Thanks for Waiting

Fall colors.  We were sure we had missed them. With our cycling trip extending well into the second week of October, it seemed unlikely that we’d see the North Shore in all its splendor.  But we were wrong.

For the final two miles of our trip home, Rich turned down Seven Bridges Road.  There we could see that Lake Superior had sheltered at least some parts of the Northland.  Winding back and forth across Amity Creek on the narrow road, the trees were cloaked in color.  Even with the red maples having finished, the yellows and golds were a brilliant contrast against the pure blue sky.  A true welcome home present.

IMG_5846As soon as we schlepped our gear into the house, I headed right back out again – on my bike, of course, heading straight up the Shore.  Admittedly, the leaves were past prime, but they were still the core element of that quintessential fall day.  To complete the experience, it was cool and crisp with a bit of nip in the air.  The lake reflected the deep blue of the sky.

IMG_5856Cruising alongside Lake Superior was a cyclist’s paradise.  Wide shoulders, mostly smooth pavement, minimal traffic and little wind.  Exactly the conditions we hoped for each day of our cycling trip.  Add to that stunning coastal views, and there is little left to improve on the experience.  Indeed, we live in a beautiful area, with all this right on our doorstep.

I’d have to say, that the scenery IMG_5834rivaled that which we just spent a month inspecting from our bikes.  It was still worth traveling across the country to cycle through new territory.  But it also brings home the knowledge that we have it good, right here.

Thanks, fall, for waiting for us.

Sprinkler Attack!

We'd been warned. We even took measures to avoid it. But the onslaught of the ferocious streams of water that pelted our tent after midnight still came as a shock.

We knew that there was a sprinkler system at the park. But due to budget cuts, there were notices on the park website stating that the water had been shut down. The nice showers and flush toilets would not be available to us, but we were willing to rough it.

What wasn't clear was whether the shutdown included the sprinkler system or not. The abundance of lush green grass was a hint, so I wandered over to talk to the camper where a few folks were sitting out enjoying the evening. They didn't know the status of the sprinklers. But being veterans of the park, they did inform me about the sprinkler guards. Short half-cylinders with stakes were available to direct the spray away from a tent. What an ingenious idea! Since we had unwittingly erected our tent within a few feet of a sprayer, we put one of the guards in place, just in case.

Not long after midnight, sure enough the sprinklers started up. We could hear them in other areas of the park, and within half an hour the one right behind our tent activated. But the guard did its work, and we were safe. We thought.

We had left the front flap of our tent open because it was so warm. When a light spray filtered through our screen, blown from a distant tap, we thought it would be prudent to close the flap. No sooner had we done so when another sprinkler started up. This one was a totally different variety. It was a strong stream that shot out with a much greater range, pivoting 360 degrees. It didn't take long to reach our tent. Wham! It pelted the front of the tent as it passed. But our trusty rain fly held and we stayed dry, even as it continued its rotation sending round after round of water at us.

That wasn't all, though. The spray also doused every inch of the picnic shelter where we'd left our bikes, panniers, shoes and other remaining articles for the night. A quick foray out into the wet night revealed puddles on top of our panniers, and a dripping table. Shuffling our gear to the dryest spot I could find, I retreated to the tent.

I guess with such a dry climate, watering only works when applied in abundance. Those sprinklers kept up for three hours, alternating positions around the park. Even when those within range of the tent shut down, I could hear them start up elsewhere, and I couldn't let go of the worry that our gear was getting soaked again. Not much sleep was had, especially when you add frequent trains rumbling past.

On a more positive note, we were treated to a nice sunrise. (Okay, so only Rich saw it and took this picture.) And the air dried our not-too-wet belongings fairly quickly. Let's hear it for those zip-lock bags.

Yes, it was a memorable night.

 

In the Zone

Progress to date: 10 days, 574 miles

Day ten of our trip, and I think I'm finally getting there. The initial adjustment period has passed and I've ironed out the kinks in my routine. I've reached the point where daily cycling is the norm and other responsibilities have faded into the background. I am In the Zone.

I recognize this condition from last year's cycling trip. It's a state of being characterized by a number of uniquely identifiable behaviors. The list goes something like this:

  • Losing track of the days. Knowing what day it is is only important when it impacts when shops or cafés will be open, or if a motel might book up more quickly.
  • Letting go of the need to plan ahead. As long as today's destination offers food and lodging options, that's enough to know.
  • Checking the weather takes precedence over checking email.
  • Being able to adjust like a rubber band. Waiting out a breakdown, flat tire or other delay is no longer a world ending event. Rearranging our route is no big deal.
  • Thinking that taking a daily shower at 4:00pm is normal.
  • Feeling my body change. The extra pounds that crept on before the trip are melting away. My legs are getting increasingly stronger.
  • Needing food. Lots of it. With each passing day, adding fuel assumes a greater importance. The search for ice cream intensifies.
  • Wanting the cycling to go on and on. Not wanting the trip to end.

The Zone is a good place to be. Life is simple. Exercise is plentiful. No shortage of fresh air. The scenery is constantly changing. I plan to stay In the Zone for several more weeks.

 

 

 

Thimble Berry Jam

There is something irresistible about berries.  Especially those growing of their own free will, just steps from our doorway.  Begging to be picked.

IMG_1416We’ve seen the thickets of thimble berries growing in “our woods” every summer.  And each year the birds, critters and perhaps other berry lovers have gotten to them first.  This year appears to be a bumper crop.  Loads of big red berries hang from the branches, with many more promising to follow.  We promised ourselves that this year we’d pick them and make jam.

Thimble berries take me way back.  Julie, one of my best friends in school, went blueberry picking each year with her family, and I went along.  Not being a real lover of blueberries at the time, I was lured away by the sight of huge red raspberries not far away – something I truly adored.  I picked and picked and returned to the others quite smug and victorious.  That is until I was informed that I had picked thimble berries, not raspberries.  I’d never even heard of them before.  I quickly learned that they were not so tasty for eating.  But to make up for it, Julie’s mom turned my cache of non-raspberries into a delicious jam.

IMG_1411A few days ago it became clear that the time was NOW.  At least for the first round of picking.  Each bush had one or more perfectly ripe berries.  So Rich and I ventured out to see what we could gather.  Although it meant only a berry here and a berry there, the bushes were plentiful enough to make it a worthwhile hunt.  Moving across the road, we reaped even more berries – enough to come up with 4 1/2 cups between us.  And judging by the remaining unripe berries, we could easily duplicate that several times if we keep diligent watch.

IMG_5146I had to hunt down a recipe for jam, and was surprised just how simple it was.  Only two ingredients in equal quantities – thimble berries and sugar.  It also warned that cleaning the berries was as time consuming as picking them.  I won’t argue that point.  And picking was a lot more fun.

I dug out my canning supplies, bought more canning jars and IMG_5149reacquainted myself with the process.  Then I dug in.  (Notice “we” became “I” at this point…)  Soon the house was redolent with sweet berry smell as the mixture simmered on the stove.  It wasn’t long before it began to thicken and resemble jam, and filled more jars than I expected.

Somehow getting something that good from free fruit is deeply gratifying.  Now I suppose I’ll be expected to share it.  And why not – there’s more where that came from.

A Superior Ride

One of my favorite summer things is getting out early to enjoy the cool am temperatures and the beautiful first morning sunlight.  Since summer was so long in reaching Duluth this year, it’s only been within the last week that this idea was even worth considering.  But today was the perfect opportunity.

Soon after sunrise Rich and I loaded our bikes on the car and headed out to West Duluth.  Our destination: Superior, Wisconsin.  We parked on the Duluth end of the Bong Bridge, mounted our bikes and IMG_4923proceeded to cross over the bay on the bridge.  The bridge was wonderfully bicycle-friendly, with a dedicated bike lane that was well protected from traffic.  As luck would have it, we also had a scenic view of the St. Louis River basin on our side of the bridge.  With the rising sun behind us and calm waters in the bay, we had lovely views of the railway bridge and surrounding waterway.

We entered Superior in the Billings Park area of the city.  There we were immediately able to access the bay, first on city streets and then on a bike trail through the park that was literally within feet of the water’s edge.  With the water reflecting the morning’s scenery and fluffy clouds, it was an idyllic landscape.IMG_4927 IMG_4933 IMG_4935 Leaving the park, we entered a beautiful neighborhood full of impressive houses and steeply rolling hills.  Still within proximity of the water, it was easy to imagine the luxury of the homes with waterfront property.  It was early and quiet enough that we managed to get within photo distance of a gray fox just down the road.

IMG_4931 trimmedWe continued on into the Superior Municipal Forest and traveled part of the Millennium Trail.  There wildflowers grew in abundance as the trail wound through woodland areas and meadows.  It was a peaceful trail, and clearly a popular destination for runners and dog walkers out for their morning rounds.

It was a pleasure to return via the coastal trail and back over the bridge for a second opportunity to enjoy the views.  The sun was still low enough to provide its warm glow to the scenes.  And going the opposite direction provided a different perspective on everything.  This time the railway bridge was closed, and in fact a pair of locomotives crossed the bridge as we watched.IMG_4941 IMG_4942 IMG_4944I had no idea that such beauty lay right across the harbor, with such easy access by bicycle.  I just never thought to look at it from the other side before.  It was clearly a Superior ride.

Trying to Beat the Heat

It’s not often that the temperatures in Duluth reach 90 degrees.  And after the three week string of 40-degree weather we had in June, hitting that mark seemed inconceivable.  But today was the day.  There was no mistaking it.

It was the kind of day where it was impossible to escape the heat.  With the humidity also close to the 90% mark, the hot sticky air seemed to envelope everything, particularly one’s body.  But there were plenty of people seeking all sorts of ways to try and cool off. Myself included.

My choice was to head up the shore on my bike.  Although the air was hot, it still felt better to be creating my own breeze.  There was little respite from Lake Superior, despite the fact that it remains chilly.  I had only occasional cool spells when there were no trees between me and the lake.  But I welcomed each and everyone of them.  Along the way I enjoyed people watching and surveying the variety of ways folks flocked to the water to relieve the summer heat.

Lake Superior was a natural.  Brighton Beach attracted its share of families, but they didn’t venture very far into the lake.  There’s cooling off, and then there’s frigid.  The lake was the latter.IMG_4906It’s not often one sees a jet-ski in Lake Superior, but the water was so calm today that it invited such activity.  I can’t say I’ve ever seen a double before!IMG_4901 Lester River had its share of swimmers, and the youngsters seemed to enjoy jumping off the rocks into the water.IMG_4908However that was nothing compared to the feats of the local teenage crowd.  Lower down the river, they demonstrated their fearlessness on a rope swing attached to the railroad bridge.  Others jumped straight from the rock cliff.IMG_4896 trimmedBut nothing beats The Deeps for daring do.  Right there in our own back yard, the water hole beneath the waterfall on Amity Creek is a magnet for teenagers, eager to show off by jumping from increasing heights above the pool.  I found it chilling enough just to watch.IMG_4915 trimmed There’s something for everyone here.  It just takes the rare day that we have to go to such lengths to beat the heat here in Duluth.

A Visiting Loon

It's one of my favorite things at the cabin – seeing loons and hearing their plaintive cry. Sometimes I can get fairly close to them when out in the kayak. But ultimately they always dive and swim away, surfacing far off in any direction. So imagine my surprise this morning when we saw a loon paddling languidly at the end of our dock.

Knowing how skittish they are, I set up my camera and monopod on the deck of the cabin. I was afraid that getting any closer was likely to drive him away. But after snapping a multitude of photos, I ventured halfway down to the lake, and eventually right onto the dock. Still Mr. Loon lingered. Swimming slowly back and forth, he seemed to accept our presence, even when Katie and Erik joined me. He wasn't fazed by us in the slightest.

Eventually the loon swam away. But he left us knowing we'd seen something special. Thanks for the visit, Mr. Loon!

 

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.

IMG_4450

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.

 

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.

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.