Fire and Ice

Posted on February 10, 2015 by Molly

There are a number of factors that go into selecting the route for my morning run. How fierce is the wind? What direction is it coming from? Do I want to do hills or not? Has the lakewalk been plowed? Is there likely to be ice melt? How far do I want to go? All are serious considerations.

Today, the deciding factor was something entirely different. Will there be a good sunrise? An affirmative answer to that question trumped all others. I would head up the shore.

I was a bit early for Brighton Beach. The colors were pale and uninspiring as I passed along the jumble of ice crumpled against that shore. So I pressed on. I was grateful that the shoulders on Scenic 61 were less snowy than yesterday, and when no cars were in sight I admit to trespassing on the road where the tire tracks cleared the pavement.

It wasn’t long before the colors began to deepen. First a brilliant red, followed by fiery orange. Generally, I don’t stop for anything on my run. But after what seemed an eternity of gray cloudy days, I was prepared for this early morning display. My super compact camera was snuggled into the back pocket of my tights.

As the sun rose, the colors lessened, but I was intrigued with the way they reflected off the pockets of water trapped between passages of ice. I could see it better with my eyes than the camera could, but it was still worth a shot. Another trip across the road to snap a picture.

The whole display was short lived. Before long the clouds crowded in and obliterated the horizon, snuffing out the light show. But it still lit up my day. I carried the spectacle with me for miles, and it warmed me from within. There’s nothing like a good sunrise to make all feel right with the world.

How lucky I am to live in such beautiful surroundings. Not many people get to witness fire and ice in the same sunrise.

A Mighty Wind

Posted on February 8, 2015 by Molly

I could hear it howling outside while it was still dark. By morning it was gusting up to 33 mph hour. But I didn’t know that. Better not to check the weather app. I’d find out soon enough.

Very little keeps me from my morning run. Certainly not a little wind. So out I ventured. I fairly flew down the Lakewalk going with the wind, but had a hefty price to pay on my return. It was a battle just to get home, and I got plenty of sympathetic looks from the runners going the other way.

Rich had much different ideas about the wind. Clearly it was an opportunity. He was eager to see the resulting waves on Lake Superior, so after lunch we ventured up the North Shore in search of “splashing and dashing.” With the wind coming out of the NE, it brought all the ice down to our end of the lake, packing it against the shore. As a result, we had to drive all the way to Split Rock Lighthouse before we found enough open water for some real wave action. But the paths through that park brought us down to an action-packed shoreline. Just past Ellingson Island across from the lighthouse, we found plenty of wind and waves.

We were buffeted by the wind as much as the water was, and it was a tricky business picking our way across the icy, snowy rocks and standing up against the gusts. The wind was relentless as were the waves, pounding one after another against the shore and filling our ears with the roar of the water.

Continuing on to Beaver Bay, we spotted another good display from the road. It was worth stopping to watch, as the crashing water shot up high into the air above the icy rocks.

Heading back to Duluth, we were amazed to see bright sky and sunlight on the horizon. That necessitated a stop at Brighton Beach. There the wind had an entirely different effect upon the lake. The force of the wind continually pushed the ice up onto the shore, breaking it into thin sharp shards of ice, and mounding it into fanciful formations.

Over the sound of the wind, I heard something else. Looking out across the ice, I could see an icy river moving by, pushing and crunching whatever was in its way. Sure enough, the wind was continuing to move the ice down the lake, destined for another pile-up further along the shore.

It was relentless that wind. I may not have appreciated its force on me, but its fury in nature was worth venturing out to see. Indeed it was a mighty wind.

The Super Secret Birthday Activity

Posted on February 4, 2015 by Molly

We were told to be ready by 9:30am. Wear comfy clothes and be prepared to spend time outside. That was the extent of the instructions issued by my three children. The assembled multitudes included their significant others, our two grandkids, my husband Rich, and me. The occasion? My 60th birthday!

Three-year-old (almost) Mya brought me the first envelope before we left the house. Ominously, the heading of the the contents said “Clue #1.” What followed was a lengthy poem (definitely a Molly-ism) that revealed that we were going to:

“Go find the places where memories were made,
And relive the memories 60 years laid.”

Following that I opened my first real clue, which turned out to be a word game. As did all the rest. Yup, another Molly-thing – I love word games! Crosswords, cryptoquips, scrambled words and more had to be untangled before the next destination became apparent. I could see that this was going to be a fun adventure.

Piling into two cars, we proceeded to cover the city. Leaving no detail to chance, Carl had optimized our route and each of the kids contributed an equal share of the puzzles.

Favorite family spots, schools and our wedding venues were among the places we visited. Houses figured high on the list – those where I lived, my best friends’ homes, and of course, Rich’s house. We even paid tribute to my parents, in their final resting place. Their imagination was boundless. And everyone showed immense patience and interest as my stories poured out with each stop. Some scenes begged re-enactments, such as running Grandma’s Marathon past the corner where the kids always always waited with my mom to cheer me on. We got the biggest laugh out of the “nunny bunny clue.” I leave the rest to your imagination. Our final stop was at the Aerial Lift Bridge. Time for a family photo and a big group hug. A warm lunch awaited us at Grandma’s Restaurant – a fitting finish to our journey.Eighteen clues in all. Eighteen times we all piled out of the cars and posed for pictures. Eighteen puzzles to solve. Innumerable memories.

Thank you kids. It was the best Super Secret Birthday Activity. Ever.

The Light Show

Posted on December 24, 2014 by Molly

Ask anyone in Duluth – or anywhere in Minnesota for that matter – and they will tell you how dismal the weather has been for the past umpteen weeks. Clouds, dark and heavy have obscured the sun for all but one day in the last 18. It hasn’t helped that these clouds have produced only rain, not any negligible snow for those of us who love winter sports.

The lack of sunlight has been depressing to say the least. So like all good northern Minnesotans, we look for the bright side (literally in this case) wherever we can. Christmas lights certainly quality. If daylight disappoints, evenings bring on a bright glow. Driving anywhere in town delivers a showcase of pleasing light displays. We were a bit on the late side getting our lights up, but Rich headed out one gloomy night to add our own colorful strings to the night time drama.

In the midst of this light drought, we passed the Winter Solstice – the day with the least amount of sunlight. So even though we couldn’t see it, the sun made its shortest appearance of all. Our ski club has an annual Solstice Bonfire Ski, and the thought of a bright bonfire to light up the night enticed me out there. I skied over the trails at Spirit Mountain to find not one but nine bonfires illuminating the way. My particular favorite was the elevated bonfire, flaming away in one of the barbecue grills. The snow far exceeded my minimal expectations, and it was pleasant skiing in the mild temperatures. But it was even better just hanging around the main bonfire. Roasting a hot dog over the fire, singeing my face as well as the dog sure felt good. Wrapped in a tortilla, char-broiled never tasted so good. Spirits were high as we all basked in the light of the fire.

This morning I woke to an unusual sight – a break in the clouds! I can’t say it was sunny exactly, but just seeing some blue sky and a touch of pink from the rising sun was uplifting. The lake reappeared and there were the waves crashing onto the shore as I ran along the Lakewalk. It was as if life in the the great outdoors had been reactivated. I couldn’t help but smile, passing others and hearing them remark, “Look, the sun!”

Not too surprisingly, by mid-morning the clouds resumed their cover and the world returned to its gray hues. But that short glimpse was enough to get us through and feed our belief that one day the sun will shine again. The ultimate light show.

Nature’s Imagery

Posted on November 21, 2014 by Molly

What to show out of town guests? That’s not hard when we live in such a beautiful area. With visitors here this week, it was an easy choice to drive up the North Shore and share a few of our wonderful state parks with them.

When we planned this visit, we assumed we would be walking the trails at Split Rock Lighthouse State Park in crisp fall weather with leaves underfoot. Winter’s early arrival changed the context but did not deter us from our plan. We just needed boots and a few more layers of clothes. There were few other visitors in the park and we enjoyed exploring the lakeside trails with their view of the lighthouse. Snow was everywhere, and it was tricky walking on the pebble beach. Some rocks were frozen together in clumps, others harbored hidden ice, the rest were loose, creating rickety footing. As much as I love the shoreline, I was relieved to return to the trail.

With plenty of pictures of Split Rock in my albums, I searched for other sights of interest. It wasn’t long before I became fascinated with the shapes and patterns created by nature all around me. Soon I found plenty of images to capture. Moving on to Gooseberry Falls State Park, we found frozen waterfalls. I never guessed that the falls would be encrusted in a frosty facade by November 19! We could hear the water moving under the ice formations, and enjoyed the drippy icicles left on the surface. Once again, I found plenty of material for my study of nature’s details. Our final stop was back in Duluth. We arrived at Canal Park in time to see the Walter J McCarthy Jr slip through the piers and under the bridge. Evidence of its trip through the frigid lake was plain to see, with its ice encrusted bow. Mother Nature’s study in white. No matter how many times I visit the North Shore, there is always more to see and enjoy. This time it was a matter of looking more closely instead of viewing the big picture. That’s where I found nature’s imagery, in ice and snow.

The indecisive ore boat?

Posted on November 17, 2014 by Molly

It was bitterly cold. The wind was so fierce that I had to stop and blow warm air into my mittens cupped over my face to revitalize my nose every few miles. But still I persisted. Very little keeps me from my morning run.

The CSL Tadoussac – photo by Steve Geronazzo, courtesy of Shipfinder.co

My destination was Lief Erickson Park via the Lakewalk. Passing under London Road next to the railroad tracks, I reached the lake shore for the first time. As always, when I see a boat out in the lake, my heart does a little flip and I am grateful for living next to the wonderful body of water we call Lake Superior. Seeing an old style ore boat is even better, connecting me back to the days when all boats had such graceful lines and majesty. So seeing the CSL Tadoussac heading out into the lake was distraction enough to help me forget the wind and cold. I had something much more appealing to focus on.

But then things got really interesting. The boat began to turn toward shore. Running to the next open view point, I stopped to watch. Before long it had done a complete 180 and was heading back to port. Why would a boat come out of the harbor only to change its mind and return a short distance later? It didn’t appear to be having any trouble as it steamed back toward the bridge. Continuing on my run, I followed its progress, and sure enough before long the bridge lifted for the incoming boat. I didn’t actually see the boat go under the bridge, as by then I had turned around myself. But I did hear the boat and bridge salute each other as it slipped under the raised bridge deck.

The whole episode might have remained a mystery to me, but this is where it helps to be connected. As soon as I contacted Konnie at Lake Superior Magazine, she was on the case. She in turn went to her shipping experts who not only solved the puzzle, but provided a visual explanation.

The CSL Tadoussac’s route, from Shipfinder.co, and my route – I’m the red X watching the boat turn

Shipfinder.co tracks ship movements worldwide, and by zeroing in on the port of Duluth, it is possible to view the exact movements of any recent vessel. As soon as the Tadoussac’s route displayed, the answer became clear. She hadn’t come out from the harbor at all – that was just my own mistaken assumption. Instead, she had been anchored outside the harbor awaiting her turn at a dock. When her turn came, she must have needed more room to maneuver to get a good point for entering the narrow ship canal, so headed down the lake before doing her U-turn and pointing toward the bridge.

I really should have thought of that. After all, I just wrote a story for Lake Superior Magazine about boats using the “free parking” outside the harbor! But logic doesn’t always flow through the cold brain of a runner. It seemed far more exciting to consider the dire consequences of the ore boat that appeared to change its mind. And yet, I’m glad there was a simple explanation. We both had a good run this morning, me and the Tadoussac.

It’s here to stay

Posted on November 15, 2014 by Molly

Winter. Snow. I can’t see it going anywhere soon. While we have had early snowfalls in the past, I don’t remember anything that feels so permanent.

It’s a bit of a shock to the system. One day I’m out puttering in the garden, reaping seeds from some of our perennials and scattering them in bare spots in the hope of generating new blooms. The next day the plants are all covered in snow. I’ve had to dig into the storage boxes that contain my out of season clothes. Now where were those heavy wool sweaters? Time to exchange them for the sleeveless tops and flimsy running clothes in my drawers. It’s taking a while for my body to adjust to these frigid temperatures. Single digits bring a penetrating chill.

I know I should be out on the ski trails. Rich claims that they are amazingly good. I did give them a whirl one day. But I can’t quite give up running yet. It’s been a challenge, dodging the crusty snow left behind when they plowed the Lakewalk, but each day it gets better. And I have a great excuse for running a slow pace.

The biggest bonus was having the sun come out the last two days. What a transformation, from dark and dreary to sparkling contrasts of white and blue. I was inspired to run all the way down to Canal Park and back just to spend more time alongside the deep blue lake. How I wished I could capture it with more than just my eyes.

This morning, I discovered that my tiny camera would fit snugly into the key pocket of my winter tights. There was no chance it would bounce around there, which drives me crazy. So I was in business. I didn’t repeat my visit to Canal Park, but made a swing through Brighton Beach instead. There I found the same blue/white combination I find so appealing.

I was amazed to see just how much freezing is going on already. Lester River was filling in with ice, creating a wiggly pattern through its snowy banks as it made its way down to Lake Superior. If this keeps up, soon it will disappear below its icy surface.

Even if fall does briefly reappear, it won’t feel real. By now we all know where this is headed. Winter is here to stay.

Hello Boots

Posted on November 10, 2014 by Molly

I have been reacquainted with the new boots I bought last winter. If today’s weather is any indication, we will see a lot of each other for the next six months. Good thing I really like them.

It’s only November 10. Barely out of the single digits. Not long past Halloween and the earliest snowfall in my memory, back in 1991. This one is nothing compared to that blizzard, but it still looks plenty white out there.

I was content to stay inside as the flakes fell throughout the day. Working on my latest writing assignment seemed the perfect excuse to hole up and avoid the slippy slidy world out there.

But by late afternoon I just had to venture out in it all. Groceries for dinner were as good an excuse as any, and I opted to walk to the store. The world was hushed by the new layer of snow, and few vehicles were moving on our out-of-the-way road. It was easy to make believe it was mid-winter.

With temperatures promising to stay well below freezing for the remainder of the week, it doesn’t look like this snow is going to disappear any time soon. Rich is already chomping at the bit to strap on his rock skis and start the XC ski season. Honestly, I was hoping for a few more weeks of good running weather. But I may just have to ski a few loops around the golf course tomorrow instead. Today snow boots. Tomorrow ski boots. Why not?

O Christmas Tree

Posted on November 5, 2014 by Molly

For 45 years, the National Forest Service has provided the nation’s capitol with it’s Christmas tree. And this year it came from “our forest.” Not only is our cabin in the Chippewa National Forest, we actually lease the land it sits on from the Forest Service. So I feel justified in identifying with this tree. Not only that, but the man who cut it down – Minnesota’s logger of the year – was from Marcell. Home to the bait shop, just down the road from the cabin. It doesn’t get much more personal than that.

I honestly knew very little about this Christmas tree program before now. I missed it entirely in 1992, the last time the Chippewa National Forest provided the tree. But something about this year’s tree peaked my interest. I was fascinated when reading about how it was cut down. One doesn’t just fell a Christmas tree. No “timmmmber” for this tree. It was painstakingly secured and carefully lowered by two gigantic cranes onto a specially built wooden crib on a flatbed truck. There it was wrapped and cradled for its 2,000 mile journey to Washington DC. At 88 feet tall, this white spruce required a 100-foot long truck and trailer for its transportation.

Out of the 30 stops the tree will make along the way, one of them was in Duluth. It was scheduled for this evening, and I decided I had to be there. So camera in hand, bundled in winter jacket, hat and gloves, I headed down to Bayfront Park.

I’m not sure what I expected to see. Surely, I should have realized it would be housed in its truck. But still I felt rather underwhelmed to only be able to see a few branches of the tree through the windows at the back of its special truck. Like everyone else around me, however, I took my requisite pictures of the truck.

Having anted up my $5 for parking, I wasn’t willing to leave it at that. The park was brimming with families, enjoying the bonfires, s’mores, hot chocolate and cookies on offer. With a good share of Bentleyville lights already glowing, it had an eerie feeling of early Christmas without the snow or deep chill. I’m not a fan of pushing the Christmas season so far in advance, but this particular celebration seemed justified by the presence of The Tree.

Wandering over to the booths, I was soon engaged in conversation with the folks from the Chippewa National Forest. There we traded Marcell stories and expressed mutual love for North Star Lake. I met a man from Choose Outdoors, a non-profit organization that supports public lands by promoting outdoor recreation and an active lifestyle. Now that was right up my alley. He was part of the support crew for the tree’s journey, and in fact had accompanied several Christmas trees from their source all the way to Washington DC.

My conversations transformed the evening. Suddenly it felt quite enchanted. The joyful spirit of the families surrounding me was infectious. And returning to the tree’s truck, I realized just how long it really was. Not your ordinary semi. Quite impressive, really.

I took a few more glaces around to admire Bentleyville’s own unique Christmas tree. It danced and spun through the magic of modern technology and its light show.

May the nation enjoy Minnesota’s tree when it first lights up on December 2. O Christmas Tree indeed.

The annual haircut

Posted on November 1, 2014 by Molly

It was part of our philosophy in building our house. Low maintenance. The less work we needed to do on upkeep, the better. Our cement siding (you'd never know to see it), the garden full of perennials and the unstained deck are all pieces of that strategy. So is our lack of lawn.

Starting with a wooded lot, it was an easy decision to keep it as natural as possible. But the simple logistics of building resulted in some clearing and “yard” on one side. It turned out to be a fortuitous outcome as it exposed the south facing side of the house to penty of sunshine – particularly on the deck. I am thankful for that warm, sheltered oasis many mornings while nestled into my Adirondack chair, coffee at hand.

A cultured lawn on that steep slope was out of the question. Mowing does not belong in the vocabulary of retirement or low maintenenace. Instead, we opted for tall grasses sprinkled with wild flowers to populate the grounds surrounding the house. A more natural look. That's what we call it, anyway. The terms unkempt, wild and scraggly have also been uttered within my earshot. I can't say I disagree. There are days when I feel the same way about it. But like most things, I've grown used to it. And a wee bit attached to the concept.

In the spring, it takes a while before the grass grows enough to hide the lumpy nature of the ground. But it fills in quickly and grows at an alarming rate. By mid-summer, I could get lost in its tall shoots, which easily tower over my 5-foot frame. At times I think it may overtake the young trees we have planted, but we have yet to lose one in the jungle out there. Gradually the wild flowers begin to bloom. More of them appear each year, easing my conscience about the unruly yard. By fall, it bears some resemblance to a wheat field. The brownish cast blends with the autumn leaf tones and assumes an air of legitimacy.

And then it's time. With winter approaching, the days are numbered for our waves of grain. It has to be cut. This is no job for just any lawn mower. It takes a powerful machine and an intrepid operator from Boreal Natives to deal with our grasses. The procedure cuts, chews and mulches our grass forest down to a rough stubble. The cost of this specialized service debunks any myth that this approach to yard work is a cheapskate's alternative to weekly mowing.

I used to feel better at the end of this process, when the grasses had been tamed. But this year feels different. The house looks naked. The yard lacks its foliage. Just last week, I led our toddler grandkids on a rugged adventure through the tall grass. That landscape is now gone. Rich misses it for a different reason. He says it signals the start of winter. I'm not ready to even consider that yet.

Looking on the bright side, this approach eliminates any need to rake leaves. Any leaf that could possibly find its way to the ground gets ground up in what I've dubbed the annual haircut. Mission accomplished, pawning off another of those pesky maintenance chores.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Tag Archives: Duluth Minnesota

Fire and Ice

A Mighty Wind

The Super Secret Birthday Activity

The Light Show

Nature’s Imagery

The indecisive ore boat?

It’s here to stay

Hello Boots

O Christmas Tree

The annual haircut

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