Tag Archives: Snow

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.

Embracing Life

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I shouldn’t still be writing posts about skiing.  We have a cycling trip coming up in just over two weeks, and by now I’d planned to blog about our route, our plans and preparations.  But the snow just doesn’t stop coming.  And my husband, Rich, is all about embracing it.  He figures we will probably never see another winter as long as this in our lifetime.  (And part of me sincerely hopes so!)

So today when I saw a video on Facebook of the Piston Bully grooming the Birkie trails, we both had the same reaction – Let’s go!  With Rich in his first week of retirement, that’s all it took.  What luxury to be able to be so spontaneous.  So off we went.

With the latest snowstorm missing Duluth, it seemed silly to be loading up skis and gear surrounded by brown ground.  But as we neared Hayward, snow was in abundance.  The trees were draped in it, and a good 14″ lay on the ground.  And sure enough, at the Birkie trailhead at 00, we found 5k of groomed trails.

What more can I say?  I think photos tell the rest of the story better than words can.

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Molly at the Birkie trailhead at 00

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Molly and Rich on the Birkie trail – May 2

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Schussing uphill… Skis a bit sticky, Rich?

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It’s never too late to work on technique!

May Day Ski Race

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Yes, that’s right – a Nordic ski race.  On May Day.  Where else but in Minnesota?

The Duluth Cross-Country Ski Club holds weekly Wednesday night ski races throughout the winter.  And Snowflake Nordic Ski Center has continued to groom its trails throughout the long tail to this winter season.  So despite the recent warm-up, the packed snow continues to cling to its trails.  That made the perfect opportunity to add one more race to the Wednesday night series.  It was too goodIMG_9889 to miss!

Rich and I arrived early and skied the trails beforehand to see just what we were getting ourselves into.  Despite the bare patches near the warming house, once in the woods, the trails were surprisingly credible.  They had been freshly groomed (I really couldn’t tell) and grassy sections 466169_10201094940278975_87615926_owere taped off, forcing us to zigzag between trail sections.  The snow ranged from soft and mushy to icy and slushy.  And there were a few water hazards…  But it was all part of this most unique race experience.

At 6:30 the racers gathered for the 466606_10201094932598783_648904343_ostart.  It was the largest turnout they’d had all season!  It’s amazing what a bit of novelty can do.  The mood was festive and jovial.  How could we not be in a good mood?

902779_10201094942319026_1436393036_oAs we skied, whoops and hollers could be heard reverberating through the woods.  I added my own noisy yelps when trying to skirt a particularly deep puddle.  With a sickening sucking noise, my foot became mired in the icy water with my ski inexorably anchored by deep mushy snow.  I managed to extricate it with great difficulty, only to have the other foot succumb!  Apparently I just didn’t have the right technique – other more accomplished competitors skied right through.466200_10201094939278950_849080946_o

It’s not everyone who can say they skied in a race on May Day.  Nor ski 7 out of the last 12 months, which is what we did this year.  In Minnesota, when you’re given snow, you just have to ski.

Ice on the way out

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Lake ice. It’s been with us so long, far longer than any normal winter. It felt as though it was never going to retreat. But this week I finally saw signs of a thaw, thanks to a trip to the Twin Cities. There the weather is undeniably milder than the Northland. And I admit to being thoroughly enchanted with the rising temperatures, sun that penetrated my exposed skin with its warmth, and the mild breezes. Well, breezes that did not cross lake ice, that is. The latter still felt distinctly polar.

IMG_0634On a bike ride that included circling Medicine Lake, the beginnings of ice-out were distinctly visible. Perhaps it was the long wait that seemed to make it special, but I found the resulting patterns charming. A river developed in the middle of the lake, as the shrinking ice separated and created a channel across the lake. The blue water in contrast with the surrounding ice was a pleasing sight.

IMG_0639Other sections offered open water against the shore. Migrating birds were drawn to the available water making it a great place to watch for species not normally seen in that lake. I’m certain I saw a loon, and numerous ducks paddled the waters.

At the far end of the lake I came to a sudden stop. A mound of snow crossed the bike path, blocking my way. But what was more impressive were the huge piles of snow, ice and boulders that lined the shore. They were not there the day before, and I learned from someone who witnessed it that they were created in 30 seconds flat! Strong winds had been blowing the free lake ice from one side of the lake to the other all day, when all at once something gave way, and it all piled up on shore creating the ice mountains I saw before me. How I wish I’d seen it happen!

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With the warm weather, the lake ice is quickly turning to black ice as it thins out. It’s not nearly as pretty, but I approve of the trend. I’ll sacrifice some photo opps for open water. Now let’s see about that ice Up North – is it on its way out yet?

Never Say Never

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I said I was done skiing for the season.  I even put my boots away.  But when I went out for a walk to take pictures of the deep new snow early this morning, and found myself shoveling the sidewalk just to prolong my time outside, I knew I was going to renege on that statement.

My inspiration was Rich’s “epic ski” last week.  Taking advantage of the road closings for building the Lakewalk tunnel, he was able to ski from home down to Brighton Beach and on up the Scenic Highway to the pumping station.  I was so envious!  So I set out to recreate his journey.

My timing was perfect – the sun began to emerge just as I set out, which greatly enhanced the scenery.  The snow was still firm and not yet slushy, and few cars had ventured down the unplowed roads on my route.  Lake Superior picked up the blue hues of the clearing sky, and big rollers brought waves splashing up onto the rocks on the shoreline.  The views were glorious.

My revery was abruptly interrupted upon reaching the Scenic Highway to find it neatly plowed down to the pavement.  The detours had been changed, and so were my plans.  But it wasn’t the kind of day for disappointment.  Brighton Beach was every bit as entrancing on my return trip.

By then I was on a roll.  So I stretched my return trip to take in the Lester-Amity ski trails.  The city has long since stopped grooming the ski trails, but earlier skiers had generously left good classic tracks for me to follow.  When those ended, I did my share by tracking the next loop of the system.  The trees were heavily laden with snow, bending deeply over the trail and occasionally snapping under the weight.  Even at this late stage of spring, I had to admit it was a winter wonderland.

I’m glad my resolve didn’t hold.  Just see what I would have missed!

[Click on any photo to view as a slideshow.]

Rocky shoreline at Brighton Beach
Waves crashing
Skiing through the shadows
A wintry scene
Looking beyond Brighton Beach
Retracing my route along Brighton Beach
Trees coated with snow
Untracked section of the ski trails
Lester-Amity ski trail
Trees laden with snow hang over the Lester-Amity trails

Hungry Deer

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I’m not the only one wishing spring would arrive.  I’m sure the deer share my sentiments.

We didn’t see much of them in the thick of the snow season.  The deep snow in our yard deterred them from following their usual paths past our house.  But now that the snow is compacting with the warmer temperatures, they have begun frequenting this territory again.

Last summer a doe and her two fawns were regular visitors in our yard.  It was a delight to watch the youngsters with their white spots, and see them grow throughout the year.  The highlight came when we saw the mother deer nursing the two fawns, just down the hill a few feet away from where we were sitting on the deck.  It was Mother Nature at its best.

IMG_0609 trimmed 2Today they returned.  Or we’re pretty sure it’s them.  And they are hungry.  We’ve noticed that the woody plants sticking up through the snow in our garden have been decapitated.  And today they came to investigate the bird feeders.

Early on, we learned that deer could empty a bird feeder overnight.  WeIMG_0617 trimmed went through several varieties and models – and a lot of birdseed – in the process of trying to outsmart them.  My husband, Rich, takes this task very seriously.  Having developed a fairly deer-proof system, he is now tackling the squirrel challenge.  But that’s another story.IMG_0618 trimmed

This afternoon, while Mom was on the lookout (staring right at me, through the window), the fawns tried their best with the bird feeders.  I don’t think they gained more than a few sunflower seeds, but it was entertaining to watch.

I’m sure the deer are just waiting for the tasty treats to emerge from the ground in our garden.  Normally, I’d be upset just thinking about the damage they can wreak.  But right now I’m right there with them, willing the snow to disappear.

Minnesota Spring

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No cherry blossoms here.  The only things blooming are the plants on my kitchen island.  Including the poinsettia that still retains its brilliant red leaves.  Perhaps it’s a sign.  Winter has not given up her grip on Minnesota yet.

IMG_9819I can now claim have been cross-country skiing in April.  It’s a distinction I do not need to make for May.  This morning I traded my skis for snowshoes – they seemed better suited to the deep, wet snow.  Another first.  Tramping through the soft, unblemished snow in the woods along Amity Creek was peaceful, but had lost some of its appeal.  Something about the calendar…

IMG_9823We had such high hopes for spring just a few weeks ago.  Sitting in the Adirondack chairs on the deck in the sun it was easy to believe in warmth and a thaw.  I was sure it was the start of a good trend.  We even discussed what wildflowers we wanted to sow in our yard.  I won’t be rushing out to buy seeds any time soon.

IMG_9818Amity Creek broke through its icy prison a little while back.  We welcomed the return of the water’s roar as it flowed over the rocks with renewed gusto – white noise that we enjoy hearing from our open windows.  Today I could barely distinguish the waterfall at The Deeps through the frosty trees in the foreground.

Minnesota has its own unique flavor of spring.  Just this once, I wouldn’t mind being a bit more mainstream.