Tag Archives: Outdoors

Recreation

Nature’s Imagery

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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.IMG_0186 IMG_0179 IMG_0177 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.IMG_0196IMG_0201 IMG_0200Our 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. IMG_0206No 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 annual haircut

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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.

 

 

Thanks for Waiting

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Fall colors.  We were sure we had missed them. With our cycling trip extending well into the second week of October, it seemed unlikely that we’d see the North Shore in all its splendor.  But we were wrong.

For the final two miles of our trip home, Rich turned down Seven Bridges Road.  There we could see that Lake Superior had sheltered at least some parts of the Northland.  Winding back and forth across Amity Creek on the narrow road, the trees were cloaked in color.  Even with the red maples having finished, the yellows and golds were a brilliant contrast against the pure blue sky.  A true welcome home present.

IMG_5846As soon as we schlepped our gear into the house, I headed right back out again – on my bike, of course, heading straight up the Shore.  Admittedly, the leaves were past prime, but they were still the core element of that quintessential fall day.  To complete the experience, it was cool and crisp with a bit of nip in the air.  The lake reflected the deep blue of the sky.

IMG_5856Cruising alongside Lake Superior was a cyclist’s paradise.  Wide shoulders, mostly smooth pavement, minimal traffic and little wind.  Exactly the conditions we hoped for each day of our cycling trip.  Add to that stunning coastal views, and there is little left to improve on the experience.  Indeed, we live in a beautiful area, with all this right on our doorstep.

I’d have to say, that the scenery IMG_5834rivaled that which we just spent a month inspecting from our bikes.  It was still worth traveling across the country to cycle through new territory.  But it also brings home the knowledge that we have it good, right here.

Thanks, fall, for waiting for us.

Circling the Sound

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I'd never realized before just how extensive and meandering Puget Sound is. It's long and sinewy fingers stretch well inland, creating endless miles of coastline. We enjoyed exploring quite a few of them.

Our first introduction was in Olympia. We had the luxury of a rest day there spent with my good friend, Anne, who shared her favorite outdoor haunts with us. Blessed with sunny calm weather, we happily traded our bikes for walking and enjoying nature.

Exploring the restored delta on the boardwalk at the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge.

Lunch and a colorful eyeful at the Olympia Farmers' Market

Walking the beach at Priest Point Park

Beautiful wooded trails in Priest Point Park

We were advised that the best bicycle route into Seattle was not the direct one. It took a full day of cycling to circle around to Bremerton, on the western side of the Sound. But it was far more pleasant and less stressful then trying to navigate through a busy metropolitan area. Every time we had a scenic view of water, it turned out to be another bit of the Sound. The sight varied greatly depending on the status of the tide and the nature of the shoreline. It could never be tiresome.

Stopping for a mid-day break on the fishing pier in Allyn

Our Warm Showers hosts in Bremerton had a beautiful home with a wonderful view of Kitsap Lake. Although not part of the Sound, its waters eventually drain there. The unseasonably warm weather provided a fine opportunity to hang out on the deck to enjoy the view, including the Cascade Mountains in the distance.

Lake Kitsap and the Cascade Mountains

A beautiful sunset over the lake

Tomorrow we will complete our circuit of Puget Sound, as well as our trip. Since we didn't do a circle route this time, let's just say we are about to come full cycle.

 

Our very own Mountain

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It’s not every family that has a mountain named for them.  But that was one of the legacies my great-grandfather left for us.  For the record, this is no piddly little peak.  Mt. Brewer rises 13,576 feet high in the Sierra Nevada Range in California.

William Henry Brewer March 19 1902

William Henry Brewer, 1902

Back in 1860, Josiah Whitney headed up the first Geological Survey of the State of California.  He selected fellow Yale graduate William Henry Brewer to lead the field survey.  Over the next four years, my great-grandfather Brewer traveled over 14,000 miles mapping California’s topography as well as cataloging and collecting geological and botanical samples.

On July 2, 1864 Brewer and his team made the first ascent of Mt. Brewer.  The found the final climb to be much harder and higher than expected, traveling over steep rocks.  But once at the top they were amazed at the view – “Such a landscape!” Brewer exclaimed in his journal, surrounded by a hundred peaks over 13,000 feet.  In fact, from the summit Brewer’s survey party was the first to identify the highest peak in the range, Mt. Whitney.

GMBE 1970

The Great Mount Brewer Expedition, 1970

Over 100 years and three generations later, my older brother, my sister and her boyfriend (now husband) made the second family trek up Mt. Brewer.  Somehow it seemed fitting, as my brother is named after William Henry Brewer.  They boldly named their trip the Great Mount Brewer Expedition, and spent five days backpacking up the mountain and back.  They left the following entry in the log at the top:  “William Henry Brewer and party climbed this peak 106 years after our great-grandfather, William Henry Brewer.”  I was in awe of my siblings’ accomplishment, especially after they were featured in a big newspaper story when they returned.

Mt. Brewer Map

Carl and Erik’s planned route to the top

Now 150 years since Brewer’s first ascent, two of his great-great-grandsons are making the same trip.  My sons Carl and Erik leave this week to scale our family mountain.  If all goes as planned, they expect to complete their journey in three days, but have allowed four just in case.  Since they have planned a circular route, it means carrying all their gear to the summit.   I’ve been informed that only about half the route is on established trails.  Getting to the top requires finding their way off-trail.  They assure me that they are good with maps and a compass.

I’m thrilled that my sons care enough about our family history to carry out this challenge.  I’m excited to think about their new entry in that log at the top.  It’s an adventure I’ve dreamed of doing, but realistically will resort to living vicariously through their anecdotes and tales.  I’m sure there will be plenty to tell.  That’s a lot of mountain to claim and to climb.

Mount Brewer from South Guard Lake

Mount Brewer from South Guard Lake

Thimble Berry Jam

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There is something irresistible about berries.  Especially those growing of their own free will, just steps from our doorway.  Begging to be picked.

IMG_1416We’ve seen the thickets of thimble berries growing in “our woods” every summer.  And each year the birds, critters and perhaps other berry lovers have gotten to them first.  This year appears to be a bumper crop.  Loads of big red berries hang from the branches, with many more promising to follow.  We promised ourselves that this year we’d pick them and make jam.

Thimble berries take me way back.  Julie, one of my best friends in school, went blueberry picking each year with her family, and I went along.  Not being a real lover of blueberries at the time, I was lured away by the sight of huge red raspberries not far away – something I truly adored.  I picked and picked and returned to the others quite smug and victorious.  That is until I was informed that I had picked thimble berries, not raspberries.  I’d never even heard of them before.  I quickly learned that they were not so tasty for eating.  But to make up for it, Julie’s mom turned my cache of non-raspberries into a delicious jam.

IMG_1411A few days ago it became clear that the time was NOW.  At least for the first round of picking.  Each bush had one or more perfectly ripe berries.  So Rich and I ventured out to see what we could gather.  Although it meant only a berry here and a berry there, the bushes were plentiful enough to make it a worthwhile hunt.  Moving across the road, we reaped even more berries – enough to come up with 4 1/2 cups between us.  And judging by the remaining unripe berries, we could easily duplicate that several times if we keep diligent watch.

IMG_5146I had to hunt down a recipe for jam, and was surprised just how simple it was.  Only two ingredients in equal quantities – thimble berries and sugar.  It also warned that cleaning the berries was as time consuming as picking them.  I won’t argue that point.  And picking was a lot more fun.

I dug out my canning supplies, bought more canning jars and IMG_5149reacquainted myself with the process.  Then I dug in.  (Notice “we” became “I” at this point…)  Soon the house was redolent with sweet berry smell as the mixture simmered on the stove.  It wasn’t long before it began to thicken and resemble jam, and filled more jars than I expected.

Somehow getting something that good from free fruit is deeply gratifying.  Now I suppose I’ll be expected to share it.  And why not – there’s more where that came from.

My Memory Garden

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IMG_5091IMG_5097 IMG_5096IMG_5092 IMG_5094 IMG_5093 The blooms are gorgeous. Brilliant reds, oranges, yellows and purples populate the garden. For someone who knows next to nothing about gardening, it is a recurring summer miracle to watch the perennials grow and burst into color. It lifts my spirits each time I walk up the front steps and take it all in.

With time, the plants have grown and now compete for space, trying to crowd out nearby blossoms vying for attention. I have learned how to sow the seeds in the fall to spread the plants, thereby contributing to the confusion of color and congestion. But I love it that way. The more the merrier.

In a yard that’s left “natural” with long waving grasses and otherwise filled with trees, the garden can’t help but be a focal point. It’s the only spot in the yard we have cultivated.  It’s special.  In more ways than one.

It’s memory that brought this garden about. When my mother lost hers to Alzheimer’s, one of her loving caregivers gardened her back yard into a symphony of color. It was a delight to Mom, who loved both flowers and bright colors. It was a constant in her diminishing ability to understand. Flowers were still flowers, and a never ending source of joy to her.

So when we built our house, the first person we turned to for developing our garden was Mary Jane, the caregiver. She brought all her gardening skills to bear on the project, and left us with a beauty reminiscent of Mom’s back yard. She has become the caregiver of memories for me. Preserving a piece of Mom along with beautifying our front steps.

I know Mom would love our garden. I think of her whenever I look at the flowers.  I smile at the brilliant colors. And my heart is filled with warm memories.

The Ultimate Downhill

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Day 4 – Ely to Beaver Bay MN, 71 miles

By definition, today’s route was one big downhill run. Starting in Ely and ending up at Lake Superior means dropping over 800 feet in elevation over 62 miles. What more could a cyclist ask for? Well, good weather, a tailwind, and beautiful scenery for starters. And we got all those too!

But I have to be honest. It wasn’t all downhill. In fact, getting out of Ely involved numerous uphill climbs and plenty of rolling hills. It wasn’t until we reached the continental divide, about 42 miles into our trip, that the road finally attained an overall downward tilt. And even then, there were undulations. But by then my momentum went a long way in carrying me up those hills, which just felt like little blips. For the most part, we whizzed down at great speed. Yes, those final 20 miles to the lake were quite the trip.

Our reward at the foot of the hill was a picnic lunch at the newly completed Tettagouche State Park Visitor Center. The new building certainly makes a statement, with its native rock and log exterior and it’s vast size. We set up shop in a nearby pavilion, where Lake Superior’s cooling breezes were in evidence. It was a delightful spot, and fun to explore the new building after watching it in the building process for the last two years.

It was nice to know we had just eight more miles to reach Beaver Bay, rounding out our longest day at 70 miles. Rich and I took the opportunity to visit Palisade Head on the way, despite the incredibly steep road to reach it. There was a bit of haze in the air but the view was still stunning. And Rich was thrilled to find that the local nesting Peregrine Falcons were active and in view. So of course a photo session ensued.

Today’s top sights, apart from the beautiful scenery, evolved into a common category – tall wood carvings. The first was a chainsaw statue in Finland. It is a unique rendering of St. Urho, a legendary and entirely fictional Finnish saint, which apparently has become part of Minnesota lore. The second was a signpost for our motel, Camp 61, complete with lumberjack, eagles, fish and a raven.

I also enjoyed this peaceful scene, crossing the South Kiwishiwi River early in the morning with a bit of fog still hanging over the water.

We may now be at the low point on this cycling tour, but everyone agreed that getting here was quite a highlight.

 

Cycling with the Wind

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Day 3 – Tower to Ely MN, 50 miles. Our revised route in green

Northern Minnesota is largely unpopulated, except by lakes and trees. And our cycling route for the day certainly confirmed that fact.

The planned route was to head straight to Ely, requiring only 31 miles of cycling and leaving plenty of time there for other pursuits. Since Rich had a reprieve from sag wagon duties, we took the liberty of following an alternate and more circuitous route to Ely. Straying from the main highway, we enjoyed quieter roads and the unexpected benefit of brand new pavement. To a cyclist there is nothing better than a smooth unblemished surface!

As if that wasn’t sweet enough, we were also pushed along by a steady tailwind for the whole ride. We fairly flew down the road, barely feeling any resistance on our pedals, and covering 50 miles in record time. It’s not often everything lines up so perfectly, and we fully appreciated our good fortune.

Just to balance things out, we did ride through some significant rain. But the warm day and returning sunshine dried us off in a hurry once it stopped.

Throughout our whole ride we didn’t pass through a single town, with the exception of Babbitt which was a deliberate detour for a comfort stop. The remainder of our miles were all through quiet woodlands with a few houses and lakes nestled behind the trees. It was the kind of ride that encourages my mind to wander – a very liberating feeling.

Arriving in Ely the weather was sunny and hot, and the Red Cabin Frozen Custard stand across from our motel called out to me. There is nothing better than ice cream at the end of a long ride. Although I originally spurned the thought of their flavor of the day, one taste convinced me that watermelon custard was a most excellent choice.

Our speedy journey left us with a free afternoon, and we took a leisurely walk around Ely and along Miners Lake. It felt truly summer-like, which has been a rare sensation this year. Rich found a new “dorky hat” to keep the sun off his fair skin, which he promptly put into service.

Dinner this evening was out on the patio of the Rock Wood restaurant. The food was excellent, including the decadent desserts we all shared without guilt. To top it off, a bluegrass band provided live music. Sitting outside on a warm evening with friends and music was an unbeatable combination. Almost as good as cycling with the wind.

 

Dodging the Rain

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Day 2 – Virginia to Tower MN, 49 miles. Our detour in green

The forecast for today looked great. Sunshine and warm temps, perfect for cycling. But the weatherman got it wrong. Instead, we had intermittent rain showers, some of them quite heavy with a smattering of thunder. And yet, through the virtue of perfect timing, we managed to avoid much of the wet weather. And the sunshine in between was all the sweeter.

We started the morning with breakfast at a cafe that came straight out of the 50s. They served the standard fare, and had the requisite bar stools at the counter. Half the fun of traveling is discovering local eateries, and this downtown staple was pure local flavor.

Our route retraced the Mesabi Trail back out to the highway that led to Tower. This time around we enjoyed the rolling hills and curves even more than yesterday. Reaching the end of the trail, we noticed dark clouds collecting overhead. Sure enough, soon it was raining. But being with people who are able to roll with the punches, it did little to dampen our spirits. Donning our rain jackets, we soldiered on. And eventually we managed to out cycle the rain clouds.

Our group split in two today, and I cycled in a group of four. When the Mesabi Trail mysteriously reappeared, we decided to take it, believing it would eventually return us to the highway. Despite some twists and turns, and moments of uncertainty, our hunch proved to be right. That section of trail, including the sunshine that had returned was delightful. We made our way to Giant’s Ridge ski area on smoothly paved trail and plenty of rolling hills. We had beautiful views of lakes and woods and returned to our intended route just short of our lunch spot, very pleased with our revised route.

Our lunch stop was on the grounds of a Finnish homestead – a refreshing break.

The afternoon’s main attraction was taking the tour of the Soudan Mine. And it just happened to coincide with another bout of rain, which we totally missed. Outfitted in warm clothes and hard hats, we descended in mine shaft to reach the 27th level of the mine, 1/2 mile underground! Crammed into the tiny elevator box, it rattled and shook noisily as we plummeted at rapid speed. Frankly it was a relief to feel it finally begin to slow and eventually stop. As promised, the mine was a cool 51 degrees down there.

We continued with another 1/2 mile ride, this time in rail cars to the mining site. There we climbed up to a higher level which was an enlarged space. Our animated and enthusiastic tour guide explained the mining process and how they got the ore back to the surface. To demonstrate the conditions under which the miners worked, he turned out all the lights. We were plunged into true darkness, and when he lit a single candle it was surprising how much light it shed. Yet it was hard to believe that was all the light they had to work by, years ago.

We managed to fit our remaining miles to the hotel perfectly into a sunny window. No sooner had we arrived than the rain came down in sheets that came in waves across the parking lot. Looking out on it from a dry hotel room was very satisfying. 49 miles completed, successfully dodging the worst of the rain.