Yet another ice attraction?

Posted on March 17, 2014 by Molly

The sea caves are not the only attraction available this winter due to the ice on Lake Superior. I recently learned that one could also walk out to see “Uncle Harvey’s Mausoleum” – the listing cement monstrosity that sits in the water just off the Lakewalk at Canal Park. There is nothing attractive about this structure which was built by Harvey Whitney in 1919 as a sand and gravel hopper. He was hoping to provide the materials for an outer harbor breakwater. Alas, no such plans materialized and it was abandoned in 1922. And still it sits, impervious to Lake Superior’s wind and waves.

In summer time the cement edifice does provide a certain tourist attraction. It has great allure for teenagers wishing to show off their cold-water swimming, climbing and diving prowess. The result is quite a spectacle for those of us who prefer to remain safely rooted to the shore. Lithe young bodies seem to show up in all available openings, and manage to clamber up to the tops of the walls, which are open to the sky. From there they fling themselves into the frigid waters below.

I can’t really claim any urgent need to see inside the building except the fact that it was now possible to do so. Why not wander out and have a look? So I did. Even though the ice was thick, the slush on top made me a tad queasy, and I am certain I looked every bit the old lady as a carefully picked my way across the slippery ice.

The inside turned out to be every bit as ugly as the outside. Even the ice formations on the foundations did little to enhance its visual appeal. I could hear children crawling through the cavities of the building, squealing with delight, and envied their greater sense of adventure. And I still couldn’t figure out how those teenagers scale up to the top. Some things will remain a mystery.

For me the more intriguing aspects were the views I could get through the windows. From outside, I was able to see across the interior and back out again to the lighthouses at the end of the canal piers. Lowering myself into the large internal cavity, I could see through the window on the opposite side to the city hillside beyond. I decided that the building’s best vantage point was as a frame for the more scenic views around it.

It certainly didn’t compare to the amazing sea caves. But I’ll admit to being drawn to see the attraction. And I’ve satisfied my curiosity. Okay, it was a fun little adventure. Even if it wasn’t attractive.

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.

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.

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.

Permission to be Kids

Posted on December 28, 2013 by Molly

There’s nothing like the holidays to provide ample opportunity to shed our adult persona and reconnect with our inner child. Add to that an abundance of snow, and the possibilities are endless.

On Christmas day my sons and I headed out on snowshoes to enjoy the deep powdery snow. After averting near disaster when my foot broke through into the flowing Amity Creek, we sought safer ground and stuck to trampling through the woods. With big fat snowflakes falling, it was an idyllic scene. We eventually made our way down to the Big Lake. The snow layer was much thinner there, but Brighton Beach’s rocks were encased in a thick coat of ice, which was beautiful but treacherous for any kind of foot travel. Backing up from the shoreline, we found a cache of rocks under the snow and proceeded to do what any kid would do there – throw rocks in the lake. Since the shoreline was ice-bound, it became a game to see who could break through the ice with a rock, producing a mini spurt of water through the hole. What better way to spend Christmas afternoon, than having a rock throwing contest amid ice and snow?

Throw a couple of toddlers into the mix, and the fun multiplies. After a morning of sledding on the neighbor’s hill, my grandson proceeded to lead me on a tour of the woods in our yard. Seeing the snow, trees and findings of nature through his active imagination was one of the most delightful hours I have spent in a long time.

Kids of all sizes love Christmas lights, so a visit to Bentleyville has become an annual tradition. This year the milder temperatures allowed us to linger and enjoy all the offerings of that expansive holiday display. After roasting marshmallows and warming ourselves by the fire, the lively music caught the ears of the littlest ones who began to wiggle and dance. An impromptu family dance party ensued, as we couldn’t resist their merriment and joined in the fun.

As family members gradually drift back to their own homes and we resume our own routine after the holidays, I only hope that we can keep some of the kid alive in each of us. It’s far too much fun to reserve for the holidays.

Photo Play

Posted on November 26, 2013 by Molly

When deer hunting season infringed on our hiking options, our recent trip up the North Shore took on a slightly different flavor. Since we always have our cameras in tow, we traded miles on the trails for shutter time. With such great material for shooting photos and plenty of time on our hands, we took the opportunity to play around with various settings and options. Since I’m still just a novice, it was a great learning tool, and fun to see the results. Even the pictures that didn’t turn out well were useful for knowing what not to do in the future.

Early in the morning, when I tired of shooting the sunrise, I turned the other way to watch the waves lapping the shoreline. It was mostly calm, but there were enough good splashes to entice me to try and capture them. My camera was still set on a long exposure, and I was intrigued by the blur of the water’s motion that flashed briefly across my LCD screen. It made for rather a fantastical scene. Resetting the shutter speed, my next goal was the exact opposite, to capture the water droplets. I still got a bit of blur, but did manage to catch the tall splash in the air.

On to the Cascade River. With my new found techniques, I was eager to test them again. This time I had roaring water to focus on. Using shutter speed priority on my camera, when I adjusted from a long exposure to a much shorter one, the camera compensated by changing a whole lot of other things, including aperture value and ISO speed. I also changed the White Balance. As a result, in addition to the clarity of the flowing water changing, the scene took on entirely different hues as well. Hmm, who knew?

Okay, let’s try this again! The next target was a tall waterfall further up the river. Similar to the last results, the camera adjusted all the other settings for the difference in shutter speed. Only this time the effects were less dramatic. Interestingly, I tend to feel that the “blurred” picture has more crisp detail in the trees than the stop-action version. But since I was hand holding the camera, that could have a lot to do with it.

While none of my pictures would be considered stunning or artistically awesome, I felt like I accomplished a lot from my attempts. And after all, that was the goal. To play.

Hiking in Short Bursts

Posted on November 24, 2013 by Molly

The idea was a good one. In concept. We planned a short get-away to take advantage of the off-season mid-week rates at Cascade Lodge and do some hiking at the State Parks along the North shore. The advance forecast looked reasonable, so we went ahead and booked our room. We even splurged on the extra $5 for a lake view and corner room.

What we didn’t count on was the fact that the State Parks now allow hunting on a good share of their land. While everything between highway 61 and Lake Superior was off-limits to hunters, much of the remainder was posted with bright orange signs warning us away from the trails. Although Rich looked longingly at the enticing trails along with the empty parking lots, I became the trail police and insisted we stick to safe ground. As a result, our options were rather curtailed, and we ended up with shorter hikes than planned. But it wasn’t all bad.

The first day turned out to be cold, gray and blustery. By the time we finished hiking along the shore at Split Rock Lighthouse State Park, the wind had picked up and snow was starting to fly. We consoled ourselves with bowls of hot soup at Coho Cafe in Tofte and watched the snow swirl and settle on the deck outside. Cascade Lodge suddenly seemed very appealing, and we quickly traded the chilly afternoon for reading by the fireplace in the lodge. We could further rationalize our decision with the promise of a better forecast for the next day.

Sure enough, morning brought bright clear skies. We were up before dawn and crept outside and across to the lakefront to catch the first morning rays of sunlight. It was crisp and cold, but an invigorating and rewarding photo session.

The Cascade River was open for hiking to the top the waterfalls. The trail was beautiful, following the icy flowing waters up one side of the river and back down the other. We followed that with a trip up the Temperance River. The gorges were as impressive as ever, with the added attraction of icicles clinging to the edges of the rocky canyons.

Returning to Split Rock Lighthouse, we hunted down good vantage points for photos. We had great fun clambering around the campsites and down on the rocky beach, testing out all the sites for good shots. What we lost in terms of hiking mileage, we made up for in photography research.

All the way from Cascade Lodge, we followed the Roger Blough ore boat down the lake. When it turned into Two Harbors to dock, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to watch it come into the harbor. We were amazed at the sharp turns required to slip past the breakwater and position the boat for the ore docks. Despite the close proximity of Two Harbors, we’d never seen a boat come into port there before.

Our get-away wasn’t the hiking trip we’d originally envisioned. But neither of us minded the short bursts of hiking interspersed with photography and some creature comforts. In fact, we quite enjoyed it.

Sharing my passions

Posted on November 18, 2013 by Molly

As any good Grandma, I eagerly awaited the weekend when my daughter and her husband were coming to stay with their two young children – my grandkids. My favorite part of those weekends is sharing my favorite interests with those toddlers.

The preparations started long before, when I pulled out my sewing machine and brushed up my embroidery skills to make personalized aprons for the kids. They both love to bake, as I do, and I couldn’t wait to surprise them with the matching aprons. And of course I had several baking projects lined up. They are eager helpers, and willingly donned their new aprons. But there is no question that licking the bowl was the best part. Who can argue with that?

No day in Duluth is complete without a visit to the Lake. I run or cycle by it daily and savor its many moods. Even on a dreary day, Ben was eager to throw rocks in the lake. This time he took a liking to the large boulders as well, scaling their heights fearlessly.

I did reserve some mother-daughter time to go for a run with my daughter, Karen. That’s a passion I passed on to her, and between my aging body and her busy working mommy life our paces still manage to stay close enough to run and talk. That’s our special time together. The grandkids aren’t quite ready to join us yet, but don’t tell Mya. She thinks she is.

Even Rich was not immune to the inquisitive young minds. Each morning his favorite birdwatching perch on the window seat was invaded by the little ones. He willingly pointed out the various species out in his beloved bird feeders, sharing on his own personal interest. I don’t know which held their attention more, the birds or the antics of the squirrels. But they were precious moments together.

I’m already anticipating their next visit. Hopefully by then we’ll have snow on the ground. That opens up a whole new world of passions to share.

Superior Footprints

Life and the Outdoors in the Northland

Tag Archives: Lake Superior

Yet another ice attraction?

Ice Mushrooms

My escape to the land of ice

Sea Caves from the Ice

Six black muffins

Deep snow, silent woods

Permission to be Kids

Photo Play

Hiking in Short Bursts

Sharing my passions

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