Northland

First of the Thimbleberry Picking

2009-08-06T17:39:00.003-04:00

I've been watching those thimbleberry bushes from early spring, when they were mere stalks and just sprouting greenery, to June when the bushes were waist -high and topped with white-petaled flowers, to now, in early August, with the first berries turning soft and red.

Last Saturday, along a section of Pilgrim River, for a stream monitoring workshop, we were walking through the brush on a narrow trail, amidst lush thimbleberry bushes, not quite ripe. There were signs posted, handwritten, saying "Trespassing" "No Berry Picking". So the group of us, Trout Unlimited types, were there to learn stream monitoring, but I thought about thimbleberry jam as I walked along, Just about time to start pickin', I said to myself...

Yesterday, in the midst of preparations to go over to Pictured Rocks for guiding a trip for a long weekend, I couldn't stop myself. I grabbed a can and went out to our thimbleberry patch for a quick picking of first-fruits of the season.

The fruit stood out red among the greenery. There was generally one red thimble among half a dozen pale pink unripe berries. The rich forest loam smell at dusk was rising around me. A distant hermit thrush was piping out the day. The blush of crimson on my finger tips and raspberry richness from those ripe fruits were filling my senses. I picked the tender thimbles steadily over just a few minutes that stretched into nearly an hour, until the ebbing light made the red turn to darkness.

At home I vacuum bagged the precious fruit and put it in the freezer for combining with later harvests of thimbleberries. Much more is yet to come...

Isle Royale, July 6-11, Slow Goin'

2009-08-04T20:18:00.002-04:00

A father and son in their own boats - it sounded like it would be a good trip - the chance to put down some miles and have a great time without learner anxiety...
When I arrived at the Keweenaw Adventure Co., in Copper Harbor, the 14 year-old pictured below was sitting on the narrow walkway into the shop, with a padded neck brace on and with a knife out, whittling on a stick. On meeting his father in the shop, I found out that in last night's hotel room that his son had awakened with a stiff neck, so he had gone to the emergency room of the local hospital for relief. The brace was worn periodically throughout the trip, whenever the boy thought of it ...

After the safety course (which was lengthy getting the youngster back in his boat), I suggested they rent a tandem but they were determined to use their own personal kayaks. With that decision the slow mode for the whole trip was established. With emotional dynamics being what they were between father and son and the overall bulk of their gear and kayak limitations we stayed in the vicinity of Rock Harbor and Moskey Basin with a side jaunt of father and I up to the entrance to Merrit Lane and back to Rock Harbor Campground on our last night. The headlamp trip back from the Lane was the highlight for me. The father's excitement and fears in the chop, with our route taking us close to the frothy basalt was a sensory delight.

Visiting Mr. and Mrs. Les Mattson, at the Edison Fishery in Moskey Basin.

A rugged spirit tree on Caribou Island

Isle Royale Summer Solstice Trip 2009

2009-06-27T16:27:00.007-04:00

I had a full group of paddlers for this year's Isle Royale Summer Solstice trip during June 19 to the 22nd.

The trip was sponsored by General Mills of Minneapolis, MN and 2 employees and their spouses came on the trip along with the father of Jon, who was married to Renae. The other couple was James and Heather.
The trip started out with rain the night before at Copper Harbor. The rain continued in the morning with intermittent fog on the 3 hour ferry ride to the Island.

Paddling within the fog bank made my GPS receiver important for
accurate navigating up on the northeast side of the Island
between the Palisades, Merritt Lane and Tooker's Island.

The weather was basically clear when we arrived in Rock Harbor, unloaded the gear and schlepped it to the beach area, ate lunch and then loaded up the kayaks. Our destination was Caribou Island. Within 10 minutes of paddling out of Snug harbor a dark and ominous cloud bank appeared from out of the northwest and promptly poured rain on us. After 10 minutes, within the time it took us to pull to shore and don rain gear, the rain stopped though my anorak felt good with the shelter it provided my wet body from the cool wind.
When we arrived at Caribou Island we were surprised to find out that both of the shelters were already taken... tenting it was our only option unless we wanted to paddle further to Daisy Farm or back to 3 Mile or Tooker's Island. We had just missed out on a shelter that had been taken by 3 fishing brothers from Ishpeming, MI, who we had seen zoom past us from Rock Harbor to Tooker's in their speed boat. I cooked the whitefish alma'den over one of the few fire rings on Isle Royale. I was quite happy to get into my Moss Outland tent rather than the open front shelter as the temperature was rapidly dropping down to what I estimated was the upper 30's.

Our first full day of paddling started in the late morning; we waited for the one shelter to be vacated and moved in our gear. A short paddle to the Rock Harbor Lighthouse, where Jon was very interested in viewing the displays, then over to Edison Fishery to talk to Les Madsen, then one of the group's highlights, viewing the boneyard at the wolf and moose study site at Bangsund cabin. Both Rolf and Candy Peterson were there, so we had a good sit-down talk with them as well as a stand-up question and answer session out in the boneyard with Rolf.
We arrived back at the shelter on Caribou Island after an extended paddle tour outside the harbor area and heading southwest toward Saginaw Point. Tom and Renae elected to head back to Caribou and then we followed a bit later.
The next day we packed up and headed first back to Tooker's Island and then for a fast trip up on the north side of the Island. James and Heather wanted to put in more miles while Tom and Renae decided to paddle with us to Rock Harbor and hang out there. Jon, James, Heather and I then paddled up the outside of the Island and past Tobin Harbor to Merritt Lane then past Blake Point to the Palisades. The temptation to keep paddling west into the 5-Fingers was strong but Heather was reluctant to continue on and a gray bank of fog was moving in on us rapidly from the east. It was a bit of a "slog" in the fog with Heather anxious to not be left behind in the fog (don't worry Heather, we will always wait for you!), but we were finally greeted by Tom as we emerged out of the fog close to his sea-side table at the old Rock Harbor Lodge, where he was having a cup of coffee.

We were all anxious to get back to camp on Tooker's Island so we headed into the thick fog with the GPS orienting us on Tooker's. There was a motor boat seemingly going in erratic movements as we paddled out of the Snug Harbor area southeast toward Tooker's. The farther we paddled to the east, the closer the larger boat's sound grew. I began to feel like we were being hunted and I called for everyone to bunch in close together and I started to blow my whistle as the boat grew very close. Out of the fog it loomed - a NPS cruiser which was indeed zeroing in on us with his radar. The ranger came out of his cabin and asked what we were doing. I nearly asked him the same thing, but said that we were on our way to our camp on Tooker's. He said that we should be hugging the shore, at which I pointed to the fog-dimmed outline of the shore and said that was what we were trying to do. He was concerned that there were some fishermen on a boat who had just arrived at the island and were trying to find a place to dock. He was also concerned that we might be hit by a boat without radar. He also thought that we should have lights on our kayaks in the fog. He had to be the critic on something but finally wished us a good stay on the Island and motored off. We paddled back to our last night on the Island, glad to have a shelter to stay in for the night. Soon after arriving, the fishermen came in and docked for the night. It was 4 young Calumet guys and an older man. They slept on the boat as they hadn't gotten a camp permit. In the still night air I could hear them laughing and talking as they downed their beer and drifted off to sleep to the sound of their urinating into the water from the dock.

After rain and fog, our world focused into clarity

Banks of fog would rob us of a view quite abruptly,
like in this non-view of Merrit Lane looking outward

toward Tobin Harbor

Just before we headed out from Tooker's Island to catch the Ferry
back to Copper Harbor. Our group was dressed for the weather!

Spring Time '09

2009-06-18T11:12:00.000-04:00

The second guided sea kayak trip (June 12 - 14) was "Paddling the Keweenaw" with 2 men and myself. We went from Bete Gris, on the east side of the peninsula and finished at Copper Harbor. The scene above is Craig passing a distant Gull Rock Lighthouse, looking toward the mainland, after visiting Manitou Island. Our way back to the mainland is a 3-mile paddle. No facilities and camping where you will, the Keweenaw is a different experience than camping where I'm going this week, Isle Royale, where my group of 6 will be camping in designated camp sites, probably with shelters and picnic tables.

Spring Time '09

2009-06-18T10:58:00.001-04:00

With the anticipation of so many people in the outdoor industry and enthusiasts from all over the country, we journeyed in March down to Madison, Wisconsin for Canoecopia, the largest outdoor expo in North America.This is a view of our booth, which publicizes Keweenaw County and those businesses that make their tenuous home in this mostly forgotten peninsula that juts out into Lake Superior.

A tundra scene from our trip up on Hudson Bay. BeginningApril 2 and ending on our return to Minnesota on the 15th, Wintergreen Dogsled Lodge (where I work as a dog team guide) journeyed up to Thompson, Manitoba where we loaded 20 Inuit dogs, 3 freight toboggans, all of our gear, and ourselves onto the Tundra Train for a trip up to Wapusk National Park, where we hopped off the railroad track onto the boreal tundra for a dog team trip through the polar bear denning grounds, camping at eskers and travelling out to the coast of Hudson Bay and then travelling up to Churchill, the end point of our dog taem trip.

This is a scene from the first sea kayak trip of the season, June 2 - 5. I had been back from taking the Wilderness First Responder class in Boulder Junction, Wisconsin (May 16-24) with a week to relax and get my gear together before going over to Munising for this trip. My son Muir and I guided a group of 11 boy scouts and their 2 adult leaders on a paddle and 4 day camp on Grand Island. Here is a few of our hearty voyageurs in Trout Bay.

A common scene on Mackinac Island, where Lynn and I went June 7th through 9th to bicycle, see the sights on this historic place in celebration of our 30th wedding anniversary. Cars are not allowed on the island, but we had a stress-free time of getting around by bicycle and foot, staying at a Bed and Breakfast just out of town.

Spring Across The North

2009-05-12T11:31:00.003-04:00

It's almost the middle of the month of May, but the leaves are only beginning to show their green growth (willow). Birds from rose breasted grosbeaks to phoebes to pine siskins to goldfinches are making their nests (the phoebe is nesting under the garage porch eave for the first time in 15 years) and the Canada geese are already parading on our waterways with their goslings.
Our garden is peaking a bit of green cold crops from under the coat of mulch, warmed in their bed. The cold crops are tolerant of the seasonal dusting of snow (yes, still possible, as last weekend showed) and few hours of freeze at night that characterize our cool Lake Superior spring.
The coyotes were yipping and carrying on at our field and woods edge last night at around midnight. They woke me at the advent of my slumber, which I was glad for - to hear them roust about closely. I will go out to our back field to check the red pines that we planted and have been watering. One of them was dug up and dead; noticed on Sunday when I was carrying water from the stream to water the trees. I wonder what chose to dig the little seedling up. No tracks could be seen.

I am beginning to pack for the 9 day Wilderness First Responder class that I am taking in Wisconsin over the next week plus. Tough time to be leaving, with so much to be done around here, but it seems that each season has its own reasons for me to stay home...

Reverence For Nature

2009-04-27T20:17:00.001-04:00

The historic Episcopal Church in Eagle, Alaska

What is the place for reverence in viewing "the wonders of the natural world"? Pantheism, the worship of nature, is what many fundamentalist Christians would call showing excessive attention and concern for the fate of the flora and fauna of natural areas. The Christian Bible cautions the believer to worship the Creator, not the creation. The person who doesn't believe in God (or Jesus Christ as the son of God) is termed a pagan and is to be pitied and if possible shown "the only true way of the cross of Christ." There is some room in more liberal churches for those who want to practice "creation care" but for those who follow the fundamentalist church the creation care movement is suspect for offering allegiance too closely to nature's creatures rather than Creator.

Rick Bass, a leading writer and environmentalist, who lives in a rural area in northwestern Montana, addresses the question of reverence for the creation, as put to him by some seemingly Christian "friends" in his community. His answer, in the following essay, told after an encounter with a female painted turtle, is both humble and wise.

This essay was in the May 2009 issue of the Shambhala Sun Magazine

The Turtle

by Rick Bass

Surely I am becoming a pagan; and not through any formal rejection or even dubious re-examination of the mystery of my childhood, Christianity, but more through the evolution of some closer fit between my spirit and this Montana landscape. So glorious does this engagement feel some days that I must confess, in the beginning I wondered if I was not being tempted somehow by the archetypal devil himself—for surely anything this pleasurable had to be sinful, even lustful; and worst of all, placing myself, rather than any God, at the center of things.

I’m not even sure what a pagan is exactly—perhaps I’m misusing the word—but yesterday, after I had dropped the girls off to play at a friend’s house over on the backside of the valley, just across the state line, in Idaho, I encountered a painted turtle crossing the gravel road, traveling from one marsh to another, and my spirits soared, at the life-affirming tenacity of her journey, her crossing, as well as at this most physical manifestation that indeed the back of winter was broken; for here, exhumed once again by the warm breath of the awakening earth, was the most primitive vertebrate still among us.

It was not a busy road, but I stopped anyway and picked up the turtle. Her extraordinarily long front claws, so like a grizzly’s, confirmed that she was a female—the longer claws are useful in excavating a nest in which to lay her eggs—and I put her in a cardboard box to show the girls upon my return.

I continued on my way, down across the giant Kootenai River and into Bonners Ferry, to run errands, and then drove back to our friend’s, where all the children examined the turtle with appropriate and gratifying fascination. They learned the words “carapace” and “scute” and “plastron,” and a bit of the natural history of the painted turtle, but what I suspect lodged deepest in their memory was the mesmerizing hieroglyphics, or cartography, of red and orange swirls on the underside of the shell; and the image that probably went deepest into either their consciousness or subconscious, into the matrix of memory and formative identity—or so I hope—was the three of us stopping on the trip home to release the turtle on the other, safe side of the road, pointed down toward the larger marsh—the direction she had been headed—despite the fact that there was still no traffic.

We kept watch over her then, as she slithered her way through last autumn’s dead grass, and the newly emerging green-up, toward the cattails and chilly dark waters that would receive her and the future of her kind.

I hoped the specific tone of sky at dusk, the call of snipe circling overhead, and the shapes of these specific mountains—these mountains—were imprinting themselves, this one April, as deeply in the minds of my young daughters, along with this leisurely, almost nonchalant yet considered act, as deeply as the chemistry of a river is said to imprint itself upon the bodies of young salmon. These are the sights and scents and tastes and sounds and textures, the logic and the reason, that hopefully will help form the matrix of their childhood and their individual characters.

I’m grateful to that one turtle for the opportunity to help show them consideration. I’m grateful to the color of that sky at dusk, and to the unique and specific shape of Haystack Mountain, to the north, and to the scent of the pine and fir forests, early in the spring, for helping form that calming matrix, as sense-filled and tangible as a bough of fir branches spread beneath one’s sleeping bag on a camping trip far back into the mountains, the mythic mountains of childhood.

We stood there and watched her clamber on down into the dark waters. We don’t have turtles in our marsh. Our marsh is one of several in a chain of wetlands that is perched at the edge of an upthrown fault block that parallels the valley’s main river. The closest turtles are but a quarter of a mile away, down in one of the huge wetlands created by the river’s high waters each spring; but there are no turtles in any of the marshes on that shelf up above the valley—the shelf on which our marsh, and several others, is perched.

We are a hundred feet too high, it seems, for turtles—an elevation of thirty-three hundred feet, rather than the valley floor of thirty-two hundred. Maybe, however, the warming earth will allow this marsh to receive them in my lifetime. Or it might take a hundred years, or two hundred, beyond that, but no matter; I dare not tinker with so ancient and established of a species—trying to coax it into a place it might never have been before. Perhaps this kind of reverence, respect and reverence, more than anything else, defines a pagan; I don’t know. Whatever it is, I know that I feel it strongly.

If this kind of attentiveness to, and gratitude for, the creation is excessive, or unseemly in our species, or, worst of all, ungodly, then I apologize for having been snookered by the dark forces; but know that I will go to damnation for having been an ignorant or mistaken man, rather than an evil one.

Some of my neighbors—friends—frown on the zeal, the restless tenor, of my environmentalism. They counsel me that with eternity at stake in the unending afterlife, there is little point or economy in getting so fretted up about clear-cuts when our mortal time here is so temporal, and the earth is but a proving grounds for the far greater and lasting struggle of our souls, our eternal salvation.

And sometimes—when I’m really tired of the struggle—I want to believe them.

But someone—their God, my God, somebody’s God—put the spark and light of peace and joy and worship and awe in my heart, when I stand in a cathedral of ancient cedars, or when I am far back in the distant mountains, so close to the sky and a scale of time greater than my own brief stay—and that spark tells me that for me, activism is a form of prayer, a way of paying back some small fraction of the blessing that the wilderness is to me; a way of celebrating and protecting that creation, and a way of giving thanks.

Around Grand Island

2009-04-27T17:07:00.003-04:00

August, 2007 was an exhausting month after such a busy July. None-the-less, I was totally grateful for the work outdoors as a guide. I had herniated my L-5 disc in the early spring while guiding a dog team trip in northern Minnesota. After suffering through misdiagnoses and ineffective physical therapy followed by surgery and recuperation, I had jumped right into leading trips out of Munising and out to Isle Royale. I actually started doing trips at the end of June, with my son's help on heavy lifting.The first trip was to Pictured Rocks and there were many that followed. The previous 2 trips were an attempt by a large group to go around Grand Island and a 2 couple trip "on a budget" to Isle Royale. Both of these trips were disappointments for me, though not for the clients. The attempt to go around Grand Island was with a ski club out of Milwaukee. The members were all more into drinking and partying, many lacked experience at kayaking, and some were totally out of control as far as following a wilderness ethic. Three dysfunctional women would jump out of their kayaks when we would stop, sit down in the water and urinate while still in their wet suits. I thought it was different that they would have such an affinity for the water that they would sit down together for a time so often. Then on the last day one of the other participants told me what was up with those 3 women. I told Carl, the trip outfitter to be sure and wash those wet suits extra cycle.
We didn't go all around the island on that trip because of the group being large and not sticking together, and with the fog and windy weather that we had, I didn't feel comfortable leading them.
The other "cut-rate" trip with 2 middle aged couples from lower Michigan to Isle Royale was tough because they were all staying in the lodge and supplying the food. The major verbal topic was complaining about how the Rock Harbor Lodge and Restaurant was a rip-off. They were supposed to supply me with food and they were reluctant to do so, other than white bread and bologna sandwiches and cheap sugar cookies for lunch. The one time that they ate in the lodge with me they stiffed the waiter.
Right after doing the two disappointing trips, I had to rush back to Munising for a trip with the repeat customers from the year before, the Ripper group, named after Wendy Ripper, who did the coordinating with Carl, the Northern Waters owner and outfitter for the group of 5 women. I had met the ladies last year when they had switched over from then-defunct Great Northern Adventures out of Marquette, Michigan. One of the guides at GNA, Susan Bellamy had built up a great relationship with the Ripper party over a period of a few years. They had gone to Pictured Rocks but weather had limited their trips. They had gone to Grand Island into Trout Bay and Murray Bay with Susan.
The group members were Wendy, Jeannette, Jill, Julie, and Casey. All from the suburbs of Detroit, active in outdoor sports, all but Casey with kids and husbands. Jeannette was a fairly good paddler and could roll her kayak. She lived on a lake outside of Detroit and had a sport kayak that she would take out and practice with. She said that she always used ear and nose plugs as the water was warm and had a lot of bacteria in it.
All 5 ladies arrived at 9 AM in Jill's SUV. They were ready to go. Carl didn't have the food ready, actually didn't arrive until later. So we got their gear sorted out and did what we could and then got out on the water during the afternoon, heading out from Powell Point over to Grand Island and then going up the west side.
As the guide there is quite a bit of pressure on a trip such as this regarding making it a safe experience, comfort of participants on and off the water and arriving at campsites with enough time to be set up and fed before dark Getting a much later start than was optimal would make it hard to really have the surety that the aforementioned items would occur.

Casey, being new to kayaks was struggling to use her rudder and keep a straight line of travel. Her paddle stroke needed developed, and so I worked with her on paddling efficiently as we went along.

After 3 miles we stopped for a break on the lower west side of the island, but it was still too early to think about making camp. One place that we had in mind for spending the night was the Juniper Flats group site. There were a number of people who we saw there, so that wasn't looking like a possibility. Just past there is a beach and stairs that go up to the two-track road which leads to Hardwood Campground. No one was there but it is a long walk with gear to the campsite. Another not great possibility for us. Beyond the stairs is a little cove that has a waterfall that falls into the cove 10 feet or so out from the shore. Jill was the first to paddle under the drought diminished water. Then Casey tried but ended up beaching the bow of her boat on the shore. After a bit of a struggle with raising her rudder and pushing herself off she paddled under the falls. Then off we went, to parts unknown as far as camping. There was an eagle perched on a dead tree on a tall rock bluff. The rock is all tan and maroon tinted sandstone on the west side; mostly cliffs , which makes for awesome scenery but with few places to land and camp. There is a low arch before the a beach that I call the Northwest Beach. With the low water it was hardly possible to pass beneath it. Even the beach beyond it is low enough water that landing there on the mostly rock shelf means dragging the kayak in shallow water for a distance. We chose a back country campsite beyond with fair beach access. It was soon to be dark so that was the deciding factor in finding a campsite. Jill had a large tent that would fit all five and I busied myself with getting dinner of tacos while their tent went up. We were treated to a bit of Northern Lights after full dark, which capped our long day.

The next day dawned clear and just right for getting out on the water early. After a quick breakfast and pack-out of the kayaks, we were on our way. The arch in the photo was soon encountered after our launching from our back country camp site. Large enough, with deep enough water, even during this year of very low Lake Superior water levels, the arch would easily fit out kayaks for a few pass-throughs and picture taking sessions. Casey was doing better with her paddle strokes and maneuvering in tight places.

Here is the arch-cave from the inside. More than enough room to accommodate the party of kayakers.

We passed the north light house, on it's high cliff above, with just an out-building showing unless you paddled out in the lake a few hundred yards. We stayed out from shore and made for the northeast point, with one pit stop en route. As we paddled along in the sun, a monarch butterfly, fluttering along from the open water to the north, landed on my bow deck. There it stayed, catching a rest, fanning its wings slowly. As I looked about me, in the firmament and over the water, more and more butterflies came into focus. The water gently pulsing around my kayak carried on its surface the drowned shapes of monarchs; those who, on their migration across Lake Superior from the Canadian shore some 70 miles distant, had almost made it to landfall on the south shore. What a wondrous migratory epic we had paddled into on our route around Grand Island! The monarch on my deck fanned more frantically and lifted off, assured of arriving at the stepping stone of Grand Island before flying on to Mexico in due time, if the butterfly's migratory impulse wasn't ended by predatory weather or creature. As we paddled on and made it around the northeast point, the sky began to draw into mottled gray and blue. A west wind was pushing clouds onto our sky-view. I was getting a bit anxious with the weather looking more squally, as well as concern for getting a preferred campsite just outside of Trout Bay. The group's favorite camp site was Cobble Cove, which has a dramatic rock shelf overlooking the whole of Trout Bay. My groups use the rock shelf as a kitchen and living room. The sheltered camp site is used solely as a bedroom. The light and view from the shelf "living room" is so appealing that most campers at the site don't want to leave there until the last rays of the setting sun are extinguished. A possible problem was if another party was already at the site, then we would have to go elsewhere. When we came around the cliffs of the northeast opening of Trout Bay, I stopped and used my binoculars to glass the cove area and it did look as though there was a large power boat at the site. I told the ladies about my observations and said that we should paddle over and see if the boat owner was camping or just visiting the site. As we got closer to the cove it appeared that people from the boat were out on the rock shelf as well as in the cove area. When we paddled into the cove the boat looked to be getting underway. I hailed the boat skipper and he said that they weren't camping, though he wished that they were, "at such a beautiful campsite." So, with relief and elation the Ripper party landed and set up a bucket brigade to shuttle tents, food and camping gear up the steep approach to the camp site and rock shelf. The squall clouds had blown out of our area and it looked as though we were going to have sun and clear skies for our dinner and evening at Cobble Cove.

The Ripper party, paddling into a band of squall clods on Grand Island

With everyone working, on what we thought would be the final dinner on our trip, I soon had a filling meal of Carl's "Guide's Delight", a chicken salad, with Oreo cookies and fruit for dessert. A couple of women in the party broke out wine for watching the sunset. I was content to sip my cup of wine while washing the dishes. The last of the sun was warm and relaxing, not giving any clue about the real possibility of high winds on the morrow. The NOAA weather report warned of a possible small craft advisory on the morrow, but there was no point in worrying about tomorrow when there is nothing to be done other than enjoy the camp, sunset and sound sleep...
Morning dawned with gray moving clouds and a wind that was increasing by the minute. As the wind increased the waves jumped up, moving larger and steeper out into the eastern open lake. I started the stove to heat water back in the woods, sheltering the stove flame from the wind. We ate out in the wind on the ledge and talked about the non-possibility of paddling back to Sand Point for pick-up. No way were we paddling out in the big waves and cold water. One of the eventualities of paddling on Lake Superior was getting wind and wave-bound and this was one of those times. So we hung out on the rock ledge and read in our tents for the day. Spouses and children back home were apprised of our plight by cell phone - marooned on an island - and so the day moved on. I was looking at having a rushed few days following,this trip, as I had an Isle Royale trip scheduled to begin, with 1 day after this trip to prepare - that's 1 day if I wasn't stranded. All I could do was put thoughts of stress and dirty laundry out of my mind and concentrate on being ready for a quick getaway in the morning. Typically the wind began to die just before sunset, but the waves stayed up and Casey was a bit unsure of paddling in the rough water, so we opted for staying the night and making a quick getaway in the morning.
The water and wind were both down in the morning when we made our early getaway and a couple hours later we slid in on the Sand Point beach, where we unloaded gear, walked down to the Park Service headquarters where Wendy's SUV was and loaded up. It was triumphant but sad farewells as the group left me behind in the parking lot, waiting for the shuttle to load the kayaks onto the trailer and begin a hurried trip back to the next kayak trip out of Copper Harbor.

At the shelf "living room" at the Cobble Cove camping site. This tranquil evening sunset became disturbed by morning with high winds and waves, stranding us for the next day.

Earth Day Wednesday

2009-04-22T08:33:00.000-04:00

After a sloppy snowstorm that started on Sunday, this day dawned in pacific tranquility. The slowly melting snow pack, formed by the soggy snow over the crusty winter snow-remains, is a fitting Earth Day setting for spring on this Superior Peninsula.Since I left the moderating winter weather of Hudson Bay last week, I have been slogging through getting back into a domestic mindset of reestablishing the rituals of home and hearth obligation. No more sustained nomadism on the tundra and obligation to dog team and camp life.
Earth Day, a spiritual sister to Easter, is here with little societal reverence or acknowledgment. Planting trees is one bit of homage that I'll indulge in, though planting at a bit more southern latitude makes more sense if in conjunction with this date. And my planting is also a bit self-serving (on my own land), but couched in a biocentric sensibility.

Joseph Romm, climate change thinker and gadfly, writes on Alternet :

http://www.alternet.org/water/137586/on_earth_day%2C_forget_about_the_planet_--_we%27re_the_ones_who_are_screwed/

Romm believes that the concept of an Earth Day is flawed and somehow hypocritical - that what we need is to relate to the baser human world-view of anthropocentrism to get people on board and vested in the anti-climate change movement. At least that is my reading of what he is cynically (but wisely) getting at. He may be right...

A New Vision

2009-04-20T22:21:00.000-04:00

We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of wild animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creatures through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness. for their tragic fatefor having taken a form so far below ourselves. And thereby we err, greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations,caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and the travail of the earth.

-- Henry Beston, The Outermost House

A Long and Solid Winter

2009-03-19T18:00:00.000-04:00

What a winter we've had behind us - spring is before us - much for me to be thankful for in winter weather that I revere. The dog team trips that I have guided have been fun, the ones that I have yet to do are beckoning me - and the big one to Hudson Bay is drawing near!

This winter has been a mixed experience for me health-wise - and I couldn't get myself motivated to write or blog over the last few months. A bout of skin cancer, further sciatica and consequent physical therapy left me feeling my age. I had tennis elbow that was the result of or contributed to byhand splitting a winter's wood. I got a hydraulic log splitter too late in my wood processing for this year, but when I got a simple forearm band for tennis elbow, the pain in my arm began to disappear. When I did dog team trips, the back problems tended to diminish.
We had way over 200 inches of snow this year, extended cold made it good that I was home to keep moving the snow and keep the home wood fires blazing. When I was gone to Ely, Lynn would be at work all day and come back to dying coals in the wood stove and 2 dogs that were cooped up inside all day, as well as snow piled up in the driveway.
I have pictures of winter happenings and adventures that will have to wait for a later time to post. Come to think of it, I didn't post last summer's sea kayak trips and can see that I've been slacking a lot more than just this winter. So the last of April I'll try to get motivated to post, after I'm back from adventures at the "northern sea".

Mid-November Anticipation

2008-11-17T10:08:00.000-05:00

At MTU last year on a freshly groomed skate trail

What a tumultous month it's been! With Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama elected in a landslide, most of the nation's people are feeling optimistic in spite of a global financial downturn with no end in sight. The nation has been under such an oppression for the last 7 years that lifting and drop kicking out the Republicans at the polls has given the populace a bit of self-determined optimism that "we shall overcome" and take back so much that has been robbed from us by the Bush/Cheney cabal.

We're finally getting some promised snow, with the last few days of below freezing temperatures preparing us for what was predicted since last week. I'm hoping to get out on my skis this week as the Nordic Track treadmill is getting tiresome. I must say that I am concerned about the status of my fitness to guide the trips over at Wintergreen with my hips and lower back being consistently sore.
I am possibly going to be doing some kayak guiding trips with Living Adventure out of Bayfield this next summer. I'm email corresponding with Gail Green after Ervin M. put in a word to her that I was interested in getting back working in the Apostles. Hopefully this will lead somewhere good in the future.
I am very haltingly going forward at writing an informational article on dog team trips at Wintergreen for Northern Wilds which is a North Shore of Minnesota newspaper that Kate works for. Once I talk to Sean Perrich, the owner and editor of Northern Wilds things will hopefully fall into place for my writing...
(Evening) The snow continues to sift down and I'm glad that we have ample seasoned wood for this winter. I finally bought some stove oil for our furnace - 80 gallons to top off our tank. The stock market crash world wide has lowered petroleum prices by nearly 2/3, even with OPEC cutting production. Now was a good time to stock up, though prices of fuel oil haven't dropped as much as gas. This summer we paid for a time in excess of $4.00 a gallon for gasoline and it is now around $2.00 a gallon.
Got my first view of a Northern Shrike swooping in on the birds at our feeders today. After last winter not having goldfinches and purple finches staying around it is nice to see a large flock of them (goldfinches) at our feeders.

Fall Melancholy

2008-10-31T09:31:00.000-04:00

"If you are afflicted with melancholy at this season, go to the swamp and see the brave spears of skunk-cabbage buds already advanced toward a new year. Their gravestones are not bespoken yet. Who shall be sexton to them? Is it the winter of their discontent? Do they seem to have lain down to die, despairing of skunk cabbagedom? “Up and at ‘em,” Give it to ‘em,” “Excelsior,” “Put it through,”—these are their mottoes. Mortal human creatures must take a little respite in this fall of the year; their spirits do flag a little...I say it is good for me to be here, slumping in the mud, a trap covered with withered leaves. See those green cabbage buds lifting the dry leaves in that watery and muddy place. There is no can’t nor cant to them. They see over the brow of winter’s hill. They see another summer ahead."
Henry David Thoreau Journal, Oct.31, 1857

I am truly enjoying the "shoulder season," the time between the busy-ness of employment as summer paddling guide and that time in early December when I begin guiding with ski and dog team. The shoulder season is where I remember the long days of sun and the thankfulness for the long soaking rains of spring and early summer - Superior was finally rising, after being at an historical low point. The shoulder season is also looking forward to clean snows, dressed in warm and lightweight clothes and mukluks to keep off the frigid air; ski and snowshoe travel, sled dogs pulling on the narrow trails and blazing wood fires to be warm by.

The one human event that, for so many years threw me off my rhythm and made me feel the cruel finality of winter was the falling back of an hour with daylight savings time. Those years in Alaska, it was like losing an hour of daylight, and right in the late afternoon when outdoor chores had to be completed in darkness after a day in the classroom looking out at daylight. In the places I lived most of the time I would put on my trusty headlamp and it would be on my head until I got ready for bed. Living with kerosene lamp light and Coleman lanterns in Anaktuvuk Pass and for many years in Eagle, I am reminded of a poem that I know of from those days that captured the experience of living an Alaskan winter without the convenience of electricity:

A Winter Light

By John Haines

We still go about our lives

in shadow, pouring the white cup full

with a hand half in darkness.

Paring potatoes, our heads bent over a dream---
glazed windows through which
the long, yellow sundown looks.

By candle or firelight
your face still holds
a mystery that once
filled caves with the color
of unforgettable beasts.

Headlamps and later, mini-mag lights were indispensable tools. They brought light to the shadows! And what a convenience! To have bright instant light on your person with a twist or flip of a toggle switch. Thoreau would have been envious, especially if he could see the wall-mounted floodlights that I now use for outside chores in the winter.

There was one October, in Anaktuvuk Pass, when for no reason that I was aware of, the fall-back of daylight savings was not observed and the coming winter held no dread. The shortening days were better balanced in my life without the falling back of the clock. By mid-January I would have at least a sky-lightening at mid afternoon outside. I wondered why daylight savings time didn't keep on their summer schedule. I guessed the reason was because of the bulk of the population in the more mid- latitudes commute to work in morning daylight, working while the day is light, commuting home in light were some of the reasons. But for Alaska it doesn't make the same sense. One ends up going to work as well as coming home in darkness during the dark months of winter. Better, in my situation, to have mornings in darkness but having some light after work to be outside with daylight.
Nowadays it is less of a concern. As a guide of dog team trips,I operate with a concern toward utilizing the daylight with less regard for the clock time. When I'm at home I schedule most of my time to be outside in the daylight. I am blessed to not be tied to an inside job during the dark months.

Lynn, in being home with the children, and having a real need to be in the light of day for psychological well-being, would always get outside with the young kids during the height of the day. Bundling up the kids sufficiently to keep them warm in far sub-zero temperatures for sled rides into town tried most parent's patience. We never ran a motor vehicle other than a snow machine (which was a real benefit to living a village existence), so the half mile trip to the library, store, post office or friend's cabin was a journey that needed prepared for. Lynn made much of the baby and toddler outerwear because most of the store-bought clothing was not warm enough for 50 below. Those years of village life are fond memories now, but concerns for keeping little kids warm, the worry and struggle to get our young ones dressed, was a serious daily affair; one can make few mistakes with the imminent threat of cold injuries on young bodies.

With the signs of winter showing hereabout, and with so many of the aging and younger population oriented toward indoor and warm weather leisure activities, it is understandable but troubling that so many who are consigned to higher latitude areas become so unhappy as signs of winter appear. Life is too short to be unhappy for so much of the time.

Waiting For Apocalypse

2008-10-25T20:21:00.000-04:00

Looking out over the valley... The Pilgrim River valley, or actually a little bend in the river near my home.

I received a call from an old friend of mine who lived in Alaska for many years. He was written of by John McPhee in Coming Into the Country. Since those days, Mike, a man once known as the toughest trapper with or without his fists on the Upper Yukon and Glacier Peaks, had a fundamentalist Christian religious conversion. He became a changed person, as far as his life goals, read the Bible when he had never read any books except pulp westerns, left Eagle with his wife and daughter as a missionary (with work done in Alaska, Wyoming and Mongolia), inherited a bundle from his father after years of financial support from his parents, and now has a sailboat on an island in Hawaii from which he wants to conduct a ministry to anyone he meets on his sailing travels. Mike knows that the Lord will bless him if he is faithful...
He spent much of the summer on the island in Lake Vermillion in Minnesota that his family has owned for 3 generations. He is now down in Arizona with his daughter and grandkids until he and his Native wife Adeline fly over to Hawaii for the winter.

When Mike called, it took me about 20 seconds to begin to begin to feel that Mike was listening carefully to what I said and was critically scrutinizing my speech to see if I had fallen away from the faith that he holds so dear.
On the National election, Mike is true-red Republican. He places stock in what Sean Hannity says on Fox News and holds tight to the doctrine that Jesus will come again to earth and reclaim the degraded planet for those who remain faithful. What happens to the planet is important only in the context of the theological and spiritual battle of good and evil as determined by his sectarian fundamentalist world-view. Firmly a backer of pro-life as the main issue in American politics, nothing more really needs said. When I said that Fox News pundit, Sean Hannity reminded me of a mad dog, Mike laughed and said that he agreed with Hannity "on most everything".

I hung up the phone feeling depressed about the smallness of the my fundamentalist friend's world. This is the Mike that many years ago said that if there is one service that a country should help its citizenry with in life, it is health care. This is a non-issue for him now. His wife as an Alaskan Native receives free health care. He receives it due to his inherited wealth buying it for him. This is great for Mike and Adeline, and I would wish such good fortune for all Americans. Not to say that Mike is against socialized medicine nowadays, but the topic doesn't concern him. Spreading the gospel and converting others is what drives him.

With our materialist world cracking and eroding down, with the Republican non-change agents trying to keep the status quo for themselves, I now have to count Mike as one of them. I'll be thinking further about the Republican faith-based voters of our country; and praying that they go to a new level of understanding and compassion for all creatures great and small.

Don, walking it off on a woods trail, mulling over the world's problems.

A Fall Day...

2008-10-22T12:26:00.000-04:00

The day feels like this picture - A burst of sunlit color as a copse of young maple culminate their year of growth. The maples, being durable hardwood, have driven above the disturbed canopy of apple and aspen. After the struggle to rise above other vegetable growth, nature's competitive quest for survival, dormancy, and a long winter sleep await. For now all is glory for them. Next spring will bring more challenges - among the copse-mates as well as from without. This is what I see adjacent to my woodshed.
We had another hard frost last night . As we go toward winter, many homestead chores must be halted, that is a seasonal surety for me. Time to look and assess with a bit of contentment my world. Our heating wood is in, seasoned and stacked. The chimney extension with its mortar and insulation is nearing completion, with supplies for the rock facade paid for and ready for spring. With the climate teetering on the cusp of cataclysm and the world financial systems receding into crisis, there is assurance that nature's seasons are still guiding my life. What has always been my inspiration and compass - nature - continues on with me a small part of the whole.

October Colors Ebbing...

2008-10-21T10:39:00.000-04:00

What a fall color tour it has been, close to home in the UP. With so much great colors close to home, we stayed around with a few forays out a few miles. The color change seemed to keep going on much longer than usual. There has been some wind and a bit of rain this fall, but the colors prevailed.
With the presidential campaign in full-on drive, with the Republican John McCain negatively muck-raking (and not finding much) on Democrat Barack Obama, I had some time and did some volunteering at the Houghton Democratic headquarters. McCain has pulled his campaign out of Michigan for weeks now due to polls showing he has lost the state - you would never know it here in the Copper Country. Calls I've made to the older residents in the area show that conservative republican voters are alive and well in the UP.

Lynn with our 2 dogs, Gabe and Dixie, on an autumn walk.

Looking through a fiery maple to the firmament

On the 19th, a sunny Sunday morning, Lynn and I headed into Marquette for a presentation by the Will Steger Foundation on the effects of global warming in the polar regions.The presentation was sponsored by the Superior Watershed Alliance, which I've worked with a bit, learning how to test and sample for water quality of streams. SWA is a sponsor of the Will Steger Foundation. Another organization that I'm a member of is Earthkeepers and I was invited to attend a mid afternoon roundtable with Will Steger where participants would get to know him and talk with him. Lynn dropped me off at the meeting site and I was the 3rd person there. Will talked to our little group of 10 people for close to an hour about his upbringing and 64 year-old life, then he took questions and finally the meeting broke down to informality with simple talk. I had a chance then to talk to Steger about places we had in common and his life now in a houseboat on the Mississippi River.
Lynn was waiting for me in her car and we went looking for a dinner-to-go, as she wanted to have a picnic in a pile of leves at Presque Isle Park looking out on Lake Superior. The food, from Vango's was good and Greek; the large leaf windrow, formed from the wind blowing them to waist-high was soft and warm. After the picnic we drove over to Upfront and Company where the Superior Watershed Partnership meeting was being held. It went on for a long time. I was mentioned by Carl Lindquist and asked to stand as a member of the Partnership who had experience living in the arctic. One of Steger's expedition partners, who was Norwegian talked after Will's slide show on his findings on the impact of global warming. Students talked about the Energy Action Coalition, organizing that is taking place on campuses to influence the start of green industry and awareness of the need for society to change to save our planet and its biological diversity. After a panel discussion by all of the speakers, the evening was over, and we headed out of Marquette and arrived back home at a bit past 11:00.

Lynn relaxing during our Presque Isle picnic.

Will Steger in Marquette

Autumn Already...

2008-10-11T14:00:00.000-04:00

Spirit Tree, North Shore, Lake Superior, Minnesota

What a busy summer it's been! I seldom had time to even think about this blog, but now I will have a bit of time to write, or at least the state of mind to do so. Since my blog is basically to me, I don't feel compelled to write in it regularly. If there is anyone out there who has ever checked this, all I can say is sorry for your futile bother... In looking at my list of posts I noticed that I didn't ever post some in May, simply left them in a saved state. I'll remedy that in short order and the writing and any pictures will appear in back of this entry. After a busy summer of guiding sea kayak trips, life hasn't slowed down all that much. So much left for later at home. My inherent laziness on new projects at home, with winter closing in, leaves me with a lot to do but with basics covered.

Perilous times we are living in politically and economically. A world-wide monetary crisis that is looking more like the Great Depression all the time. Inflation continues to rise here at home. A presidential race getting down and dirty with the Democrats again and again being the brunt of Republican dirty politics. I have been volunteering at the Democratic party office in Houghton, and calls to mostly right wing voters have tested my cordiality. Though I don't agree with the Democrats on some important social issues, these issues pale when I look at the state of the middle class, the environment, the way that the neo-con Republicans have taken our country since Reagan and under Bush for the last 8 years.

We have been having a wonderful color change here in the Copper Country for the last couple of weeks. Now a bit on the ebb as we slide toward late autumn, the vibrancy seems to hold on still. I don't know when I've seen the trees blazing so colorfully for so long.

I've invested in a 27 ton log splitter and have been making short work of hardwood knotty rounds that were so tight grained that maul and wedges were foiled. All but the really old and punky ones (that I gruntingly rolled aside years ago) are going to be burnt in the wood stove like chunks of coal. A new 10 cord logging truck load of sugar maple is being whittled down fast into next years split and stacked fire wood with the use of the hydraulic splitter.

Life goes on...

May 4 Road Tour of Keweenaw Peninsula

2008-05-31T11:01:00.000-04:00

Here it is, mid-Sunday morning and the sun is glinting through the clouds. Time to make a trip the 50 + miles, roundabout to Copper Harbor....

Time to visit pocket parks by the shores of Superior and laze around in the chilly northern air with our parkas zipped up. Finding caddis fly larva in their sand-rough shells on the copper colored rock pools on the shore. A good sign of pure water.

A wonderful time to visit the waterfall running into iced-up Lac La Belle with its full spring runoff flow ...

Let's go up to the top of the Keweenaw's hawk mountain, Brockway Mountain to watch the spring migration of raptors soar on the thermals. Here the trees are squat and stunted, thick and sitting low to the mountain with the wind and snow pruning them there. When the sun shows through and heats the basalt cliffs, the hawks, eagles, falcons, vultures and ravens soar high in unison in the firmament.

Let's hike and beach comb around Hunter's Point , making like joyful tourists on a holiday, taking nothing but pictures: of a water spirit Misshepezhieu, created a million years ago in volcanic basalt of quartz, breathing a fire of and outlined in copper-colored deposits.

May 2008 Boundary Waters Canoe Trip

2008-05-31T10:17:00.000-04:00

Ever since I was a student in middle school and beyond I thought and dreamed of the north wood's Boundary Waters. While making a kit canoe from my paper route earnings, writing an 8th grade term paper on canoe methods and technique (the teacher was amazed when she read this book length term paper), reading Sigurd Olson and Calvin Rutstrum's wilderness essays, I've dreamed of canoe travel in the Boundary Waters wilderness. Looking back it seemed as though my youthful paddling was all in preparation to that dream of paddling in the boreal forest's north woods.

As I was out paddling, camping and hiking the Michigan woods and waters I looked at these areas as degraded and less complete than the wilderness Boundary Waters. It seemed as though I was training prior to going into the real thing - the stretch of land from Minnesota's Superior National Forest clear up to Hudson Bay. The boreal canoe country of the Canadian shield was untrammeled compared to the mostly roaded and fragmented Michigan landscape.
Without the means as a kid and with my sights set solely on Alaska as a young man, the time never came when that Boundary Waters canoe trip wish was fulfilled.

I remember reading the Wilderness Society's Living Wilderness periodical about the long fight to save the Superior Quetico Wilderness from a host of resort owners, mining companies, loggers, fly-in fishing operators and motor sport operators. This fight became big in my wilderness-minded heart, and it was good to hear that in the end the forces of good wilderness management mostly won. The tranquility and primitive values of the Wilderness Act of 1964 were upheld.

After working as a dog sled guide in and around the Boundary Waters for the last few years I still hadn't paddled there and never seemed to have the time with a family and guiding sea kayak trips in the summer. Then a friend who I guided with at Wintergreen Dog Sled Lodge, Steve Eisenminger, knowing that I had long wanted to paddle there, invited me to go up on the Knife Lake region to scout out a possible guided spring trip for Lake Trout that he wanted to get together. Steve has guided for many years on fishing trips, through a lot of Quetico-Superior. With his experience I had little doubt that the trip would be fun.

Our trip started on May 13. The weather was cloudy and threatening rain as we left the landing in Steve's loaded 17 foot Bell "Northwoods" Royalex canoe. The ice had just gone out on the lakes a week previously on this cold spring of 2008. There was definitely some activity at the boat landing parking lot and we saw 4 motorboats on the duration of moose Lake. One was a shuttle boat that was on its way to transport canoeists back to the landing, probably from a portage at the end of the motorized route on Moose.

The rain began soon after we left the landing and it wasn't long afterward that we passed two paddlers who had been out a week previous, who were weary of getting snowed on in the stormy weather of that past week; they were heading home.
Our route was to go from Moose to New Found Lake to Sucker to Birch Lake to Melon Lake to Knife Lake.It rained intermittently most of the way to the Knife. The rivers between the lakes were roaring over their banks and the five portages had overflow from the rivers running in them, some of it calf deep, the remnants of the winter's snow were still present. I was glad to have on my knee high Extra-Tuf rubber boots. I learned a lot about the paddling in the Boundary Waters; on the way up to the Knife; why the best canoes to have are also the lightest. I thought that a durable Royalex canoe was the way to go there, but I learned that whenever you run into rocks and rapids that there is a portage trail so light gear for the portages is more important than heavy and bomb proof.
It didn't take long on the Moose to get into the team paddling that would become synchronized for the whole trip. Steve, in his good natured way told me twice to quit trying to steer from the bow. I was so used to paddling solo or in the stern, and always steering that it took me awhile to let him steer and to just paddle steadily and keep an eye peeled for rocks and other obstructions.

I was glad I could set the paddling pace and keep it because,on the portages, I was definitely the lightweight on load bearing. Steve had a huge waterproof portage pack that carried all of his and his dog Brook's gear. Usually I helped him put it on as it was too heavy to slip into unless it was up at torso height. I brought my gear in a medium size Duluth pack and a medium size waterproof portage pack. We would do each portage in 2 trips. Steve talked about Aaron Chick, who is a jack of all woods trades around Ely. Aaron disdains doing 2 trips on a portage trail and will pack a canoe as well as his pack on one trip. My back can't take the strain any longer, hence ultra light is the way to go for me. I remember portaging my Grumman 19 foot freight canoe when I had to, on the Yukon. That and numerous other youthful excesses all helped to create wear on my backbone discs.
Steve surveyed campsites that would be good for an early spring fishing trip that he may offer next spring that would base out of the area that we stayed in.
Even though the trip was soon after ice-out, there were perhaps 3 parties of people who were paddling and camping in the area we were in already. I was glad that my first paddle trip in the boundary Waters was in early spring so as to avoid the summer crowds.

We ended up paddling back to the Moose Lake entry point with skies threatening rain with a bit of sun. When we were a couple of miles from the parking lot, rain backed by northwest wind made us paddle more vigorously for our takeout point.

A spring-clear morning for paddling on the Knife. All ice is newly off the lake system and the warblers are back and singing.

Morning light just returning as Steve and his setter Brook enjoy breakfast and a misty sunrise. With the fire rings and plentiful "beaver pile" wood, we were enjoying campfires morning asnd night. Much different than most national park wilderness areas where gas pack stoves are mostly used.

Don with our Lake Trout dinner. We portaged into Topaz Lake and caught 2 Lakers in short order.

This is a portage trail up by the Knife River while we were on our way back. The running water was down to a trickle with puddles left from a few days before. The snow was all melted out due to the warm rains that we had on our way in... The rivers between the lakes were roaring over their banks and the five portages had overflow from the rivers running in them, some of it calf deep, the remnants of the winter's snow were still present.

Snow in Spring

2008-05-03T23:27:00.000-04:00

The beginning of May 2008: after a "regular" winter - one that was snowy and long. Spring is the same way that springs used to be - a lot of precipitation and cool by many people's standards. After an afternoon and evening of torrential rains we had snow coming down hard but it was wet and melted on contact. I'm planning to go over to the Gunflint Trail this next week and do some paddling and camping, then over to Ely after that, but at this point the lakes in the Boundary Waters aren't broken free of ice yet...
Lynn is working two jobs and is putting in very long hours - burning the candle at both ends. For the past couple of weeks I've been working at Nissila's Greenhouse, transplanting and planting seedlings up to trees in size. Some of it is tough on the back.

Today was rain that changed to snow, though the snow was wet and melted rather than stuck.

The cherry wood paddle that I carved out in the Northwoods pattern., ready for finish. There's Gabe, snoozing away an afternoon after chasing some squirrels.

Here's a picture of the back areas of Nissila's Greenhouses. The chimney is from the old coal fired boiler set-up to heat the greenhouses. The roof on the boiler room collapsed a few years ago as it had not been used for years and was neglected. There is a whole lot of run down and ruined structures on the Nissila's grounds. The whole greenhouse is a gem of the copper country due to it's storage of such a variety of plants and Pete Nissila's expertise as a horticulturalist. The physical plant is pretty rundown and cobbled together.

The first spring blossoms - crocuses - under the cherry trees; blooming just outside of the snow line.

Winter Camping in the Boundary Waters, Part 1

2008-05-03T23:26:00.000-04:00

There are a number of ways to go travel in the winter Boundary Waters Wilderness while bringing along your full kit for a number of days and nights: with skis and pulk, snowshoes and toboggan or backpacking with snowshoes, and using a dog team The way I've been blessed with is by dog sled and ski. As a guide I teach the participants to mush the dogs (a big learning curve for the beginners) and then, with Wintergreen programs, the guides (typically 2) ski while the participants mush the dogs. One guide skis out in front of the first team (like the rabbit chased by the dogs) and the second guide skis among the sleds and helps with tangles and numerous other events that occur on the trail.
The camping trip is most generally a 5 night event that begins with the arrival of participants at the Wintergreen Dogsledding Lodge in the afternoon. Following dinner there are informational talks by the guides on topics such as clothing (we as guides check participants' clothing systems to ensure that they don't have cotton and have proper clothes for safety and comfort), diet and hydration. Many of the participants rent clothing and boots from Wintergreen. Fitting boots and liners to participants is always a time-consuming task. One important topic is using the sleep system that we provide, and participants try the Wiggy's brand sleeping bags and simple bivy sacks with foam pads while in the lodge. The sleep systems have to fit and the participant has to know where draw cords and zippers are so that they can adjust them in the dark. Tin cups, bowls with attached spoons, nalgene water bottles and insulating cozies are all handed out.
In the morning, before a guide-cooked breakfast, participants help to feed and water the dogs, then it's time for Dog Sled 101. The lecture-type course, in it's duration inside the lodge, covers teamwork and safety, terminology, sled and tack parts, dog psychology and voice commands,sled and lead musher roles, tips on the trail, and a host of other pertinent topics that come up during the course. I always have the feeling that the participants are in learning overload by the end of the short course, but most of them sort out the information once they're actively heading down the trail.
Following 101 we take a short woods walk to look at a variety of trees with participants being shown types of dead wood that makes good camp firewood and wood to avoid bothering to gather in the woods. Tents are looked at and put up, though often participants sleep out in the open without use of the tent or other shelter. Then we have a sled packing session followed by pushing the sleds down to the dog yard - all exciting activities preparatory to heading out from Wintergreen.
Even before the participants arrive at the lodge the guides are busily working to gather all gear, prepare the sleds, figure out menus, route and logistics.

Our skis at an island where we camped. The skis aren't jammed into the snow covered ice, but are actually "tripod-leaned using the ski pole straps. This helps to avoid chipping and delaminating the ski ends by crunching them through the snow onto the hard ice. The dogs are tied out on cable lines on the edge of the island. All dog poop is removed from the riparian edge.

This year, during the cold months Paul had a 4 person Empire Canvas Hybrid Snowtrekker tent with a titanium wood stove - a first for Wintergreen Dogsledding. Wintergreen always had cold camps with a 5 foot fire pan as the sole heat source; nylon mountaineering tents or else sleep units out in the open for sleeping the night away. The heated tent, during the dinner time was luxurious. The stove was a nice addition to cook on and the tent dried out clothing and warmed participants. An added benefit was the amount of wood that needed to be cut was a fraction of that needed for the long fire pan. In the case of heating the large kettle of lake water, we used a small lodge to lodge fire pan that was just big enough for heating the kettle. One drawback to the use of a heated tent was that once the tent was heated that is where participants congregated, not out around the campfire, under the starry firmament. We used 2 candle lanterns to light the tent.

A chickadee landing on a hand with the bait being some trail mix.

Hot water turns into vapor when thrown into the air at below zero temperatures.

Winter Camping in the Boundary Waters, Part 2

2008-05-02T22:39:00.000-04:00

In Part 1 of "Winter Camping in the Boundary Waters" I covered the basic steps before hitting the trail. Often the trips start out at Wintergreen Dogsledding Lodge and we leave the dog yard with loaded sleds, the guides driving the sleds down onto tie-out posts on White Iron Lake with the participants walking ahead of teams and guides on the narrow and sloped trail down to the lake. Other times the dogs are loaded into our large trailer with sleds put on top and all is hauled out to an end-of-road location.
The first day of participants mushing (handling and running) the dogs is usually chaotic but also quite amazing as most of the beginner dog mushers are able to put their classroom learning into the team that they are controlling with good effect. Yes, there are lost sleds and tangles due to inattention to the tenets taught to the participants, but basically I'm amazed that the trips begin as smoothly as they do.
Dog mushing is far removed from the lives of many of the participants, who are more used to their minds doing their work for them. in their everyday lives. Those who are involved in regular athletic pursuits and sports usually have an easier time of handling the dogs and trail occurrences.
We end up leaving in the afternoon and if the trip is in the short days of December, January or February we can only go for a few hours before we're forced to stop and set up camp. There is always the hustle of stopping and rushing to unpack the sleds, set up tents, spud in a water hole, gather firewood, set up the tripod and fire plate, and all of this after getting the dogs strung out on the cable picket lines and their harnesses taken off.
Food at breakfast and dinner is always hardy, with a high calorie count. Evening pizza tortillas as appetizers, the main course being stir fried shrimp and vegetables with sweet and sour sauce or meat balls and pasta with a spaghetti sauce followed by no-bake cheese cake. Breakfast may start with cinnamon and brown sugar on fried-in-butter bagels, followed by fried eggs and hash browns. Both meals are liberally lubricated and warmed by hot drinks: coffee or various teas, hot tang, cappuccino, or cocoa. The whole meal is a 2 hour affair with all participants hunkering down around the wood stove, or more typically the fire pan on sleeping pads arranged on top of logs, everyone soaking in the campfire's heat. Participants are discouraged from drinking liquids following the meal, so that they would be less likely to need to exit their sleeping bag in the middle of the night.
Feeding the dogs takes place after the people are fed, though the kibbled dog food is hopefully soaking up warm water for a long time before the dogs are fed.
Wintergreen's camping programs have always adhered to a hard-core image of cold camping (without heat other than a campfire) and for the truly rugged there is the discarding of even a tent - sleeping out, right on the ice and snow in the sleep unit. The guides generally sleep out or in the dogsled. I guess the dog sled pinpoints where the guide is, for the participant in distress, who is otherwise confronted with which black mound out on the snow is the guide. For the participant who is prematurely in distress just thinking about sleeping out in a winter camping trip, we tell them that they will surely not sleep too soundly the first night but that the second night everyone will sleep undisturbed... By the time the second night comes around, everyone is too committed deep in the wilderness if not too exhausted to bail on the trip.

The trips may break camp every day, traveling to a different area each day; or if the group and conditions dictate we may break camp and travel on the second day out, then base camp and do day trips. It is nice to travel to a new area, either for a day trip or to set up a new camp. The figuring out of a good place to camp is always a challenge - a place that has a good stake-out location for the dogs, that is sheltered from wind and has good firewood and a clear water source have to be considered.

When the camp site is chosen the first thing to be done is getting the stake-out cables out and unspooled and connected to trees or deadfalls. Usually the guides do this and the participants mind their dogs and sleds, which are typically on ice with nothing to anchor them to with the trailing lines. Then the dogs are put on the stakeout lines in order of teams. Once that is done the harnesses are removed. The sleds are hurriedly unpacked and camp is established, a water hole is chopped and spudded for water while some people forage for firewood and others set up tents and prepare the firepan and tripod with seating.
After the camp chores are done, the participants have time for themselves. This may mean taking a walk, or preparing for the night by organizing their tent or sleep system. There is always something to do and seldom are people idle.

Teams halted on a lake after going over a rough portage. On the first team, in the foreground, the "lead musher is keeping the dogs lined out while the "sled musher" keeps the brake on.

Around the campfire at night. The tripod is used to hang a large water boiler for drinking water. Each camper is a spoon, bowl and cup for all the eating that they will do at breakfast and dinner. Lunches are generally not cooked but consist of hot water in thermoses for ramen or other instant soups, hot drinks, jerky, string cheese, nuts, candy bars and other finger foods. If it is really cold we will sometimes have a noon campfire.
Notice how the snow and some ice has melted under the fire pan.

A camping sled all loaded on the trail along a bit of fast water near a portage trail.

Winter Camping In The BWCAW Pt.3

2008-05-01T21:24:00.000-04:00

On The Trail

This wide-open trail that we are using was made by ice fishermen on Farm Lake, using their pick-up trucks with snow plow blades. The fishermen generally set their tip-ups close up to the boundary that separates the designated wilderness. Often ice fishermen go into the Boundary Waters wilderness, pulling a light sled or toboggan to favored fishing spots for a days fishing through the ice. Greg Drum is the skier who is guiding the sleds so that they stay on our route rather than turn right onto another trail. I am the skier up ahead, leading the dog team train.

Looking ahead at a beaver lodge to the right of center in the picture. I'm using skate skis on this day, which is a great treat to use when conditions are right.

Viewing a wolf kill of a deer. When we came up to the edge of the lake off of a portage trail, eagles and ravens flew up. We weren't yet in view of the kill site, but stopped the dog teams as we knew that the leavings of the wolf pack's dinner were just ahead. The wolves must have brought the white tail down just a few hours earlier, as the rib cage and other parts were still intact. The wolves were probably listening and watching us as we viewed the site and then went back and had our lunch as well.

Wolf tracks and bits of fur were all that was left at the site where the deer was taken down.

Winter's Last Blast?

2008-04-11T20:39:00.000-04:00

It's not that we weren't expecting this blizzard, if a person listened to any weather report...
The winds from the northeast started yesterday morning and gusts (up to 30 mph) were soon buffeting the landscape and shaking any object that was vertical. Muir's canoe, which has wintered this year under an apple tree, was blown by the wind 20 feet to the bumper of our old GMC truck. Last night the snow and sleet started in and continued all day today and is still happening.as of this night.
The migrating juncos and red polls and robins are having a difficult time finding food. I threw down some sunflower seeds as well as filled the feeders and all day there were birds mobbing the area, in spite of the wind. Even some starlings at the suet.
Muir took off into the teeth of the storm , heading to Marquette for classwork that he had to do at the hospital there. He took his old 4 WD Toyota truck. He's staying at Fillmore's house for the 2 day trip.

At least for at least a little while I'll be skiing. Lynn is happily working as manager of the floral dept. at Econo Foods which is a relatively short drive from here, pays well and she really enjoys the work.

April 12---- Still mist snowing and gray mono chrome skies and world. No big wind gusts. Great for skiing!

Ski Mornings

2008-04-03T13:17:00.000-04:00

Morning is the prime time around here because of the freeze that occurs at night. If you linger abed or don't allow time before your day job, you will inevitably lose the frozen snow to the warmth of the day.
For myself, after I get back from a guiding journey, I need a number of days to recover from both trip and travel. As I've gotten older the time needed for recovery hasn't decreased. So it took me a few days after arriving back home from the Arrowhead of MN to get back into a healthy exercise regimen.
Good exercise at this season means skiing; either early morning Keweenaw crust through the bush, or the very controlled exercise of skate skiing at the world class, groomed MTU trails that are less than a mile from my house.
Today is supposed to go to 40 degrees Fahrenheit, so with the sun beating down, one must get in a ski while the temperatures keep the snow hard. So, for a few mornings now I've got in my ski by at least mid-morning. The MTU trails are freshly groomed and appealing in their wide lanes through the mixed hardwood and conifer forest. The trails wend through hills and forest, pass within sight, at this leafless season, of roads and a few buildings. I park at the Pilgrim Rd. lot, which is close to my house and usually nearly vacant, but the main lot is always with cars and local skiers coming and going. Though I am a solitary skier by temperament, I do enjoy seeing a few skiers on the trails who are invariably happy to be out. On the occasion that I see someone who I know, it is nice to stop our sliding and talk for a minute or two.
As the morning rolls on I begin to notice areas of the trail that have direct sunlight becoming slushy and slow - a sign that signals the time to head home for chores and correspondence.
Some of my thoughts as the ski season wanes begin to turn to the waterways that are beginning to open and show signs of the migrating spring weather, though as Dan at Downwind Sports said the other day, "Some are saying that this year we may be out skiing on the trails into May."
I don't think there is better exercise for my back than skiing every day. I'll reluctantly give it up soon as the trails and ground turns bare.

A typically wide piece of trail at MTU. The university invested into what were simple and unimproved narrow woods trails to turn them over the last 5 years into a world-class Nordic ski facility.

A freshly groomed trail for skate skiing on. My skis were the first to be on this trail the other morning. Like skiing in a park, which I guess the trail system is. Jeff Parker and an old acquaintance from Eagle, Alaska, Jim Meese, do the grooming of the trails.

At the trail head parking lot on the MTU Campus. The waxing room and other team rooms are to the right. The skiers, and later, mountain bikers enter the trail system from here.

A chery wood paddle blank that I cut out recently is being planed thin on our back deck. I cut out an ash blank as well, both of which I hope will see use later this spring on the water.

April 1, 2008 After the Spring Snowstorm

2008-04-01T19:15:00.000-04:00

STEPPING OFF THE TRAIL

Lynn coming back from the first clothes line hanging of laundry for the new year. Though the snow in the morning has the frozen boiler plate "Keweenaw Crust" that makes such good go-anywhere skiing, when it is thawing out the settled snow-slush will give way, sometimes even on the compacted trail.

April 1, 2008 Snowstorm

2008-04-01T17:44:00.000-04:00

April Fools Day in the Keweenaw, after a spring snowstorm. The Upper Peninsula below us got the bulk of the snow. We got just 4 inches of wet, heavy fluff and a lot of wind to blow it around.
The picture above shows not just the paltry 4 inches of new snow, but also the last half of this winter's compacted-to-ice snow that has been slipping off the garage roof the last few days, and will lay in ice slabbed glory, to melt where it falls. The temperature today was a sunny 34 degrees with a prediction of 40 for tomorrow.

On the late afternoon of the last day of March (yesterday), as meteorologists predicted, the snow started to fall fast, adding to the thick, compacted snow that has been slowly, intermittently melting.
This is a winter that I feel relief experiencing - the first old-fashioned or "regular" winter in a decade - a winter that has held off from having regular thaws and instead has been cold and with ample snow that came early and is leaving late. Since my childhood I have felt a regular disappointment that our climate was warming when compared to what grandparents, parents and elders told me about their winters at the beginning of the 20th century. Now, with the irrefutable evidence of climate change shown in the news and in our environment, having a winter with regular cold and snow (both of which were lacking in the subarctic Alaskan interior for much of this winter) was a real relief. To the wimpy malcontents that I've listened to in the Keweenaw and Ely, MN regions, whining about the winter, " Please go south to the doldrums of heat and humidity. If you don't like winter, don't live here!"

Last night the wind started to blow gusts of 39 mph when I went to bed. Before I got into bed I remembered that I had left the extension ladder up against the chimney so moved it off the chimney before the wind blew it off.
In the morning the wind had diminished and the gray, stormy skies began to show sun by late morning. Lynn and I decided to bring the dogs and go skiing on the MTU trails up the road. Our no wax skis needed glide wax to keep the skis from slowing to a stop with clumping snow. The trail we followed was freshly groomed and it was a leisurely time for us as well as the dogs.

I cut out 2 canoe paddle blanks yesterday - one a cherry wood, the other an ash. I really like the deck for working on them during the spring, with its south facing orientation and its view of bird feeders, field fringed by woods and little creek valley. Lynn shoveled it this afternoon and it looks like it is ready for paddle carving and relaxing again.

Jeff Hull's "Streams of Consciousness" and the loss of species

2008-03-01T10:10:00.000-05:00

As I sit here this morning by the fire, after reading a few stories in Jeff Hull's Streams of Consciousness, I think about Hull's stream fishing in North and South America. He writes of the grayling fishing in Montana and always in "Chasing Grayling" there is a sense of loss -- of the Grayling fish, of parts of the stream ecosystem to human development, of the loss of Hull's spiritually sensitive experience on the Big Hole River. Hull watched a young fisherman catch and injure the same fish that Hull had carefully caught and released earlier that day. Hull's sorrow and rage at the "progress" wrought by man that means a loss of whole wild nature runs like an undertow through the sea of his beautifully written descriptions of waters that he has fished.
In "Knots" Hull uses the metaphor of fishing knots to look at, among other things, the knots that people's desire end up making in trying to possess wild nature - trophy homes, loss of wildlife habitat, pollution of air, water and sight - not a rant by the author but a measured plaint to what is loss for everything living.
In "Estancia del Zorro" a University writing project about the impact of free trade on a fully capitalist Chile leads to a Patagonian fishing trip. Amidst rapidly rising extractive industries, unburdened by environmental regulations, Hull fishes on a guided trout fishing excursion in the relatively under-fished Patagonian streams. Here, his guide Rodrigo dreams of going to flight school to learn to fly helicopters so he can guide fishermen to waters that are unfished by anyone, an example of modern man's drive to "progress" beyond where other men have been, to make a mark for oneself in a new way.
Though I have focused on just one current in the stream of Jeff Hull's writing, to the exclusion of his Hemingway-like description of sporting people, dogs, waters and woods, what I came away from was the bittersweet sense of Hull's and my loss - of our youth, of innocence, of part of our birthright to land and water that is healthy, where man is not the dominant species. Yes, the wild is still out there, but it is mostly just background to man's dominance and "progress".

SKI and DOGSLED 2008

2008-01-12T15:34:00.000-05:00

Here we are at the height of winter and I'm too busy with guiding, travel between MN and MI, spending limited family time to really sit down and concentrate on making blog entries. My back seems to be holding on to mobility in spite of its deteriorated L-5 disc and I'm classic skiing on dog team trips (due to quite a bit of snow in Minnesota's Arrowhead region and skate skiing back home on the Michigan Tech trails. Both seem good for my back.

The lodge-to-lodge sleds that I am standing by are evolved by Paul Schurke to a pretty ideal form for 2 guests to mush together on, pulled by 5 Inuit dogs. Made of steel, plastic and aluminum, they stand up to more abuse than any other more traditional toboggan dogsled .

Picture by Lynn as we start out on a classic ski on the Maasto Hiito ski trails. On this winter of big snow and high wind, the oak tree is still holding on to some of its leaves that were rattling in the breeze that day.

On the County Road #6, between Finland and Little Marais, on my way over in January to visit Kate at Grand Marais, MN. An above freezing snow in December left much of the forest cloaked in a heavy layer of snow that bent down alder, birch and willow branches and led to hard mushing. A willow branch whipped in my eye on New Years eve caused a cornea surface tear. Though small, it was painful for days.

Daughter Kate and her friend Nathaniel at the gorge and falls on the Devil's Track River, just a walk from Kate's cabin outside Grand Marais, MN. Kate was about to get back her car after an alarm by shorted wiring disabled it while she was home in Houghton for Christmas. Lynn was driving the repaired car over to Kate and I was over for a visit after guiding, before taking Lynn back to Houghton.

Xmas Bird Count 2007

2007-12-16T11:46:00.000-05:00

December has been a snowy month and the temperature has stayed below freezing the whole half month. Perhaps that accounts for the poor birding that was had by all in the area... as well as the snow and wind that was prevalent on the Sunday the 16th of the count. There were a lot of the regular chickadee, nuthatch and woodpecker occupants at the feeding station but when Muir and i went down to the Pilgrim river in the snowstorm, we only saw a lone bald eagle and a couple of chickadees. The eagle was flying with regular wing beats along the Pilgrim River course and was then gone. Nothing else was moving as we snowshoed a round-about course through gullies and woods. Noticed that Aholas have added a new plywood enclosed deer stand to their farm complete with a Cabela's timed feeder that meters out a bit of corn each day as bait. I wondered if the fat spike buck that I've seen eating apples by the garden goes there to feed.
After our snowshoe cruise Lynn, Muir and I drove over to Nara Nature Trails and snowshoed down the boardwalks and across the ice a couple of times and out to Princess point and around the sewage plant and then back to the car without seeing anything living nor even tracks... except at Pilgrim Terrace there was a man and his dog out for a walk.

Lynn bundled against the elements at the entrance to the nara Trails boardwalk that goes down along the Pilgrim River and sloughs at it's outlet into Portage Lake.

Lynn, Don and Dixie out at Princess Point. Dixie gamely accompanied us on the whole jaunt with a badly split toe nail for her efforts. Her arthritis seems to be better this year and she has put on a bit more weight to help insulate her from the cold. Her favorite spot this time of year is by the wood heater.

Muir, talking to his girlfriend with his cell phone; on the trail of the elusive rare bird, that have become more common (witness the Northern Cardinals that we were too far north for until recently) in these days of global warming.

New Boots

2007-12-04T23:52:00.000-05:00

Bought me a pair of cowhide boots, to be prepared for winter walks. The shoemaker praised them because they were made a year ago. I feel like an armed man now. The man who has bought his boots feels like him who has got in his winter’s wood. There they stand beside me in the chamber, expectant, dreaming of far woods and wood-paths, of frost-bound or slushy roads, of being bound with skate-traps and clogged with ice-dust. H.D. Thoreau, Journal, Dec.3, 1856

I also got a new pair of boots - mukluks to fit the environment that I like to be in. Though not indigenous to the north woods hereabout, with their rubber soles they do quite nicely on those days when the temperature rises to thaw. .I have always felt good in a pair of soft soled boots in the winter time. I got my dad's Maine hunting shoes, a soft soled rubber bottom leather topped boot when I was in junior high school, that I would wear in the woods and on my paper route that I walked in the winter. They were (and still are) made in Maine by LL Bean and are very serviceable for wet fall conditions and in winter, if it isn't too cold.
When I went to Alaska I started wearing Nunamiut - made kamiks, made of caribou hide, with the fur turned in (caribou bull neck hide) for the sole and the upper portion of the boot from the caribou leg with the fur turned out. Light and very warm; not to be used above zero Fahrenheit or else the moisture woild degrade the skin and it would rip. Many spinoffs to the Inuit "mukluk" have been devised, also native tanned moccasins - all originals and later models are light and warm due to their flexibility. Denny Akeya, a St Lawrence Island Siberian Yupic told me that he quit being able to wear their sealskin mukluks, though he wished that he could, because as he became an adult, his weight on his feet didn't give him enough support with mukluks. Fortunately I never had that problem.
Lynn would make smoke tanned moose hide bottom and unbleached canvas top mukluks and moccasins when we lived in Eagle. They looked a bit like the Steger mukluks that are in the picture. I bought this pair last year in the Steger Store in Ely, during a sale that they were having. The advantage with these mukluks is that they have commercially tanned moose hide that , though less porous and insulating than smoke tanned, is more durable and the rubber bottoms are grippy and not affected by wet conditions. With a wool felt liner, they are warm, flexible (which keeps the foot warm and comfortably circulating) and with good traction.
A friend of mine who I guided dog team trips with, Scott N. once, in a late season trip, got his Steger mukluks thoroughly soaked for 3 days in rain. The mukluks were none the worse for wear and his feet did O K too. By the end of that trip we were mushing on bare ground!

I still have my old Steger's that I got while I was living in Eagle. Though worn, they are still serviceable. They have a shorter canvas top which is handy and serviceable.I have to keep sole saver coating, a rubber cement-like substance brushed on them after letting a dog sled trip client with cold feet use them one below zero morning. I told her to keep them away from the camp fire, but she forgot and melted the rubber bottom and ever after they have been sticky unless the sole saver is applied to them. I got Lynn a pair like my old ones for winter treks and camps. Much warmer, lighter and less "clunky than Sorel pak boots.

Each year, since i lived in Anaktuvuk Pass, I feel much like Thoreau when it is time to get out the winter moccasins or mukluks. That sense of excitement to be wearing true boots of the north, Native designed and adapted for the northland.
I now have a pair of 3 season "wrap-around top" moccasins from Steger Co. that I've used for snowshoe use as well as using when the conditions are dry. On my feet the soft soles feel right.

Beside the Steger "Expedition" mukluks is one of my ski boots that are seeing a lot of use with the beautiful snows that we are now having.

Thanksgiving 2007 and Beyond

2007-12-04T23:11:00.000-05:00

Some are saying that it has been 10 years since we've had the start of a winter like we're having. In my northern perspective, I couldn't be more delighted.

Thanksgiving was a long distance car trip over to Grand Marais, MN to spend it with Kate and Matt at Kate's cabin out by the shores of Lake Superior, a couple of miles from the village of Grand Marais. Lynn and I took off out of Houghton early on Thanksgiving day, bringing the cooked turkey and many of the fixings. We arrived in the early afternoon with Kate and Matt waiting for us. Matt was looking very urban in his wool and cashmere pea jacket, just arrived from Minneapolis. We were, beyond dinner bringing Kate a convection oven and our futon so that she would have a couch and bed for other guests who may visit her. Her little cabin was cozy for the dinner with the 3 of us and her boyfriend Nathaniel, who came for dinner in spite of having a bad cold.
The next day Muir called from Duluth and said that he was coming up to Grand Marais to visit with his girlfriend Katelyn and go hiking on the North Country Trail. We had a nice visit and evening with all of us together. In the early afternoon Muir and Katelyn left and went to a section of the trail for camping and hiking. We had a fun time getting to know Kate's village a bit better and having a fun time doing a bit of shopping (something I ordinarily dislike) with a purchase of a sale dutch oven and a couple of books. Ordered out pizzas from "Sven and Ole's " and made trout chowder.
We drove Matt in to Duluth for his bus ride back to U of M in the Twin Cities. Walked the trails at Gooseberry Falls on the way. We also went up to the Miller Hill mall to buy him some needed clothes at special discounted holiday prices... ain't consumerism wonderful?
We had left our dog Gabe back in Houghton in a cold kennel that a friend had. He is much more capable of living outdoors than Dixie, Muir's short haired Staffordshire terrier. Dixie couldn't really be left in an unheated place and in order to put them in a commercial kennel, dogs need to have a kennel cough shot, which Dixie doesn't have. So she came along with us.She actually did very well on the trip.
It was great to see Kate's living and work environment, to have Thanksgiving in her little cabin and with all 5 of us together it was very special.

Within a couple of days of getting back to the U P we started to get snow and that has been the story now for weeks! As a skier friend of mine said recently: "This winter is like they all used to be."

Lynn, Kate and Dixie along Lake Superior. We were out for a walk after a Thanksgiving feast.

Matt, Muir and Kate at Kate's cabin above Lake Superior, about 3 miles out of Grand Marais, Minnesota. Thanksgiving, 2007.

Wild Apples

2007-11-15T21:27:00.000-05:00

"The era of wild apples will soon be over. I wander through old orchards of great extent, now all gone to decay, all of native fruit which for the most part went to the cider-mill. But since the temperance reform and the general introduction of grafted fruit, no wild apples, such as I see everywhere in deserted pastures, and where the woods have grown up among them, are set out. I fear that he who walks over these hills a century hence will not know the pleasure of knocking off wild apples. Ah, poor man! there are many pleasures which he will be debarred from. "
H.D. Thoreau, Journal Nov. 16, 1850

The era of wild apples is still going strong here in the UP of Michigan. There are by far more wild apples than cultivated in our area. A favorite pastime for us is to sample the apples from the once-cultivated trees as well as the innumerable volunteer apple trees hereabout
Favored fall activities are gathering bushels of the choice hand picked fruit for apple sauce, cider and pies.
Early summer apples, spicy and some bitter like crab apples. Gnarled, twisted, contorted trees producing sweet fruit. Some hard and bitter fruit mellowing and becoming juicy and sweet given frost and aging. A whole world of heritage apples in the woods, hedgerows and lanes of the Upper Peninsula...

The large electric powered apple press
that produces 5 gallons of juice each time it squeezes

Fields of November

2007-11-12T21:16:00.000-05:00

The title "Fields Of November" is taken from a Norman Blake song and album of that title. My old FM disc jockey and music aficionado friend Michael Curtis sent me the album on cassette tape when I was living at Anaktuvuk Pass in 1976. Michael could never have realized how much those carefully boxed up tapes meant to me during the long and cold winters there in that high arctic mountain pass, where the sun went down, not to return for months. I would come back from teaching the Nunamiut students, feed my dogs by headlamp light and then go into my little cabin and cook dinner while listening to the tunes from another world.
I remember going for a walk,as Principal of the new school on St. Lawrence Island, looking at the lowland tundra with a wind blown striation of snow crust with Blake's song going around in my head. That tundra landscape would begin to look like a Midwestern landscape, especially if I scrunched up my eyes as I walked. Music can be magic!

Lynn and our eldest son's dog, Dixie in our upper field, out for a walk to try some of the late apples still on trees in the hedge rows and woods. This was a superlative year for apples at our place, in spite of the drought. Apples this year were extra sweet and made cider so sweet that we would dilute it with water.

The vegetable garden on the field near our house has been through many transitions over the years. One of the first garden acts that Lynn tried was the Ruth Stout Method to prepare the spot for a garden. In this method Lynn, with help from the whole family, lay down newspapers over the thick field grass, after first cutting the grass to stubble. Over the newspaper she lay grass and many broken bales of hay and straw. The layers were all wet down and then we took off for Alaska for the winter. When we returned in the spring the garden plot layers were composted down and filled with earth worms. The thick turf was composted down and easily worked and ready to plant without having to spade up the whole area in preparation for planting. I was amazed upon looking at the newspaper and straw mulch in the spring to see how the earth worms, moisture and warm soil had composted down to soil over the winter. I have since learned that the deep snow pack insulates the ground so that it hardly freezes where it is not disturbed so it is actively decomposing through most of the winter.
Having a garden in south central and then the interior of Alaska had made Lynn prefer raised beds for gardening. The raised beds had helped to get the seed beds up off the cold soil for better growing conditions. Lynn has continued down here to prefer raised beds, though permafrost is non-existent. Lynn mulches the walkways between the raised beds to control weeds and heavy mulch around all the plantings keeps down grass and weeds as well as retains moisture.
The deer, hare and other animals made gardening a bit of an extra challenge but the electric fence that we put up this year made it easier to not end up with the garden nibbled down by deer at night. The little solar powered box and battery seemed to keep them out for once!
Muir and his girlfriend Katelyn want to help plant an expansion on the garden so the area of the picture outside the fence is the expansion. It should be all ready by the spring time.

Our wood yard, where a lot of my time is put in during autumn. I am working on next winter's heating wood with a lot of help from Muir. The jumble of wood in the foreground is yellow birch and maple that Muir has taken while out grouse hunting with his friend Kyle. He cuts it off of logging sites, loads it in his truck and brings it home where I wheel barrow and dump it, making a long continuous pile that is then split with wedges, sledge hammer and maul; stacked and covered with long and narrow tarps. As Thoreau said,"Wood warms you twice, once when you cut it and a second time when you burn it." I would say that there is a lot more warming than twice with all the cutting, moving, splitting and stacking.

Fires of November

2007-11-08T10:02:00.000-05:00

The fires of November, as viewed in our woodstove here, are often burning too hot for the variable weather conditions or else are smoldering and smoking to add just a bit of heat to the house as the thermometer hovers just above freezing.

The snow sifted down a bit last night as the temperature remains below freezing. The weatherperson claims that the weather will warm and then the snow will melt and autumn will continue...
I hear that up on the Upper Yukon that winter has been holding sway for quite some weeks now. I remember with fondness being out on the snow with dog team by this time every year and safely mushing on the River during Thanksgiving. Somehow the winter that we moved down here in the Keweenaw to is not quite as enjoyable or prolonged enough to suit me.

Heading over to Marquette and up from there to Big Bay for a retreat with Earthkeepers this afternoon. Earthkeepers appears to be morphing into a different organization with the disappearance of one of the real fund gathering organizations from the group.
The northern Shrike has made at least one appearance in the side yard each day. I haven't seen it take a bird or mouse yet in this probably fruitful area of brushy fields and gullies with small streams and mixed woods hunting ground. A large male hairy woodpecker is lording over a female hairy and other downy woodpeckers, trying to keep both suet feeders to himself. This requires him to fly from tree to tree over and over.

In the Nov.5 issue of the New Yorker there is a quite excellent article article by Raffi Khatchadourian entitled "Neptune's Navy", Paul Watson's wild crusade to save the oceans. Paul Watson has been an enigma in the conservation movement with his firebrand mode of operation in trying to save marine mammals from man's predation. Katchadourian answered many of the questions that I have had about Watson and gave me a great deal of background on this highly gifted activist and author.
Sea Shepherd, Watson's organization always rides the far edge of legality on the high seas with their blockade tactics and sometimes out-and-out destroying of opponent's ships violating the International Whaling Commission's moratorium on taking endangered whales. Sea Shepherd's crusade against bottom trawling and man's destruction of the ocean ecosystems is raising awareness though corporate and governmental shills are dead-set against him. Yes, he is a modern day pirate and no he hasn't killed anyone in his crusade. Totally in the tradition of Ed Abbey.

First Lake Effect Snow

2007-11-06T18:39:00.000-05:00

A look out from our front door stairs this morning at the blanket of snow. The garden cart had been used to haul cord wood to the rack on the front porch and not put away the day before.

Snowed-in Yellow Mums ...

A horse chestnut tree, still not having lost all of its chlorophyl, caught by the snow. This tree, somewhat uncommon to my knowledge, is on the slope at the back of our house, nestled in among apple, willow and spruce trees. It's nuts are a favorite of squirrels.

Today we awoke late after a night of gusting winds and driving snow. A white world in gray scale background led me out of doors to shovel, take a few pictures and finish burying the new copper propane line. My oldest son Muir had split up a big pile of maple wood that was waiting to be stacked for next year, but it could wait a day more for stacking. Too much to see and do around the house.
The bird feeding station was filled with hungry birds and for the 3rd day a Northern Shrike came around, flying in and scattering the chickadees and nuthatches in panic. I haven't seen the "butcher bird" make a kill, though I did see him face down and cause a blue jay to leave his perch. The shrike was an especially austere sight today with the snow as background.

"It was Better Then"

2007-10-31T23:21:00.001-04:00

I was paging through the October Smithsonian Magazine and came upon a black and white snapshot and accompanying essay, "Salad Days" by Gore Vidal. The photo was by Karl Bissinger, taken in 1949 in a Manhattan cafe garden of five up-and-coming young artists: a ballerina, two novelists, a painter and a playwright. Besides giving background on each of the five, Vidal explicates photographer Bissinger's genius at depicting America's cultural arts rise when we weren't at war for a few years after WWII. The urban literati as photographed in 1949 "perfectly evokes an optimistic time in our history that we are not apt to see again soon."

It seems as though each generation has a time of young optimism that, when they look back at that time and tell the next generation "My generation's time was golden, times will never shine quite as brightly again."

Soon after I finished college and moved to Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska to teach, I was hosting in my little rental log cabin, a crafts buyer from Anchorage. He who was in the village to purchase the handcrafted Anaktuvuk masks to take back to Anchorage to sell. The middle aged man was talking about Alaska, pre-statehood and was lamenting that those wilder frontier-like days were gone for good. As he talked on I had the thought, which I kept to myself, that he was actually grieving the loss of his youth more than the disappearance of the frontier. For me, the Great Land of Alaska was wilderness frontier. In my youth it was all new to me and I was just starting to make my way in creating a life and identity there. Though I listened to this craft buyer and learned a bit about life from a generation before me, I didn't grieve over what was lost from before.
Now, as I look at the future I see an increasingly dismal picture: a middle class that is diminished, a planet that is growing increasingly polluted and crowded, and changes that are bleak. Life looked better to me in the past. Then I look at my children and many other young people who are starting out in young adulthood, I see that spark of fire in their eye and optimistic energy that recalls that time when I was young and only looking forward to life's challenges; and not having any of an older Alaskan generation's swan-song about "the (better) good 'ol days."

Fall Flowers

2007-10-30T10:39:00.000-04:00

I was a bit disappointed by the washed out colors of these flowers, which may be from using a flash...

Pink Turtle Head

Winter Hardy Yellow Mums

Maroon Winter Hardy Mums with Wormwood to the right and leaves of High Bush Cranberry in upper left

Busy Weekend

2007-10-28T22:27:00.000-04:00

I have been busy splitting up maple and apple wood for next winter's heating wood. On Saturday I helped prep lunch for the retreat that Lynn was at. Randy Little told me about the pellet stove that he bought and had installed in his house. He says that he is well satisfied with it and plans to save a lot of money on his heating bill. It sounds like a trouble-free way to go. I would wait for a pellet furnace to be developed with an extra big hopper and the blower power to hook it up to the existing duct work in our house.
My back is sore tonight. I bucked up some downed apple trees on a side slope. The wood is nice and maroon colored, dense and will be prime for heating next year.
I must get some pictures of some of the flowers that Lynn has still blooming in her flower gardens around the house and post them here.
A little snow on Friday; just a trace.

Last Color of Autumn

2007-10-24T15:29:00.001-04:00

The day dawned with sleet that turned to snow for a short time. I always feel excitement about the snow, especially when it first arrives. So the excitement was brief as the snow melted as soon as it hit the firmament. Snow in the far north always meant another mode of transportation on the ground; the chance to ski and snowshoe as well as use the dog team and snow machine. When living elementally some things are easier with snow. Many areas of muskeg and tundra are almost inaccessible in the summer when the wet, unstable ground and bugs are taken into consideration. Much easier to have snow fill in the sedges and uneven ground and there are no bugs to contend with. Mukluks and light, warm parkas make winter time travel with snowshoe or ski a delight.
But we're still not there yet in the Copper Country. Still a lot of autumn to meander through before the snows get deep around here!

The wind has stripped most of the leaves from the trees, but as this picture shows, the cherry trees still have a bit of orange foliage and the burning bush is in full color. The tall aspen are mostly stripped of leaves, though a few still rattle in the wind. The sun is nearly cutting through the mist and clouds. The weather report is for some sun this afternoon, though Lake Superior often makes weather reports more uncertain predictions.

LIVING THE BASICS ON THE UPPER YUKON

2007-10-23T09:22:00.000-04:00

When my wife Lynn and I moved from Homer in south central Alaska to Eagle on the Upper Yukon to teach. We rented a little frame cabin for our first winter.The cabin was on the edge of town, had a great place for keeping the dog team and an old house trailer for storage. Secure storage for food and other supplies is a necessity in the north, in remote areas where you don't have store access to supplies. Eagle had a couple of stores where canned goods and the basics could be got... for a price, but we enjoyed home made food instead of the fare usually offered in small stores in the bush.
The rental cabin had a small oil heater in it but we were into heating with wood. My father had crated and sent up, as a Christmas present, an Ashley wood burning stove two years before. Lynn and I were then living together and beginning a life together at a rented log cabin 20 miles out of Fairbanks on Chena Hot Springs Road while she finished up getting a teaching certificate.
The cabin at Eagle that we were renting didn't have electricity so the electric blower on the Ashley stove was of no use to us. Not bad, we were thinking.. We wanted to sharpen life down to the essentials, live elementally without most of the conveniences that were always taken for granted in our childhoods. Eagle was the kind of place that is a walkable community and many people didn't own automobiles. We had an old pickup truck and a decrepit Volkswagen Beetle. When the snow came that year, both vehicles were parked for the winter, covered deeply in snow as the winter progressed. We had freighted in staple foods for ourselves and dog food for the dozen huskies that I had been raising , training and transporting from place to place since I started dog mushing in Anaktuvuk Pass. I still had my chainsaw from my days of heating and cooking with wood in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I hadn't had electricity even then and still had a couple kerosene lamps that would be of use in Eagle. Now I was back into the type of life that I had enjoyed then, except now I was married and sharing this life with a woman who was as excited as me about living the almost- pioneer life.We were both looking forward to the dog team getting regular use for transportation as well as hauling water and wood.
The Eagle City Well House, built in the end of the 19th century, was still in use by most of the town. Water was still pumped by the wind mill into the large redwood tank up above the hand dug well.Most people didn't have indoor plumbing and used outhouses.
My parents came up to Alaska for a visit and my father helped us move our belongings to the rental cabin. My parents were enchanted with Eagle, though my mother was not too keen on living like a pioneer. When we moved in and started school teaching we were very busy but life was full and fun. Cutting wood on Signal Tower Hill on the weekend, shooting grouse, and setting up housekeeping kept us busy. Meeting all kinds of characters in the town and out on the country, fitting into the school scene in Eagle and running the dogs out to the school, three miles from the town, this was the rhythm of our lives. The river people, young live-off-the-landers were in their heyday then. Dick Cook, Charlie Edwards, Monty Warner and a host of others were all visiting Eagle to pick up their mail and supplies before going out to their cabins and trap lines for the winter. Charlie Edwards became a good friend to me in the first year. He came around bearing gifts of salmon and then in the early winter he and I mushed out into the Seventy Mile River country, my first time traversing the trails up Boulder Creek.
By the time the spring was coming we had decided to get some land and stay in Eagle. With Dale Richert's help we found a couple of city lots for sale on the buffer zone at the edge of town. The lots were on the side hill with no access except a trace up along the city line. We would have a decent cabin site , place for a garden and the dogs could reside just over the property line in the buffer zone. I ordered a tent from Alaska Tent and Tarp, we put it on Charlie Edwards' lots in town while there was still a couple feet of snow on the ground. We had moved out of our rental cabin because, after all, we could buy the wall tent with a month's rent saved and we also wanted to live in the tent in the spring. Lynn had gotten together a high school trip to Britain, on an airline special where we could fly into London for less than a flight to Seattle. We left the tent for a 3 week period for the trip. When we came back the snow was gone and we were putting any spare moments into prepping the site for a garden and figuring out our cabin. The wall tent was a cozy abode for us with its little Yukon stove and a pole bed. The multitude of warblers and nesting robins made the woods alive with morning cheer.
We got 8 foot 2-sided cabin logs and vertical studs ordered from Mike Potts, a local trapper, homesteader and logger. We took a promising art student from Eagle Village, Howard David, with us down to Homer for a few weeks where he got instruction from a local artist, Gary Lyons. I brought Howard back to the Eagle Village, leaving Lynn in Homer for a few weeks longer while I started work on the cabin.
I was amazed that my sweet mate's garden that she had planted before we left for Homer was not only sprouted but was flourishing with no human care. Getting the logs and materials to the cabin site was accomplished with the help of John Borg, who had a large wagon and bulldozer. John also pushed out a level pad, as our plan was for a cabin that was earth bermed on 3 sides to better insulate from the cold. It tended to rain every afternoon and this watered the garden but also made building in the woods a wet misery filled with mosquitoes.
Gary Lyons had given us a log building book that had a chapter about piece en piece log building, a French Canadian method. With the materials at hand, this became our building method of choice. The building went forward. We moved in with the snow flying, still putting in windows and a door.
We had a small cast iron Vermont Castings Resolute wood stove and a wood cook stove that was in a warehouse of the Eagle Commercial Co. Lynn went into Fairbanks for building materials with the truck and surprised me by bringing back a hardwood freight racing sled that would be capacious for everything: laundry, water, wood and our first child. Lynn was pregnant! We moved up the dogs and tent and settled in for the winter. One acquaintance, Steve Nelson, said that he heard me that first winter, cutting wood with the chainsaw at night to heat the cabin. The little wood stove often had to run cherry red to heat our place in the far below zero weather. The manufacturer must have figured heated square footage based on a well insulated house in a temperate climate, not the sub Arctic. With both the wood heat and cook stoves going the cabin was extra toasty. Lynn was on a different schedule at the school. She was half-time so came back and would get the stoves going and heat the cabin as well as get food and dog food on before I got back in the late afternoon. I made a little plank komatik for her so she could mush out to the school with 3 dogs pulling her. She could sit on the low basket and be comfortable and safe. As she got larger she was concerned that she might fall off a basket sled while standing up.
As far as being out on the land in winter, both of us were well used to temperatures of 60 below and Lynn was a good seamstress of mukluks, moccasins and parkas. I had my arctic gear from living with the Inuit above the Arctic Circle.
In later years we added a porch and then a log arctic entryway on the porch to our little cabin. The wall tent gradually rotted away from the bottom up and was discarded in favor of a large two story shop. A log sauna was put in just a couple of steps below the cabin and our three kids that came along soon after the cabin was built were all used to taking their bath in the sauna. We lived in our cabin for seven years and then moved into our large log home, but that is another story.

Here is our south side of the earth bermed cabin with the earth bermed up 4 feet. You can see the vertical studs on the corner and at 8 feet in the middle of the wall. The studs had a spline that the horizontal logs could slide on as the logs will shrink and expand a bit based on temperature and humidity, so the ability for them to slide upon the spline will allow them to stay tight against each other so that air will not infiltrate between each log. We put in the gambrel or barn roof so that the upstairs would have a short pony wall and thereby have a full upstairs - important in a 16 x 16 foot cabin with, eventually, 2 adults and 2 children were living and sleeping there! The oil barrel at the corner of the cabin was a new convenience by the people who bought our cabin from us. After we moved out of the cabin we had electricity put in when it was available so that renters could have this convenience.

This is the view from the dog yard of the cabin and sauna. The people who bought the cabin added the little room on the left end of the porch for their computer room and put on the ugly steel door on the outside arctic entryway. They also quit using the sauna for what it was built for; now it is a storage cache, complete with blue tarp on the roof. I don't know what became of the green steel that used to be on the roof. The spruce trees that sheltered the sauna are log gone.

The walls of the sauna were saddle notched and long-log-scribed for tightness. Many a relaxing evening were enjoyed in our sauna. The kids knew only the sauna as their bathing apparatus. Sometimes they would get too hot in their wash tub so we would step out onto the little porch with overhanging snow covered spruce branches and shake a branch, sending a frigid dusting of powder onto our steaming bodies! Then we would rush back into the sauna to get warm again.

Oct. 21: Cliff Drive Climb

2007-10-22T19:45:00.000-04:00

Our seemingly constant rain pattern was broken briefly this weekend with partly sunny weather, but rain was always a threat, at least in my mind. Muir helped on Saturday with the chimney liner and this made all the difference in getting it put in. Then he went out on his motorcycle to Cliff Drive up in Keweenaw County to camp with a couple of his friends, Travis and Jay. I hooked up the new wood stove and set the first break-in fire.

Lynn and I went up to Cliff Drive on Sunday morning and found Muir's camp at a place that climbers frequent, the Ice Falls. The day was crisp and clear with the yellows and oranges of aspen and tamarack trees brightening up the landscape. The climbers' camp site was on the top of the cliffs, directly on the basalt rock shelf. The wind was blowing faily strong up on top of the 300 foot cliffs and Muir's sleeping bag had blown off onto the ledge that we were going to rappel down to. Travis set the top rope and then I went down with Muir's self-fashioned swiss climbing harness of a piece of webbing. Then Lynn went with a bit of squealing in fear. But the view was wonderful with the sun on the autumn woods after the climb up.

Lynn at the start of our hike at the base of the Cliffs and then up to the top. She plans to have surgery on her right knee next month. She was frustrated on our Cliff foray to not have full mobility.

Muir setting carabiners in the already drilled bolts on a pretty tough rock climbing route. Travis went after him but ended up slipping and falling about 14 feet between safety points. He reacted quickly and so no harm done!

October 18 over 151 Years

2007-10-18T09:48:00.000-04:00

Thursday, October 18, 2001
Another rainy day, complemented by driving wind.The tree leaves are being stripped and flung afar! Hopefully the strong wind bodes well for a weather change later, with rain diminishing. A good day, at present, to sit close to home - inside.
Below is an October 18, 1856 journal entry by Henry David Thoreau that strikes a deep chord of sympathy from me, a kindred feeling across the ages. It is of man's usual absorption of interest in man alone. The theme of life is upon man's back; not the theme of life being all of life, but how an aspect of life relates only to men.
The majority of society can consider a movie star or sports figure noteworthy of their full attention and yet the natural world, which sustains our life, is only noted when it relates to man. People will all slaver after the newest consumer device, be it an "i-device", automobile or a new garment while a simple life is is not even considered as relevant. A materialistic existence with posh comfort and insulation from the natural environment, from which we are derived, leaves us self-centered. Our government at this late date begins to acknowledge the global destruction wrought by climate change and the sure effect of spewing carbon dioxide from petroleum into the atmosphere. We are all accessories to the rampant industrial materialism that is spreading on this planet. I don't see an end in sight other than the planet continuing to degrade. Only through a lifestyle change, by all or at least most, will we stave off the worst of global climate change. The carbon loading is like a massive train that is gathering speed and is soon to be runaway. A fundamentalist Christian that I know, Mike, believes that Al Gore and others of his ilk are all tools of Satan, who are diverting people away from being saved by Christ who will come again and establish a perfect world anyway. So those in the Gore camp are all just trying to postpone the inevitable end of the world. So let people live like drunken brides and industry burgeon further in this fallen and depraved world...
Mike says that the sailboat that he and his wife plan to sail around the seas, ministering to others will encounter less islands since many have been inundated by flooding from melting ice caps, but he must keep focused on Christ, because this world is just passing anyway...

Be all the above as it may be, below is Thoreau. To him, Nature is "the only real elysium" and "the life is everything." Thanks be to a sane voice in the babble:

"Men commonly exaggerate the theme. Some themes they think are significant and others insignificant. I feel that my life is very homely, my pleasures very cheap. Joy and sorrow, success and failure, grandeur and meanness, and indeed most words in the English language do not mean for me what they do for my neighbors. I see that my neighbors look with compassion on me, that they think it is a mean and unfortunate destiny which makes me to walk in these fields and woods so much and sail on this river alone. But as long as I find here the only real elysium, I cannot hesitate in my choice. My work is writing, and I do not hesitate, though I know that no subject is too trivial for me, tried by ordinary standards; for, ye fools, the theme is nothing, the life is everything. All that interests the reader is the depth and intensity of the life excited. We touch our subject but by a point which has no breadth, but the pyramid of our experience, or our interest in it, rests on us by a broader or narrower base. That is, man is all in all. Nature nothing, but as she draws him out and reflects him. Give me simple, cheap, and homely themes." H.D. Thoreau, 10/18/1856

Sun to More Rain

2007-10-16T09:29:00.000-04:00

Well, we apparently had our day in the sun and today we got up to rain - steady to hard and with no end in sight. After a summer of drought and the big lake continuing to drop, marshes and streams drying up - I should be just plain glad. but my chimney lining and fitting the new Oslo stove into the living room is faltering to near standstill. Gabe, who got into a skunk on Sunday when he and Dixie went "walkabout" is still out in the doghouse until he gets less aromatic. It's frustrating to not be able to continue on with the changes on the chimney. Woe is me in my self-absorbed little world...
I ended up getting out a new chisel and attacking the present 9 inch living room flue outlet; and with the use of a large iron pike I chipped away the 9 inch galvanized thimble. This left my knuckles rough and bloody, but now I have a hole in the hearth wall that is ready for a new thimble of a bit over 6 inches in diameter. The actual flue pipe from the elbow will fit through to the stainless thimble on the chimney liner. Hopefully by the end of the weekend, I'll be able to complete this project, weather being just one determining factor. Getting an insulated 6 inch pipe in the used clay liner is going to be a tight fit. It will be all worth it if I have less creosote build-up and a more efficient and more pleasing wood heat.
The aspens that border our garden and can be seen out of our south windows are turning yellow now. They are tall and catch every breeze and whisper - one of my favorite home place natural sound.
I am going to Marquette with Lynn and her group tomorrow and going to see the Fillmore's again. I have to retrieve my parka and headlamp that I ended up leaving back there on Saturday. I can also get a few supplies at Menard's, return some stuff there. And the rain continues...

Cold Safety

2007-10-13T23:14:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I held a safety course for 4 Chinese students on fall break from University of Michigan. Three young men and a young lady. They wanted to do a full safety course that would qualify them for renting sea kayaks to go to Pictured Rocks and camp for 1 or 2 nights. Carl, the owner of Northern Waters Adventures said that the group claimed to have backpacking sleeping bags and gear and were prepared with synthetic clothing as per Northern Waters orientation literature that had been sent out to Ying, their group leader.
I was up at 4 AM and left home at 5:15 for Munising with a stop at The Pines in Baraga for $2.80 per gallon gas, then a longer stop for breakfast with Tim Fillmore in Marquette. I arrived at 8:45 at Northern Waters quonset warehouse, loftily named "adventure headquarters". The ride over was in darkness with a bit of cold rain and even a little snow for a time. As light returned during the 140 mile trip, there was an occasional glint of sun out of breaks in the dark and fast moving clouds. I enjoyed the start of the day on the road with the color change in its variety. I wasn't looking forward to the cold northwest wind off of cold Lake water, but soon made up my mind to not get wet in Lake Superior water but go to Deer Lake for the on-water portion of the course. Much warmer and more sheltered.
The "leader" of the group, Ying had the greatest understanding of sea kayaking (he'd been on a day trip and had paddled a recreational kayak) as well as seemed best at the English language. Filling out the liability release forms was very "sketchy", as the group was obviously not reading the forms. The 4 neophyte paddlers were very inattentive. There were 2 other female members of the group making three couples. The 2 other girls were not involved in the course but were supposedly along for backpacking and were in town in a separate car. They were supposed to come to the quonset and kind of "be around". The group of 4 were talking on cell phones, among themselves, and there was a general lack of focus on what they were spending a lot of money to learn to do. They had obviously not read or perhaps comprehended the orientation literature, or what Carl had sent them on clothing and there were no backpacks in the car. Only Ying had one synthetic shirt and it took a few minutes to get them to understand why cotton was a bad thing for paddling and camping in around freezing conditions. After going through "weather, wind, waves and water", slowly with many starts and stops for cell phone calls and breaks, they began to realize that 6 to 8 foot waves with winds out of the northwest onto exposed Pictured Rocks meant that they would have to go elsewhere for their trip. Grand Island in sheltered Murray Bay was what I promoted as their destination. After the end of the "beach talk" and after waiting for the 2 girls to show up, we headed out to Deer Lake, caravaning with the trailer and van followed by the 2 small cars.
The lake had a raw wind at about 15 mph down the length of it but much warmer water and no crashing surf like on Superior.
After paddle strokes we headed out with Li, the girl in our group, being very unsure of her stability in the kayak. I worked with her for awhile and then we all started doing paddle stroke exercises and then rudder use. On both strokes and rudder, voice commands in English were inexactly followed: right might be left and reverse may be turn right. But they did get practice. Wet exits and T rescues again fraught by a language barrier, but Ying helped to facilitate by translating my English to Mandarin so they were able to get in their boats.
Li, the last to capsize was nearly hysterical upon surfacing but after getting into the boat ended up wanting later in the progression to also do the paddle float self- rescue. She commented that back in the kayak she was warm, and the water wasn't as cold as the air. The four of them all did the paddle float self rescues in spite of the wind pushing us rapidly to shore. Our group returned to shore jumping out of the kayaks, shivering in the cold wind, when Ying discovered that he didn't have his keys, they were with the 2 girls who had left in their car. So the 4 dripping wet and pre-hypothermic kayakers couldn't get their dry clothes in their locked car. I got the van running with heater blasting and they sat in the van and dripped for 40 minutes until the 2 non-participants got back with their car keys. When we finally got back to the shop Ying said that they had decided to not paddle out for camping but would pick up the boats the next day with just 3 of them doing day trips. One of their party was going to return with the 2 girls to Ann Arbor. So they at least saw that they were in over their heads for camping out in the conditions that fall offers, and that kayaking on Superior was not to be taken lightly.
When I could get free, at about 6 PM I headed out to Marquette and stayed the night at Fillmore's, played music with Tim and visited with Kyra and the kids. Saturday was a crystal clear day, the first in what seemed like days.

A Bit On The Inuit (Dog)

2007-10-11T20:23:00.000-04:00

A busy day for me with preparing for traveling over to Munising at 5:30 AM tomorrow to do a safety course for what must be a group of hardy paddlers (the weather is really raw and predicted to be just as raw tomorrow and this weekend).
I am heating the house in this shoulder season with the basement wood stove, my father's excellent Jotul 118. I was up early and getting the stove filled and heating from the coals left from the night before.. Much of my morning was trying to get in touch with Sam Raymond at Copper Harbor to arrange to pick up the Tandem kayak that Carl, over in Munising, bought from him. Prepping to go up there to pick up the boat with a set of cradles on the roof rack and all set to go for the 1 hr. drive. I stopped at the Keweenaw Co - Op for a bit of salmon chowder which was surprisingly HOT and not at all to my liking. The day was dark and looking like rain in the morning. During the ride up the sun began to glint in between misting rain with a prevalent big wind.The color change is on the downtrend but was especially nice with a bit of occasional sunlight. When I got up there I had to wait for an hour to get the boat as Sam was in a meeting with some township people but then finally got on the road and back in time to make up my own salmon and cod chowder that was appreciated by all (Muir and Lynn).
Now to get packed and on my way after a rising-time of 4 AM. I plan on stopping over at Fillmore's Marquette house for Tim's breakfast at about 7 AM or a bit later.

This dog is one of the older but still Alpha male dog's at Paul Schurke's Wintergreen Dog Sled Lodge. He is named Carhartt and is one of my favorites. He is a very self assured dog and very photogenic as well as a strong puller. Inuit dogs are known as fighters and they definitely do that, being as with pack canines like sled dogs are, they have a strong hierarchy or pecking order. Males generally fight with males and females fight with females. Female Inuits are generally submissive to the males.
Carhartt is past the fighting though: as he ages he will probably be challenged for his alpha position by younger up and coming males. Wintergreen's kennel setup is really well managed. The doghouses are very functional with flat roofs and with a slot on the back side for the dry dog food to be scooped and emptied into the house so that the dog can eat without having to contend with other dogs being in view.

This is an Inuit from out of Yukon Territory. Two friends in Eagle, Alaska, Charlie House and David Helmer, run Inuits . This dog is at David's kennel and shows a common red color and markings. Often the Inuits are stocky of leg compared to huskies and some malemutes. Charlie is line breeding an old fashioned very large and leggy Maloot (like a malemute) with his Inuits to come up with what could be called a "polar husky": a 100 pound dog with the heavy Inuit coat and toughness but longer legged for deeper snows of the area that he mushes in. The heavy coat is being bred out of some Alaskan huskies used for racing, as they will not overheat with shorter coats. The difference on the trail for camping is the short coated dog takes more food to keep warm, tends to shiver when not in harness, and after being picketed out for the night on snow will melt out a deep depression where the dog lays. The long haired dog is so well insulated that very little heat is lost to the snow.

Summer 2007 Family Pics

2007-10-10T19:47:00.000-04:00

October 10, 2007 A very raw day - windy, rainy and about 40 degrees, northern juncos stopping from being blown around. In the grass under my feeder they are picking up dropped seeds and leavings. I am still trying to see my way through the chimney modifications that we need to heat this year with wood efficiently and with less hassle. I need to get a finishing piece, a kind of collar to go around the pipe where it goes through the wall into the liner T.
Totally hypothermic weather to have to be on the water. I hope things improve for the Friday safety course over in Munising.
This weather that we've been having for the last few days recalls St Lawrence Island fall weather with the wind and rain and nastiness of it. But windy, rough weather would blow in marine life for easier access by the shore dwellers. I remember well one domestic scene there: Taking out the honey bucket to the sea-side in the early morning; gray light faintly showing a wind roiled surf rushing in on pea gravel filled waves. Among flotsam and sea weed there were oompahs, little filter feeders being gathered by parka-clad Native women. The waves coming in made a swish sound as thousands of pieces of gravel were stirred and rubbed together. The briny sea smell being added to the mix of impressions on my senses. Timing myself to the rhythm of rollers ready to wet me to the waist, I hold the honey bucket parallel and downwind of my body and give it a swing to flush its contents into the surf. It was a clean flush and removal of my house of school teachers bodily wastes into the ocean. "No oompahs for me", I told an older woman later that week who had seen me, the school's principal out emptying the bucket; an odd and never before seen view of a the gussuk man doing what she saw as women's work.

My youngest son Matthew, on graduation day from Houghton High School. Matt is started college at University of Minnesota in the Twin Cities and is working at a coffee shop (Bordertown) and living on-campus this school year. He is in a pre-med oriented program.

My oldest son Muir, sculling around at Pictured Rocks. He is in his second year at Finlandia University working on a 4 year Nursing degree. When I took this picture Muir was assisting me at guiding a family on a 3 day trip.

My wife Lynn, daughter Kate and her boyfriend Nathaniel near Grand Marais, MN, on the Lake Superior shore. Kate was crewing on a sailboat that Nathaniel was the skipper of and since fall is working as graphic designer for the local Cook County News Herald at Grand Marais.

Winter Anticipation in the Fall

2007-10-08T13:17:00.000-04:00

A long time of not writing in this blog and a lot of water under the hull and snow under the skis!
After a summer drought we have had large quantities of rain in September and October. The trees were first stressed by a lack of water and now they have a lot of rain and wind to strip them of bright leaves.
My kayak season, which I thought was over is still not quite wound down with a safety course over in Munising this Friday, which Carl the outfitter is going to make monetarily worth my while by paying me for 2 days of work as well as $ for bringing down a tandem kayak from Sam at Copper Harbor.
It was a great season of back to back trips and many small adventures at Pictured Rocks, Grand Island and Isle Royale. I don't think that I've had quite such a busy season of trips in many years. The money flowed into the bank, though it is now flowing out for things that I've wanted like a Jotul wood stove, stainless chimney liner and work on my car and expenses with kids in college.

On this rainy day in October, with so many home chores to do... What am I thinking of, but my last winter's activity. The dog team guiding over in the Boundary Waters at Wintergreen Dog Sled Lodge. Not that it was all fun; a lot of work and the guides are run ragged for what they are paid - at least that's my perspective when I compare it to the sea kayak guiding. But in spite of stress factors and pay, it is a lot of fun, especially for the oldest guy in the whole operation. To be able to keep up on skis with guys that are half my age is awesome! And the $ do add up with tips padding the purse.
My back finally gave out on me during the end of the season with what ended up being a herniated L5 disc. The surgery was fairly non-intrusive with instant relief after a 6 week period of suffering. I doubt that I'll ever be quite as careless in the rest of my life at lifting. Thus far I have a good reminder in a dull sciatica throb in my butt when I don't lay right or go overboard on lifting.
So far this year, since I've been out of the kayak, I haven't spent much time out on rambles or paddles hereabout. Too many projects to complete and chores to do that have been left waiting during my busy summer afield. I did run the south branch of the Ontonogon River with my Pastor friend, Tom Anderson. It was a 2 day trip with rugged and raw weather and a lot of rocks.

I am taking the dog team down from the dog yard at Wintergreen to White Iron Lake, below the lodge. where we set up a stake out yard. It looks like the one lead dog is glancing back to see if I was thrown off the sled as we just came out of the steep and bumpy trail. Wintergreen has Canadian and Greenland Inuit dogs, rather than the Alaskan Huskies that I mushed for many years. Inuits are slower (like little Sherman tanks) but are true work dogs for sledging.The trail down is too hazardous for the guests to be allowed to take the dogs and sleds down on their own. Usually the guides only mush the dogs over places too dangerous for the guests' safety, generally steep and bumpy places. Even so, many of the trips have multiple runaway sleds that the guides have to catch.

This is more like it...That's me on my skis up ahead of the dog teams - The guide is kind of like the alpha dog in the team. (S)he is followed by the dog teams and hopefully takes the right trail at the junctions, breaks trail when necessary, hooks up the teams, teaches the people all about the craft, prepares food, sets up camp and picks the proper places to stop and rest, etc.

This last picture shows a tired lead-dog-man (me) looking over the trail in the BWCAW while I'm gliding along. I may be looking at a beaver lodge over at the base of the woods ( right middle of the photo).

Summer Memory in Autumn

2006-10-27T14:40:00.000-04:00

Summer Memory In Autumn

All summer in a lake world of sun
Paddling my craft in the water
Above the sandstone and basalt floor
Striated, wind-etched, painted cliffs above.

All summer we wandered the wild waters
What we pictured in our minds, seen
In photo images and memories
Of refreshing food for the soul.

Gin-clear veridian-tinged world
Below our peaked bows sloshing
Below the rust and cobalt cliff faces
Robin-egg, tufted wool sky above all.

Northwind biting the end of the leaves
Fluttering and twisting down in icy waves
As heavy oak and maple slab off the cord
Warming now and when water is memory.
10 - 27 - 06

BOOK REVIEW: The Golden Spruce, by John Vaillant

2006-09-25T10:17:00.000-04:00

THE GOLDEN SPRUCE: a true story of myth, madness and greed
Canadian author John Vaillant’s first "nature noir" work is set in British Columbia’s Queen Charlotte Islands. At it’s base it is the story of the dissolution of the Pacific Northwest’s temperate rain forest that is now being completed. Vaillant asserts that 90% of the American and 60% of the Canadian Pacific Northwest old growth forest is gone as of 2005. This Canadian author elucidates, in the course of his well researched work, what all of humankind loses as a result of the passing of this resource.

The Golden Spruce is much more than just a scientific and statistical treatise on the temperate rain forest; it delves into the lives of the Haida Indians and their spiritual attachment to the mutant Golden Spruce. This 300 year old chlorotic Sitka spruce tree, on the Queen Charlotte’s Nelson Island, was the only individually living organism that was told of in Haida stories. The story of K’iid K’iyaas—the golden spruce— was one of many Haida morality stories that was connected to an object on the land; but it was an individual living thing, not a rock or type of animal that legendarily got its characteristics through ancestral actions. Says Vaillant:

The golden spruce, in fact, was uniquely suited to bridge the gaps of time and culture. Trees are the only readily visible living things with such tremendous temporal reach, and no other tree was so strangely distinctive, so undeniably Other, that it could be recognized instantly by anyone, no matter what their culture, or at what point in history they came upon it. Left in peace, the golden spruce could have lived until the twenty-sixth century. [p. 157, The Golden Spruce ]

Most of the people who inhabit the nonfiction pages of the book are loggers, foresters and people involved in the forest product industry. Grant Hadwin, the chief character that The Golden Spruce centers around, is a logger and survivalist woodsman who, through many years of work in the logging industry, came to believe that the modus operandi of logging in the Pacific Northwest couldn’t be reconciled with the damage done to the environment.

In a carefully planned out scheme, debatedly psychotic Hadwin floats himself with chainsaw down the Yakoun River in winter weather and cuts the golden spruce so that it will fall with the first big wind. A letter sent to the media by Hadwin asserts that his reason for cutting the golden spruce was to get revenge on the giant logging company MacMillan Bloedel for their desecration of the old growth forest and waters that they have perpetrated in Canada. The golden spruce, that loggers had left due to its uniqueness was termed by Hadwin as the company’s "pet tree’. Author Vaillant sees the golden spruce and its cutting as much more: "Hadwin had cut down what may have been the only tree on the continent capable of uniting natives, loggers and environmentalists, not to mention scientists foresters and ordinary citizens in sorrow and outrage."
Hadwin’s response to the sorrow and outrage from others, as stated to a reporter: "When society places so much value on one mutant tree and ignores what happens to the rest of the forest, it’s not the person who points that out who should be labeled."

Hadwin disappears en route from the mainland across treacherous Hecate Strait by kayak for his trial on a charge of felony criminal mischief and illegal cutting of timber on crown land. His kayak and gear was found wrecked on a small island 75 miles from his departure point. Many local people still believe he is alive as this wasn’t the first time that he had gone missing.

Author Vaillant, through interviews of Hadwin’s co-workers and those close to him, develops plausible reasons for Hadwin’s actions and the unknown elements in Hadwin’s disappearance.
Vaillant’s interviews of many woods workers uncovers the mixed feelings that many of them have about the part they play in the destruction of the temperate rain forest. Says Vaillant, ‘The individual’s love of the woods exists in tandem with a collective industrial "rape and run" mentality that over time has left scoured valleys and fouled streams littered with machinery, fuel drums, old tires, and thousands of yards of rusted cable.’

If Grant Hadwin is still alive he must be disappointed that his attempts to draw attention to big logging’s destruction of old growth forest appear to have come to naught. Canada’s old growth forest continues to be clear cut . Hadwin’s "lesson" to the public appears to have been lost in the face of numerous eulogies and attempts to graft and clone another golden spruce.

Author John Vaillant rightfully leaves the reader without any hope to change our anthropocentric attitude toward humankind’s place on our planet. The temperate rain forest ecosystem is just one more victim in man’s "development of our resources."

With the Conovers at North House Folk School

2006-06-24T23:29:00.000-04:00

Garrett Conover paddling the new Penobscot birch bark canoe which Eric Simula, birch bark canoe builder said was the best crafted birch bark canoe he'd ever seen. The Conovers paid the Maine builder $10,000 to make it for them.

Alexandra demonstrating use of a pole . Later in the demonstration, she and Garrett double poled around in the harbor. With both of them poling in unison the canoe skimmed at high speed through the still water.

Garrett carrying a wanagan with tumpline. Later he added a large pack on top of the wanagan. He said he would generally carry 80 or 90 pounds per carry. The trick is to keep your spine aligned very straight on both the getting the load on your back (by using your knees to rotate the load up while your spine is kept rigidly straight) as well as throughout the portage.

The 2 blades of my northwoods paddles are sandwiched on my canoe spray deck with a Conover-made Northwoods paddle grip on top.

I got my cherry wood Northwoods paddle done up quite nicely and coated with multiple coats of tung oil. The Northwoods grip on it, with a long knob at the top feels natural in my hand. I finished it just in time to take it over to the North House Folk School Wooden Boat Show at Grand Marais, MN. Garrett and Alexandra Conover were the guest speakers and I wanted to take a workshop from them on the Northwoods stroke, which they have developed as a major part of their summer guiding repertoire. They are expert practitioners of traditional modes of travel in all seasons in the northwoods boreal forest. With wood and canvas canoes, wooden poles and paddles in the summer, wooden toboggan, snowshoes and cotton tents with wood stoves in the winter, they guide and teach about traditional modes of recreating on the land.
I made my northwoods paddle shorter than the more common 60+ inch paddle since I planned to use it in my solo canoe and not be using it from a standing position. After using their paddles as well as the ash one that I bought from Bourquin Boats, I like having the pronounced knob on the handle, though I need to thin down the mid section of the blade to get better flex. The workshops were great times for learning and spending time with the 2 guides of traditional northwoods skills. Alexandra paid me a compliment when she saw my new paddle by saying, "I wish that I could say that my first paddles looked as good as yours".
The weather mostly cooperated while in Minnesota except when I was on my way up the Gunflint Trail to Northern Lights Lake. The skies let loose with a deluge. Since the date was the 17th, and my birthday was June 19th I decided to move on. I had seen all that I cared to at the Wooden Boat show, had fine tuned my Northwoods stroke with the Conovers and camping was looking flooded and buggy. I decided to head over to Ely to stay the night at Wintergreen Lodge and visit with Paul and Susan Schurke. I arrived there at 10 PM, met a young graduate student staying at the lodge who was from Alaska. She was using the Wintergreen Inuit dogs in her Masters thesis, testing the canines after feeding them various wild meats; with a goal of being able to ascertain in wolf populations precisely what their eating habits are - if they are preying upon domestic livestock a simple stool test will determine if the wolf in question is the guilty one.
I talked to Paul about guiding some dog team trips this next winter. I'm going to have to train this 54 year-old body so that I'm in good enough shape for the trail!

Mnii Book Review: So Cold A Sky by Karl Bohnak

2006-06-24T23:09:00.000-04:00

Among a number of interesting books that I’ve been reading, is So Cold A Sky: Upper Michigan Weather Stories by Marquette, Michigan meteorologist Karl Bohnak. This volume’s blend of weather and history since the arrival of the Europeans and recorded history has been a wonderful read for me. Like Bohnak, who was raised in southern Wisconsin, I have always been fascinated by weather, in particular severe weather in the north.

Karl surveyed a lot of missionary and settler journals and statistics from early upper Midwest military forts to write the over 300 page book. Included in the book is a detailed bibliography, glossary and index. There are numerous sidebars that delve further into the "rest of the story" concerning the people and natural phenomena that the book portrays so well. The reader is given an illuminating glimpse into the lives of most of the early explorers, such as Father Marquette, Alexander Henry, Henry Schoolcraft, and Peter White.
Much of the book features Lake Superior and the surrounding south shore land mass and the notable storms and weather patterns that have impacted humanity up to our 21st century. It is interesting to note the the weather over the last 50 years that I have been around and to try to recall from memory what I was doing and where I was during the time of these notable weather events.

With the wealth of interesting historical pictures and historical events as noted from original sources, So Cold A Sky makes for an unparalled reading treat for any Upper Peninsula buff.

Wood Process, Spring 2006

2006-06-24T21:44:00.000-04:00

Muir heading out to get another load of firewood.

Much of the energy expended over the latter portion of May, 2006 was involved in getting firewood at the MTU trails, which had been vastly widened a couple of years ago with a lot of seasoned wood still at various places on the trails. We mostly cut on the gas line easement and right in the midst of getting in loads of wood, Muir met Jeff Parker, head of trail maintenance at MTU. He invited us to help him and Jim Meese to remove a couple of giant maples. After doing that we were pretty well set with wood for this next winter as well as deep into the following one. I am still feeling the bone and tendon bruising effect of moving rounds too big to get moved without splitting into quarters first and having to roll up a plank into the truck with both Muir and I struggling. As of this date, I still have bucking to do and quite a volume to be split much smaller to fit in a stove.

Stacking the processed wood, much of it already seasoned and ready for next winter.

Bucking up a length of red oak. Then it will be split into size for the wood stove.
All ready to go into the stove.

Otter River Paddle May 6, 2006

2006-05-12T21:30:00.000-04:00

At the put-in, we were trying to get up the courage to slide Dean down this clay mud bluff in his kayak to the river. Dean is wheelchair bound due to an injury he suffered when he fell out of a tree years ago.

Dean Juntunnen, Al Koivunnen, my son Muir, Kris Brown and myself paddled on the Otter River from Aspen Rd to past the bridge on M26. It seemed to be a long 13 miles, but some nice water and some fun little rapids with sharp turns and a number of log jams that Dean’s chainsaw with Muir operating made quick passage for our boats.

On the first log jam Muir wasn’t quite quick enough in moving off the jam when the tree he was cutting on came loose and gave him a couple of wet feet.
Some time later Muir's sunglasses slipped off his head and into the rushing river. I had told him previous to the loss that he didn’t need them, as it was a gray and rainy day. He didn't want to bother putting them away!
About 2/3 of the way we were going through some fast water at a sharp turn and Muir and Kris, in Muir’s 16 ft Old Town canoe hit a large snag on the outside of the turn and Kris lost his balance and capsized the canoe. Muir grabbed the chainsaw and then the canoe and they pulled it out to the bank where they could empty it and re-secure their gear.

The put-in was at the end of a dirt road and it had a high clay bank that the rain had turned into sticky goo. Getting Dean down the bank after roping down the canoes was complicated psychologically by the presence of a cross and debris of a car that had brought someone to their death after driving over the edge and down to the river. But we made it!

The take-out spot was also somewhat difficult as the State had "improved" the bridge by taking out the little access parking area and put crushed limestone rocks along the banks and steel guard rails that stopped access at both ends of the bridge. Dean knew a fellow just down the river who was willing to let us pull out at his property and also lend his 4-wheeler to pull Deans’s kayak, with him in it, from the river to the car and trailer.
We stopped for lunch at the MTU Forestry Club "Lodge" that was an old fish hatchery; an old brown-painted log building in run-down condition. All of the rivers and branches I had done with Dean this spring were running red with clay, and we would often pass large clay bluffs that were eroding into the river. The otter ran clear, though there were some clay banks. We arrived back at Houghton, just in time for Lynn’s dinner. Muir hovered over the woodstove for ½ an hour to warm himself thoroughly.It was early to bed after a full day on the Otter River.

Heading back to the car from the river. I portaged my canoe - this was too easy with the 4-wheeler pulling.

One of the Last Elders

2006-04-29T22:49:00.000-04:00

Rhoda Ahgook (L) at the community center city offices in Anaktuvuk Pass, July, 2005
Bob Ahgook, seeking me out at the AKP Community Center

One of the Last of the Elders
Grant Spearman, longest-term resident archaeologist-anthropologist of the Nunamiut Eskimo wrote, "bob ahgook left us on the 14th, his services were on the 22nd. sorry to see him go. Hard to imagine he is really gone."
Bob was a Nunamiut who was always a stalwart upstanding guy; a level and sober influence in Anaktuvuk Pass, who knew both the old ways and the new. A leader and a worker for what was good and right for everyone.
When I became a victim of North Slope Borough politics, when the principal offered me free housing in the Borough "bunkhouse" (which was not school district property to offer), and I was evicted right during the start of the school year, Bob got together the partially completed, decrepit shelter at the air strip, hauled it over to the school district work site and finished the narrow little building with a floor, insulation and plywood walls so that I’d have a place to stay. The village council, that Bob was chief of, offered me 2 lots so I'd have space for my dog team and a place to put the hut on. The principal got greedy as he was prone to be (he was prosecuted 2 years later for embezzlement) and said that the building had to stay on school district property. The village council let the offer of 2 lots stand, but I didn't have the time to put up a "soddy"as well as the ground was frozen by that time. I ended up leaving after that winter and so never had the means to fly in materials to put in a dwelling. The lots were on the other side of the Contact Creek, that had no houses when I was living in AKP but is now a bustling part of the village. I visited Bob and Rhoda, his wife there last summer. As a resident of Anaktuvuk Pass, I was a frequent visitor to Bob and Rhoda’s house in the middle of the older village for tea, caribou "fry" and Eskimo donuts. Bob would always look kindly at me and ask when I came in, "How’s Donwatson doing today?" We would talk about hunting, the land and commonplace topics, whatever I wanted to talk about, and often not talk, but just be there and observe the goings-on of the Ahgook household. Bob and Rhoda’s children were always intellectually sharp and respectful. Rhoda was cut of the traditional Nunamiut cloth; happy unceasingly with her family and life.
Bob worked closely with the old wolf biologist, Bob Stephenson and was who some wolf chronicler was referring to who said that the Nunamiut "have the greatest practical knowledge of the Arctic wolf of any people in the world". Bob wasn’t one to talk very much about the old nomadic way of life that these one and only mountain Eskimos used to live, at least to me. One pet peeve that he did voice to me was that the Nunamiut didn’t follow the caribou, as some journalists and scientists have said. "No, we never followed the caribou! We waited for them to come to us", he would say in mock disgust.
Bob always enjoyed having mechanical stuff. His snowmachines were always in good repair, he was one of the first, if not the first to have a car(jeep) in the village. When I was visiting the village the summer of 2005, Bob had a compact car as well as a full size pickup truck. His Argo ATV sat in his front yard. Bob’s quiet wisdom was always present, whether hunting or in the village. Bob worked a regular day job - maintenance for the borough. His mechanical abilities were sure and he used power tools safely.
Bob came down to the plane that I was supposed to arrive in to see me after all of 27 years of separation. Unfortunately I arrived in an earlier flight. I was picked up by Harry Hugo at the plane. He was the baggage handler and took me around to the clinic and community center. Bob and Rhoda came over to the community center offices to visit and wish me welcome.
Bob was having difficulty health-wise in his last years. He had heart bypass surgery; after that he complained of a lack of energy and his life slowing down, almost intolerably so for him. As he was telling me this, Rhoda was bustling around Bob, doing the little chores that a good mate does for the other, as an assurance to the other that all isn’t yet lost, that they still have each other and the big extended family of their village. Rhoda said this only through her body language and activity of domestic serving. At their home, in the morning after visiting with their son Jimmy, with Sandy Hamilton there for coffee (another great reunion for me), Bob was telling us this and he seemed more distant. Not feeling as good as he would like, perhaps knowing that there was cancer gathering in his body, that would cause him to have to be medivaced to Fairbanks a couple of months after my visit. As he sat in his living room, the TV on as a diversion, I think we both knew that this was the last time we would see each other again, that it was a wonder that I was back again. Few of the "tanniks" ever did return, at least not if they didn’t return due to a job. Not much, really, to say. Good knowing you many years ago...
Jimmy and I left with a goodbye, walked out through the entryway and over to Sue Hugo’s house, in a hurry before my plane came in, sad that I didn’t have more time to spend with the people who I had done so much growing up with as a young man.

Wolf by the Road & Firesteel River Paddle

2006-04-17T23:28:00.000-04:00

The timber wolf that was feeding off of the road-killed deer. Though he wasn't welcoming of the attention we were giving him, he was not going to pass up the venison that was a free meal because of two guys in a little car.

Dean Juntunnen of Mass City
Al Koivonen, of South Range, paddling upstream just for the fun of it in his Mad River Courier canoe. That's Dean's titanium and carbon fiber wheelchair in the stern of Al's canoe.

04-15-06 Wolf by M-26 & Firesteel River Paddle

On Friday I went out to Chassel Bay for the first paddle of the 2006 season. The day was in the 50's with sun and some gusting wind. I was using my new paddles - the "Maine Guide" style ash paddle and the Nashwaak Cruiser paddle out of Canada. I liked the grab of the Maine Guide and practiced with it. Saw 2 immature eagles near the Pike River, paddled up the river and on my return saw a nesting goose right on the bank with 4 eggs thus far in the downy nest. Also saw my first male redwing blackbird warbling in a willow above the stream.
I went out with Dean Juntunnen and Al Koivonen on a long and roundabout trip to the Firesteel River which was running with class 2 and a couple of #3 rapids along much of the 13 miles we went on.
We were a couple of miles before the turnoff to Mass City , near the Firesteel River when I noticed a timber wolf at the side of the road eating a road killed deer. I stopped the car, turned around and pulled off to take some pictures of it. It was scared of us but couldn’t pull itself away from the meat for long so we did get some decent pictures.
When we arrived at dean’s place off of Aspen Rd., about a mile south of Mass City, there was quite a bit of work to do preparing for the boat carrying on his car, as Dean is paralyzed from the waist down and has special attachments on his rack for getting his kayaks on his roof rack, etc.
We then had to drive to Ontonogan and take lakeshore Dr. To other roads and finally to where the Firesteel River outlets into Lake Superior to drop one vehicle with trailer and then drive to another place to put in for the paddle down river. I was a bit hesitant in the first couple of rapids, not knowing how the Wildfire would do. It was very forgiving and handled well. The royalex skin slid off ledges well and in the few holes that I went in the cover made it a dry boat. We saw a number of eagles and I saw quite a few kingfishers chattering as they fished. Big bunches of ducks and geese were in the air and on the river. There were a quite a few deer stands and logging taking place back from the river with occasional camps back away from the river. The fairly continuous rapids made it very nice to run and the only drawback to that was that I had to watch the river and not the shore. The sun was bright on the water so that the glare made it hard to see rocks at riffles, but no harm done. I tended to favor the 57 inch beaver tail paddle though a wider blade would have been better for control in the fast water. I used the Maine Guide paddle quite a bit with its wide blade tough it is a bit heavy and long. Al saw the first turtle of the season though I missed that.
I didn’t get home until 7 PM after leaving here at 7 AM with all the time involved in driving. Nice water though and a fine 60 degree day.

Home Is the Eldest Son

2006-04-14T14:49:00.000-04:00

Oldest son Muir (23 yrs old) relaxing at home. Not quite used to our brand of spring compared to Florida.
Muir's trailer and truck camper that brought up one load to Michigan. His Toyota 4X4 is the second load in a few weeks.

04-14-06 Bloomin’ Spring
The goldfinches are getting their nesting plumage and Muir, our first-born has come and gone on his freighting back to home base. For some days prior to his arrival Lynn and I had been getting the room at the top of the stairs ready for him and when his imminent arrival was a day earlier than usual, I finished painting and Lynn did an all-nighter getting his room ready. Muir arrived here Sunday, April 2 and was able to bring up his new Ford truck with our camper loaded with stuff, and towing his utility trailer filled with his motorcycle, tools, and plastic take-down storage shed.
While we had snow (and on Sunday, late afternoon), he and his mother went out to the Pilgrim River on a snowshoe jaunt. He was well-pleased with his new Red Feather "Powder" snowshoes, though it was hardly powder snow but consolidated crust and slush that we traipsed around on the week + that he was here. He had gotten the snowshoes on a half priced sale through Sierra Trading Post deal and said that he had always wanted red Feather snowshoes since we had gone out to Michael Schwei and Raven’s Headwaters Environmental Center log cabin out by Misery Bay. This was when Muir was in 9th grade; we went there to make a pair of snowshoes. Mike and Raven had commented that when they thought of the modern snowshoes that Redfeathers were their choice, though they only wished they had the money to get a couple of pair of the aluminum shoes. At least that's Muir's remembrance; I just remember raven being quite traditional in her preferences for snowshoes.
Muir had maps of geocaches that he had downloaded and was intending to find them with brother Matt, but time limitations for both of them, and Matt’s reluctance to thrash through the woods to find the geocaches left only one searched for by the time Muir left.
I went out with Muir to Churning Rapids with our snowshoes to find the one that was deep in the woods. We went bushwhacking going south out from Kinzel’s place (Christenson Rd.), following our GPS receivers rather than the 2-track that I’m sure the person putting in the geocache had used. Rough going and Muir was going too fast, falling on his snowshoes and on a rushing quest. The day was sunny and warm and we worked our way along a ridge and over creeks until we came out at the 2-track and then went in the woods again. Eventually we arrived at the original place where the geocache had been placed, which was the lookout tower and found a second set of coordinates for the changed position of the cache. We went again through the woods to the second place, but down by the rushing creek the snow was deep and maybe that stopped us from finding the cache. But it was a great day to be out and his snowshoes got a workout, not to mention us. He was surprised that he would get as much use out of the new purchase as he did, visiting so late. We put about 5 miles on our snowshoes that day.
Last Friday, the 7th we headed up to Copper Harbor to do some crust skiing. Muir was using skis and boots that I had purchased years ago from a MTU graduate who was selling the virtually unused gear prior to going to a city without snow. We stopped in to see Sam Raymond, who had out a pair of back country telemark boots and skis that Muir could borrow, but Muir thanked him and said that the gear he had was adequate. We first went across from the Keweenaw Mtn Lodge driveway at a new Michigan Nature Association area and followed an old logging road through areas beginning to melt and forming pot holes and over streams flowing snowmelt. In most cases we could cross at areas that were snow covered over logs or other snow bridges that were nearly ready to collapse. We ended up having lunch at a cedar blowdown off the trail and then headed back the way we had come and then to the end of US 41 and out to Horse Shoe Harbor. The road-trail to the turnoff was ½ snow covered and the other ½ sand. Muir went up in the woods just off the road so that he didn’t have to take off his skis and walk. The day was a bit windy and the sun was beaming down. After going out to the sanctuary (Nature Conservancy, Mary MacDonald Preserve) we went back up the trail to where I had camped a couple weeks before. No trace of my old camp, it melted away with the snow. We stopped long enough to eat Cliff Bars that Muir had in his fanny pack. We had been having to ski around a couple of 4-wheeler ruts that had created deep ruts from a single 4-wheeler on the main trail and on the way back I had commented to Muir that it seemed that the same guy had come after us because there were new tracks over the old. As we were almost back a rummy-looking guy drove by us on his way back to Copper Harbor.
We saw bear tracks, one set each on the MNA trail near a roiling stream and a second set crossing the trail ½ mile or so before the Horse Shoe Harbor trail.
I thought that my digital camera was broken (again!) When I tried to take a picture of Muir and it didn’t turn on. I tried a second set of batteries and it still wouldn’t turn on. What I didn’t realize was that both sets of NIMH batteries were discharged, so got no pics of our ski trip.
Muir left Tuesday evening and after that we were mostly getting ready for him to go - getting the storage shed up, packing, getting Dixie, Muir’s bulldog, accommodations ready for her to stay with us ( Muir took the bus back to Florida), and making plans for his return in early May.
The snow banks remain, but spring is definitely here now. Migratory birds are back and a little rain and lots of sun are sending down light for the crocuses and bulb flowers to bloom. Maple syrup is about through and we already sampled the Santiford’s syrup from this year.
I put on much longer roof rack bars on my Geo Tracker for accommodation of 2 canoes and so am ready today for one Wildfire solo for the first paddle of the year 2006. I still have to final sand and finish varnish and oil the basswood paddle that I carved this year and another cherry paddle is in the works for this spring. Also have to get rolling on my second cover for the composite Wildfire now that I inherited Lynn’s old 2 speed sewing machine and put money into getting it adjusted for sewing heavy fabric. All of this doesn’t account for my training for guiding kayak trips this Summer as well as having to take renewal course work for first aid training, which sounds like it will be a hassle to keep my WFR without going through the 2 week course all over again. Such is my life as spring progresses.

Early, Early Spring Toboggan Trip

2006-03-22T11:10:00.000-05:00

I got back yesterday from a 4 day traverse of a portion of the tip of the Keweenaw, using the old winter canoe of the north, my toboggan. Brought along Gabe, Lynn's erstwhile hound for company (no one but the canine sort would go along with me!). Even Gabe was reluctant to go but he ended up sleeping warm in the heated tent. I ended up changing campsites rather than base camping and saw some great winter country in total solitude. The big lake was rimed with ice and the winds were creating big surf and turmoil. The snow was settled to about 3 foot deep with enough of a crust to make it great snowshoeing and easy to create a 1 trip "float" for the trailing toboggan. Thought I might detect the first stirrings of spring, but other than increased light it was not to be. Ended up walking out yesterday in the midst of a snowstorm.
When I got home there was a terrific racket of crows that were mobbing a snowy owl in the now peaceful falling snow. The owl flew off followed by 1/2 of the mob. The other 1/2 stayed behind and were just as noisy. As I watched, two from the big bunch plummeted out of a tall tree to the snow below, the others crowing loudly. With binoculars from 35 feet, I played naturalist voyeur as the two nibbled at each other playfully and performed coitus over and over; in the 4 minutes that I watched they were encouraged by others of their tribe that seemed as excited as the two performing the rites of spring. I guess I did get to see a bit of spring at the end of my trip, but back home!

Is it a smudge on the lense or a long tailed abominable snowman? No, it is a very large fisher that Gabe treed that then travelled from tree to tree at dusk on the coast fairly close to the Nature Conservancy "Club Superior". It was nip and tuck with light conditions and fast-moving fisher (as well as he went to ground once and I thought that he was going to tear into the dog) but I ended up getting one shot where at least he's silhouetted, moving from a deciduous tree to large white pine. The fisher moved through the trees in long soaring, death-defying dives that put any squirrel's movements to shame. On the ground he moved across the snow like a shadow; the heavy dog fell behind in the deep snow at every bound he took.

My canvas winter camping tent from Empire Canvas with titanium woodstove from 4 Dog Stove Co.

2006-03-16T12:59:00.000-05:00

Yukon River and Eagle Bluff

Eagle Alaska

A balmy sunset at the boat landing in Eagle City.

Eagle Bluff from the porch of Charlie and Marlys House's Falcon Inn. To the left of the Bluff is where American Creek flows into the Yukon River.
A view of Eagle Bluff from my log house on the terrace above the boat landing. The Bluff dominates the town in all seasons, providing warmth from it's sun warmed thermal mass in the summer and character and solid presence in all seasons.

Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska

2006-03-16T10:07:00.000-05:00

My friend Riley Morry on the way back to AKP after an Argo ride.

Riley and I traveled by plane to Fairbanks in December of 1976. After a night out on the town I met Riley at the airport and we went to Michigan for a big tour with my mother's car to the U P. Then Riley went on to New Mexico to spend time with his wife Betty and daughters . Betty was from San Juan Pueblo and would sometimes spend the holidays back at her home in New Mexico.

A Walk North of Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska

2006-03-16T09:53:00.000-05:00

Eleanor Lake, to the North of Anaktuvuk Pass is a short walk. The lake, when I lived in AKP, was a good place to get ice to melt in the winter when the village water well was frozen up. I remember one time, during a cold white-out, I was bringing two large ice-filled buckets on my dog sled back to my cabin. As I mushed through some hills over the hard pack, I realized that I had lost my depth perception when my sled was suddenly following the 5-dog team over the edge of a steep hill that looked in the whiteout as though it was more gently rolling tundra. The line of dogs, sled and myself were all rolled over and over as ice and axe were thrown from the open sled and my hands were wrenched from the sled handlebar. I watched the dog team and sled roll over to the bottom of the hill, with nary a tangle of gangline and tugs the dogs and sled went upright in unison and keep running toward the Contact Creek bridge . I picked up the axe and started to follow the sled tracks back to the village through the ice fog of tiny ice crystals. At the bridge some of the kids had stopped the team, the dogs tails lazily wagging as I walked up. I turned the dogs back to Eleanor Lake, buckets still to be filled - off for a second round of chopping ice for water to drink.
The community permafrost meat storage cellars were also here above Eleanor Lakehere (now flooded and not used with the electrification of the village and freezer use). I was awarded a section of the ice cellars by Village Chief Bob Ahgook after I took 2 caribou during my first year in AKP.
The cemetary is on a knoll above the lake. I spent some solitary time there last summer at the graves of friends there who passed on since the 1970's when I lived in AKP as the first high school teacher.

2006-03-14T22:29:00.000-05:00

Spring 2005 on the Sturgeon River a mile before Chassell Bay.