North Shore Weekend

I'm not sure what arrived first, the fishing line or the fever. A few days ago, I noticed my preparations for the coming spring are well under way. UPS delivered a box filled with spools of hard-to-find fishing line. Then a friend emailed with questions about a fly rod he is building for me. I traded emails with another friend about turkey hunting.

Thinking spring in January may seem a little strange to some folks, but it happens to me every year. I even think there is a scientific explanation for those April-May musings. Now, more than a month past the December solstice, the winter sun is gaining strength. Inside of me, something stirs. Rationally, I understand that April is two months away. The mid-May fishing opener--dare I say it--won't arrive for three and a half months. Still, it seems the open water season is just around the corner.

I am not alone, as evidenced by the mountain of tackle catalogs that show up in my mail. Before any fishing lure can catch a fish, it must first hook a fisherman. Thus the retailers make their casts, smug in the knowledge that fishermen, unlike fish, are always biting. In midwinter, when anglers are not paging through catalogs or trolling for tackle on the Internet, they are wandering the aisles of sport shows, dreaming of new boats or fly-in fishing vacations.

I'm happy with my present boat and plan to keep my fishing feet planted firmly on the ground this year. But nevertheless I’m feverish. Generally, I try to take a pragmatic approach to my fishing preparations. I keep track of what was lost or damaged the previous year and make a wish list of tackle and gear to add to my angling arsenal. Never do I acquire everything on my list.

This may be due to the breadth of my fishing interests. Many modern anglers specialize in one or two species, such as muskies or walleyes, or on a method, such as fly-fishing or Great Lakes trolling. I'm more a jack of many trades, enjoying the variety of fishing opportunities available near my North Shore home. My fishing calendar follows a predictable schedule. I start the season fishing for steelhead in rivers, shifting to walleyes and northerns in lakes when the general season opens. I also have a fondness for fly-fishing, especially for trout. In midsummer, I troll for salmon on Lake Superior.

The tough part about having disparate angling interests is finding enough time to do justice to all of them. I set a personal goal to land at least 50 trout and salmon topping 16 inches during a fishing season, knowing that I’ll need to spend plenty of quality time on the water to do so. The bulk of my “goal fish” are Lake Superior steelhead, lake trout and salmon, but my annual tally usually includes some whopper brook trout, a handful of hefty browns and lake trout from inland waters. Sometimes it includes salmon from the Pacific Ocean or cutthroat trout from the Rockies. The specific catches don’t really matter. If I hit the goal of 50, I’ve had a good fishing year. I don’t set a similar goal for walleyes, but my urge to catch them is driven by a healthy appetite for fresh filets.

Last summer, I made some changes in life that allowed me more fishing time—something that previously was in short supply. While I wasn’t transformed into Huckleberry Finn, I was able to make a few more casts. Just how many more became apparent last August, when I smugly decided to forgo trolling on Lake Superior, because I’d already caught enough trout and salmon. I didn’t stop fishing, mind you. My angling attention just shifted to walleyes.

I’m hoping to have some extra fishing time available this summer, but am unsure how I will use it. Back in the good old days—when gasoline was less than $2.50 per gallon—my fishing forays were often to destinations anywhere from 60 to more than 100 miles from home. When the weather was right and the fish were biting, I went fishing on many weekday evenings, often driving 50 miles one way just to cast flies to hungry trout during an hour-long mayfly hatch. These days, I stick closer to home, because it’s hard to justify the gasoline expense for just an hour or two of fishing.

Living near the border, I used to make frequent day excursions into Canada, another form of fishing fun that has become costly.  While I haven’t given up on fishing in the wondrous Nipigon region, overnight trips, and fewer of them, are now the norm. Last summer, I contemplated running out to western Montana with my pick-up camper for a week of fly-fishing, but backed off after calculating the fuel costs.  Maybe, with better planning, I’ll make it out there this year. When you dream about fishing in midwinter, just about anything seems possible.

Airdate: February 1, 2013

Deane Morrison is a science writer at the University of Minnesota, where she authors the Minnesota Starwatch column.

In the last week of January and first week of February, a waning moon means a better view of the winter stars (Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, Procyon, Pollux and Castor, Betelgeuse and more). Jupiter is fading, but Saturn is coming into its own, and it will be at west quadrature on January 30. Learn more in this edition of Northern Sky.

Read this month's Starwatch column.

“His fullness” the “great spirit moon” (Gich-Manidoo-Giizis) shines down on the northland this weekend. Like a billion candlepower flashlight it will be beaming on some wonderful new powder. Our landscape is whitewashed again in fresh, unspoiled elegance.
 
The “northern express” arrived last weekend, a bit late, but roaring with a vengeance. A storm blew into the upper Gunflint about the time last week’s commentary was being aired. By Saturday night, the snow gods had left over 10 inches of snow in the Wildersmith neighborhood, and it was OK!
 
As if the snow wasn’t enough, a blustery wind followed and ushered in some noteworthy cold. How cold was it? By Sunday morning, the zero mark had been eclipsed by 26 degrees on two different thermometer locations around the yard, (yes it was 26 below).  Then it was even colder by Monday a.m. (minus 35, actual).
 
Although this is not cold by yesteryears’ standards, it was shocking since we’ve been spoiled for the first half of the season. This frosty happening is, perhaps, a flu-killing cure if it hangs around for several days as predicted. We can only hope so, as many have been suffering with the dreaded angst throughout the northland.
 
It was amusing as I peeked out of the crystal-covered windows last Sunday to see that some of the neighborhood critters were confirming the cold. Our resident pine marten was busy munching sunflower seeds, and I could see that its whiskers were white with frost. The whiskers were so pronounced that, at first glance, it had the look of an otter.
 
Meanwhile a couple itinerant deer were browsing around the yard with white-crusted backs and foreheads. Further support for the bitter conditions came when the two meandered about until lying down under our young balsam grove just up from the shore. Over the years, this has often occurred with the whitetails when winter turns severe and shelter is sought.
 
Yours truly spent a number of outdoor hours moving snow, and I, too, affirm that it was plenty brisk. Protecting myself with multiple layers, I was reminded of childhood days when Mom would bundle me up (scarves around the neck, over the face, double gloves and mittens along with other such insulators) for outdoor play and then tell me to bend over and buckle my overshoes. This was always a next-to-impossible task when I looked and felt like that “Michelin Tire Boy.”
 
Sure as night follows day, I would get outside in the cold, and I’d have to go to the bathroom. So it was back inside to go through shedding and then the re-doing process all over. Bet everyone can relate to those days in some manner of speaking if they grew up in cold latitudes.
 
Speaking of another kind of shedding, discussion with friends while around the card table recently, centered on the male of the white tail and moose kingdom. The talk went from whether folks had been finding any antler sheds, to wondering about what it must be like for those critters when one side falls off. It was real important northland trivia!
 
It would seem that they might have a terrific neck-ache after a few days of toting just half a load. Question was then asked as to whether they might have balance issues for a time until they adjust.
 
Further gab moved on to what a blow it must be to the animal ego, when they drop in the pecking order of ungulate manhood due to this annual shedding event. The timid youngster with a full set of junior-sized spikes now steps out front of the old buck/bull that is now sporting only part, or maybe even none, of his cartilaginous headgear.
 
The old guys are probably just not as appealing to the ladies of the woods. It’s got to be tough in the wild neighborhood being relegated to just one of the boys after strutting their stuff each fall during courtship!
 
Without resolve to the subjects of our discussion, the cards were dealt, and the females of the group humbled male egos once again. It’s tough out here in the human neighborhood too.
 
Keep on hangin’ on and savor the hand that is dealt in the wilderness neighborhood!

There once was a saying in northern Minnesota that tourist towns "rolled up the sidewalks after Labor Day," because tourism came to a grinding halt once school began in September. During the last 30 years or so, tourism evolved into a year-round business as people discovered winter sports like snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, ice-fishing and more, and as tourism communities developed the amenities and services to accommodate winter visitors.

While winter tourism will never equal the summer vacation season, many northern Minnesota businesses now remain open year-round to meet the needs of winter tourists. In many northern communities, the business activity associated with winter tourism delivers a welcome shot of cash to the local economy. The extra money is especially welcome these days due to the downturn in logging, long a mainstay of the north woods economy.

But winter tourism is in trouble, too. Don't believe me? Try scheduling a dog sled race or a cross-country ski event that requires a snowy landscape. The venerable John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon was recently postponed due to a lack of snow...on the North Shore...in January.

Not so long ago, northern Minnesota was a place where you took winter for granted. A couple of weeks ago, I went walking with the dogs on an April-like, 50-degree January day as melt water tumbled down frozen creeks and snow disappeared from the woods. While the temperature dropped far below freezing the following day, all that remained of winter were frozen puddles, brown dirt and snow crusted like concrete. My backyard looked the same as it did in November.

Midwinter thaws and warm spells are the new normal, as are mild, extended falls and early springs. Last year, winter came to an abrupt halt when the snow melted in March. Lakes across the state set records for early ice-outs. Some state legislators even suggested advancing the spring fishing opener by a week to give northern tourist operators a chance to recover some of the business they lost to a short, snowless winter. The early fishing opener never came to a vote, but the idea of looking for ways to recover lost winter tourism revenues demands further, serious consideration. 
 
We live in a state where winter recreational opportunities not only attract tourists but also define many Minnesotans' lifestyles. Many of us spend ample spare time and money on ice fishing, snowmobiling or cross-country skiing. We’ve developed a sizeable infrastructure to support these activities, including extensive networks of groomed snowmobile and ski trails. Across the state, thousands of people are employed by winter sports companies ranging from snowmobile or fish house manufacturers to ski shops and tackle retailers.  Until now, all of the above has been dependent on cold and snow lasting from December through March.
  
Now, due to the warming realities of a rapidly changing climate, a good, old-fashioned Minnesota winter is just that: old-fashioned. Nowadays, we cross our fingers and hope we get enough snow and cold to make do. And that’s a problem. It’s hard to operate a winter-based business when you can’t count on cooperative weather. 
 
If this winter and last are any indication, we’ve reached a climate crossroads for winter recreation. In both years, we’ve hardly received enough snow across most of the state to allow for consistent grooming of snowmobile and ski trails. Midwinter warm-ups have destroyed trail conditions. About the only consistent winter recreation has been ice fishing and even there, early and late ice conditions were dangerously iffy.

Looking forward, it seems reasonable to expect winters will become progressively milder with less snow. Lakes will continue to make ice, but it isn’t likely to become as thick or last as long as it once did. Wimpy winters offer fewer opportunities for traditional winter activities. So where does that leave winter tourism or the substantial manufacturing and retail economy devoted to winter sports? How long will groomed ski and snowmobile trails remain viable, especially since trail maintenance is often funded and accomplished by local volunteers?

Answering questions like these is necessary, but not easy. To my knowledge, no one is even asking them. Maybe that’s because doing so forces one to consider a heretofore unthinkable future for Minnesota—a future where traditional winters no longer exist. We’ve seen some scientific projections about the possible effects of climate change on our forests and our agriculture, but those consequences still remain comfortably distant. In contrast, the decline in winter tourism is happening here and now. 
 
It’s time for someone to start thinking about the unthinkable. Businesses that depend on winter for all or part of their income are struggling with consecutive poor years and a very uncertain future. I doubt that many of them are seeking sympathy or subsidies, but they certainly need help finding a path to move forward in a warming world. 
 
What we really need is a leader to recognize the issue of waning winter tourism and to rally the troops to address the decline. The obvious choice is Governor Mark Dayton, a man who doesn’t duck difficult issues and has a self-described fondness for northern Minnesota. The governor can’t wave a magic wand and make it snow, but he is in a unique position to call statewide attention to a pressing economic issue—one many northern communities can’t afford to ignore.
 
Perhaps it is time for Governor Dayton to convene a summit on tourism and climate change. Such an event would raise awareness of declining snow sports and serve as a launch pad for addressing our winter woes. It is unlikely the summit would lead to any simple solutions, but it could initiate a statewide, strategic effort to transition winter tourism into a warming future. We need to start that transition before winter melts away.

Travis Payer is Nebraska Ho Chunk and Bad River Ojibwe. He has lived in the Minneapolis St. Paul area his whole life and has been a Minneapolis Fire Fighter for 17 years. In this edition of "Anishinaabe Way: Lives, Words & Stories of Ojibwe People," he talks about his work, his cultural heritage and the role that Fire Fighters play in an urban environment.

Welcome back to Magnetic North, where just a hint of wood smoke flavors the air. Air so delicious that I don’t so much breathe it as gulp it down. Icy. Sweet. Winter air infused with maple or birch smoke is one of the joys of living here year ‘round. And so much more. The scent of smoke in the chilly air signals that all is well. It says that somewhere near enough to sniff, to find, to share, there is warmth. Even at minus 20 with a windchill of 50 below. 
 
It’s a survival thing, something that the poetry of Robert W. Service awakened in my 12-year-old soul. Service’s “Spell of the Yukon,” published in 1907, a collection of his most popular ballads about the characters and critters caught up in the Canadian gold rush, came into my suburban Philadelphia home as a gift to my father. But I was its true beneficiary. I daydreamed my way through soul-sucking junior high subjects, conjuring up the Lady known as Lou and, though I’d never heard even a dog howl, the song of the “huskies gathered round in a ring” carried me away from the torture chamber that was algebra, taught by Mr. Miller-who-flunked-his-own-daughter.
 
My most beloved poem in that collection was “Cremation of Sam McGee.” Which begins this way:
 
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
      By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
      That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
      But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
      I cremated Sam McGee.
 
It gets worse. 
 
You see, Sam, being from Tennessee, hated cold weather. He knew he was dying and asked his prospector partner to cremate his corpse. Of course the fellow says OK, a clear case of not thinking things through. So with no access to timber, the partner ends up lashing Sam’s frozen body to the sled and carting it  around for heaven knows how long until he finds an old barge on the shore of, uh huh, Lake Lebarge. The barge furnace is big enough to stuff Sam in and the rest is historic macabre humor.
It goes like this:
 
 
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
 
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
 
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
 
I recited the whole thing for my junior high talent show and I think doing that - instead of belting out Honey Bun from South Pacific - changed my life. The boys in my class no longer ignored me. They practically ran the other way when they saw me in the hallway. Except for Michael Landis; he invited me to come over to his house to cremate his brother’s hamster. 
 
No one seemed to get it, the whole fire and ice thing…how you could love both, especially together, with wolves nipping at your heels and mountains of gold beyond every horizon? But I saw myself in that vision and kept it alive for the next 30 years when finally I moved to the North Shore of Lake Superior. Wolves, subzero winters and, according to recent mineral exploration reports, possibly even precious metals are us.
 
And as for playing with fire, I have a wood burning furnace, a Franklin stove, two fireplaces, more oil lamps than anyone needs, and - most sacred of all - a 10 by 12 woodshed. I can spend an entire day gathering kindling or chopping kindling and nobody thinks a thing of it. In fact, since I don’t fell my own trees, I am probably considered a bit of a wuss.
 
All the good trees on my 80 acres were logged long ago. Just aspen and new growth evergreens grow there now. So surrounded by woods, I need to bring in food for my furnace. Starting just about now, before this winter’s woodpile is half-burnt, I start scoping out next winter’s stash. Will I need a full logger’s cord again? Should I try for more maple? It burns so much longer than birch. And should I order right away? Last season I nearly ran out. And so forth. When I decide, I go through the list of wood sellers and order a full cord - that’s 128 cubic feet - for delivery in June. 
 
I hire a neighbor teenager to stack the wood, then eagerly wait for the warm weather to go away so I can burn my first 10 sticks. That’s how many split logs I can fit on my old blue plastic kiddy sled. This winter, thanks to lack of snow, pulling that load from the woodshed to the back door has been a hassle. My reward is the satisfying crash as the avalanche of logs careen down the steps to the back door.
 
I carry in the logs with purpose, according to which will be split and fed to the fire first. These I line up on the red tiles of the furnace room. Then comes the laying of the fire, a task requiring discipline and focus, Tough stuff when twisting at least 10 pages of newsprint, just enough birch bark on hand to cradle four to six lengths of kindling and luck. It’s a fingernails-on-the-blackboard task as it is accompanied by soot, knotty logs that resist reduction and the occasional cross wolf spider rudely wakened from under a bit of bark. 
 
But all that pales when I lay the perfect fire. One that burns true and fast, reducing several big logs and burning them down to neon red-gold embers. And as I perch in front of the open furnace door, basking in the glow, I search in vain for  the outline of old Sam McGee, reanimated by fire, begging his friend - begging me- to not let in the cold. To “close that door.” And, reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, I do.

Airdate: January 22, 2013

If you head south from Duluth on State Highway 23, you pass through a tiny corner of Wisconsin. Crossing the St. Louis River at Fond du Lac you spend 15 seconds driving through the Badger State before re-entering Minnesota. This slice of land is an orphan of geography, because you can’t get there from Wisconsin. It is also the location of the venerable Mont du Lac Ski Area.
 
Built on the steep, red-clay hills that rise up from the river, Mont du Lac opened in 1948, making it one of the oldest ski areas in the region. A new era began in 2008 for Mont du Lac when it was purchased by Larry and Donna Pulkrebec, owners of Field Logic, an archery and sporting goods manufacturer located in Superior, Wisc. They embarked on an ambitious plan to revamp the area’s recreational opportunities and to build a new, hilltop lodge.
 
Those plans were coming to fruition, says general manager Mike Cameron, when a massive rainstorm last June unleashed a torrential flood that wiped out Duluth and nearby Jay Cooke State Park. The storm caused about 50 landslides on Mont du Lac’s clay hills, including 15 that destroyed vital portions of the ski runs.  Since the storm occurred, Mont du Lac has been an orphan of disaster relief.
 
“Minnesota filed with FEMA for immediate assistance,” says Cameron, “but Wisconsin did not file for federal relief.”
 
Working with several state agencies in Wisconsin, Mont du Lac was encouraged to submit $1.6 million in storm recovery expenses.  Wisconsin officials told the ski area to stop working to repair the storm damage, because doing so would disqualify them for funding.
 
“We were told we were at the top of the list for available funds,” Cameron says.
 
So they delayed work, even though they worried about losing the growing season that would allow grass to become established on newly restored slopes. They couldn’t get any answers from state officials as to what repair work they could do. What they were told, via letter, is that federal funds might be available, but, since it was an election year, the money wouldn’t be allocated until after the election. A month later, they received a second letter, same as the first, with three additional words. Funds would be allocated after the election—if at all. Now, in the aftermath of Super Storm Sandy, they are less hopeful of receiving disaster aid. So far, the only funding Mont du Lac has received was $10,000 from the Minnesota-based Northland Foundation to repair the race start location at the top of the ski hill.
 
Summer was waning when Mont du Lac finally put the repair crew to work, leaving little time to germinate grass seed. Focusing on repairing damage to the ski hill, the crew worked with a bulldozer and cables to pull apart rat nests of erosion debris bound in red clay. Light poles, pieces of snow guns and toppled trees were dragged out piece by piece. Innumerable truckloads of fill were hauled in to restore the slopes. As the work progressed, the ski hill came into shape. Snow guns were put into service as giant lawn sprinklers to water grass seed.
 
“There were many days when the amount of clay clinging to your boots made it hard to lift your feet,” Cameron says.  “We had to spray each other down with a hose at the end of the day.”
 
The ski hill opened for business when winter arrived. Then they returned attention to Mont du Lac’s big project—the completion of the massive Trophy Lodge perched on top of the ski hill. The new lodge must be seen to be believed, and appears destined to become a regional landmark. Serving as a ski lodge with a bar, restaurant and great room, the structure also contains VIP accommodations and living space for the Pulkrebecs.
 
Imagine a building where the main timbers are built of British Columbia Douglas firs three feet in diameter and extensive stonework, including a massive fireplace, made from stone imported from Montana. Huge windows offer stunning views of the Jay Cooke State Park and the St. Louis River to Fond du Lac Dam. You even can see all the way down the river valley to the Duluth Harbor, more than 10 miles away. When complete, the lodge will include two indoor waterfalls more than 40 feet high. The staircase, window frames and doors are all made of black walnut.
 
Built atop a mountain of clay, the building has been designed to last. The structure rests on 210 seven-inch steel pilings, all driven at least 60 feet deep.  Precipitation runoff from the building is collected and piped to the bottom of the hill, where it will be used to water a garden. The lodge has a geothermal heating system, with a ski hill serving as the geothermal field. The three-level geothermal system will heat and cool the superstructure for less than $5,000 annually.  
 
Trophy Lodge will house the Pulkrebecs’ collection of hunting trophies, obtained during 40 years of hunting. One of those trophies will be a full-sized mounted giraffe. The lodge will be open to the public.
 
“The idea is to give everyday folks the opportunity to see such a grand building and what it contains, and still be able to buy a $3 beer,” Cameron said.
 
Eventually, anglers will be able to enjoy Trophy Lodge, too. Mont du Lac owns frontage on the St. Louis River and is working with the Wisconsin DNR to get appropriate permits for a docking facility. Anglers sampling the river’s walleye fishing will be able to pull up at the dock and be shuttled to the lodge for lunch or dinner.
 
Prior to the storm, Trophy Lodge was scheduled to open in 2012. I toured the unfinished building last September. Insulation was being blown in last week, so the interior finishing work will soon begin. The lodge will open in stages during 2013, beginning with the bar and restaurant.

Airdate: January 18, 2013

It’s been a little bit of déjà vu in the Gunflint corridor. The weather outside’s been frightful, only not as we would have expected.
 
A second consecutive monthly meltdown has tormented us since we last met on the radio. Thus, when we did have available moisture, it came in the liquid form. One thing positive, we still need the stuff regardless of the delivery scheme.
 
Rain in January is not good! It makes for sloppy slush, glazed roads/driveways, dripping rooftops and dangerous mobility circumstances. Over one-half inch of rain fell in the Wildersmith neighborhood. Our already thin white carpet has been changed to a patchwork of dead-needle-brown and dirty-looking urban snow.
 
Then after doing damage to the crystal charm of our winter landscape, and dealing a setback to several outdoor activities, the atmospheric deity sent us back into the freezer. As I scribed this weeks scoop, we’re recording minus something readings in the mercury column.
 
On top of going another week without having to start the snow blower and keeping me from the enjoyment of a mid-winter’s snowfall clearing, the driveway is now a glazed accident waiting to happen. The Smith vehicle has logically been moved to top of the hill/driveway for fear of being stranded (though I can think of worse places to be mired).  This is OK from an exercise viewpoint, but requires mandatory ice gripper application just to get at it.
 
I think that the subtle point is being made that spring will be early once again in the northland. To make things even more chafing to winter worshippers, seed and plant catalogs are already finding their way into our mailboxes. Perhaps those filing such documents have an in with the one controlling these unwelcome seasonal occurrences. It’s just plain depressing.
 
This atypical weather, however, has been a blessing for the construction projects being administered by the Gunflint Trail Fire Department and EMT volunteers. The addition at fire hall number two (Gunflint Lake) is now completed. And finishing touches are being applied to the two new structures at (mid-Trail) hall number one. Meanwhile, earth preparations were completed at hall number three (Seagull Lake) by the end of fall.  Future work at this site will continue in the coming construction season.
 
Yours truly had the opportunity to walk through one of the two new structures at mid-Trail. This building is set to become the facility that will accommodate not only volunteer training sessions and a command post in emergency situations, but also a unique gathering place in the mid-trail area for community functions.
 
I was blown away at the organization and work that has gone into bringing these much needed improvements to fruition in such a short time. Tremendous thanks are extended to the organizers, designers, fundraisers, trades contractors and many financial backers/contributors; job well done! Gunflint residents will surely be pleased and proud of these facility additions and updates.
 
Another important Gunflint trail community function, the annual Canoe Races, is heading into early planning stages for next July. A call from the chair people a while back finds that they have their heads together and are kicking off initial phases of event organization. It seems hard to believe that we should be thinking of that happening already, but it is a significant undertaking that needs attention to dozens of details.
 
The big weekend for ice anglers was most unpleasant what with the sloppy conditions. Yet, their enthusiasm for short pole/rod fishing went undaunted as the roar of power sleds and ice augers have dinged the silence of the territory.
 
Questionable ice thickness may be keeping some modes of outdoor protection on shorelines, but those portable lightweight shanties have been popping up all over area lakes.
 
Happy fishing to all, and please be good stewards of the lake upon which you stand.
 
Keep on hangin’ on and savor an adventure on the Trail!

Airdate: January 18, 2013

Photo courtesy of Mike Hoff via Flickr.

It looks like a part of the new moose research project that is being coordinated by the Department of Natural Resources might come to Sawbill.  DNR wildlife biologist Dave Ingebrigtson, from Grand Marais, stopped by recently to let us know that public parking lot here at Sawbill might be used as a helicopter landing pad starting this week.  It may include a fuel tanker, support crew and a heated trailer used by state veterinarians as a portable laboratory.  He even mentioned the possibility of a moose being brought into the parking lot in a sling under the chopper.
 
Dave said the activity, or lack of activity, here at Sawbill will depend on where moose are found and many other details related to the research.  I sure hope they end up here because it would be fun to watch the research at close range – and it’s always entertaining to have a helicopter in the neighborhood.
 
About 15 years ago, the DNR was doing a project near here that involved using a helicopter to spread tree seeds.  The pilot, who was a private contractor, landed here at Sawbill a couple of hours before his fuel truck arrived, so we invited him to kill time by joining us for lunch.  At the end of the meal, he pushed his chair back, looked at our two younger children and asked if they would like a ride.  He insisted that we all go, two at a time.  He had spent years giving rides at county fairs, so he really knew how to show the yokels a good time.  It is one of our family’s favorite memories, all the more so for being so unexpected.
 
I don’t reckon we’ll be so lucky this time around, but it sure would be fun to be in a helicopter that was flying close enough to a moose to shoot it with a tranquilizer gun.
 
The new skating rink and warming house at Birch Grove is now fully open for business. With this extended cold snap that has settled in, the skating should be ideal.  The lights are on until 10 every night and the warming house is open most of the time.
 
The popular boot hockey tournament held at the Birch Grove skating rink already has four teams signed up for the contest scheduled for Friday, Janu. 25.  If you want to get in on the January tournament, you should email [email protected] right away and you can probably still squeeze in.  A second tournament is scheduled for Saturday, Feb. 9 and it’s not too early to register for that. A team consists of five or six players who are at least 12 years old.  Each game is 25 minutes long and the tournament runs until a champion is crowned.  Regardless of their win/loss record, each team will receive a complimentary Sven and Ole’s pizza, thanks to Sven and Ole’s and Grand Marais State Bank.
 
Birch Grove is also recruiting West End residents to its Keep It Moving team.  This is part of the Sawtooth Mountain Clinic’s program that has businesses and organizations in Cook County tracking how many miles they have walked, run or biked to be plotted as distance around Lake Superior.  The idea is to see how many virtual circle tours your team can make around the big lake and compare that with your friends and neighbors’ efforts.  You can join the Birch Grove team, log your miles and keep track of the progress on the Sawtooth Mountain Clinic website.
 
Even though it is rare to see a moose these days, lynx sightings continue to be fairly routine here in the West End.  I saw two lynx on my way to Ely last week, and another West End resident shared a lynx photo that their trail cam captured.  It’s sure good to have the big cats around again and it looks like there are plenty of snowshoe hare for them to eat at the moment.
 
I drove over to Ely because I was invited to a meeting with Sen. Al Franken on the issue of the state owned school trust lands in the BWCA Wilderness.  The issue of school trust lands goes all the way back to when Minnesota was declared a state.  Over the years, this has been a political football that has been kicked all over the field and even occasionally out of bounds.  The meeting I attended was made up of business owners whose businesses are directly tied, in one way or another, to the BWCA Wilderness. 
 
The issues surrounding these state land holdings are unbelievably complex, detailed and arcane.  I couldn’t begin to go into them here without causing a quick and sharp drop in listenership.  But, I will say that I was very impressed with how thoroughly Sen. Franken is striving to understand the issue.  He is meeting with federal, state, county, township and school officials, mining concerns, business people, environmental interests, hunting and fishing interests and anyone else he can find who cares about public lands and/or public education.  He likely now knows more about the issue than any other living person and will be using that knowledge to guide the drafting of any future legislation.  It was a pleasure to see a politician doing his homework so thoroughly and thoughtfully.
 
While on the subject of politics, I hope my fellow gun owners will join me in supporting some long overdue common sense regulations.  The scorched earth politics of certain gun advocacy groups have long annoyed me. It’s time to set aside wild fantasies of government conspiracies and do what we need to do to protect our children from guns that are manufactured for only one purpose – to kill lots of people very quickly. The time has come.
 
Airdate: January 17, 2013

Real Gunflint Trail winter weather remains a non-issue as the area enters week two of the New Year. Many of us are holidayed out and the post celebratory blahs are being compounded with neither bitter cold nor new snow.
 
It seems that this global warming phenomenon has our area by the throat and is not going to let go. It makes me wonder if brazen winter, as it was once, will ever get over this seemingly endless arid illness.
 
The Wildersmith neighborhood went through December with not one really good snow, and the first days of January have followed suit. Nearly every place in the nation that gets snow, and even some spots where it is rare and unwanted, have been blessed with what this area cherishes. It’s downright shameful.
 
While snow depths are minimal throughout the Gunflint corridor, there was enough to provide fast tracking for the dogs in the first Gichigami Express sled dog race over this past weekend. The race commemorates the long tradition of mushing in the northeast corner of Minnesota.
 
The mid-trail area was abuzz with mushers and their teams after the first leg was completed to Hungry Jack Lodge Sunday afternoon. Crews then gathered at Trail Center Lodge for the “Barbeque in the Bush” and the overnight.
 
This event was a great moment for conversation about the first day’s run around a blazing fire, and for feasting under the stars. The scrumptious fare was provided by Sarah and her staff at the TC Restaurant.
 
The next morning found racers assembling for breakfast at Windigo Lodge. Starting positions for the beginning of the second (Monday) leg of the three-day event were handed out, and they were off.
 
Once again the Gunflint community showed off its character of super hospitality and organizational skills. Big thanks are extended to organizers, many volunteers, all the participating race teams and some wonderful sponsors. It was a “woofing” good time!
 
This weekend marks the opening of trout fishing season. Lakes will be drilled full of holes as thousands of anglers will be scattered about the icy surfaces in every kind of venue imaginable. Soft as we Americans are, there will be few if any fisher folk actually sitting out on a bucket as once practiced.
 
Speaking more of ice angling, I heard a recent story about a fellow fishing for other species on Gunflint Lake when the old Gal let off with some activity that sent him trembling.
 
Seems the guy had just finished drilling his hole through the ice when he heard a thundering boom in the distance to the east. What happened next has probably happened to others before, but it was a first for this fellow.
 
Seconds after the boom, he heard ice cracking. The noise was faint at first but grew louder as the cracking meandered westward. He soon realized the fracturing was coming in his direction.
 
Stunned by the advancing fissure, he retreated toward shore. In a short time, the re-structuring ice terminated at the exact location of his drilling spot.
 
In the moment of culmination, water spouted out of the hole and all was silent once more. I don’t know if he returned to his intended activity, but he sure has a chilling story to tell the folks back home about a day on the Gunflint.
 
By the way, ice on Gunflint Lake continues to sing its song of the season. As she has extended her often woeful tones while fitting into her crystal coat, many pressure ridges have been heaving upward. Folks traversing the lake on power sleds to their favorite fishing spot should be paying close attention to these often obscure frozen hazards.
 
Keep on hangin’ on and savor a couple trout in the pan!

Airdate: January 11, 2013

Photo by Stephan Hoglund.