Saturday Night Adventure

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Today, we have a guest blogger. Greg has written up the tale of what we did on the evening of Saturday, January 12th.

Somebody shook up the snow globe. The snow fell Friday and Saturday. I plowed all day on Saturday, then came home to get ready to go town. Paul plays bass in the Trail's End Band and they had a gig at the Gunflint Tavern in Grand Marais.

Our party consisted of Gramma Sharlene, Barb, Patrick (longtime friend of Paul's), Pablo and me. We climbed in to the van and drove to town, arriving around 6:30 or so. We ordered dinner, and waited for the band to start. It had been snowing heavily on the way down, so Barb suggested filling the gas tank before Buck's Hardware and gas station closed. That way, we would be driving home on a full tank. I had no idea how wise a decision this would turn out to be.

All the time the band played, we marveled at how much snow was coming down. The county pulled their plows off the road and told the drivers to get some sleep. We were hearing stories of how there was more than twelve inches on the Gunflint Trail. But people tend to exaggerate, so I figured that we would be okay.

The band finished playing, and everything was loaded up by midnight. Mark, the keyboardist, had to get up to the end of the Trail to feed his dogs. Andy, the vocalist, was driving up to stay at Mark's. Our van completed the threesome, all with two-wheel drive. Outside of the Tavern, a deputy told us how bad it was, but if we were still going, he would at least be able to break trail for us up to Pincushion, about three miles.

We hadn't gone two blocks when the deputy stopped in the middle of Highway 61 and walked back to tell Andy that he should park his truck, since he was sliding around too much. Andy said that he would be fine, and we continued on. Shortly, we lost lost him. Mark went back to see what happened. He came back to say that Andy had decided to stay in town. I followed Mark up the hill, but then stopped to speak briefly with another deputy. He told us that he didn't think we could make it. We could have turned back at that point, but Mark had kept on going, and I felt it was better if we travelled together. The deputy headed down the hill, and we prepared to go ahead. The slight incline caused trouble for us getting started again, so I backed up in my tracks to get a run. Ahead of me, I could see our bumper and license plate imprint in the snow that we had banked up. It took a couple of tries before we started to gain momentum. Twenty to twenty-five miles per hour seemed to be about the right mix of momentum and control. The little van would get tossed around, since it didn't quite fit into the ruts, so it took a fair amount of concentration to keep the thing pointed in the right direction.

By the lumber mill, the snow was around eighteen inches deep. There were some tracks to follow, but we were still pushing some snow with our bumpers.

Nine miles out of town, Mark's truck stalled. As a rule, Mark, Paul and I carry Gerber tools, but all three of us had left them at home. I found a vice grip in Mark's glovebox, and borrowed Gramma's Swiss Army knife. Between those two tools, we were able to check the air box and distributor cap. Then we traced back to a blown fuel-injection fuse. We replaced it with a fuse from his horn/hazard lights, and proceeded. That lasted for a half-mile. There was likely snowmelt causing a short somewhere, but there wasn't time to sort it out, with snow rapidly filling the tracks behind us, and the deepening the blanket in front of us. So we took the fuse from the dome light, plugged it in to the fuel injection slot, and searched for a side road to park the truck. We found one shortly, and the truck died just as Mark started to turn in. Four of us used our feet as shovels and cleared a parking spot, just large enough to push the truck into it. We transferred the keyboards, guitar and cold weather gear to our parked van. The clock said 1:30 AM. We had made it eleven miles.

John the deputy drove up to check on our progress. I asked him if he had time to break trail to Northern Light Lake. He agreed, and drove on ahead of us. He actually went a little further, to the South Brule bridge. Beyond there, we were on our own. The further up the Trail we drove, the drier the snow became, until it was powdery enough to turn itself into a down quilt, become airborne once again, and blanket our windshield. Mark and I would get out every couple of minutes to clear the windshield, the head lights and the grill. Each time, we would notice the mound of snow that had built up for several feet in front of the bumper. We weren't able to defrost much of the windshield, nor could we clear the ice and snow that kept building up on it. Every so often , we would plow into powder that would bury the front of the van, stall out the wiper motor, and I would have to look out the side window, gauging the bank to make sure we were still on the road. Our speed through this stretch was no more than ten miles per hour. But ten miles per hour is still moving, and it sure beats walking. The moose must have been laying low, because we only had to brake for two of them.

Finally, as we approached the Clearwater Road, there was a set of tracks from a four-wheel drive truck. The ruts didn't fit our van, but the differential had carved a trough down the middle, and that's all we needed to keep the snow from blanketing the front of the van. We followed these tracks for five miles. Beyond that, there were no more tracks, but the snow was not as deep. We had no more problems getting up to the end of the Trail to drop Mark off. We actually got stuck in Mark's driveway, but I was able to do a half-Jimmy Rockford (a reverse fishtail spin) that got our front end aimed downhill.

The drive back to Gunflint Lake was a piece of cake, except that there was no more excitement to keep me awake. So that became exciting in and of itself. That 72 miles took us four difficult hours, but we were finally home, with one last chore to do. I called the dispatcher to get a message to Deputy John to let him know that we had made it, and to thank him for breaking trail for us. We headed up to bed--the clock said 4:05 AM.

Throughout this whole ordeal I was feeling pretty guilty about keeping my mom, Gramma Sharlene, up until 4 AM. Barb talked to her the next day, and she said, "You know, I'm really glad that I was along for that. It was a good adventure." She's a cool mom.

Strange Snow Antics

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A weird thing happened yesterday, and from what I read, it didn't just happen here on Gunflint Lake. The radar was showing that snow was falling for quite a while in the morning, but it never made it to the ground. I read something about snow falling in to dry air, and that it might make it to us, but it never did. It was certainly a disappointment, as we all were looking forward to a freshening up on the trails. The Minneapolis Star Tribune reported that the same thing had happened there. I figured that maybe this was nature's payback for all of those times I have seen snow come down when it is neither predicted, nor on the radar map.

Today when I got up, it was snowing a little, so I checked the radar. This time, it wasn't showing anything. Strange! The snow continued, and Greg and I went for a walk. I said to him that maybe we were finally receiving all of the snow that had fallen yesterday---perhaps it had been trapped in the "dry air" and was finally set free. But when I got home, I saw that the weather map had been upgraded, and indeed, the map and the actual happenings did jive. The best news, however, is that it has continued to snow all day, and we are starting to see it pile up. I was expecting an inch at best, but it must be at least two by now. Greg is out plowing the road to the point, and soon will be in to verify my guess. The Plowguy says it is a "couple-three" inches---that translates to two or so in some places, and three in others. This will improve the ski trails quite a bit.

While we were on our walk, I enjoyed checking out all of the animal tracks in the new snow. The fox had been through, as usual. The string of pawprints looked just like someone had laid a necklace of beads in the snow. Then we came upon some snowshoe hare tracks. These were fun to investigate, not only for their size, but also for the crazy path that the hare had followed. Soon I saw some squirrel tracks, small but sharply defined. Those red squirrels are so busy all year long, running here and there. When one dodges in to the road ahead of us, if we are driving, we will slow down and try to go by after he/she has either crossed or turned back. Eventually, the snowplow came along, and so that changed the track watching. I tend to look down when walking in the winter, just to be sure of my footing. I observed how the snow spit back from the tires, and sometimes even left minute hairline tracks as it rolled across the surface. That is similar to a mouse's track, but without the footprints. And as usual, I saw deer tracks, and even watched a doe in the woods just a few feet off the road. She stared at me, too, but must have felt safe enough with the few balsam trees between us. Every other morning this week that we went walking, I carried my camera, but never saw anything to photograph. Today I left it home, and of course I could have used it.

A couple of nights ago we were treated to the Northwoods "music" that I like best---the wolves were howling. Such a magnificent chorus to hear again! They were not far away, but since the sound carries so well, it is hard to pinpoint direction sometimes. I saw two wolves last week, out on the ice, right in front of the lodge. They looked to be younger ones, as they were not as large as some we have seen. They were headed west, so I ran to the ice to see if there was more excitement. One had already reached land, and the other was following, just past the shore in front of Sharlene's cabin. I haven't seen any deerkills yet, but the wolves must be busy with that, as it is their main food source.

More music this weekend---Paul and his Trail's End band buddies are back at the Tavern for more good times. We'll be there--stop by if you can!

January at Heston's

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January came in with moderate temperatures and just a bit of a west wind as we enjoyed our annual bonfire. The stars were out briefly, and then the clouds rolled in and carried a few snowflakes to us. We were with our wonderful group of friends and neighbors that have joined us for so many of the previous New Year's festivities, as we bid farewell to 2007 and welcomed all that 2008 has in store for us.

We had started the evening with a buffet dinner from places I had never traveled to, let alone eaten the foods: Lebanese, Turkish, Syrian--just a few of the ethnicities we visited on our culinary tour. With much help from an excellent and experienced team, we hosted about sixty people for dinner that night. From Chicken with Pomegranate Molasses to Kebobs with Baharat seasoning, to tabouli and a bread called Manaaeesh, it was quite a feast. I don't think anyone left hungry, especially if they stopped by the dessert table, too. In addition to several plates of delicious cookies and holiday treats, Addie and Sophie came up with some spectacular offerings, most notable a pear tiramisu, and a peppermint ice cream cake. It was difficult to get by the dessert buffet, as some folks chose just to hang out right next to it. Can't say that I blame them!

Once dinner was over, our good friend Jim teamed up with Addie, Paul, Nic, and our neighbors Samuel, Erik and Hannah for some music. Sophie and her mom, Elizabeth, also participated. The music ranged from classical, with flute and piano, to jazz and rock, with guitars, saxophone and trumpet. Following the performances, we had a sing-a-long, with Jim on the guitar, and lively voices from the audience. I saw smiles and fun all around me. Many thanks to all who played and sang--the rest of us sure enjoyed it.

Sometimes I am a bit sad to see a year go by, but I have to admit that it was not the case this time around. 2007 sure had a way about it that didn't always make it lovable. Right out of the gate, it brought challenges, with the passing of Grandma Peggy in January, the fire in May (and the aftermath), and then all the rain in the fall. We were definitely grateful for all of that moisture that came down, but it really kept us hopping as far as securing boats and docks. As ever, we made it through, and are no worse for the wear. If there is just one thing that I can hope for in this new year, it is that life is calmer......I've seen articles in the newspaper about different groups choosing a word for the previous year. I think that I will choose the word calm for 2008.

Over the past weekend, January decided to do its thaw. I remember as a kid having a January thaw, and so it's somewhat expected. The temps climbed towards the lower thirties in the last four days, but for the most part, we have been fortunate here on the Trail. Despite the predictions, we haven't seen drizzle, and the sun has been hiding, too. The snow has softened up, and we have lost some, but not near as much as other places I have been hearing about. Earlier today, we had some new snowflakes falling, and the forecast has more predicted for the next couple of days. The temperatures are supposed to go down, and so we should be back to more normal patterns for this time of year.

Lake trout fishing opens on Saturday for the lakes outside of the BWCA--that includes Gunflint Lake. For the most part, it seems that the slush is clearing up. Last night it was mild enough to have our bedroom window open about a half-inch, and the lake was making all the right sounds for more ice. Sometimes it booms and cracks, other times it just sounds like odd instruments tuning up. My favorite is when it makes noises that sound like something straight out of an outer space themed movie. The thickest ice we've heard about is around twelve inches. When Paul punched the sauna hole, he found nine inches.

Speaking of Paul, he is soon to be facing his first challenge of the new year. He will be leaving next week for Morris, Minnesota, where he will start his first semester in college. We'll miss him like the dickens, but are very happy for him to have this opportunity. College life will be very different from homeschooling in the woods of the Gunflint Trail, but I think it will suit him well. Only Addie will be left at home.....she can already see all of the work lined up for her!