Moving on, I was glad for my hiking boots as I slogged through wet and muddy terrain.  In following one of the little streams, I spotted the shiny green head of a mallard.  He cooperated long enough to pose for me, and I decided to chalk another one up for spring color.IMG_4318 trimmed

I marveled at the fascinating plants growing alongside the stream, with their bulging balls bobbing above the leaves.  And then I saw them – flowers!  They were Marsh Marigolds, and I found one – and only one – that was in full boom!  My first wildflower of the season, glowing in a radiant yellow and brightening my day.  I could finally declare success.  And if one wild flower is in bloom, surely others are soon to follow.  I can’t wait for the explosion of color.

The Rocks

Picnic on The RocksWe only knew the place as “The Rocks.”  It was our favorite picnic spot.  On any given day, if the weather was nice Mom would pack up the little grill, food for dinner, and marshmallows.  As soon as Dad got home from work we’d be off to The Rocks.

The prime feature of this site was the huge expanse of flat rock adjacent to Lake Superior.  It was the perfect sitting area, table, cooking platform and viewing spot.  We loved to run around on the rocks, dip our feet in the water and explore.  Mom always brought a towel because someone was bound to fall into the lake.

Adjacent to the The Rocks was a pebble beach, with an endless supply of rocks to skip or throw into the lake.  We spent hours filling Lake Superior with those rocks.

IMG_4204-001Little changes over the years alongside Lake Superior.  That area now known as Brighton Beach is just down the road from our house.  Who knew that years later I would return to Duluth and settle so near The Rocks?  The area is much more park-like these days, with an abundance of picnic tables and park benches for staring out at the lake.  But I still prefer to sit on The Rocks.

I’m continually drawn to this small section of shoreline.  In the summer I run or cycle through it almost daily.  If I set out on a walk, I always end up there.  When the wind churns up the lake, I head there to check out the crashing waves.  In winter I love exploring the continually changing ice formations.  When Mom died, I sought solace on The Rocks, listening to the lapping water.

DSCN8992Mom and Dad introduced me to The Rocks.  Now I enjoy sharing them with my kids and grandkids.  That pebble beach is like a magnet, the rocks irresistible to all ages.  No visit to Duluth is complete without going down to the lake and throwing rocks.  No matter what season.

No doubt, years from now it will still be the same.  And I have no doubt it IMG_0328will always have that same appeal.  The big flat rocks will host picnics, and the pebbles will find their way into the lake.  Its name may change again, but to me it will always be The Rocks.

 

 

Mothers Forever

Mothers’ Day evokes memories of those hectic years raising young children.  The sloppy kisses, hand made cards and the great Fishing-Opener-Mothers-Day weekends at the cabin are all part of my Mothers’ Day repertoire of happy memories.

But what is even more rewarding is to see it continue into adulthood.  As my children have grown into adults, our relationship has naturally changed.  They are all out own their own now, but we still enjoy each others’ company.  In addition to the usual family gatherings, I’ve been extremely grateful to be able to share some special times together with each of my children.

In this case, I think pictures speak better than words.

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Karen inherited my love of running, and we fulfilled a collective dream running the Boston Marathon together, crossing the finish line holding hands.

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Canoeing in the Boundary Waters is one of Carl’s passions – we spent 4 great days together on a mother-son canoe trip.

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Erik taught me to skate ski, which led me to take up marathon ski races – here we are before the start of the Mora Vasaloppet.

I have my own mother to thank for the same relationship.  Thinking back, one of the best things I ever did was to join her on a theater trip to London.  It seemed extravagant at the time, leaving my husband and family to fend for themselves while Mom and I traveled together.  But it was worth every mother-daughter minute.IMG_0982

Being a Mom never ends.  I look forward to many more years of special times and adventures with my children and now grandchildren.  I’m so glad it’s a forever thing.

Whatever the Weather

We runners are resilient.  No matter the weather, we are out there pounding the pavement, putting in our miles.  And those of us living in Duluth are especially so.  We have to be, as the seasons here hold no loyalty to the calendar.  So although this is the height of the marathon training period, it’s not exactly shorts and t-shirt weather.

weatherMentally I planned to do my weekly long run today.  Never mind the fact that tomorrow’s weather looks to be beautiful and sunny and my calendar is open, my inner control center said it had to be today.  This morning.  Early.  Because I like to run first thing in the morning.

I awoke to what sounded like water.  Was it rain?  The falls on Amity Creek?  Wind?  Crossing my fingers, I arose to find that the rocks next to the house were dry – a good start.  The rest of the word was enveloped in a heavy fog, but it was not precipitating.  And my weather app said rain would not show up before noon.  That was enough for me – I was going.

Fog turned out to be equal parts mist.  The closer to the lake I got, the heavier it was.  But it wasn’t raining.  I had the proper clothing, and blessed my wind mitts as I pulled them on to keep my gloves dry.  The scenery wasn’t spectacular, but there were other small compensations.  The street cleaners had been out, clearing the shoulders of grit and sand on the Scenic Highway.  My running and cycling personae thanked them for that.   Traffic was light, and I certainly didn’t have to dodge other runners.

Doubling back to the Lakewalk, I found more company.  Folks were out running and walking.  Even a bike or two passed by.  Greeting one another as we passed, some exchanged conspiratorial glances with me that acknowledged the craziness of our pursuits in the drippy weather.  Others appeared as if it were a fine day, totally unaffected by the local conditions.  Somehow my fellow damp athletes validated my choice, and I pressed on in the belief that I’d be glad I stuck to my plan.

On my return from Canal Park the weather gods took pity on me.  The wind dropped and the fog lifted.  The mist had dried up.  It was almost decent weather.  I willed my legs to keep churning, clocking off the miles and setting mental milestones in the distance.  As I logged miles 19 and 20 I thought of my daughter doing her long run at the same time in the Twin Cities.  My virtual running partner carried me through.

Make no mistake, when I reached our driveway, I was glad to be done.  I made it back before it rained, and maintained a decent pace.  I was still warm, and relatively dry.  And  I could check off one more long run before my race, the Minneapolis Marathon.  All that despite the weather.

 

Park Point Delivers

The weather wasn’t the greatest, but needing to get outside we decided on the Park Point Hiking Trail.  We had no particular purpose in mind.  Rich would be happy to find some birds, and I’d be content with a bit of exercise and fresh air.

With strong NE winds blowing off the lake, chilled by the miles of ice crushed up against the sandy beach, we were glad to find that the trail’s trees kept us reasonably sheltered.  In fact, as the skies brightened and we warmed with the effort of walking through shifty sand, the afternoon’s prospects improved considerably.

IMG_4026Detouring to the bay side, it was positively calm and almost warm.  There it was easy to dawdle through the grasses, soak up the sun and listen to the water quietly lapping at the shore.  While Rich checked his favorite birding spots, I wandered the shore admiring the driftwood, including the teepee sculpture left by some industrious visitors.

Warmed by that interlude, we continued along the trail.  Despite the growing patches of snow, and the cold winds that pierced the IMG_4038 cropped 2tree branches, we happily carried on and eventually made our way to the end – the Superior entry.  Walking out the narrow catwalk on the outside of the piers was chilling as we met the full force of the wind and were surrounded by ice that clogged most of the entry.  But having come that far, it wasn’t an option to stop short of the end of the pier.

It was only chance that made Rich look up as we carefully picked our way back to land, and there it was – a IMG_4053 croppedboat about to enter the canal.  We’d seen it loading at the grain dock across the harbor, and wished it would finish in time to see it leave.  It appeared our wish was being granted! Pushing its way through the floating ice, the Algoma Equinox created currents that propelled other ice flows past our perch back out at the end of the pier.  Slowly, gracefully it slid past us as our cameras clicked and whirred.

At the same time, we realized this was turning into a double-wish day.  Rich had speculated that the boat anchored off shore was waiting for the same grain dock, and sure IMG_4035enough – now it was visibly moving closer.  It seemed to be barely inching forward, and it was frigid standing out there in the wind.  But we knew we couldn’t leave.  Neither of us had ever seen a boat go through the Superior entry before, and now we had the chance to see one go in and one out all in one visit!  We alternately huddled behind the cement ramparts and peered over the edge to check on the boat’s progress.  ByIMG_4066 cropped the time it came close enough to put our cameras into action again, we’d been out there nearly an hour.  It looked like a twin of the departing ship.  But we welcomed the entrance of the Burns Harbor and accompanied it along the length of the pier, nearly keeping pace with its careful movement.

Regaining the protection of the hiking trail, we couldn’t help but feel pleased with our adventure.  We’d experienced the dichotomy of Park Point weather, ushered two ships through the Superior entry, and found plenty of photographic material.  For an afternoon with no expectations, Park Point certainly delivered.