Our new home away from home

Posted on February 16, 2014 by Molly

We had a short drive to get to Snow Mountain Ranch today, coming from Loveland, Colorado. With no snow in sight, and the car thermometer recording 60 degrees as we traveled through Denver, I admit to having qualms about all this. Could it really be all that different up there in the mountains? It didn’t look like it as we began our ascent into the hills.

Fortunately, the higher we went the more the temperature dropped and the snow mounted. We saw snowboarders and back-country skiers on the roadside. I began to breathe more easily again. Although it was a balmy 40 degrees when we reached Snow Mountain Ranch, the high snowbanks were reassuring.

We were given a quick tour of the extensive grounds and facilities at the center, leaving us eager to explore it all. It didn’t take long to settle into our room. While small and bare bones, it has a marvelous view of the mountains and is conveniently connected to the main lodge.

With a free afternoon, we did the only sensible thing – head for the ski trails! We started at the Nordic Center to get our ski passes and met the first of many friendly fellow volunteers. They went out of their way to make us feel welcome. This was starting to feel really good.

We planned a short reconnaissance ski, checking out the trails, snow conditions and terrain for the first time. Rich and I skied together, not pushing ourselves and just enjoying the newness of it all. We have three full weeks to explore all 100k of trails after all. We did find that the altitude took its toll – I was quickly winded on the uphill climbs and confess to having to stop to rest along the way. Hopefully our bodies will acclimate before long.

It’s all still so new to us, but we’re already convinced we’re going to like it here. Good thing as this is our home away from home for the next three weeks.

The Latest Adventure

Posted on February 15, 2014 by Molly

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.

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!

We detour for Northern Lights

Posted on February 14, 2014 by Molly

Do you have any idea what it is like to be married to an Aurora Hunter? Here's a hint. When the predictions for a Northern Lights display ran high, Rich suddenly changed our route to Denver to stay far enough north to see the display, should it materialze. Never mind that it added 80 miles to our trip. The mere possibility of seeing the aurora was worth it, in his mind. He's the driver, so I went along with the plan.

Our new route took us through South Dakota. To be honest, it looked a whole lot like Nebraska to me – flat and devoid of trees. Not a whole lot to see. Instead I set my sights on the reading material I'd brought along, and got caught up on umpteen issues of Time Magazine.

The lack of scenery was such that when Rich suggested we take a quick detour to see the Corn Palace, it actually sounded like a reasonable idea. Never mind that it was merely the exterior that was made of corn, they actually did some pretty cool things creating murals out of corn cobs. It's amazing what can be interesting when faced with mile after mile of undulating land.

Kadoka SD is our home for the night. The Club 27 Steakhouse was the best joint in town for dinner, and we felt as though we'd stumbled on the hot spot for miles around. Valentine's Day seemed to bring out all the town folk, and the place was hopping. Valentine decorations, dinner specials and folks dressed in red all signified a special night, and Rich tried to gain credit for taking me out for a Valentine's dinner. We enjoyed the preponderance of cowboy hats, flannel shirts and the locals all greeting one another.

Unfortunately, the clouds have rolled in so the likelihood of seeing any Northern Lights – even if they appear – are slim. But we did see a pink sunset, and a huge full moon rise at the same time on opposite sides of the sky. That was pretty cool, and may just be our excitement for the evening. Detour or not.

Ice Mushrooms

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Molly

I have to say that having open water on 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.

Along 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.

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.

My escape to the land of ice

Posted on February 8, 2014 by Molly

Inactivity is not my strong suit. For someone whose whole being is finely tuned to making the most of each moment, and squeezing in as much physical activity into each day as possible, being housebound for a week is rough. However, the flu knocked out any false ambitions I might have harbored, and left me too wiped out to even consider moving any distance away from my perch on the window seat.

When recovery at last seemed an option, and I began to perk up a bit, my first foray back into the outdoor world was a trip down to Lake Superior. Camera in hand, this was to be a mild walk along the shore, not a physically taxing operation. Honestly, it was all I could handle. But so worthwhile.

With reports of Lake Superior being over 90% ice covered by then, I was greatly surprised to see that the recent winds had opened up a large expanse of deep blue turbulent water along the shore. It felt as though Duluth must have laid claim to a large portion of the only open water, by virtue of the shifting winds which can add or remove ice from the watery landscape in an instant.

Evidence of the wind’s handiwork lay on the shore below the A-frame information booth at the edge of town. There I found thick shards of ice tumbled on shore, piled up in haphazard form as the wind’s inexorable force moved them off the water. It was like an artist’s rendering of some modern art form, which took on blue hues as the sun shone through it with the water as a backdrop.

Walking was hazardous, with a thin layer of snow masking the icy footing underneath and a frigid wind blew off the lake, straight through me. My desire for stretching my photography skills and capturing artistic images quickly faded to a lesser goal of at least catching some representation of the beauty around me. The myriad settings and nuances of focus would have to wait for a warmer day. But it didn’t stop me from enjoying the scene.

The most mysterious piece of all was the swirly cone out on the tip of an icy peninsula. What created the base of the form? And how did this opaque statue rise up above the icy chunks? It bore no resemblance to the flat rocky landscape I knew that underlay this setting.

It wasn’t long before my numbing fingers and chilling body drove my reluctant retreat from the scene. With a final look back to admire the ice, I carefully returned to the car. I’d had my big adventure for the day. My spirits rejuvenated by the lake and its ice. Yes, it was a great escape.

Rx for my To-Do list

Posted on February 3, 2014 by Molly

The list never ends. I’m sure I’m not alone in hoarding tasks that I know I need to get done, but never seem to get around to doing. They aren’t urgent, but they really should be completed. Some day.

In steps the flu. Nasty cough, fluidy lungs and generally feeling yucky. I spent a day denying it, hoping it would go away. Day two I gave in and curled up on the window seat. I can’t remember the last time I just threw in the towel and vegged from morning ’til night. I had a library book I needed to finish before it was due, so out it came.

After months of reading on my Kindle, and loving it for its lightweight convenience on our cycling trip, I’d forgotten the joys of reading a real book. The tactile experience of turning pages and devouring its contents was so very satisfying. It was the perfect book for a marathon reading session – Khaled Hosseini’s And the Mountains Echoed drew me in from the very first page. I am in awe of this author, whose prose is so beautifully crafted and whose tales are so compelling without being suspenseful. The day flew by with the pages, and I was sad to finish the book. But I was able to check it off my list. And avoid a fine.

Day three I had to cancel my coffee date with friends. That’s serious. I love my coffee time, and especially spending it with others. But it wasn’t fair to share my germs with them. Feeling more chipper, I sat down at my PC, checked email and and tackled the usual tasks. It felt good to actually do something, so I eyed that To-Do list in the corner. With a long day of nothing stretching out before me, it was an undeniable opportunity to accomplish a few items. After knocking off a few easy ones, I began to gain steam. Working my way down the list selectively, I eventually narrowed it down to some of the more onerous tasks. It was with a satisfying sense of achievement that I even managed to cross many of those off as well.

I’m really hoping to be back on my feet by day four. I’m just about out of things to do. It’s time to get back to real life, and let that To-Do list build back up again.

Sea Caves from the Ice

Posted on January 29, 2014 by Molly

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.

There 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.

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.

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.

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.

Following the dogs

Posted on January 27, 2014 by Molly

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 starting 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 Bridges 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 waved 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.

It 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.

Six black muffins

Posted on January 21, 2014 by Molly

I now know I can trust my instincts. On our annual XC ski weekend, I like to go out before breakfast to either ski, snowshoe or take photographs. This year was no exception. Before leaving the cabin for an early morning walk, I popped a few muffins in the oven along with some pears to bake, leaving Susan in charge of them while she pursued her own morning passion – painting.

The morning was gray and uninspiring, but it was pleasant wandering through the fresh snow that had fallen during the night on the small roadway right next to Lake Superior’s shore. Mine were the only tracks in the snow, and the rest of the world seemed asleep. The area was an eclectic collection of tiny cottages, large homes with sweeping views and tumble down sheds. I wasn’t adventurous enough to trudge through the deep snow to get to the water’s edge, so I had to confine my photography to what I could see from the road.

As I walked, my thoughts kept wandering back to the oven. Did I tell Susan when the muffins would be done? Did I set it to the right temperature? Despite my best efforts to dismiss that responsibility, something nagged at me. But I walked on – intent to let go and savor the freshness of the morning.

Opening the door to the cabin, my senses were assaulted by the harsh burning smell. And it wasn’t the blaze in the fireplace. Susan looked at me sheepishly saying “I failed…” Suddenly the six black rocks outside on the deck railing took on significance as I recognized them for what they were. And the charred pears that melded themselves into the baking dishes were equally appalling. I knew it! I shouldn’t have left my baking in the hands of an artist absorbed in her work.

But in fact, I was wrong. And Susan’s self-blame was misplaced. Instead of activating the lower heat element, the oven malfunctioned and turned on the broiler, charring our breakfast to death. No amount of care or attention could have stemmed the tide on that disaster waiting to happen. All we could do was laugh. And poke fun at ourselves and the situation. And our six black muffins. Sitting in a row.

My instincts were right – something was bound to go amiss. I just didn’t know what. And Susan’s painting? It turned out quite nicely. A lot better than the muffins.

Deep snow, silent woods

Posted on January 19, 2014 by Molly

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.

There’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.

The 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.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Our new home away from home

The Latest Adventure

We detour for Northern Lights

Ice Mushrooms

My escape to the land of ice

Rx for my To-Do list

Sea Caves from the Ice

Following the dogs

Six black muffins

Deep snow, silent woods

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