Category Archives: Outdoors

Canoe Route – By the Stats

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Having waxed eloquent on my last two posts about this Boundary Waters canoe trip, I think it’s time to delve more into the raw details of the trip. For those of you interested in routes, logistics and statistics, this post is right up your alley.

Overview:
48.5 Total Miles
28 Portages
2,201 Rods of Portaging (6.88 Miles)
Net Elevation Change +313 ft

This was a four-day trip, starting with an overnight stay in a bunkhouse at Tuscarora Lodge.  After a hearty breakfast there, we took advantage of their tow to American Point on Saganaga Lake. It gave us a good head start on a huge lake, and allowed us to venture further afield.  The route took us in a circle that followed the Canadian border, then dipped south to travel through smaller lakes and head back east again to finish on Round Lake at the lodge.

Day 1:
18.1 Total Miles
4 Portages
95 Rods of Portaging (0.28 Miles)
Net Elevation Change -49 ft
Major lakes – Saganaga, Ottertrack, and Knife

This was our longest day of paddling and fewest portages. We were fortunate to have calm waters, which made for rapid progress and easy navigation through big lakes. We were on the popular border route, with Canadian shores on our right, and US soil on the left. Other canoes were common, but it was far from crowded, and there was no danger of coming up short when it came to finding an available campsite. Much of the area we traveled through was “burn zone” from earlier forest fires. Regrowth was evident and healthy, but the tall barren trunks of charred trees still towered over the new greenery. While not exactly attractive, particularly in contrast with untouched forest, it was a measure of reality and the natural forces of nature. It was fascinating to see the stark boundaries of the burn zone, leaving the mystery of why some areas burned and adjacent trees did not.

We camped on Knife Lake and set up camp just in time to see and hear thunderstorms rolling in all around us. We watched the skies, waiting and wondering if it was going to come our way. To our North, the sky turned yellow below the clouds. A dark form developed and rose into the sky, looking unmistakably like smoke. Our suspicions were confirmed at the conclusion of our trip when we learned that the storms had ignited forest fires on the Canadian side. Rain did come our way, but later gave way to a clear and calm evening with a deep red sunset. Our final reward of the day was a green display of Northern Lights that mimicked the shape of the island opposite us, moving and undulating along that wavy line.

Day 2:
7.6 Total Miles
9 Portages
393 Rods of Portaging (1.23 Miles)
Net Elevation Change +148 ft
Major lakes – Knife, Kekekabic, and Fraser

We awoke to a strong wind, which remained with us throughout our paddling this day. We were mostly on smaller lakes, however, which helped reduce the impact of the wind.  The exception was Kekekabic Lake, which challenged us with stiff resistance and big waves.  We had more portages, but they were still fairly short. It was gradual training for what was to come in later days. We had hoped to canoe out of the burn zone, but it persisted on at least some shores all day. In selecting our campsite on Fraser Lake, we made sure that it was not within our view. We had left the border route, but we were still within close enough range that canoes were still a fairly common sight.

This was our shortest day of canoeing, both in distance and time. We reached our campsite by 12:30, leaving us a lazy afternoon in which to hunker down alongside the lake with a good book. All intentions to go for a swim waned as the day cooled off. So instead, we roused ourselves for a short paddle across the lake to have our dinner and watch the sunset from a large rock outcropping high above the lake. We did find one advantage to being in the proximity of the burn zone – firewood was plentiful and dry. Our campfires ignited instantly and never lacked for fuel.

Day 3:
10.9 Total Miles
11 Portages
925 Rods of Portaging (2.89 Miles)
Net Elevation Change +64 ft
Major lakes – Fraser, Sagus, Makwa, Elton, and Little Saganaga

The morning was clear, chilly and calm with mist rising off the lake and the sun’s golden glow on the opposite shore.  It was beautiful to be out on the water in the early morning hours.  Today’s route included numerous small lakes linked by frequent portages, and growing in length.  By this time, we’d left all other canoeists behind and enjoyed the solitude of tree-ringed lakes, alternating pine and deciduous forests.  Portages bore the mark of infrequent use, overgrown with bushes and branches that challenged the height of the overturned canoe as it navigated the path.  Fall began to manifest itself, with golden leaves carpeting the surface of one trail.  To us, the added impediments were worth it for the isolation.

Our lesser traveled route also presented other challenges.  What appeared to be the long arm of a lake on the map felt more like a marshland.  But it was navigable.  What looked like it should be a clear blue lake was shallow and filled with lily pads.  We canoed over them.  What should have been a portage wasn’t.  It was a swamp.  So we canoed through it, dodging dead trees.  We ultimately found a path to the next lake, but not where it was marked on the map.

We finished up on Little Saganaga Lake.  It was a beautiful lake filled with enough islands to make it especially attractive but confusing to navigate.  Paddling around islands and peninsulas we located a beautiful campsite that afforded us expansive views.  At sunset, we had colorful displays in multiple directions.  We were also serenaded by a lone wolf, who howled continuously and was answered only by the loons on the lake.  He repeated his performance in the middle of the night.

Day 4:
11.9 Total Miles
7 Portages
793 Rods of Portaging (2.48 Miles)
Net Elevation Change +150 ft
Major lakes – Little Saganaga, Mora, Crooked, Tuscarora, and Round

Our final day provided a wide range of weather.  While the morning was calm and misty, the wind came up by the time we launched our canoe, and clouds filled the sky.  We pushed our way across the open waters of Little Saganaga, and moved on into smaller lakes.  We traveled along Carl’s favorite portage, from Little Saganaga to Mora Lake.  Covered in pines and following alongside a briskly flowing river that tumbled over rocks, it was definitely the most scenic of our trip.  The further we went that day, the more we re-encountered burn zone and reached more populated lakes.  It wasn’t the kind of day that encourage lingering, so we paddled on in quiet appreciation of our surroundings.

Reaching Tuscarora Lake, we hit a double-whammy.  The rain began in earnest, and the wind whipped across the wide expanse of water.  Fortunately the shower was short in duration, although it provided a good drenching – the first of our trip, so we couldn’t complain. By hiding behind islands, we avoided as much wind as possible.  And our reward?  The Tuscarora portage.  The Big One.  Approximately 428 rods in length with uphill to start and mud in the middle.  Its length defines its difficulty.  But it’s also a badge of honor to complete.  We encountered a veritable traffic jam at its start, with a solo canoeist following in our footsteps (he was glad to talk to us after 10 days on his own), and four heavily laden guys completing the portage from the other direction.  We were back in civilized territory.

We conquered the portage, which left us just two lakes and a lesser portage to our final destination.  It was bittersweet to paddle that section – a feeling of completion and satisfaction over the success of our trip mixed with the sad reality that it was coming to an end.  We had a shower, dry clothes and a good meal to look forward to.  But we both would have traded it all for another four days of canoeing in our grubby gear.

Making Memories in the BWCA

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This canoe trip was a gift from the three men in my life.  My husband, Rich, graciously supported me in venturing off with our son for four days in the BWCA – a place he also adores and would much rather have been than staying home and putting in long, grueling days on a big project approaching its go-live at work.  I’m not sure I could have buried my envy as well as he did.  Our youngest son, Erik, generously offered up his new hiking equipment, the latest in backpacking technology.  I clearly benefited from his warm yet compact down sleeping bag and sleep mat, and we relished the way his lightweight tent practically assembled itself each night.  And finally, our oldest son Carl, who shared four days with me in his favorite wilderness and made the whole trip possible.

Despite the fact that I am passionate about exercise and religiously run, cycle, swim or ski significant distances nearly every day, my fitness level does not necessarily translate to physical strength.  And size has to figure into this as well – at 5’1″ I was no match for Carl’s over 6′ frame.  So when it came time to divide up our carefully selected gear, Carl stacked the deck by strategically placing all the heavier equipment and food in his large “Duluth Pack,” leaving me the clothing and lighter weight fill for my backpack.  Add to that the fact that he portaged the canoe as well, he really carried a load – nearly 100 lb. he figures, which probably compares to about 25 lb. for me.  It amazed me how he could swing that canoe overhead in a single motion to rest on his shoulders which already bore the weight of his pack.  Ah, youth!  Down the portage trail he would hike, at a rigorous pace which left me following at a much slower and deliberate speed.

Balance has never been a strong point for me, and at first the added weight distribution of the backpack left me teetering over rocks and clumsily choosing my footing among the frequent roots crossing the trail.  But Carl showed infinite patience, waiting for me at the next lake with a cheery greeting for my efforts.  But it didn’t end there.  He loaded and unloaded my pack from the canoe at each juncture, and held it out for me to slip into, just like he was helping me into a mink coat.  And he always positioned the canoe so I had the best vantage point for getting in and out without slipping.  While I longed for the days when that was not necessary, I chose to relish being pampered and so well looked after.

We canoed long miles and tackled numerous portages, one as long as 425 rods.  I was amazed to learn after the fact that we paddled 18 miles on our first day out!  It helped that we had calm waters and traveled through large lakes with few portages to interrupt our progress.  Another day was the opposite – it felt like hiking with a bit of canoeing to tie the bits of land together.  But we were both eager to go the distance.  To explore.  To see new lakes and forests.  To just be in the Boundary Waters.  Energy and endurance were never an issue.  We always had capacity to do more.  Even if I knew Carl’s paddling strokes were doing more to carry us forward than mine, I was still eager to do my part and earn my keep in the canoe.

Camp time was equally important as that spent on the water.  Carl displayed his prowess in building fires, creative cooking over the camp stove, and carving out time to relax and read in beautiful surroundings with views of the water.  Mornings, while I packed our gear in the tent, Carl would start a fire and announce “Hot water is ready for coffee.”  What great service!  One afternoon he proposed a “remote dinner” which took us across the lake to an enormous rock rising out of the lake.  We scaled up the back to perch on the edge towering over the water – a glorious site for our dinner and nightly sunset.

And speaking of sunsets, they were both prolific and memorable.  Each night was different.  Each night was special.  And we never grew tired of watching the sun paint colors in the sky that reflected in the pure waters below.  The brilliance of the sun was matched only by the campfires that followed.  We spent hours staring into the coals, watching them glow, flicker and spark.  I think evenings were our favorite part of the day.

When I thought about it, Carl probably carried as much and worked as hard as he would on one of his solo canoe trips.  So perhaps from that perspective it was like doing a solo trip with a companion.  But the shared experiences and resulting memories can’t be measured.  The mutual enthusiasm over the trip, the wonder in admiring our surroundings, the camaraderie when faced with challenges, the unspoken agreement over the division of chores, the prevailing positive attitudes, the companionable silences, the good company – they will remain with me forever.

Boundary Waters Basics

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Trees, rocks, water and sky.  And a canoe in which to explore it all.  That’s all it takes, and it’s all one needs.  Okay, a few extras like a tent, camp stove and freeze dried food come in handy.  But completing our fourth day in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area today really drove home how it’s all about simplicity and back to the basics.

I loved how we were able to reduce our lives to only the essentials that we needed and could carry on a single portage.  (No double portaging for this duo!)  Getting up in the morning consisted of wriggling back into the same clothes in the warmth of a sleeping bag.  A quick brush of my teeth and running a damp wash cloth over my face constituted my daily makeup routine.  Question: If my hair looks a mess in the Boundary Waters and there is only my son to see it, is it still messy?  Answer: It doesn’t matter!

Life’s biggest concern was weather.  Is it calm or windy?  Is it sunny or raining?  Is it warm or cold?  We had some of each every day.  And we enjoyed it all.  Our greatest decisions were selecting a campsite.  Requirements were 1) a good view, 2) nice environs, 3) a fire ring with ample sitting benches,  4) open to the breeze to keep the few bugs away, 5) a good sunning rock.  We canoed further if necessary in search of one that met our criteria.  Meals were easy –  which flavor bagel to have, or what dinner packet to open.  It all tasted fantastic.

Long periods would go by in silence.  That is the beauty of it all.  Conversation is not necessary.  It is enough to be lost in one’s own thoughts.  And there is plenty of time for thought when spending all day in the outdoors.  Silence also invited in nature’s sounds – the flapping of a hundred geese’s wings flying overhead in impeccable V-formation, the lapping of the water against the shore, the melodic cry of the loons, and even the howling of a lone wolf at dusk.

Sunsets were the highlight of our days, and the evening’s entertainment.  If our campsite didn’t afford a good view, we canoed to a spot that did.  Campfires were our bedtime stories.  Filled with movement, color, heat and a mesmerizing glow, they lulled us into sleepiness.  The only things that could draw us away were splendid showings of Northern Lights or skies filled with brilliant stars.  And we saw both.

The longer we were there the better it got.  Everything else melted away and assumed a status of insignificance.  The Boundary Waters Canoe Area is a national treasure.  But more important is the personal treasure it gives in return.  Trees, rocks, water and sky.  And a return to basics.

From Pedals to Paddles

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We’ve been home from our bike trip less than a week, and I’m already packing again for another adventure.  I’m trading in my husband’s company for that of our oldest son, Carl, and switching from pedaling to paddling.  Having immersed himself in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area for four months last summer by working at Tuscarora Lodge and Canoe Outfitters and spending every day off work out on the water in a canoe, Carl developed a new passion.  Now that he is a working man with a real job out in DC, his opportunities to canoe are much rarer.  So when he decided he wanted to come home for a canoe trip and was looking for others to join him, I volunteered immediately.  There is a lot to be said for this retired status!

I will readily admit that I am not as well conditioned for this one as for the cycling trip.  The closest to training I’ve come is a couple of mild kayak outings at our cabin.  But somehow I’m sure I will manage.

I fee like I’m going on a trip with a real guide.  After all his experience last summer, Carl knows the ropes well – what gear to bring, how best to pack, what dried foods taste the best, and how to portage efficiently.  I know I’m in good hands.  He’s already done all the planning for the route.  All I need do is pack my stuff, hop in the car and shove off with him.

We’ll be starting off at Tuscarora Lodge – of course.  After a night in a bunk house, and availing ourselves of a hot and plentiful French Toast breakfast, we will begin our trip.  Carl has arranged for us to get a tow to our starting point.  So first we get a ride to Saganaga Lake (the green line), then they tow us in with our canoe to a remote staring point (the red line) – cool, I’ve never done that before!  From there, we will spend four days canoeing back to Tuscarora on Round Lake (the blue line).  I haven’t delved into the details too much (I’ve been a bit distracted with that little bike ride we did) but I’m sure it is an aggressive route.  Carl wouldn’t want to do it any other way, and I’m game.

I’m looking forward to unplugging.  Even on our bike trip, we each hunkered down with our iPads and wrote blog posts each night.  There’s no choice on this trip.  Any posts will have to wait until after we’re back to civilization.  Carl may do a little fishing.  If it stays warm enough, we’ll hop in for a swim.  We’re bringing paperback books and a deck of cards.  Evenings are for staring into campfires and stargazing.

I feel very privileged to be going on this trip.  How many twenty-something guys are willing to go on a canoe trip with their mom?   I’m glad mine is.

All Things Lake Superior

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There are plenty of commercial websites and publications about the Lake Superior region. But sometimes personal accounts, photos and tips are more interesting and entertaining. This is information provided by people enthusiastic about the lake and with no incentive to sell you anything. Now there is a website that has been created to lead you to just such a collection. The Lake Superior Waves website is a repository of personal, non-commercial resources about Lake Superior.

Need some examples?

  • Photography – there are numerous amateur photographers who share their Lake Superior area pictures on the web
  • Blogs – personal accounts that focus on our beloved lake, ranging from weather to outdoor activities
  • History and Information – educational resources on various lake themes

In addition, the site is searchable. So if you have an interest in cycling, a search on this site will render results for cycling out of all the material linked to the site. And by definition, it will be information on cycling in the Lake Superior area.

If you have a blog, website, photos or other material that would fit this category, there is a form to submit to be included on the site. The more material included, the richer this site will be.

My SuperiorFootprints blog is included. But then – truth be told – the site was created by my husband. We’re both Lake Superior lovers. With this site he hopes to create a growing repository to appeal to like-minded lake enthusiasts.

Check it out!  Lakes Superior Waves

Bicycle Maintenance 101

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It started with a squeaky chain. My bike is still new, so it should purr and whir not rattle and clank, right? But I admit that I’ve been neglecting it. I knew virtually noting about bicycle maintenance. But I wanted to take care of my bike, so I returned to Erik’s Bike Shop where I bought it and was entitled to minor adjustments. It didn’t take them long to confirm that my chain was indeed dry and in need of lubricating. Nor did it escape them how dirty my bike was, and how low my tires were. My negligence was pretty obvious. I admitted not only my lack of care but also my desire to learn and improve. While they graciously restored my bike to its former glory, I received kindly advice and patient answers to my questions.

I’d already been thinking about taking a class in bicycle maintenence. Finding out that Erik’s offered such classes sealed it. I immediately signed up for the Novice Class. This past week I devoted my Tuesday and Wednesday evenings to this endeavor, and it was just what I needed.

My bike ready for maintenance

Although the class held up to ten students, there were only five of us, which made for a great ratio with the two instructors. We brought our own bikes to work on, and each had our own bike stand, work bench and extensive set of tools. Not only were we taught for the advertised 6 hours of class, but the instructors made themselves available before and after each class for as long as we liked. I’m sure I availed myself of at least 8 hours.

Since I’m not exactly handy with tools and mechanics, I had no illusions about coming out of the class able to do my own repairs. My goal was to understand the major components of my bike, how they worked, and just what the issue might be if something went wrong with it. That and how to repair a flat – while I’d been lucky to date, I knew the day would come when I found myself in trouble out on a bike ride far from home. Due to the diligence and patience of the instructors, I exceeded my objectives. We covered basic bike cleaning and daily maintenance, tubes and tires, wheel truing, chains, deraillers and brakes. I got advice on types of biking shoes and pedals, and an adjustment on my seat height. I changed my front tire three times… admittedly it took that many times to get it right, but all in the name of good practice. I confess to getting somewhat lost in the intricacies of the two derailler systems, but I did glean enough to make a necessary adjustment to the limit screws at home this weekend. What a coup that was!

Even though my husband is capable of making most of the repairs we might need on our upcoming Trans-Superior Bike Tour, I feel a lot better knowing I am more self-sufficient than before. And truth be told, when he was frustrated by having multiple flat tires this past week, I was able to give him some good advice on his repair process. And it worked!

A Not-Quite Century Ride

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My friend has been a cyclist for ages. Now that I have taken up cycling, we've been talking all summer about going for a ride together, and today we finally made it happen. Our first hurdle was the start time. She informed me that my proposed time of 6:30am was the middle of the night. I retorted that her 9:00am suggestion was the middle of the day. We compromised on 7:30.

We chose to ride on the Munger Trail. Since the start of the trail was closed due to the flood damage, we drove to Carlton to start there. Numerous times I tried to pin her down on the distance. She was interested in a long ride, but I didn't know what that meant in the context of her cycling experience. So we set off and decided to just see how it went.

Munger Trail

While the start of the Munger Trail climbs out of Duluth, by Carlton it flattens out. We cycled for miles and miles in a long, straight, flat and smooth trajectory. There were few other cyclists on the trail, making it easy to ride side by side and talk the whole way. We have never been known to run out of material to talk about and today was no exception. And as we talked, the miles flew by. It turned out that our paces were perfectly matched, and we were loving the beautiful sunny day which was perfect for flying down the trail.

As the miles mounted, so did our ambition. It was an out and back ride, so we had to judge when we felt we'd gone half way and turn around. That's always tricky – how do you know when you are half spent? Should we set a max, I suggested? Nah, let's just go a little further. There's one hilly spot that's fun to ride – let's not stop before that. As the 40 mile mark loomed, a bigger question presented itself… Should we make this a Century Ride? It suddenly became soooo tempting!

Now I am rarely the one to hesitate when it comes to a challenge. But I have to own up to being the voice of reason this time. It was hot, we'd gotten a late start (!), and I had a husband expecting me back before dinner. So pledging to return for the full century ride soon, we did an about face at around 41 miles. It did give us time to take in a town festival at Willow River, and make the requisite stop at the Dairy Queen in Moose Lake. And neither of us complained when we reached the car at the end of 83 miles.

But next time we won't let that century mark elude us. Even if we have to start earlier to make it.

Nature Lessons

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Being at the cabin is not like home.  There is so much more to experience, particularly outdoors.  This past week we were able to indulge our love of nature in many different ways.

Watching the loons and hearing their hauntingly beautiful cry was one of them. Seeing baby loons in early summer is always a treat. Looking for the bald eagles is a favorite. Going over to inspect the eagles’ nest in the next section of the lake is a ritual. Over the years we have watched numerous baby eagles peering over the edge of the enormous nest, and seen some of their earliest flights. Sadly, this year the tree that was home to their nest has finally succumbed to its awkward angle and fallen into the lake. But fortunately, they are not the only nesting pair on this lake. One evening, I saw an eagle in the distance swoop down and catch a fish. He brought it to a tree not far away from where I was kayaking, and I was able to get close enough to watch him devour his meal.

This cabin week we were treated to one of the sunniest and warmest ever. Every morning but one, as I gradually gained consciousness I could peer out our bedroom window to see the sun coming up over the glassy calm lake. Sometimes I caught a beautiful red sunrise. The sunsets were equally spectacular, particularly when I had enough energy left at the end of the day to kayak out to see it from a better vantage point.

On one of our bike rides around the area, my husband and I cycled through a swarm of butterflies!  Shortly after we turned onto a little used road, there were thousands of Red Admiral butterflies perched on and along the side of the road.  Most of them were lined up just to the right of the white line.  As we approached, each one took flight until they filled the air around us and occasionally careened into us.  It went on for well over a mile, and then ended as abruptly as it began.

It’s the nature of a cabin to bring the outdoors into close proximity.  And we love the first-hand lessons that come along with it.

Cabin Time

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At the beginning of the week the days stretch out luxuriously. The vacation seems endless and each day feels like there is ample time for everything. Plenty of opportunity to swim, go fishing, take out the kayak, go for boat rides, play yard games, and sit on the dock reading and soaking up the sun. But as soon as midweek arrives, time speeds up. The days feel shorter, and there is an increasing urgency to fit everything in. Even though by definition there is no “to do list” at the cabin, there is still the litany of favorite activities that define time at the cabin. And we wouldn’t want to miss out on any of them.

The cabin is timeless. The things we enjoyed years ago are still the things we come back for year after year. The undeveloped nature of the lake, the wildlife, the feeling of remoteness are all key ingredients. Our self-powered boats often get more use than our motorboat, and our original little fishing boat still has its appeal. When the lake feels inhospitably cold, a hot sauna will coax anyone into the water. Evening bonfires, hanging out in the hammock, reading books and watching sunsets never change over time.

Time seems to stand still at the cabin. We occasionally pick up the morning paper, but the outside world encroaches little on our slice of paradise. The important focuses are the weather forecast and the latest local news gleaned from the regulars at the bait shop. And some might add the Fishing Hall of Fame board posting the latest catches – large and small.

At the cabin we live by sun time. Life is simple and there is no reason to make elaborate plans or live by the clock. My watch (yes, I’m of the age that I still wear one) stays at home. We don’t set alarms. The exact time doesn’t really matter. In summer we easily slip into a later dinner hour, savoring the long days, reluctant to stop to eat while there is lingering sunshine. In winter the evening meal comes sooner, as darkness defines an earlier end to the day.

The cabin is made for family time. There is no better place for it. Sharing unstructured, stress-free time and playing in the outdoors allows plenty of opportunity to build lasting memories. Our children have grown up coming to the cabin, and have now begun making cabin trips on their own as well as with us. And we’ve now added a third generation to the cabin family. What a joy to spend extended time together with them at our special place.

All too soon, however, it is time to go home. What seemed endless at first did in fact have an end date. Packing up and loading the car while the sunshine and the lake beckon feels like torture. But we all cling to the knowledge that we will be back. And we can’t wait for next time.

Cabin Storms

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Boats were absent from the lake, the thrum of their motors replaced by the whine of chainsaws. The resort’s raft floated peacefully out in the middle of the lake. The calm waters belied the turmoil that raged the night before. Neighbors were out inspecting the damage, swapping stories and wondering when power would be restored.

The storm was the worst I’d experienced in 22 years at the cabin. It came up in a hurry, whipping the lake into whitecaps that were then replaced by a horizontal spray covering its surface. We were on the receiving end of the wind, driving straight down the lake toward the cabin. We lost the lights immediately, at the same time we were emptying out the tiny closet in the interior of the cabin for safe cover. Fortunately, we didn’t need to cram into that small space. With flashlights in hand, listening to the weather radio and cuddling two young grandchildren, we could only wait it out. The winds tapered while the rain droned on, but the worst was over. What a relief to be able to reopen some of the windows and feel the cool air left by the storm. At least we would have better sleeping weather that night.

Pine tree down in the yard

Venturing out when the rain subsided, it was immediately obvious that we had been lucky. Nature had neatly downed the big dead pine tree on the edge of our yard, relieving us of the chore. At the lake, we were amazed to see two big birches blown partially over, taking up a huge piece of the shoreline with them creating a watery cavern. Nestled underneath were five sections from the neighbor’s dock. But they suffered worse than that. Three huge trees had come down alongside their cabin, and a fourth lay squarely on their roof. Fortunately everyone was okay.

Birches ripped up the lakeshore
Trees down on the neighbor's cabin

We’re marooned this morning. Cut off from the main road by power lines draped across our road. It looks like restoring power won’t be imminent. But there is plenty of cleanup work to do. And our two year old grandson continues to sing his refrain from last night’s storm, “Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.” He seems pleased that in the end, it worked!