Category Archives: Outdoors

Snowshoeing up the Mountainside

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Neither of us would have gone on our own.  And it wouldn’t have been wise.  But when my co-worker and I put our heads together at lunch, we prodded each other into going snowshoeing.  Never mind the wind and blowing snow – we just had to get out and do something.

Hoping to escape the open valley, we drove up to higher ground and the starting point of the snowshoe trail up Nine Mile Mountain.  The wind was still howling, but we convinced ourselves it was better up there, strapped on our snowshoes and set out.

IMG_0694 croppedNow many times snowshoe trails are so well traveled that boots are enough, and in fact snowshoes are more of a hindrance than a help.  That was not the case for us.  The mountain was covered in deep fresh snow, with no prior evidence of a trail.  Fortunately, the route was well marked with tree markers when we went through woodsy bits and yellow posts when we were out in the open.  It made me wonder just how tall those posts needed to be to still be showing above the top of the snow.

It was a long slog up, but we were glad for the warmth it generated, and stopped frequently to turn and look at the view.  It was a gray and white world out there, but beautiful in its own way.  And despite the dark clouds, the snow was glaringly white all around us.

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There is something wonderful about snowshoeing.  It’s not the same competitive sport that skiing is – at least for me.  It’s peaceful and quiet, with plenty of time to reflect.  Especially when treading on silent new snow.  We each forged ahead at our own pace, carefully keeping each other in sight and reconnecting after short intervals.IMG_0703

When we reached the top, there was nothing to tell us we’d made it except the absence of additional trail markers.  We had a marvelous view of the valley and the whole campus of Snow Mountain Ranch.  We could see the Winter Park downhill ski slopes off in the distance.  The world was at our feet.

We flew back down the mountain in half the time it took us to reach the top.  It was easier having a recent trail to follow, but even in the short time since we’d traveled IMG_0702up our footsteps were entirely erased by the wind in spots.

We finished with a sense of accomplishment.  With the brisk wind still fresh on our faces, we were glad we’d made the effort.  Despite the weather, we tackled the mountain.

 

Whiteout!

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It all started a couple nights ago. We’d gone to Happy Hour at a nearby XC resort with the other volunteers, and afterwards we stepped outside into a world of swirling snow.  It was a harrowing drive back with huge snowflakes flying at us, illuminated by our headlights.  The car was stifling inside with the defroster pouring out heat, still unable to keep up with the ice forming on the windshield.  It wasn’t a long drive but it sure felt that way, and we were greatly relieved when we crept down the entrance to Snow Mountain Ranch.

DSCN0119For the last two days the wind has been relentless. The new snow on the ground is easily whipped into deep drifts and obliterates the surrounding scenery. With gusts up to 40 mph yesterday it wasn’t a day for outdoor recreation. In fact, the wind shut down the entire Nordic ski trail system, wiping out the trails and tracks. The groomers will be a starting from scratch to recreate the trails and set new track.

When I woke up this morning, all I could see from my window was white. Since it was my day off, I’d signed up for a snowshoe hike. It didn’t look like the kind of weather I wanted to venture out in, and I was saved the embarrassment of wimping out on the event by having the organizer cancel it. Apparently he agreed with my assessment of the weather.

Despite that grim start to the day, the sun has come out. It’s quit a tease, making it look nice outside and tempting to reconsider some outdoor activity. But the wind continues to howl and snow blows horizontally outside the window. One look at the distant mountaintops reveals what could be coming our way – more snow and clouds. For now, I’ll continue to hang out by the fire in the lodge.

According to volunteers who have been coming here for years this weather is unusual. It does get plenty windy here, but these strong winds for such a long duration are not the norm. So we can hope that they will subside. It’s been a challenging winter everywhere this year. I guess here in the mountain valley that means wind and whiteouts.

The Latest Adventure

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Just four and a half months since we cycled to the end of our Grand Gaspé Cycling Tour, we are on our way to another new vacation experience. This time we have loaded up our cross-country skis and are headed for the Rockies. Although we won't be self-propelled between destinations this trip, we will be “self-supported” during our stay.

Snow Mountain Ranch Nordic Center

With retirement comes plenty of free time, and an incentive to conserve funds. So when we heard about the volunteer opportunitites at Snow Mountain Ranch, a Nordic Ski Center run by the YMCA of the Rockies in Colorado, we didn't hesitate a moment before filling out the application. When the call came to say we were “hired” we were thrilled. We've never skied in the Rockies before, and are unlikely to spend the big bucks to go there, so it was the perfect solution.

It's a sweet gig indeed. For three weeks we will work as volunteers for 28 hours a week, in exchange for room and board, and access to 100 kilometers of mountain ski trails. They are putting Rich to work in IT, doing a PC upgrade on all their computers. I chose a more leisurely pursuit – working in the craft shop, helping others with their projects. The remainder of the time we are free to enjoy the amenities of the center, most notably the ski trails. For a couple of XC skiing enthusiasts, what could be better?

We have it on good authority that they treat their volunteers well, as they are the life blood of the operation. And in fact most of them return year after year. Some stay the entire winter, but newcomers like us are encouraged to try it out on a shorter term basis. I'm sure they will be checking us out as much as we are them. The staff accomodations are reported to be 60's style motel rooms – right up our alley having spent night after night in budget motels on our cycling trip. And someone else will be doing the cooking – sounds good to me.

We check in tomorrow afternoon. Let the adventure begin!

 

Ice Mushrooms

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I have to say that having open water Photo Feb 09, 4 10 38 PMon Lake Superior makes a huge difference.  Looking out at an expanse of flat white ice is not all that appealing or inspiring. So I am especially grateful for the recent strong winds that left us with deep blue water in its place.

IMG_3513 trimmedAlong the shoreline at Brighton Beach, it also brought us ice mushrooms.  At least that’s what they look like to me.  Rocks close to shore topped with rounded ice caps, their stony bases barely exposed above the waterline.IMG_3512 trimmed

But the best part is the lacy edging.  The lapping of the water which ate away at the icy mounds also left behind delicate traces.  Constant dripping created icicle fringe around each one.  But Mother Nature didn’t stop there.  Each individual ice shard resembles a miniature arrow, adding complexity to the design as it points down to the blue water below.  Wonderful artwork.

It’s inevitable.  I know the lake ice will sweep back in.  And maybe it will bring some art wonders of its own.  That’s the best part – each visit to the shore brings something new to discover.

Sea Caves from the Ice

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No one will argue that this has been an unusually cold winter.  We have certainly had our share of days where the temperature never deigned to approach zero.  But it does have its compensations.  For the first time in five years the sea caves in the Apostle Islands are accessible by foot, thanks to the firm ice on Lake Superior.  When stunning photos of the ice formations began to circulate, we became entranced and pledged to go.

Of course, it took over a week for the weather to cooperate, but today’s forecast looked promising, so we made plans with friends to make the trip together.  As it turns out, we nailed the timing.  Sunshine, clear blue skies, warming temperatures and little wind made for a perfect day for our hike out to the caves and viewing the ice.

IMG_3480There was no need for snowshoes or ski poles, nor any possibility of getting lost, as the trail was well trampled by many before us. We followed the edge of the lake for about a mile, with the scenery improving with each step.  Layers of rock, topped with trees high above our heads became increasingly impressive, as did the spiky icicles that flowed down the exposed edges.

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Fortunately, we chose to visit fairly early in the day, as even though it was mid-week, a large number of people were making their way out to the caves by the time we were on our return trip.  We were pleased to be there when there were still relatively few others there.

Caves abounded in the rocky coastline, ranging from small openings in the ice to huge caverns.  Inside, the ice formed fascinating patterns, hanging from the ceiling like frosty stalactite.

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Rich crawled into several openings, and was rewarded with some great photos.  But the dripping, groaning and thumping of the ice was too spooky for my tastes, so after a few such sojourns I made do with searching out unique angles – outside.

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It was a great day for lingering.  For gawking and feeling awed by the beauty of it all.  For feeling so fortunate to be able to see it for ourselves.  And for impeccable timing.  No sooner did we reach the car than the skies clouded over and the wind picked up.  The day was no longer so perfect.  But by then we were off in search of lunch.  Lucky us.

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Following the dogs

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Now that we are Duluthians, it seemed only right that we take in the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon.  With family in town, it was a natural to head over to the IMG_3276starting area ahead of time for Meet the Mushers.  In a parking lot filled with dog kennels, sleds, equipment and people, it took on the aura of a festival.  Dogs and mushers were easily accessible, and more than willing to be petted and talk about the race and their experiences.  We could feel the excitement build as we perused the starting chute, and it was hard to tear our granddaughter away from meeting the “puppies.”

Once the race was in progress, Rich and I headed out to more remote spots to try our hand at photographing the action.  Our first stop was at the top of Seven IMG_3285 croppedBridges Road.  While only the half-marathon teams took that route, we had great fun watching them navigate the downhill that ended in a hairpin curve.  Not all dogs understood that they needed to turn, which was comedic.  And I quite enjoyed this team’s lead dog, who seemed more intent on checking me out than leading the team!

Still early in the race, the mushers eagerly wavedIMG_3324 trimmed and appreciated our cheers as they passed by.  One in particular seemed to be having a great time – and it was a woman to boot!  What spirit she showed.

When the action slowed there, we moved to a post further out of town, which proved to be a beautiful viewing point.  Without warning, mushers came around the bend and traveled down a gently undulating and curving path heavily lined with thick and snowy pine trees.  There we had ample opportunity to let our cameras shoot continuously, catching them all the way down the trail.

IMG_3382 trimmedIt was there that we saw our first full-marathon teams, with up to 14 dogs pulling the sleds as opposed to only 8 for the shorter distance racers.  The teams seemed to stretch forever, and were amazing in their ability to coordinate their movements in a compressed space without getting hopelessly tangled.  And they proved to be a challenge to fit into the viewfinder of the camera!  We particularly enjoyed those with brilliantly colored booties – a necessity for the dogs’ feet out on the icy trail.

We quickly learned that photographing the race required more waiting than it did clicking the shutter.  We never knew how long it would be between teams, and keeping warm was a high priority.  Fortunately, we were decked out in our warmest gear, and found that talking to other spectators was entertaining and helped pass the time.  Once a lead dog appeared, then it was a scramble for the camera, getting it lined up properly and shooting either with clumsy mittens or frigid exposed fingers.  When using continuous mode, I felt like I was shooting blind, and came out with some headless mushers in the process.  And while the photos taken from far away were not great, I enjoyed replaying them later in rapid order, seeing the dogs advance down the trail in stilted stop-action form.

We were relieved to return to the car at the end of each stop, to feel its warmth and let the seat warmers work their magic on our chilled bodies.  The mushers weren’t nearly so lucky.  It was hard to imagine them continuing on mile after cold and windy mile, and on into the night through the dark.  They are heartier souls than we, still out there, following their dogs.

 

 

 

Deep snow, silent woods

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Many times Susan and I have been snow challenged on our annual XC ski trip. Not this year. Snow was in abundance after about a foot of new snow fell on the North Shore the day before our trip. And more snow continued to fall and accumulate while we were there. Instead of navigating sparsely covered trails, we plowed through new snow still awaiting the arrival of the groomer. Or skied the latest powder into the previous set of tracks.  While it was slow going, and we didn’t cover anywhere near our usual number of kilometers, we put out plenty of effort blazing the trail. And it was so worth it.

DSCN0041There’s nothing like the silence of new snow. It slid soundlessly under our skis as we plodded along. It glistened in the sunshine, sparkling like closely packed constellations. And it muffled everything around us. Whenever I stopped, there was a total absence of sound. I could tell when a large bird flew overhead, announced by the whoosh of the air as it flapped its wings.

The trees were cloaked in heavy layers of snow. Skiing through deep pine woods was like traveling through a tunnel, with walls of snowy pine boughs. So beautiful. So peaceful.

DSCN0053The sky overhead was that deep blue that only comes with cold dry air. It made for a striking background in contrast to the snowy pines and tall willowy deciduous tree limbs.

The sunshine had a palpable warmth that was as noticeable in its absence in the cool shade as it was radiating on our faces when we stopped to soak it up. Late afternoon brought fiery sunsets with a brilliant red glow in the sky.

Yes, it was a good year for snow. And a great year for striding through the woods.

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Ah, Sunshine!

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I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.  After three days of constant snowfall and heavy cloud cover, the reappearance of the sun lent a welcome glow to the new fallen snow and rays of visual warmth to my world.

IMG_0607I started snowshoeing in the woods early this morning just past daybreak.  The temperature had dropped during the night, and the trees that were doubled over with the weight of the wet snow were now frozen in their curved poses.  Occasional trees and branches had snapped and fallen under the strain.  Following the trail was like doing an obstacle course.

The snow under my feet started out hard and crunchy.  While it easily bore my weight, progress was noisy. Further inland, the depth increased and the snow softened.  That’s snowshoeing at its best in my mind.  Silent and deep.

IMG_0609The prettiest trails were those that followed the Lester River.  The ground rose high above the water and my path was narrow and secluded.  The trees must have been more open to the wind, as they all stood tall and proud.

It was at that point that I saw it.  The sun had just risen above the clouds at the horizon and illuminated the trees all around me.  Their long thin shadows lay across the trail, adding a new dimension to the snow.  Re-energized by the sun’s appearance, I prolonged my snowshoe trek to absorb my new surroundings.

IMG_3131The longer the sun was up, the bluer the sky.  It made a beautiful backdrop for the snow covered tree limbs.  And it lifted my spirits.  After days of isolation and greyness, we had color again.

Ah, sunshine is a wonderful thing.

Braving the Storm

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Day 2 of Duluth’s big snowstorm.  From our house, about 1/2 mile in from Lake Superior, it seemed a mild event. The main feature was the slow but constant and significant accumulation of snow.  Sure, it was windy, as evidenced by the broken branches in the yard and slightly swaying trees, but for the most part just a pretty winter wonderland.

Similar to yesterday, by late morning I made my way out into the snowy accumulation.  This time I donned snowshoes and headed toward the lake.  We had at least 8″ of heavy new snow in our yard, but the closer I got to the shore, the wetter, sloppier and skimpier the snow.  And when I emerged from the new lakewalk tunnel, I was surprised to look down and discover that my jacket was covered in droplets and soaking wet.  I had entered an entirely different micro-climate.

IMG_0575 trimmedBut that wasn’t all.  I was suddenly in the throes of a real storm.  I could hear the wind as I approached, but that was nothing compared to the fury with which it whipped past me.  Sticking to the shelter of trees at the shore, I watched as the brown water churned and huge waves crashed over the rocks.  It was all I could do to hold my little camera steady to see if I could catch the action.

Not content with one view, I soldiered on toward Brighton Beach.  The wind coming down the lake was so fierce, I couldn’t see a thing as I fought my way forward through the windy wetness.  There was no way I was going to survive on the open rocky beach, so I sought another grove of IMG_0584trees for my viewing point.  There I could see the rainy snow driven sideways in sheets across the water.  It wasn’t a place I wanted to dawdle, and as soon as I did an about face the wind fairly blew me back to the tunnel.  On the way, I had to smile at the snow encrusted North Shore sign, perfect proof of the horizontal snowfall.

My return trip was the same transition in reverse, and I reached home in the quiet snowfall I’d left.  It was a short but intense excursion, from one world to another and back again.  I guess we really are in the throes of a major storm after all.

Ski-Shoeing

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Today was my first ski of the season, if you can call it that.  After weeks of running, waiting for snow, it was finally here. I’m pretty leery about early season snow.  Unlike my husband who heads out on his skis at the first sign of a snowflake, I prefer to wait for the real deal.  But I had to admit that there was plenty of snow right outside my door this morning.  So I waxed up my classic skis and headed out.

It was deep all right.  Thick and moist too.  Lacking groomed trails yet, I made my way up Seven Bridges Road.  For once, I considered the snowmobiles my friends, as they had packed down a nice trail right down the middle of the road.  It was far easier following their path than trying to break trail.

IMG_0574Although the wind howled overhead, the road was pretty well sheltered.  The trees were laden with snow, some bending way over under the heavy weight.  And the world was silent.  Progress was slow, and getting any glide from my skis was only a wish, but the early season novelty of the new fallen snow was ample compensation.

Continuing onto Skyline Drive and summiting at Hawk Ridge, I came into the full force of the wind.  It raged across the open viewing area and obliterated the snowmobile tracks.  Down below the city faded into greyness and Lake Superior was left to my imagination.  The only reality was the snow beneath my skis.

IMG_0572I hoped for some benefit from retracing my tracks on the return trip, but it was a futile wish.  If anything, the snow was softening and increasingly clumped up on the bottom of my skis.  It felt more like walking than skiing.  That’s when I coined a new phrase – ski-shoeing. Tramping through deep new snow being held up by long sticks instead of snowshoes.  At least I had the benefit of my ski poles.

It may not have been glorious skiing, but it was a start.  And it felt great to be outside in the snow.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll dig out my snowshoes.