Tag Archives: Outdoors

Released!

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Despite the bravado of the last post, depicting my defiance of the cold weather and continuing to enjoy winter activities regardless, I have my limits.  And I reached them these past few days.  With temperatures reaching -25 at night with highs of only -7 IMG_3215degrees and dangerously low wind chill factors, I did the only sensible thing and retreated.  Trading my skis for trips to the swimming pool and limiting my outdoor exposure to hurrying between the front door and the car, I resolved to stay warm.

The one advantage to cold IMG_3216temperatures here in northern Minnesota is that they are nearly always accompanied by clear blue skies.  If I couldn’t be outdoors, at least the sun could cheer me up.  The hard part was that it looked so inviting.  But I knew better.  Peering out the windows, taking it in from the warmth of our cozy house was close enough for the time being.

I almost went out yesterday.  Rich, being the more macho Minnesotan, went for a short ski.  But one look at his frosty garb upon his return convinced me I was wise to hold out for another day.

So today was the day.  I watched the temperatures soar through the morning, from -16 when I first got up to +3.5 by 1:00pm.  Yes!  It was well over my threshold of reasonableness, and soon I was bound for the ski trails. Sweet release!  Never mind that the snow was still cold and slow, I was back in the elements and feeling good.  I didn’t have much company on the trails, which was no big surprise.  My poles squeaked in the frozen snow and my skis made noisy complaints traversing the skate deck, refusing to glide.  But I was out there.  And it was good.  Let the winter continue!DSCN0031DSCN0034

 

 

Why do we do this?

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Toe and hand warmers have become my best friends.  That little warm glow next to my sensitive digits is so comforting as once again I head out into the COLD.

The thermometer is hovering justDSCN0030 below zero – a veritable heat wave in this cold snap.  I pull on my long underwear, add several thermal layers, don my head wrap and head out the door with my skis.  For my first circuit around the trails I take in the sun’s golden glow on the trees and long shadows across the snow.  Despite its lack of warmth, I enjoy the ambiance and even the crisp air.  It makes me glad I made the effort to get out and ski.  During my second lap, the cold begins to infringe on my body.  First the thumbs go, followed by my fingers.  By the time I’m gliding rapidly down the final hills, my knees complain of the chill, and I have no desire to go for a third lap.  I can’t wait to reach the warmth of the house.

The Northern Lights indicators are all pointing to a high likelihood of activity.  My husband’s phone buzzes with multiple alerts informing him of the fact.  He’s intent on going out to see and photograph the display late at night, and I hesitate but decide to join him.  The temperature is already -11 and heading out of town and away from Lake Superior it continues to plummet.  Fortunately, Rich has been busy scoping out viewing points that allow us to stay in the car and watch for the northern glow.  We are happy to occupy our seats with their “bun warmers” and wait.  And wait.  Scuttled again with a lack of aurora, we decide to salvage the trip with some photo shots of stars.  It’s clear and cold, and Rich IMG_3190 trimmedcatches me doing a “warming dance” alongside my camera as it takes its long exposure on the tripod.  My photos weren’t very good, but we do get in some valuable practice, and a few good laughs, mostly at ourselves.  And I get a decent shot of the dashboard…

The temperature has finally risen into the teens, but snow is falling and the wind is fierce.  We watch the snow swirl outside our windows, note how blustery it is and think how cozy we are inside.  But we don’t stay there.  Instead, we pile into our down jackets and jump into a 4-wheel drive truck with friends to go to a UMD hockey game.  Hockey?  Me?  Okay, so I’m not really a hockey (or spectator sports) fan, but hey – it’s a social outing.  And after all, it’s indoors.

We’re Minnesotans – better yet, Duluthians.  And proud of it.  Life doesn’t stop just because it’s cold outside.  That’s why we keep the warm clothing industry in business and continue to pursue our outdoor activities.  Otherwise it would be a long, dull winter.

Ah, Sunshine!

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I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.  After three days of constant snowfall and heavy cloud cover, the reappearance of the sun lent a welcome glow to the new fallen snow and rays of visual warmth to my world.

IMG_0607I started snowshoeing in the woods early this morning just past daybreak.  The temperature had dropped during the night, and the trees that were doubled over with the weight of the wet snow were now frozen in their curved poses.  Occasional trees and branches had snapped and fallen under the strain.  Following the trail was like doing an obstacle course.

The snow under my feet started out hard and crunchy.  While it easily bore my weight, progress was noisy. Further inland, the depth increased and the snow softened.  That’s snowshoeing at its best in my mind.  Silent and deep.

IMG_0609The prettiest trails were those that followed the Lester River.  The ground rose high above the water and my path was narrow and secluded.  The trees must have been more open to the wind, as they all stood tall and proud.

It was at that point that I saw it.  The sun had just risen above the clouds at the horizon and illuminated the trees all around me.  Their long thin shadows lay across the trail, adding a new dimension to the snow.  Re-energized by the sun’s appearance, I prolonged my snowshoe trek to absorb my new surroundings.

IMG_3131The longer the sun was up, the bluer the sky.  It made a beautiful backdrop for the snow covered tree limbs.  And it lifted my spirits.  After days of isolation and greyness, we had color again.

Ah, sunshine is a wonderful thing.

Braving the Storm

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Day 2 of Duluth’s big snowstorm.  From our house, about 1/2 mile in from Lake Superior, it seemed a mild event. The main feature was the slow but constant and significant accumulation of snow.  Sure, it was windy, as evidenced by the broken branches in the yard and slightly swaying trees, but for the most part just a pretty winter wonderland.

Similar to yesterday, by late morning I made my way out into the snowy accumulation.  This time I donned snowshoes and headed toward the lake.  We had at least 8″ of heavy new snow in our yard, but the closer I got to the shore, the wetter, sloppier and skimpier the snow.  And when I emerged from the new lakewalk tunnel, I was surprised to look down and discover that my jacket was covered in droplets and soaking wet.  I had entered an entirely different micro-climate.

IMG_0575 trimmedBut that wasn’t all.  I was suddenly in the throes of a real storm.  I could hear the wind as I approached, but that was nothing compared to the fury with which it whipped past me.  Sticking to the shelter of trees at the shore, I watched as the brown water churned and huge waves crashed over the rocks.  It was all I could do to hold my little camera steady to see if I could catch the action.

Not content with one view, I soldiered on toward Brighton Beach.  The wind coming down the lake was so fierce, I couldn’t see a thing as I fought my way forward through the windy wetness.  There was no way I was going to survive on the open rocky beach, so I sought another grove of IMG_0584trees for my viewing point.  There I could see the rainy snow driven sideways in sheets across the water.  It wasn’t a place I wanted to dawdle, and as soon as I did an about face the wind fairly blew me back to the tunnel.  On the way, I had to smile at the snow encrusted North Shore sign, perfect proof of the horizontal snowfall.

My return trip was the same transition in reverse, and I reached home in the quiet snowfall I’d left.  It was a short but intense excursion, from one world to another and back again.  I guess we really are in the throes of a major storm after all.

Ski-Shoeing

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Today was my first ski of the season, if you can call it that.  After weeks of running, waiting for snow, it was finally here. I’m pretty leery about early season snow.  Unlike my husband who heads out on his skis at the first sign of a snowflake, I prefer to wait for the real deal.  But I had to admit that there was plenty of snow right outside my door this morning.  So I waxed up my classic skis and headed out.

It was deep all right.  Thick and moist too.  Lacking groomed trails yet, I made my way up Seven Bridges Road.  For once, I considered the snowmobiles my friends, as they had packed down a nice trail right down the middle of the road.  It was far easier following their path than trying to break trail.

IMG_0574Although the wind howled overhead, the road was pretty well sheltered.  The trees were laden with snow, some bending way over under the heavy weight.  And the world was silent.  Progress was slow, and getting any glide from my skis was only a wish, but the early season novelty of the new fallen snow was ample compensation.

Continuing onto Skyline Drive and summiting at Hawk Ridge, I came into the full force of the wind.  It raged across the open viewing area and obliterated the snowmobile tracks.  Down below the city faded into greyness and Lake Superior was left to my imagination.  The only reality was the snow beneath my skis.

IMG_0572I hoped for some benefit from retracing my tracks on the return trip, but it was a futile wish.  If anything, the snow was softening and increasingly clumped up on the bottom of my skis.  It felt more like walking than skiing.  That’s when I coined a new phrase – ski-shoeing. Tramping through deep new snow being held up by long sticks instead of snowshoes.  At least I had the benefit of my ski poles.

It may not have been glorious skiing, but it was a start.  And it felt great to be outside in the snow.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll dig out my snowshoes.

Hiking in Short Bursts

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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 ParkIMG_3038 trimmed, 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.IMG_2987 straightenedIMG_2956 straightened

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 IMG_3051rocky canyons.

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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.

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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.

Winter by degrees

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It’s inevitable.  Winter is coming.  There are some who would rush the season (I live with one) and wish for piles of snow for skiing right away.  But I can wait.  I prefer to linger in the seasonal changes from fall to winter, seeing the surroundings change with the weather.

The sudden dip in temperatures thisIMG_2897 last week has already transformed Amity Creek.  I expected isolated icy spots, so I was amazed when I found that the river is largely iced over in places. Not only that, but the ice is already crusted with thick snowy-white frost.  The vivid white stands out in sharp contrast to the drab weathered leaves and barren trees surrounding it, creating a stark visual path where the creek snakes through the woods.  It’s more visible than at any other time of the year.

The sound of rushing water persist, even under the ice and in the openings.  Following the creek down closer to Lake Superior, I find more open water where the sun has penetrated the ravine.  There I find what I’m really looking for – delicate ice lace.  The artwork created by the water, the sun and the freezing temperatures is exquisite – far better than my camera can capture.  But I delight in the patterns and shapes I find.IMG_2901IMG_2907

IMG_2910Full fledged winter will come soon enough.  And it will bring its own visual delights.  For now, I’m content to watch the transformation by degrees.

Happy to Fall Back

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There are a lot of things to like about going off Daylight Savings Time.  At least if you’re a morning person.  This week I have been relishing the perks of changing the clock so that everything is an hour earlier than it was last week.

I love early mornings.  I’m not the best at getting out of bed, however.  So fooling my internal clock to get up at 6:15 when it feels like 7:15 is a good thing.  I’ve been able to retrieve that morning hour that slipped away all to easily when I hit the snooze button too many times.  Being up before much of the world is out and about is a great feeling.

I feel so productive when I get rolling first thing in the morning.  I hit the ground running and attack the day.  I’m pumped when I’ve gotten a whole lot done by mid-morning.  Only then do I feel I’ve earned the right to brew my coffee and savor it with a fresh batch of muffins.

My favorite early morning activity is to go out for my workout.  Run, cycle or ski – if the weather is at all accomodating, you’ll find me out there.  Which is another reason to love the time change.  I can leave behind the headlamp I’ve needed for the last few weeks, and actually see my surroundings when I leave home.  I know I’m not the only one enjoying it – the morning population on the lakewalk has boomed this week as well.  We’ve all been out there enjoying the beautiful glow of the sun’s rays at its low angle, illuminating the last remaining colorful leaves along the shoreline.  I realize that it’s a temporary blessing.  The inexorable creep of darkness accompanying the shorting of the days will reclaim my morning light in a few short weeks.  But I will enjoy the reprieve in the meantime.

There are benefits on the other end of the day as well.  My nocturnal habits are more easily curbed when it seems to have been dark forever, and I might entertain hitting the hay at a more reasonable hour.  At least for a while, until I adjust to the new normal.  Better yet, pursuing night time photography needn’t wait until an absurdly late hour.  The sky is plenty dark for illuminated landscapes or starry portraits in the early evening.  Waiting for the Northern Lights is another matter entirely, but I’m reasonable enough not to expect the clock change to remedy everything.

Yes, in my book there is a whole lot more than one hour gained by turning the clocks back.  And you can probably guess that I’m not to fond of springing forward.

Cabin Seasons

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It’s the end of cabin season. That’s how most folks look at it. True, we needed to shut down the water system, defrost the refrigerator and clear the perishables out of the cupboards. But to us, those are just fall chores.  We’re not closing down the cabin.  We consider it preparing for winter.

And so we headed off to the cabin for a brisk fall stay. With the string of cold days the weather has delivered lately, the cabin had taken on a definite chill. In fact, it was colder inside than out. Before we could fire up the wood stove to begin the warming process, Rich needed to complete his first maintenance and safety task. Donning his chimney sweep persona, he climbed up on the roof with what looked like oversized bottle brushes. Once the chimneys were clean and the fire was crackling, we headed outside to stack firewood.  First rule of cabin visits in cold weather – stay active keep warm while the cabin heats up. With a new delivery of wood piled in the yard, we generated plenty of energy and warmth stowing it in the woodshed.

With our initial burst of chores completed, we settled inside to read. Each season of cabin life has its own personality, and fall is perfectly suited for snuggling up with a good book, hunkering down on the couch, and sitting by the warmth of the fire. It’s a more relaxed season than summer. The lake no longer calls to us. The boat is not beckoning. The fish are not waiting to be caught. There are fewer options and more relaxation time.

The short days of fall invite plenty ofPhoto Oct 25, 6 31 47 AM good sleep. The nights are so dark and silent, it’s easy to hit they hay early and sleep in the next morning. We did just that, and still had plenty of time to get outside by the first signs of sunrise. The early colors were vivid and soon delivered on the promise of a spectacular show. Each moment brought a new configuration of pinks and then reds, with the hues shifting Photo Oct 25, 6 42 09 AMand reflecting off the clouds above the horizon. Armed with our cameras and tripods, we each sought the ideal vantage point  Photo Oct 25, 6 45 32 AM to catch the best view, staying out until our fingers were numb and the colors faded back to pastels. Retreating to the cabin I felt I’d earned my breakfast.  Hot coffee and crispy toast never tasted so good.

Weaving our tasks in between cabin time, we were able to strike a nice balance between work and relaxation. The longer we stayed, the more it felt right to “do nothing.”

Soon winter will be upon us, and the cabin is now ready. Shovels are placed outside the door, firewood and kindling are in abundant supply, the ice auger has been retrieved from storage, the outhouse and sauna are accessible, extra blankets await. Winter is a wonderful season at the cabin. Let the snow fly – we’re looking forward to it!IMG_2853

Sharing Life’s Simple Pleasures

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It’s been a long time since we’ve had toddlers.  But we figured we were up for the challenge when we offered to take our two young grandchildren for three days so our daughter and her husband could get away to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary.

Just keeping up with a 3 1/2 year old and a 19 month old is a momentous shift in routine for us.  Yet I wanted it to be more than just babysitting – I wanted to do some special things with them.  After all, that’s what grandparents do.  Left to my own devices, I would have ventured out to a pumpkin patch.  Or maybe taken them to the zoo.  But my husband, Rich, had other ideas.  “All the IMG_0437outdoors is a playground” he said.  So off to the park we went.  Not to play on the swings, but to walk through the woods.  Ben, the oldest, wasn’t too sure about shuffling through the leaves on the muddy ground.  And the trees lurking overhead did make it a little dark.  But when presented with a large stick to carry, he grew in stature and ventured forth.  And discovered he liked the woods!

The next day we walked down to the lake.  A couple of park benches and a patch of grass didn’t look too interesting to me.  But soon Rich and Ben were headed into the woods again.  A short walk through the brush brought us all to a stream.  What better place to throw sticks into the water!  Only when we depleted the local wood supply, did Ben venture further into the woods.  This time we were not on IMG_0455park trails.  It meant working our way through light underbrush.  But Ben was not to be deterred.  “C’mon, Grammy” he’d say.  Well, if he was game, who was I to hold back?  Rich was busy trying to keep Mya from falling in the stream, so it was up to me to follow Ben.  He was intrigued with the large downed trees, and his imagination began to unfold.  “This is my home” he declared when we found a particularly cozy spot.  This time he was so intrigued that we had to lure him back out of the woods to go back home for lunch.

Perhaps there was something to Rich’s idea after all.  I still think the pumpkin patch or the zoo would have been fun.  But sometimes simple pleasures are the best.  I think Ben would agree.