Wildersmith on the Gunflint

Old Man Winter seems to be enjoying the territory now that he has finally arrived.  For the second consecutive weekend, the pesky guy has dropped a few more inches of snow. Although it has been nothing to write home about, the additional fluff is beginning to add up and is purely refreshing.

The temps have not been extreme yet, although there was one morning of single digits throughout the area that reminded us of crisp things to come. That one cold morning did find the mercury hitting zero on the Wildersmith thermometer, first time since way last March 26.

The consistent sub-freezing marks of the past week have allowed smaller area lakes to seal up for the next few months. Even some of the quieter bays on the big bodies have skimmed over, but the vast windswept open water is still hovering in the 30s just waiting for substantial sub-zero and quiet to do their thing.

Beauty of this special place in the universe just continues to unfold. There are a lot of spectacular natural places in America, but I find it hard to imagine any place that can match the peace and quiet of the Gunflint Trail in winter.

A return to the wilderness from a Grand Marais run last week found me caught up in this wonderland. It was late in the afternoon, darkness was on the increase and the skies were in varied tones of gray as we hummed along this ribbon of highway. Surely a snow happening was imminent.

Although it might have seemed gloomy to some, I was captivated by the grandeur of a black and white world. Fading light had turned the evergreen tunnel to shadowy black, in stark contrast to a snow-white landscape.

This point in time was surely reminiscent of a decades-old Kodak moment when about everything of historical importance was captured in black, white or shades in between. Here I was traveling back in time, nostalgically enjoying the peace of everything in our Gunflint world, truly black and white and totally removed from the political grays of these difficult times.

The here and now had no contemporary digital or rainbow elements, just the monotone character of a dove and a raven, but oh so striking! As the late Jackie Gleason so often quipped, “how sweet it is” and it was.

I often relate tales about the gourmet attitudes of many a visiting wild critter. The other day I was reminded of a story about how pine martens just love raspberry jam, when I came across some dated blueberry sauce in the back of the refrigerator. Wondering if the same enthusiasm would be true for this bit of blue heaven, I put the sweetness into an old can and set it out on the feeding rail.

It wasn’t long before old Piney made its daily appearance. And, “what to wondering eyes should appear” but the lush dark brown varmint, with its head stuck deep in that can, taking right to that syrupy treat.

Every once in awhile, the pert little face would pull out, as the blue gourmet had to catch its breath and lap the fruit which had stuck to its lips and whiskers. It was as if the little one had been in a Fourth of July pie eating contest.

With the winter conditions of late, I am surprised to hear that our Loon Lake gal spotted a young loon in the cold waters. Brrr, thoughts of floating in those icy waters makes me shiver!

Apparently it was a late summer arrival and not ready to head south when its kin departed. Thankfully there is some open water so that the adolescent still might have time to taxi off and get to the safety of a southerly course. It had better get going, though!

Once again the world is about ready to go into our season of holiday madness. I hope that you and yours took time to reflect on the bounty with which we are so richly blessed and give thanks. Further, if you were able to share with someone that might not be so fortunate, you have really been blessed.

Keep on hangin’ on, and savor some richness in the coming season! 

 Back in the wilderness once more. My thanks are again extended to the canine residing on Hungry Jack Lake that brought you last week’s Gunflint scoop!

Keep on hangin’ on, and savor the time of the freezing-over moon.

Airdate: November 5, 2010 

 Like the flurry of migrating avian creatures, October has flown by. Meek and mellow most of the time, our 10th segment of 2010 finally showed a hint of winter last week.

Keep on hangin’ on, and savor the peace and quiet of fall in the wilderness!

Airdate: October 22, 2010 

 After a pleasantly cool September most days of October have been considerably warmer than normal. In that vein, it has been so warm that those nasty bitin’ flies have been reborn. Hopefully, we are in for only a brief time of red welts and swatting--boy are they obnoxious!

 I’m back in the woods once more. Thanks again to the wonder dog over on Hungry Jack Lake for covering me during the recent hiatus.

 Autumn is officially declared…and what a package for the north woods: the equinox and the full “corn” moon occurring within hours of each other. What a magnificent time to be in the wilderness.

 Our trek into autumn continues throughout the upper Gunflint Territory…and senses are being excited, both visually and also with a caressing from chilled Canadian air currents.
The area seems to be back in a more normal weather groove as we conclude the first half of September. An increasing frequency of 30-degree nights and 50s during the day is most invigorating.
We’ve been experiencing some November-like days in terms of wind conditions. In fact, last Sunday, area lake waters were raging in the winds with waves of four feet and maybe more at times here on the Gunflint. Rollers were splashing over the Wildersmith dock that is now several feet above the depleted lake level…so this is no exaggeration.
The passing of our Labor Day weekend has brought to an end a summer of recreation, rest and relaxation. A lot of wilderness dwellings now stand vacant, with spirit-like memories all that remain of warm season activities.
Almost overnight the sugar maples along the Mile O’ Pine and in a few other border country patches have exploded in scarlet. Guess that shows you what I know, because a couple weeks ago, I had my doubts that the annual color show would amount to much due to the strangling drought.
Adding the crimson treetops to the burgeoning birch and aspen gold has brought the spotlight toward the coming equinox. It is leaf-peeper season: a time for which we autumnal enthusiasts have been longing since the ice and snow departure of month four.
I’ve got to believe that smoke signals from the Lizard Lake fire a couple weeks back got through to the rain gods. A rather unexpected overnight rain spelled another inch or so for the parched Gunflint wilderness last Friday. So that’s two successive weeks now where we have seen the long dry spell somewhat tempered.
The much-needed moisture lifted human spirits too, as bubbling trickles have re-appeared in any number of dry creek beds. And although the area could stand many more days of dripping skies, we’ll take the last effort with smiles and hope for more.
Additional spice has been added to the northern wilderness world--I’ve detected the first fragrance of plant fermentation from our damp earth. Some folks would argue that the first smell of mud in the spring has an incomparable natural essence, but to yours truly, there is nothing equal to the aroma of an end to a northwoods growing season. Aaah…the scent of Dagwagin (fall).
An inquisitive bear made its way into the yard last Sunday, but found nothing that smelled like nourishment. So it didn’t spend much time nosing around, particularly when the neighbor lady made her presence known.
Meanwhile the harvest and storage season for area critters is continuing at a maddening pace. I think the squirrels must have enough stashed for at least two winters, based on all the items that have been cut down from high in the conifers.

As if Ma Naturale flipped a switch, week one of month nine became much more tolerable. Finally… the atmosphere is really cool to talk about. And let’s hope that we’re done with the grim stickiness of summer…let it succumb in the gasp of its own heated undoing.