Category Archives: Outdoors

Recreation

Residual Rollers

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The recent blizzard in the Midwest missed us entirely.  Or almost.  Although the skies were dark with ominous clouds overhead yesterday, they didn’t produce a single snowflake.  But the wind was fierce and frosty.  The temperatures belied the chill brought by the stiff wind, and we could hear it whistling through the trees through most of the night.

Some time before morning, the winds dropped, the clouds disappeared and we woke to a clear and chilly day.  As I headed out for my morning run, the promise of a brilliant sunrise lured me down to Brighton Beach to catch those early morning rays. Upon reaching the lake, however, I found the sun obscured by the thick steam rising from the lake.  The sharp plummet into single digits was extracting the heat from the lake, and seemed to leech the color out of the sunrise.

Despite the relative calm of the morning, the lake was still heaving from yesterday’s blow.  From a distance it appeared to be flat and quiet, but at Brighton Beach the swells curled and crashed onto the shore, producing a chilly spray that rained down upon the rocks.  The sound of of the pounding water and the rhythm of the action was musical and mesmerizing.

Interestingly enough, the waves seemed to be confined to that particular section of shoreline.  As I continued my run up the North Shore, the water quietly lapped the rocks without any fanfare.  Brighton Beach and its large rocks must be uniquely positioned to facilitate the crashing of the waves.

IMG_9395 trimmedOf course I didn’t have a camera with me during my run, and the day nearly slipped by before I returned to try and capture the waves.  It was almost sunset by then, and to be honest I had a feeling I had missed my chance.  But as soon as I approached the IMG_9410shoreline, I could hear the thunder again and see the spray.  The residual rollers continued.

The waves weren’t huge by any standards.  It was the way they materialized out of the flat lake that was so intriguing.  The rocks near the water’s edge were encased in a slippery coating of ice that added to IMG_9419the appeal of the scene.  And in the west was a beautiful sunset that lit up the sky – unlike the sunrise that failed to produce any color.  My little point and shoot camera felt slow and unresponsive as I tried to catch the waves in action, and my fingers became clumsy as the cold penetrated my thin gloves.  But I was glad I had returned to see yet another magical moment on our Great Lake.

A Classic Day in the Woods

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The ski trails had not been groomed.  I know, I went over to check.  Twice.  With all that new snow, it seemed there was enough for skiing, but without grooming it was too deep for skate skiing.  There were decent classic tracks, forged by a number of skiers out ahead of me.  So I was left with little choice.  If I was going to ski today, it had to be classic.

Ever since taking up skate skiing, it’s been my favorite for workouts.  I just don’t have the solid technique nor the desire to press hard when doing classic skiing.  So instead, I reserve it for recreational skiing with friends or going out in the woods to enjoy the scenery.  I just didn’t know that today was meant for that type of skiing.

As soon as I set off, IMG_9348I could feel the magic.  The snow was soft, with plenty of coverage, and the tracks were decent.  The silence of the woods descended on me as I glided through the snow.  I didn’t need a workout, I needed to enjoy the surroundings.  It was slow going in the new snow, but that meant more opportunity to enjoy the scenery.

It was mid-afternoon but since we are zeroing in on the shortest day of the year, the sun was low in the sky, sending long shadows across the trail.  The sky was a brilliant blue, providing a beautiful canopy over the snowy scene.  And the sunshine felt good on my back.  Lester River was gurgling under the snow and ice and provided a nice vista as I worked my way uphill.

As the afternoon progressed, the sun lit the treetops on fire.  Soon following, the sky itself began to glow and silhouetted the trees in the foreground.  I desperately wanted to capture it in a photo, but my camera battery had long since succumbed to the cold and complained when I tried to turn on my camera.  A mental picture would have to do.  Perhaps it was for the best – it was cooling down quickly, and my willingness to take off my mitts to handle the camera was quickly evaporating.

Maybe they will groom the trails tonight.  I hope so.  But now I’m glad I had a classic day in the woods.

A Black and White World

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We woke up to a black and white world this morning.  Snow was falling at a brisk pace and about two inches had accumulated already.  Our surroundings were masked by the deep white powder which transformed all color to a palate of only two hues.  It must be the brilliance of the pristine white snow that renders all other colors mute.

IMG_9329Normally in winter, I prefer to work with the snow rather than against it when going out for my workout.  However, I knew that enough snow would not accumulate in time to send the groomers out on the ski trails.  So I donned my Yaktrax and headed out for an early morning run in the falling snow.  Traction proved to be tricky, as I found unexpected icy patches beneath the snow, and in the deeper untraveled sections the snow clumped and unclumped under my feet.  But this run wasn’t about speed or quality, it was for the experience.  The snow muted all sound and obliterated any long distance view.  I was hemmed in by snow covered trees, in black and white.

Heading down to Brighton Beach I experienced the full force of lake effect.  The NE wind came right off the lake, transforming the snowflakes into crisp pellets that felt like pins and needles on my face.  I was toasty warm inside and frigid on my exposed skin in the bracing wind.  The lake was slightly roiled up and looked decidedly chilly.

I may be biased, but I found some of the prettiest views when I returned to our own neighborhood around Amity Creek.  Who can argue with living in such beautiful surroundings?

    Particularly our own flavor of black and white!IMG_9347 trimmed

A Winter Oasis

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Driving down the entrance road, a beautiful sight greeted us. The dry brown late fall scene was suddenly transformed into a wintry wonderland. The trees were laden with fluffy snow clinging to the branches, and the ground was covered with a clean white blanket. The picturesque chalet was lit up from inside, aglow in the evening darkness and skiers silently slid by on the lit trails. Winter!

We were in the Twin Cities, and took the opportunity to get in some skiing at Elm Creek Park Reserve where they make snow for a portion of their cross-country ski trails. Since there was no snow even Up North, we were grateful for the investment and industriousness of the park staff dedicated to keeping their ski trails open. Never mind that it was artificial snow – it was snow and skiing. So far they had covered only 1.3k of trail, and were working hard to add the additional portions to bring it up to 2.5k, but we were happy to have that. Despite the recent warm temperatures, nightly grooming and frequent replenishment with the snow guns had rendered very decent skiing. It was heavenly to ski along, pressing rusty muscles back into service and get some real glide. Feeling the cold air on my face and spending the evening outside skiing was nirvana! To add to the ambiance, real snow was falling, making us believe that maybe real winter was not far off after all. It didn’t amount to much, but that wasn’t the point.

Rich calls it “gerbil” skiing. Doing any distance at all on a 1.3k loop means lots of rotations around the same terrain. But last night no one complained about the repetitions. And once the dinner hour arrived, the trail emptied out and we had little competition for space. Make no mistake, it’s not the same as skiing in the woods, away from civilization and on real snow. But it’s the best we have right now.

I know it’s a worn out refrain, bemoaning losing the ferocity of winters past. So we look forward instead, and as we return to Duluth we are putting our hopes in the Winter Storm Warning that is out for tonight. Will we wake up to winter that is more than a small urban oasis, and snow that blankets not only our front yard but the ski trails across the street? We sure hope so.

If you don’t like the weather in Duluth…

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Wait five minutes.  That’s the saying, and today it is so true!

Getting ready for my morning run, our outdoor thermometer said 30 degrees.  The Weather Channel on my iPad said 39 degrees.  Turns out both were right.  Stepping outside the door, seeing the frost on the garden and feeling the air, I knew our thermometer was accurate.  I headed up 7 Bridges Road and continued on toward Hawk Ridge running through the morning’s chill, challenged by the hill work.  Suddenly it was SO WARM!  It was as if I’d crossed a magic line and the heat was on full blast.  Off came the hat and gloves, and I wished I for lighter layers of clothing.  I had reached the critical elevation where I was out of the lake’s reach and its morning fog.  Sun blanketed my path and I knew I was in the zone measured by the Weather Channel – it was at least 10 degrees warmer than down below.  Not long after, while cruising down Glenwood Street I re-encountered lake effect air.  Back on went the hat and gloves.

I continued on down to the lake, through Brighton Beach and up the North Shore before returning home.  As I ran, the sun burned through the fog and began to warm the air even down by the lake.  Once again I felt overdressed.  But it was a welcome warmth and I enjoyed the glorious morning that resulted.

By early afternoon when we left for Thanksgiving dinner, it was positively balmy out!  The temperature had risen to over 50 degrees.  It seemed so odd to think that it was so warm on Thanksgiving when by all rights we could have snow.  (Oh, if only!  We skiers are getting concerned…)  But we didn’t give Duluth her due.  By the time we returned home, big fat flakes were falling and by now it’s even accumulating on the ground. It’s a winter wonderland out there.

What a difference a few hours makes.  Or five minutes.

Pre-Thanksgiving Hike

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One of the best parts of living on the edge of Duluth is the proximity to the North Shore.  Today we decided to go up to Tettegouche State Park and go hiking.  In just about an hour, we were there and heading up the trail to High Falls.

The day’s weather held promise.  It wasn’t too cold and started with a clear sunrise.  But fog and clouds drifted in and lingered, masking the blue sky that we knew was up there.  No matter, it was still bright if not sunny.  The barren deciduous trees provided a backdrop of gray and the blanket of leaves on the trail had weathered to a subdued brown.  In contrast, the pine trees brought a welcome splash of green color.

We had the trails to ourselves – it wasn’t exactly prime season.  We rather prefer it that way, just us and nature.  We could walk and absorb the sights and sounds around us uninterrupted.

The Baptism River was low, which was to be expected for the fall season coupled with the summer’s drought.  There was still enough water to provide action over the falls.  And the sound of rushing water drew us to the sights.

The bridge above High Falls provided some great entertainment.  Suspended from a single cable anchored at each end, there was plenty of sway in the middle.  We felt like kids bounding and bouncing across.  It only made me a little bit nervous.

We have a lot to be thankful for, living so close to such natural beauty.  Not everyone has the good fortune to venture into the woods on well-kept trails, to watch the water plummet over the rocks, and to benefit from living near the largest fresh water lake in the world.  Thank you, God, for planting us in such a special part of your world.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Turnabout

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Just yesterday I was complaining about the cold. This morning I am writing this post out on my front deck! The thermometer reads 42 degrees, but the sun is shining and I am well protected from the wind. We learned early on in the building process that the deck was perfectly positioned for morning coffee, lunch or just reading. We’d like to say we planned it that way, but we didn’t have that much foresight. The deck faces south, which also happens to be the only side of the house that we could not leave wooded in the building process. All that big equipment needed access to the site somewhere. But once we discovered the windfall in sunshine that resulted, we loved it. It’s all the better in the seasons when the leaves are down and the sun lingers longer on the deck. We have planted new trees on that side of the house, and added to them each year so far, but this time we are planning the result – they are strategically placed so as not to shade the deck, even when fully grown.  The addition of Adirondack chairs was a requirement for me.  Nothing denotes relaxation like an Adirondack chair.  And being Polywood, they can be out year-round.  Another necessity.

I can hear Amity Creek flowing, a bit of wind blowing, small animals scurrying in our woods and birds twittering. Can winter really be right around the corner?

Getting Acclimated

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For all my bravado about eagerly awaiting the start of the cross-country ski season, I have to admit that the season’s first cold temperatures are getting to me.  Stepping outside to go running the other morning when the temperature read 22 degrees was a chilly reminder of what is to come.  It didn’t help that the sky had that dreary winter gray look, and the winds whipped me in the face for the first half of my run.  There’s no getting around it – it felt cold.  I zipped my jacket up under my chin and forged ahead.  My fingers eased themselves out of their individual compartments to snuggle together in the palms of my gloves.  As always, once I got going my body generated enough heat to warm up and eventually I even enjoyed the “freshness” of the air on my face.  It’s getting rolling that’s tough.

Note to self: Hiking does not generate nearly as much warmth as other more intense forms of outdoor exercise.  I had the right idea, dressing in layers, just not enough of them.  It was my hands that suffered the most.  I’m convinced that I frostbit them more than once over the years, leaving them more susceptible to the cold.  Next hike, it’s heavy mittens for me.  It took a cup of hot tea, cradled in my hands to rewarm me both inside and out.  But I still enjoyed the hike.

I’m glad that I took advantage of the nice days last week to get in a long bike ride.  I was just 21 miles shy of 4,000 miles for the year and couldn’t bear the thought of missing that milestone.  I’m now safely 9 miles over.  Anything more is just gravy.  When I took up long distance cycling as a newbie back in March, I had no idea I’d cover so many miles.  Those that know me are probably not surprised, however.  And if the temperatures moderate and the sun peaks out, I’ll probably sneak in another ride or two.

Hopefully I’ll acclimate and get used to winter’s chill by the time it comes in earnest.  Even so, I know I will still have to psyche myself up to head out into the cold.  And I know I’ll return feeling glad that I did.

 

Fall at the Cabin

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If it’s MEA weekend, that means a trip to the cabin, right?  Never mind that we no longer have kids in school, and want to take advantage of the teachers’ convention days off.  It is still a fall ritual.

Knowing this was coming, we debated whether to leave the water system running after our previous visit.  I don’t know if it was laziness or foresight that led us to take the risk.  After all, one can’t argue the niceties of running water.  Watching the temperatures dip to 14 degrees some nights Up North, I admit to being a bit nervous about our decision.  But all was well upon our arrival, and we did appreciate the convenience.

Late October is not the most attractive time of year at the cabin.  Fall leaves are down, grass is beginning to turn brown, skies can be gray.  But it also has its compensations.  As our son Erik said, there is good reason to keep a fire burning in the fireplace, and yet it’s not freezing cold when you step outside.  On one of our requisite hikes, our feet swished through the fallen leaves, or trampled the quieter blanket of pine needles, depending on the nature of the surrounding trees.  The lack of leaves provided greater views, exposing the environs that are usually hidden.  We saw stark evidence of the July storms that blew down vast numbers of trees in the area, and the frequency with which they were snapped mid-way down their trunk.  That left the tree tops either skirting the ground, dangling in mid-air or caught in between by other trees.  A prime example was situated right on the edge of the trail.  A huge tree was snapped in two and its top half rested on two other trees, one of which was right next to the trail.  It’s branches were trimmed to allow us to pass, but bright red plastic tape adorned the branches and announced “Killer Tree” all along its length.  We understood its meaning – its perch was precarious and the tree could easily topple unexpectedly.  We’d just never seen it so spelled out so literally!  I only wish I’d taken a picture.

Our next  discovery was beaver territory.  We came upon an opening that was littered with trees chewed by beavers.  Some had toppled, and were further gnawed along the trunk while accessible on the ground.  Others were poised to fall, their trunks thinned to a narrow stalk.  What was so unique was how recent the activity was – the exposed wood was creamy white and the wood chips were fresh and moist.  We could see the teeth marks, and discovered that we could pull apart tree layers in the supple chips.  It wasn’t hard to spot the nearby beaver mound in the lake, and we retreated down the trail hoping to witness their activity, but the beavers declined to oblige.

At the conclusion of the weekend, it truly was time to winterize the cabin.  No point in pressing our luck further.  It was opportune to have Erik there, so Rich could show him the ropes.  Plunging into the chilly lake water to remove the water intake, laying the hoses out in the yard, and disconnecting the few pipes under the cabin.  It’s time to pass on the knowledge.  After all, we intend to keep coming for MEA weekend for years to come.

The Road less Traveled

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I wanted to go up the North Shore.  The leaves were peaking and I had my heart set on cycling alongside the beautiful blue lake in contrast to the brilliant yellows and oranges.  But Rich had other ideas.  My first clue was the slip of paper left on the kitchen counter the night before with cryptic notes that I quickly identified as a bike route.  Just not my route.

The day dawned clear and bright – the perfect fall day for a bike ride.  We left early and picked up my friend, Myra, and her bike then Rich broke the news I’d feared.  “We’re not going up the shore.  I figured out a better route.”  And sure enough, we headed in the opposite direction.  Myra was more flexible and gracious than I was, but I knew it wasn’t worth fighting – Rich was driving.  So off we went.

We started in Gary New Duluth and immediately headed across the St. Louis River on the Oliver Bridge.  It’s a unique old bridge that wasn’t frightening on a bike, but I might have questioned its soundness in a car.  We were off to a good start.  We traveled on small local roads, and soon turned onto Military Road.  There was no traffic and we were able to ride 3 abreast on the tree-lined route.  The sun was out and soon warmed us as well as infusing the leaves with depth of color.  I guess it was about this time that I had to admit Rich had made a good choice.  It was a wonderful circle route, which is always preferable to an out-and-back course, we didn’t hit any sections of dirt road, and we got our fill of fall colors, including some very picturesque spots.  Midway Myra and I even convinced Rich to extend the route an additional 10 miles to make it last even longer.

Returning along highway 23 we stopped at the scenic overlook.  Usually it is a sleepy little wayside, but that day it was overflowing with people taking in the view.  And for good reason – the colors were spectacular.  We joined in the fray, taking our share of foliage pictures.

That evening, we met friends for dinner in Duluth.  They called to say that they were going to be late.  They were staying north of Two Harbors and the traffic was terrible…  There were thousands of “leaf peepers” on the road along the North Shore, and they were barely crawling along.  Rich’s face lit up.  He was vindicated, and even I realized that it had been a good idea to avoid the North Shore.

The next day, I just left the choice to Rich.  We were up at the cabin doing fall closing-up chores, but had reserved the afternoon for a bike ride.  He chose our route around Turtle Lake.  As the road narrowed and turned to packed dirt, we had the best colors yet.  The tree branches closed us in overhead with brilliance, and the fallen leaves blanketed the roadside.  Truly spectacular.

In the future I will just have to remember – the road less traveled is the one we want.