North Shore Weekend

Susan Zimmerman is a Grand Portage band member who spent her early childhood on Hungry Jack Lake.  She is an avid hunter, fisherwoman, and wild ricer who also makes baskets and decorative gourds that are rooted in traditional crafts. Anishinaabe Way series producer Staci Drouillard met with her last fall in Grand Portage, where she was in the final days of her annual moose hunt.

Keying this week’s Gunflint scoop, I find the heavens are aligned, finally signaling the first day of winter. Yep, this magical season is now official, “Biboon” (winter moniker in Ojibwe) is here, at just past 5 CST this Friday morning.
 
Long dark nights have been the norm as pre-winter shadows have been gradually squeezing down on both ends of old Sol’s daily spin. For many fretting the shortness of our daylight hours, fear not, for the big day is here, and in no time at all minutes will be stacking up in the other direction.
 
While we turn the page into this season of crystal collections, here’s hoping the “great northern express” finds this locale with more regularity than we’ve seen thus far. One thing for sure is Old Man Winter has been sputtering in several attempts to get things going consistently for our wintertime activities.
 
The past week has been no exception, with a little bit of cold then a little bit of warm. Out around the upper Trail area, we went seven days with minuscule snowfall. Then another warm-up sent the previous white a-shrinking before we got a minor dose of white replenishment early last Sunday morning.
 
The lake water on Gunflint is trying its best to get down to ice-making business. One morning, for a few hours, it even had a brief coating about halfway across from the Wildersmith shore. Growing winds sent it packing by midday, and since then it’s been too warm and rough for cranking up the old Zamboni. There is ice, however, on about the western one-third (just beyond the Gunflint Pines Resort), but my guess is it’s not safe yet.
 
I have been unable to confirm the ice status on Sag, but all other bodies in the territory appear to be sealed up. In fact, a friend who is into ice fishing is already doing his thing on a favorite lake in the mid-trail area. He tells me six or seven inches have already thickened. By the way, he’s having fish for supper too!
 
Also aligned in the heavens is the week-old “little spirit moon.” It will be beaming down with full December splendor in a week. Folks in these parts are keeping their fingers crossed that early beams will be shining down on “the breast of new fallen snow” for the holiday festivities.
 
I don’t know whether the old fable about wolves howling at the moon has any basis for being true. I can confirm that Brother and Sister Wolf have been quite active along our Mile O Pine since we last met on the airwaves. On several occasions, regardless of little new snow, tracking has been prolific during my daily trips to the mailbox.
 
To cap off my continuing canid lupus saga, I stepped outside to bring in a load of firewood one evening and discovered the local pack eerily harmonizing not far away. Compared to previous wild renditions, I must say that they were hauntingly out of tune. Guess they need more practice, practice, practice!
 
A gal down the road shares that she heard a recent late day choral experience too.  This audition was coming from Canadian land. It makes me wonder if they were calling to the great northern spirits requesting some ice formation in order they might traverse the Gunflint for some U.S. deer hunting.
 
Soon after hearing this northern sound of music, she observed a sextet of beings bobbing up and down in the water out from her shoreline. First thought was that it couldn’t be wolves in the water, not at this time of year.
 
Turns out she was right; it wasn’t wolves. It was a bevy of otters, and to observe six at one sighting seems unusual. When last seen, they were headed east down the lake, frolicking on a probable fishing expedition.
 
After the tragedy that befell Newtown, Connecticut, and our entire nation, last week, this holiday time finds millions yearning for new and abundant peace amongst all men. May the grace of this season comfort those who are hurting so much.
 
Have a safe, sane and happy Christmas with your loved ones!
 
Keep on hangin’ on and savor thoughts of peace and healing!

Airdate: December 21, 2012

Christmas vacation once meant rabbits. Duluth's suburban outback where I grew up was bursting with bunnies. Cottontails inhabited backyards. Winter-white snowshoe hares thrived in the alder swamps and balsam thickets of the mini-wilderness that began where the backyards ended. We pursued both with the fervor of foxes, first with braided-wire snares and later, as adolescents, with hunting bows.

In my grade school years I'd set a dozen snares to be checked diligently every day after school, as I dreamed of being a trapper in the far north. On winter evenings, I'd read whatever I could find about the north, especially adventure stories like Farley Mowat's classic, “Lost in the Barrens.”

My favorite book, “Swiftwater,” by Paul Annixter, was about a boy growing up in the Maine woods. Tending the family trapline while his father is laid up, the boy survives a dangerous encounter with a wolverine, a scene memorably portrayed in a Disney movie based on the book called “Those Calloways.” The boy's father, who dies at the end of the book and movie when he is accidentally shot while trying to protect a flock of wild geese from unscrupulous hunters, plays a strong guiding role in his son's life. In a way, he gave me guidance, too.

Mr. Calloway sprung his traps on Christmas Eve to leave peace in the forest on Christmas Day. Enthralled with the Calloways, I did the same with my snares, lifting them away from the rabbit runs to avoid catching bunnies on Christmas. That started a personal tradition. Since age 12, I haven't hunted, trapped or fished on Christmas Day--with one exception.

Visiting my parents one Christmas, I took a walk beyond the backyard with the family husky, Smoky. Walking through a snowy, feral tract of alder and aspen, I saw a snowshoe hare crouched in its form. Careful not to startle it, I called the dog and trudged back to the house to find an old hunting bow I hadn't shot in years. Then I went back and killed the hare where it crouched with one shot. It was a good moment for a hunter, but I won't again disrupt the peace of Christmas.

Since my day is devoted to going to church, family gatherings and visiting friends, not hunting on Christmas is hardly a sacrifice. Others may have a traditional Christmas hunt or ice-fishing outing; that's fine, too. My day without hunting is a personal opportunity to pause and reflect on my place within the natural world.  Hunting is a matter of life and death. Such matters deserve thoughtful reflection.

Out in the woods, Nature knows no holiday. The wolf must eat. So must the chickadee. The only peace in the wild is a full belly. I wonder if our holiday feasts are a symbolic recognition of this ancient truth. The feast is the oldest human ceremony; the celebration of a successful hunt. Stuffed full when we push away from the table and waddle to an easy chair, we are content...and peaceful.

In a world where we are repeatedly numbed by the daily news, the concept of peace on earth and good will to men seems abstract and unattainable. But the world in the news is not the same one where we live our lives. Within the familiar surroundings of our everyday world, most of us can find comfort and joy.  If we can't have peace on Earth, perhaps we can have peace in our lives.

*****

We always have a natural Christmas tree, usually a young balsam fir brought home from the woods. This year is different. A while back, Vikki planted balsam saplings on either side of our mailbox. The tiny firs flourished, becoming two sturdy young trees. Unfortunately, officialdom frowns on trees growing so close to a county road. They had to come down. I waited until December to cut the balsams. One became our Christmas tree. The other will be given to someone.

Sometimes it's hard to cut down a tree you've planted and watched grow. But I must admit to eyeing up the balsams as eventual Christmas trees. Seeing the tree in the living room delivers a special satisfaction. Knowing the other tree will grace someone else's home brings even more.

When we were placing the tree in the stand we counted 11 wide rings in the trunk, indicating healthy, rapid growth. The balsam is the most common and least appreciated conifer in the northern forest. Although it is among the first trees to sprout after a disturbance and grows quickly, it has little commercial value. Balsams often shade and crowd out other trees that humans consider more desirable.

I'm not so sure the critters in the woods share those human preferences. The thick, shady habitat provided by balsam fir in relatively open, aspen-dominated forests is used by wildlife throughout the year. In winter, the dense cover provided by balsam thickets, groves and even individual trees are hubs of wildlife activity. Squirrels and birds feed upon balsam cones. Moose browse on balsam boughs. Other critters, from snowshoe hares to deer, take advantage of reduced snow depths beneath their sheltering boughs.
 
After Christmas, I’ll haul our tree outside and prop it up near the bird feeder. Doing so always seems to increase the avian activity around the feeder, because the birds can linger in the security of the balsam boughs, safe from shrikes and other bird predators. Long after Christmas, we and the birds will continue to enjoy and benefit from the tree.

Airdate: December 21, 2012

Lutsen native Molly Rider is planning to paddle the entire Mississippi River this summer, starting at Lake Itasca and ending in New Orleans. The life-changing trip is made possible through a grant from the outdoor club at Bowdoin College in Maine where Molly is a student.  Three other young canoeists will be joining Molly on the trip.  They are Molly’s classmate Elina Berglund, along with Leif Gilsvik and Eric “Hurikane” Svenson, both from Two Harbors.
 
The group plans to depart Lake Itasca at the end of May and arrive in New Orleans during the second week of August, allowing 70 days for the epic canoe trip.  Molly expects the trip to cost about $650 per person, mostly for food.  All four of these adventurous young people have a ton of canoeing experience.
 
They’ve been helped in their planning by Tofte resident, Eric Frost, who paddled the length of the Mississippi with Lutsen resident Dave Freeman a few years back. They’ve also been in touch with former Lutsen resident Andy Keith, who paddled the Mississippi many years ago and published a book about his adventure.  Andy lives in Mexico now, but he has been advising Molly and company over the Internet, via Skype.
 
In order to receive the blessing and support of the outdoor club, Molly and Elina had to present a detailed proposal, which included their detailed qualifications, gear lists, a safety plan, and a food list that accounts for every tortilla and granola bar.  They’ll be conducting a seminar on long distance canoe tripping when they get back to school next fall, and both young women plan to take leadership roles in the Bowdoin College outdoor club once they get back to school.
 
Molly’s parents, Tom and Ann Rider, and her grandmother, Jean Skinner, are West Enders.  Although he was born and raised in Two Harbors, Leif Gilsvik’s mother is Patty Tome, who grew up in Grand Marais, and Dave Gilsvik, a well-known artist who frequently works and teaches in Grand Marais.
 
As dramatic and epic as a canoe trip down the length of the Mississippi is, it seems like a short jaunt compared to the 12,000-mile canoe, kayak and dogsled journey that Lutsen residents Dave and Amy Freeman are currently undertaking.  After surviving Hurricane Sandy while they were in New Jersey, Dave and Amy have taken a few weeks off to conduct dozens of school presentations that are a key part of their mission to get children excited about wilderness and outdoor travel. 
 
Dave and Amy will soon be back in their kayaks heading for Key West, Florida, where their trip will end sometime in April.  Before they are done, they will have conducted school programs for tens of thousands of kids and interacted with hundreds of thousands over the Internet.  We should see them back in Cook County in June when the school year ends.
 
Knowing Dave and Amy though, I don’t think they will let the grass grow under their feet for long.  I’m sure they will host an event at North House this summer to show slides and tell stories about their truly epic adventure.
 
The late season wolf hunting and trapping season ended this week.  I have to say that I was a bit surprised by how low-key the season was, at least back here on the Sawbill Trail.  There were quite a few traps set along the Sawbill Trail, but to my knowledge there were no dogs injured or any other unfortunate incidents connected to the season.  Local Conservation Officer, Tom Wahlstrom, told me that he had a lot of calls from concerned citizens before the season, but had no complaints during the season.
 
I still feel like the wolves contribute more to the West End economy when they are alive than they do as a rug in someone’s den, but I guess I’m fighting a losing battle there.
 
Tom Spence, from Tofte, snapped a couple of good pictures of two moose on the Sawbill Trail this week.  It looks like a cow and a pretty grown up calf. It’s getting to the point where seeing a moose is pretty rare, so Tom drew a lot of positive comment when he posted the pictures on Facebook.
 
The Sugarbush Trail Association in Tofte has groomed the unplowed portion of the Onion River Road for both classic and skating style cross-country skiing.  Skiers are reporting excellent conditions and grooming.  Our 6K classic style trail that starts right at the bitter end of the Sawbill Trail is also groomed and in excellent condition.  There is plenty of ice for lake travel by ski or snowshoe, both in and out of the wilderness.  The rest of the West End trails, including both ski and snowmobile trails, are not quite ready for use yet.  Hopefully, nature will provide enough snow to get all the trails open for the big influx of visitors after Christmas.
 
Downhill skiing at Lutsen Mountains is in full swing and conditions are excellent.  Lutsen Mountains, Lutsen Resort and Grand Marais got a very complimentary write-up in an online magazine published for the Tampa Bay, Florida market.  It would be a fine irony if Tampa Bay residents traveled up here for winter fun, while half our population heads down there for sun and sand.
 
Here’s wishing for a peaceful, safe and happy holiday season for all.

Airdate: December 20, 2012

Deane Morrison is a science writer at the University of Minnesota, where she authors the Minnesota Starwatch column. In this edition of Northern Sky, Deane explains what to expect in the sky over the holidays, including the winter solstice and the cluster of winter constellations that are coming into their own.

Read this month's Starwatch column.

When you think of Lake Superior shipwrecks, probably the Edmund Fitzgerald comes to mind. But there was another storm, one that was much more devastating, that took place 70 years earlier. The Mataafa Storm of 1905 touted wind speeds from 70 to 80 miles an hour. It damaged or sunk 29 vessels. In this edition of Moments in Time, producers Matthew Brown and Kelly Schoenfelder tell the story of two of the unlucky vessels, the Madeira and the Mataafa, that were at the heart of the 1905 event.

Our month of the “little spirit moon” is whizzing by in the upper Gunflint. With the light at the end of tunnel 2012 beginning to glow, one has to wonder where, oh where, has this year has gone?
 
Holiday excitement is blanketing the area more than the most recent winter storm prognostication. In fact, there is far more enthusiasm about the coming birthday of all birthdays than there is snow; guess this is maybe the way it should be.
 
Mother Nature sent her cold weather emissary into the area last weekend to perform some winter doin’s. But alas, Old Man Winter showed up with not much in the bucket. The dumping we were expecting turned out barely more than wimpy. To the delight of many, however, the three- to four-inch accumulation did freshen up our patchwork brown and white forest floor.
 
Last Saturday was seasonably cold and I devoted a few moments to sitting down at the lakeshore. The time was spent watching a solemn Gunflint Lake surface taking on its first crinkling crystals. This liquid to solid happening has always fascinated yours truly.
 
I’m no maple syrup practitioner. But it would seem like this natural process of turning water into ice must be similar to watching boiling sap reach the sugar stage.
 
There was first one wrinkle on the water, and that spewed into another, and then those two fragmented into another, and on and on until a jigsaw-wrinkled skim suddenly appeared.
 
Our annual December lake surface makeover was a spiritual uplifting of sort. The essence of this congealing occurrence is as glorious as will be a return to surges dashing the granite shore next May.
 
Woe is me; the ice making romance is over. Our calm inland sea was taken by a belch from the northwest. Air currents suddenly moved across the serene water, engulfing it with ripples once more. In a blink of an eye, the wisp of chilling character was gone.  It went chortling into the rocky lakeside, gone until another time for dreaming of ice cakes and ensuing icy conversations.
 
Back to reality, the Smiths got a triple treat this past Monday. A late evening return trip from Grand Marais was as sweet as a hot fudge sundae. First, we were reminiscing the joys of our “sound of music” experience at the Borealis Chorale Christmas Concert. Second, some 20 miles of the cruise along the Trail found us driving in spectacular falling snow. And, to cap things off, the whipped cream and cherry on top of this candied winter happening, we came upon two moose. Yes, Virginia, there are still moose up the Trail. With adventures like this, life can’t get much better!
 
A report comes from over on Loon Lake in regard to a case of apparent unlawful activity. It seems that a resident along the lake recently cut down an uninspiring aspen.
 
It was decided the tree could be cut up and split for next summer’s campfires. So the job was undertaken. Task completed, the remains were left in a pile to be stacked come spring.
 
Over a period of days, the resident woodsman took notice that his wood cache seemed to be disappearing. Soon a good deal of the woodpile was gone, yet no trace of a thieving culprit could be found.
 
Not planning to involve law enforcement at this point, the fellow was sharing his story with another local outdoors man, and the two of them decided on a private investigation before filing an official theft report.
 
To make a long story short, after searching a number of suspected possibilities, a trek through the woods and wetlands brought them to what appeared to be a newly remodeled beaver lodge at the end of the lake. It was here that the missing goods were discovered, neatly arranged atop the animals’ homestead.
 
Bucky needed a new roof before winter got too far along. Guess this gnawing critter could not pass up a good thing, all this construction material cut and split, just for the taking, too good to be true, a beaver builder’s dream, why not! Case of the pilfered firewood closed!
 
Keep on hangin’ on, and savor the mystique of the outdoors!

Airdate: December 14, 2012

Photo courtesy of Barb and Dean on Flickr.

There are a lot of ways climate change stands to affect Lake Superior. There's the reduction in ice cover, rising lake temperatures, the increase in storminess and declining water levels. But it’s not just the lake itself that stands to be impacted by the changing climate. The rising temperatures and increase in severe weather events are altering the ecology in the Lake Superior watershed, and  changing the way of life for all living things in the region.

Deane Morrison is a science writer at the University of Minnesota, where she authors the Minnesota Starwatch column. In this edition of Northern Sky, Deane explains what stands out in the sky this December (Perseus & Algol, a waning crescent moon, and the Geminid meteor shower) and the latest in astronomy news (the discovery of ice on Mercury and the findings of the first soil analysis from NASA's Mars rover, Curiosity).

Read this month's Starwatch column.

Finally, the great northern express pulled through our Gunflint station, better late than never! Mother Nature must have tired of hearing me whine, as the old gal made our happy Thanksgiving celebration even more blessed with a late night dose of something to brag about.
 
“The weather outside was frightful, but the next morning, was so delightful” when Trail residents awoke to a winter wonderland. The surprising winter storm dumped several inches of wet heavy fluff that coated every extremity in the forest with marshmallow mounds. The accumulation around Wildersmith was some 6 to 8 inches, and was probably more in the upper elevations through the Mid-trail snow zone.
 
The first real winter effort of the season was complicated with strong winds that caused considerable blowing and drifting in open areas, downed many limbs and dealt some areas brief power outages. Travel was hazardous and the Trail has now been tabbed for winter driving caution.
 
All in all, the opening weekend of our holiday season in border country was much like it should be for late November. And if the initial storm wasn’t enough, about another third of a foot was delivered in the darkness of last Saturday night.
 
So the moose and I are smiling with the beginning of holiday cheer, in hope that there will be much more moisture to come. Area lakes need a lot of replenishing come meltdown time next spring, and this was a good first start.
 
The making of ice has resumed on most lakes, but for the larger bodies in the upper Trail region the wind has kept them thrashing in spite of a couple single-digit nights. While the thermometers at Wildersmith are not official recording stations, we did have our first night of nothing on the mercury column. Yes, it was zero with a hope of many more to come. We need some bitter cold to freeze out the growing tick population that is so annoying and detrimental to our moose herd, let alone we humans.
 
The Mile O’ Pine, probably like most other backcountry roads, is nearly enclosed in an archway of bent over, snow-laden trees.  Many of the immature saplings are almost touching the road surface, creating a lacy tunnel of crystal.
 
This has made for difficult vehicular passage. Thus, yours truly has spent a good number of hours walking the road to relieve hundreds of stressed trunks and branches from their burden. I’m sure that if these woodsy citizens could talk, they’d be twanging joyously as they spring back skyward.
 
A couple days before the big weather changeover, I was outside doing a few chores when I heard the sound of voices. It was late afternoon, near sunset, and since the Smiths are the only residents on the Mile O Pine for the best part of the next seven months, to hear conversation was unusual.
 
Thinking it was maybe a late, southbound flock of Canadian honkers, I stopped still and gazed to the heavens, but there was none. The chatter continued, and suddenly I tuned in to some yelping coming from down the lakeshore to the west. The yelping soon turned to howls.
 
Apparently the Gunflint/Loon lake wolf pack was out and about, and they decided to practice a bit of north woods harmonizing. This went on for only a few moments, but it was such a cool time to be in touch with nature through a choral rendition that I would simply title “North Woods Nocturne No. 1.” How exhilarating!
 
It’s most intriguing how in tune critters are with atmospheric happenings. With the species in a state of decline in this part of the country and their being prone to wander, scarcely any evening grosbeaks are seen stopping by at Wildersmith anymore.
 
A few of the beautiful birds in dark brown to almost black and gold (I call them Iowa Hawkeye birds) made a sudden stopover for a little sustenance. They were here at the sunflower seed cafeteria for only a few short hours, and then gone. I think they were just passing through on their way to who knows where.
 
It could be theorized they might have been trying to keep ahead of old man winter as he was bearing down on the area, unbeknownst to the Wildersmith two. If that was the case, I should have been paying more attention to the situation, and I’d have surmised that a storm was brewing. Whatever the reason for this brief visit, the colorful bird was a joyful change of scenery from the norm.
 
Meanwhile, our frosty new landscaping has buried food sources for the winged flock, so we have an excess of hungry avians. Talk about air traffic congestion. Further, we have a better picture of our nocturnal visitors, with evidence of many four-legged beings who’ve been tracking though the snowy yard. Everything is so enchanting now that it ’tis the season.
 
Keep on hangin’ on, and savor the beauty of wilderness winter!

Airdate: November 30, 2012