Farewell Towering Pine

It's been almost four weeks since the storm raged through Duluth. Waking in the early morning hours to blinding lightning, constant thunder and howling winds did little to prepare us for the devastation that we would find when dawn came. And even then, we couldn't even imagine the true extent of the damage.

Trees down across driveway

We were among the fortunate. With just three moderate sized trees down in our yard, only our driveway was temporarily blocked. But heartbreak was only a short distance away. Our neighbors lost several venerable old trees, including our very favorite pine tree that dominated the skyline and was perfectly framed in our window. In its place we saw only jagged shards where the trunk had snapped, sending the majestic tree down into the woods below.

Our favorite pine tree

A bike ride around the neighborhood revealed further ruins. Everywhere I looked there were downed trees – in yards, on houses, clobbering fences, blocking streets, dragging down power lines. The strangest site was a tree that had been launched 50 feet across a yard to pierce the roof of the house and exit through the end wall. And yet, the apples on the tree below had its produce blown to the ground in the opposite direction.

That tour was early in the morning, and already people were out working. Neighbors helping neighbors, city crews acting quickly to reopen roads, strangers swapping stories. The camaraderie would continue throughout the lengthy power outage that ensued, as we all learned to cope with being off the grid and generous offers of help came from friends outside the “war zone.”

By now, many of us have returned to life as usual. But the landscape is forever changed, and the massive clean-up effort continues. Sometimes that comes in unusual forms. And I shouldn't have been surprised when our neighbors topped that list. Enterprising, outdoorsy, optimists and just plain good folk, they turned their misfortune into opportunity. She calls it “making lemonade.” He calls it building a sauna.

The big red portable lumber mill appeared on the lawn early in the morning. And so did a couple of operators. Soon the trunk that was once that big old pine tree made it onto the bed of the mill, and the cab passed back and forth turning it into planks and posts. It made for marvelous entertainment as I sipped my morning coffee on our deck.

Next door lumber mill

One of these days, when the sauna heats up and steam releases the pine smell, that giant of a tree will be immortalized. It seems very fitting. For in the process of cutting it into logs, they managed to count its rings. 240. It started growing the very year our country began. I am in awe.

I always knew it was a special tree. I just didn't realize how special. It took a mighty storm with winds over 100 mph to bring it down. I will miss its dominating presence in our window. But I'm glad to live next door to folk who are engineering a way for it to live on. Farewell old towering pine.

 

A Child’s view of the Harbor

Molly and Ben and Vista StarWe all have too many things.  Kids especially do.  So for our grandson’s 6th birthday we chose to give him an experience instead.  Leaving his siblings behind, we took just Ben on the Vista Star tour of the lake and harbor.  For days, he looked forward to it.  And I have to admit, so did I.  There is something special about one-on-one time with a grandchild.

I’d done the tour before.  I’d heard most of the facts, figures and stories from the narrator before as well.  But I saw and heard it all through fresh eyes that day.  Everything becomes new when seen from a child’s point of view.

As always, the tour started with a jaunt out into Lake Superior.  Before we could sail under the bridge we had to wait for a 1000-footer to enter the harbor.  It felt like forever between the time we first saw the bow emerge until its stern finally passed by.  That was one long ore boat.

Molly and Ben on Vista StarBen loves the Aerial Bridge.  So we were mystified that he was anxious about going under it.  The hands firmly planted over his ears and the fear in his eyes soon told us why.  He knew exactly what was coming.  The boat’s loud horn and answering blast from the bridge were indeed ear numbing.  But once we cleared the bridge, Ben could relax and enjoy the ride.

There was plenty of shipping activity that morning, from a ship offloading wind turbine parts to tug boats awaiting a call for help and a classic ore boat taking on its cargo below the ore dock.  All of it of great interest.Tug boatsOre Boat LoadingThe Vista Star itself proved to be fascinating to Ben.  There were so many places to explore, from the top deck to the bow and the “restaurant” inside.  And the best part about grandparents is that they succumb to requests for treats.

Photo Jun 20, 10 49 28 AMBlatnik and Interstate BridgesOne never knows just what a little mind is taking in.  Some of it we gleaned from Ben’s parents later.  Apparently he regaled them with tales of his boat ride all the way home, proving that he did indeed listen to the narration and our explanations!  One highlight was going under the Blatnik Bridge because “it was so cool to look up at it underneath.”  I didn’t even think to look up.  But I may have yet another chance.  I hear that his little sister wants a turn next.

Good Morning, Lakewalk

It’s early but all the regulars are out there.  My morning running ritual takes me down the Lakewalk day after day.   There I enter my world of the familiar.  I know I should vary my routine, and I do work in some hills or head up the shore periodically.  But my feet just naturally lead me to the Lakewalk.

The route is always the same, but the experience never is.  On the grim, cloudy and windy days, I nod to my fellow runners as we pass.  We exchange knowing glances, acknowledging the brutal headwind, the chill of the air.  We share the same rugged determination.  We are out there, no matter what.

Lakewalk Lief Erikson ParkWhen the sun shines and the lake sparkles, our faces reflect the joy of our surroundings.  Our “good morning” exchanges ring out merrily.  Those are the days when the Aerial Bridge beckons irresistibly, drawing me further down the Lakewalk to its terminus in Canal Park.  Ten miles turn into 13.  But it’s worth it.

My trusty companions on the Lakewalk punctuate the miles yet loosen my brain from focusing on the rigors of my run.  Cyclists pass on their way to work, warning me with the sound of their tires or a cheery ring of a bell.  Dog walkers are always good for a “hello” and seem to have only beautiful and well mannered pooches on the end of their leashes.  Fellow runners whiz by in both directions, but usually with a wave of encouragement.

And then there’s Arley.  A fixture on the Lakewalk, his presence brightens anyone’s journey.  I first see him walking, coffee cup in hand striding purposefully at an early hour.  Next, he passes me on his bike, destined for the end of Park Point and back.  White hair flying out from under his cap, always with a chipper greeting for me.  At times he accompanies me on his bike, spinning away the miles with conversation as I run.  When the snow flies, I can count on his having cleared the portion of the Lakewalk adjacent to his house.

Molly and ArleneIt was the Lakewalk that introduced me to a kindred spirit and running friend, Arlene.  Perched on opposite sides of an ice encrusted street, we traded encouragement as we approached.  Our steps slowed to a walk, one greeting led to another and soon we were trading phone numbers to meet up for our next run.  Where else might I meet another passionate running enthusiast and heart-felt friend?  Barely a day goes by that does not find one or the other or both of us treading the Lakewalk.

Admittedly not all Lakewalk encounters are friendly.  Passing through the wooded area just past East High recently, a dark form materialized just ahead.  A tall figure wedged between the fence and a tree turned out to be an upright bear, attempting to scale the fence with his hind claws.  I’m guessing it was the inhabitant of the 36th Avenue culvert, having wandered away from his den.  Passing in a hurry, a quick glace back led me to believe he was perched atop the fence.  I wished I had a camera with me, but perhaps it was better that I didn’t linger.

It was very thoughtful of the City to extend the Lakewalk to our neighborhood just as we moved in.  And the subsequent addition of the tunnel under the highway was equally welcome.  Every morning is a good morning on the Lakewalk.

Winter Resurgence

It seems a strange scene.  I stand in my bare feet and swim suit, peering out into the darkness at 6:15am.  The outside floodlights are on, and they illuminate a world blanketed in white.  I expected the snow.  In fact, it’s the reason for my one-piece lycra apparel.  Assuming it would be too deep for running, I had decided on an alternate workout this morning.  But I hadn’t counted on the landscape now in my field of vision.

Every branch is outlined in white.  The thin boughs are magnified by a fluffy coating of snow much thicker than their own sinewy skeletons.  The woods surrounding our house are no longer a transparent winter veil but a lacy wall enclosing our abode.  I can already picture the Lakewalk rimmed by more ghostly shapes.  It is much too good to miss.

March Snowfall 1Despite the dim predawn light, many have preceded me down the trail.  Footsteps are plentiful, crisscrossed by bicycle tracks and the wide treads of fat tire bikes.  The snow is not as deep as I feared, but the wet fluff lies over a layer of slush.  Messy but not slippery, it makes for slow and arduous progress but poses little danger of falling.March Snowfall 2

The world is silenced by the snowfall.  Footfalls and tire rotations are muted, but faces are glowing.  “Isn’t this beautiful?” seems to be on the lips of all I pass.

I don’t normally take the small bypass in front of the town homes at The Ledges.  But the chance to get closer to the lake draws me down the indistinct path.  My impulse is rewarded, seeing the dry stalks of fall flocked with snow silhouetted against the gray-blue of Lake Superior, and framing the iconic Aerial Bridge.

March Snowfall 3 March Snowfall 4While just yesterday the Lakewalk was perfectly clear for easy running, I have no complaints about this resurgence of winter.  It taught me to seize the moment, change my plans, stop and take pictures.  And best of all, enjoy my surroundings.

March Snowfall 5March Snowfall 6

Seasonal Mix-up

Amity Creek bridgeIs this really November?  Just across the street Amity Creek is roaring, filled to the brim with fast moving water rushing over the rocks on its trip down to Lake Superior.

I love the sound of the waterfall, the natural white noise of nature that I can Trail along Amity Creekhear from our house.  And despite the Amity CreekAmity waterfalls into The Deepsspitting rain, it seems a fine afternoon to walk the trails along Amity Creek following the swollen waters.  Every turn brings a renewed appreciation for the beauty of our neighborhood.  The amazing outdoor wonders that are just outside our door.  The sound of the water fills my ears, drowning out any possible infiltration of human or automobile sounds.  It’s just me and the riverbanks.

And yet, something is amiss here.  This is the time of year the creek should be barely more than a trickle.  I should be looking for ice crystals on the placid thinly coated waters.  Watching my step to avoid slippery patches.  Better yet, gliding over the snow on newly groomed ski trails.

The creek is a pretty good barometer.  There seems to be some kind of confusion in the seasons.  Last spring, the usual daredevil kayakers were stymied by the lack of snow and non-existent run-off.  The creek was so low, none of them dared shoot the falls to plunge into The Deeps. They would love today’s tumultuous waters.

Last I checked, Thanksgiving was still on the calendar for next week.  I just hope I don’t find swimmers at The Deeps when I go for my post-turkey stroll.

Shooting the Moon

There has been a lot of hype about tonight’s supermoon and the lunar eclipse.  Even I was intrigued.  So when Rich headed down to Canal Park to photograph the rising moon, I decided to accompany him.  The decision wasn’t difficult.  It was a beautiful mild evening, very calm and inviting.  Even if I didn’t get any great photos, it would be a pleasant outing.

As soon as we arrived, we noticed another photographer heading for the Lakewalk.  He had a fancy camera atop his high-end tripod that he carried over his shoulder in a rather cavalier manner.  In the other hand, he held a case that could only hold a huge long lens.  It looked like we were in the right spot.

We set up shop near the corner of the Lakewalk and awaited the moon’s arrival.  With two foreign freighters anchored in the lake, we tried to position ourselves so that the moon would rise near one of them.  But we wouldn’t know until it came up.  As we waited, an aura of expectation developed along the Lakewalk.  Nearly everyone sported a camera around the neck.  And the population of tripods rapidly increased along the shoreline.

It was a couple of walkers who ultimately clued us in to the rising moon when I overheard them pointing it out.  It was so faint on the horizon Super Moon 2that we could hardly see it – a light blue orb blending in with the murky distant sky.  And it was in the wrong spot.  Or more accurately, we were.  Hefting our tripods, we rapidly headed closer to the bridge where we could get a better angle.  By the time we moved far enough to capture the moon with one of the ships, the moon was far more distinguishable and took on an orange glow.  Now it was getting more interesting.

Schlepping our gear closer yet to the pier, we found an even better view.  We could combine the moon, the freighter and the lighthouse.  Soon we were synchronizing our snapshots with the flash of the lighthouse’s beacon.Super Moon 3The higher the moon rose, the better its reflection.  By this time we were surrounded by other photography enthusiasts, all enjoying the spectacle.  The camaraderie was infectious, and rather than being competitive there was common rejoicing whenever someone captured an exceptional image.

Super Moon 4Indeed, it was a beautiful night to be shooting the moon.

Breaking out of the Mold

It’s easy to get in a rut.  Especially for me, a lover of routine and efficiency.  But inspired by meeting with a group of outdoor enthusiasts last night, I was determined to try something new this morning.  So throwing out all my known routes, I set my bike on a new course.  I was ready to explore.

Skyline Bike Route MapThe early hour brought a chill to the air, and the later-rising sun took its time to warm things up. Despite being well bundled, it was nippy cycling straight into the wind.  There was little let-up as my initial leg took me inland, heading due west for a long stretch.  But there were side benefits.  The sun felt warm on my back and the newly laid pavement was a wonderful surface for cycling.

Pelican CoffeeBy the time 15 miles were behind me, my paltry dinner the night before had faded, compounding my chill.  Treasuring the thought of a warm-up, I was thrilled to find that Pelican Coffee was nearby.  With a slight alteration in course, I was soon walking through the door.  Normally, I never stop while on my bike rides.  But I was rather getting to like this new mode.  With a well crafted latte and Nutella scone gracing the table in front of me I savored the ambiance of this newly launched community focused, global missions based enterprise.

Warm and well fueled, I resumed my ride.  Heading back toward Lake Superior, I ultimately reached the scenic portion of my route.  I have never cycled Skyline Drive from end to end across the city of Duluth, so that is exactly what I set out to do.  I had the perfect sunny day for the broad scenic overviews that abound, and my pace slowed considerably as I stopped frequently to admire and take pictures.

IMG_2395Enger Tower called to me as I passed, so I took that in as well – an uncharted detour.  It seemed pointless to stop at the bottom, so I climbed the beautifully restored tower and took in the 360 degree view from the top.  My timing was perfect as the US Coast Guard Cutter Alder was just about to pass under the Aerial Bridge.  Coast Guard ship going under the bridge

Bong Bridge and St. Louis River

Bong Bridge and St. Louis River

Duluth stretching along the lakle

Duluth stretching along the lake

Creating a view of the lake I greatly enjoyed checking out the various neighborhoods that stretched across the city, from mansions to tidy little homes.  Duluthians will do anything for a view of the lake.  So I had to chuckle at the owners of this house who were determined to see the lake from every level – including from the hot tub perched above the roof.

Crossing from west to east, I eventually found my way into familiar territory.  East Skyline Drive passes through Hawk Ridge, which is now in its peak season for bird watching.  That perch high above Lakeside was teaming with folks sporting binoculars and cameras to catch the migrating birds.Hawk RidgeIt was all downhill from there to return home.  Thirty-six miles after I set out, I was still smiling.  It felt so good to break out of the mold and do something different.

My Civic Duty

I’ll admit it. When the envelope arrivedJury Summons I wasn’t thrilled.  In my 42 years of being eligible for jury duty I’d only received a summons once before.  Since it was just weeks before leaving for college, I didn’t have to serve.  This time there was no escaping it.

My first concern was the date.  I was being called to report the day before we were due to leave for a 6-week vacation.  But as it turns out, deferring my term of service was as easy as requesting an alternate date online.  Whew.

The first day was predictably chaotic.  There were numerous people to process, missing names, lost survey forms and mysterious other reasons to delay progress.  As expected, it was a lot of sitting around.  It didn’t take long to find out that most people were not thrilled to be there, and it was easy to succumb to the general aura of discontent.  I actually had it easy, being retired.  But that didn’t stop me from obsessing over my long to-do list and that I would rather be at home tackling it.  However, I did make great progress on my cross-stitch project that day.

With a trial ready to start immediately, we did proceed to jury selection before once we completed our orientation.  That’s when it started to get interesting.  I was not chosen as one of the 22 potential jurors, but was required to sit in the galley throughout the remainder of the selection proceedings in case they had to replace anyone in the jury box.  Because of the nature of the trial, the process of questioning was extensive and thorough.  I found myself fascinated by the line of inquiries made by the judge and attorneys, trying to follow their reasons for asking the questions and how they would act upon the responses.  I also tried putting myself in the shoes of those being grilled.  How would I answer that question?  Would I be able to think quickly enough to articulate my position?  There were definitely times when I was glad not to be in the thick of it.

It took well into our second day before the jury was finalized.  So we all returned to the courtroom the following morning.  I felt like I was back at work again, making my lunch the night before, setting my alarm for close to 5am in order to get in a run before leaving, and allowing time to make my coffee and toast before leaving for my “job.”  It was shortly before 11am when the final jurors were selected, and I was off the hook – able to go home and resume my normal life.  For the time being, anyway.

Round two came the following week.  We arrived to find that there were two trials starting, a criminal and a civil suit.  This time my name was called for the criminal suit.  Fortunately, this case was less complex, so the jury questioning was not as intense and was completed more quickly.  By this time, I was quite enamored with the process.  My irritation had transformed into a desire to see it all the way through.  So I was actually pleased when I made it to the final set of jurors.

Juror BadgeWe were cautioned several times that real courtroom proceedings do not match what one sees on TV.  They even questioned jurors on whether they would be disappointed not to see the histrionics of television trial drama.  What I discovered was that it was all a very controlled and deliberate environment, that incorporated a great deal of respect.  In the two cases I was exposed to, I was very impressed by the lawyers and judges.  They worked hard and were very professional, yet I found them personable and they showed great consideration for the jurors both in our role and for our personal needs.  They also readily showed their human side, including numerous jibes at the paltry $10/day we were being paid.

Our case took only until mid-morning the next day to conclude.  It was then in our hands.  It’s a mighty responsibility to weigh the guilt or innocence of a man, and I wasn’t sure how I would react to doing that.  But with the law clearly laid out for us, along with guidelines for treating the evidence and testimony, we had a good process to follow.  There were unanswered questions, holes in the evidence and ambiguous bits to navigate.  And ultimately I could logically evaluate each component and support my decision.  Guilty.  Fortunately, my fellow jurors all came to the same conclusion.

After being dismissed, the judge came back to meet with us in the deliberation room.  I did not expect that, nor his candor and willingness to respond to any questions we had.  He explained some of the reasons behind certain procedures in the courtroom, and the roles each person played in the proceedings.  We were surprised to learn that the defendant was already in custody prior to the trial, which he said was deliberate.  They were very careful to hide that fact from us as it may have biased us to presume his guilt.

With that, I was free.  Having served on a trial, I no longer had to check the phone line each night.  I no longer had to report for service.  It felt like I was retiring all over again – suddenly my days were my own again!  And yet I was glad I had done it.  It was a good experience and well worth doing my civic duty.

Instant Spring

At first it was hard to believe the thermometer.  And to overcome the months-long habit of layering on the outdoor clothes.  After two days of sweltering through my run with too many too heavy clothes, however, it was finally sinking in.  It really was warm out!

With temperatures well below zero just days ago, and beautiful cross-country ski conditions still a vivid memory, we can be forgiven our inability to grasp the sudden change in season.  But it didn’t take long for all of Duluth to head outdoors to enjoy the transformation.  And I love watching the parade.

The Lakewalk is virtually a highway of pedestrians.  Dog walkers, high school track teams, runners and baby strollers are in abundance in colorful garb.  Nobody seems to mind sloshing through the inevitable puddles or crossing the streams that flow over the pavement.  The faces I pass are all smiles.

Brighton Beach is populated with folks of all ages, taking in the rapidly shrinking ice formations on the lake.  Close to shore there are still remainders of the ice shards that were once piled so high, now surrounded by watery pools on top of the rapidly melting ice.  Further out, the ice is turning darker as it thins.  Plenty of ice houses attest to the fishermen’s belief that it is still viable.  But you’ll never find me venturing out there.

Brighton Beach melting iceOpen water is rapidly advancing toward Duluth.  While Lake Superior reached over 90% ice coverage just a few weeks ago, it opened up quickly with the wind and sun.  The edge of the ice field has now retreated all the way down to Brighton Beach.

Last week the thought of the Coast Guard ice breaker beginning its duty on Monday seemed outlandish.  By the time we saw her out plowing through the ice, it seemed perfectly natural.  One could already imagine spotting boats out on the horizon heading for the Aerial Bridge.

At 57 degrees this afternoon, I just North Shore ice melthad to hop on my bike and head up the North Shore.  I was hardly alone.  Cyclists were whizzing up and down the Scenic Highway, exchanging friendly waves and nodding.  Sure the shoulders were still full of gravel, but it was a small price to pay for the vast pleasure.  Like the rest of them, I too was grinning and loving it.

Of course, everyone knows this is Duluth.  Winter isn’t over until it’s over.  But I did happen to stop in a ski shop this afternoon, and was startled to find the wall of cross country skis barren and empty.  All put away to make room for bicycles and other summer gear.  It was instant spring in there too.

 

Backyard Skiing

My faith in winter has been restored.  After weeks – no months – of brown trails I found it hard to maintain my enthusiasm for cross-country skiing.  Sure, we could drive to find enough snow for skiable trails, but that wasn’t the point.  I was used to walking out the door with my skis, sauntering up and over the bridge and skiing off into the woods.  The lights for night skiing seemed to mock me each time I saw them shining through the trees in the evenings or early mornings.

Lester Amity Trails 1Lester Amity Trails 2All it took was a 5″ snowfall to set things right again.  It was enough for the city groomers to ply the trails for the first time all winter.  February 10 has to be a record.  Since then we’ve been graced with light snowfalls that have continued to renew the trails.

The first time I ventured out on the trail, I could feel it.  That sense of well being.  Of gliding over the snow in Lester Amity Trails 3our own woods.  Every turn was familiar and I took pleasure in passing my favorite spots along the way.  The steep hills were still a challenge, and the long downhill on the way back brought on its requisite chill.

Now I remember why I like cross-country skiing.  Getting outside on the snow.  Relishing the silence of the woods.  Pushing hard to go up and riding back down.  Feeling the skis glide across the snow.  Being the first one out on fresh corduroy.  The brisk air on my face.  The toe warmers glowing in my boots to ward off the cold.  And if I’m lucky, feeling the warmth of the sun shining down.

Granted, conditions aren’t always perfect.  There are those days so cold that my skis forget how to glide.  And my fingers freeze soon after I begin skiing.  At times the trail gets worn down from all the skiers, turning hard and crusty, begging to be regroomed.

Yet desLester Amity Ski Trail signpite any drawbacks, it’s still “our” ski trail.  And I’ll keep going back to ski.  After all, it’s right in our backyard.