Hanging Out at Sag Lake Trail

What a lovely morning it was yesterday, to be hanging out at the corner of the Gunflint and the Sag Lake Trail. The day's event was the Ham Lake Half-Marathon and 5K run. For the past two years, Greg has gone to work traffic control, as a part of the Gunflint Trail volunteer fire department. This year, I got to be his assistant, since the resort isn't quite open yet.

The marathon was started in 2008, by Sue Prom of Voyageur Canoe Outfitters. Sue wanted a way to commemorate the Ham Lake Fire, one with a bright outcome. On this particular Sunday, 190 runners had signed up to run the trail.

Once the sign and traffic cones were in place, we settled in to watch for the first runners to arrive. Memories returned for me, of my own (short-lived) days of running on the Gunflint Trail. Back in the spring of 1986, the first year that I moved to Gunflint Lake, I was in the midst of training to run Grandma's Marathon. Some whim had come over me, and I decided it might be a good thing to do. Prior to my move here in April, I was living on the scenic highway between Duluth and Two Harbors, so that was my training grounds. Once up here, I realized how easy I'd had it: very few hills on old Highway 61. At the end of our side road, there are three long hills, and I would do whatever I could to avoid running up them. Two times, I had Greg drop me off at the end of the Gunflint Trail so that I could run home, and that meant running down those three hills. I gave up running after that one and only marathon, as my knee had started to say a few words to me. I took up walking instead, and am forever happy with that decision.

This day, when the runners started to come in to view, I knew a little of what it was like for them. So I did my best to cheer them on, giving them encouragement for the last mile or so of the race. It was really fun to be on the sidelines, thinking up new words to call to them: You're almost there! There's good things up ahead! You can almost smell the barbecue at the end! This year the Ham Lake, next year Grandma's Marathon!

It was especially enjoyable to see friends and neighbors running the race. With camera handy, I caught two parties on film, and was so happy to see everyone smiling!

It is a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to reach the finish line. Congratulations to all who participated this year. Your hard work paid off!

Random Sunday Photos

Living in the Fifties

While I was born in the late fifties, my memories of that decade are only from photographs of that short time. Living in the fifties refers to the temperature inside the lodge lately. Given the extended dry period and subsequent high fire danger that the Gunflint Trail has been experiencing, we just didn't feel it was prudent to have a fire in our woodstove. Both our stove and our chimney are in excellent condition, and a small fire would not throw off a lot of sparks, but we just didn't want to take the risk. It reminded us of the days during the Ham Lake Fire, when the weather finally turned and it was more typical of spring: chilly mornings, dampness, and clouds. We were freezing in our evacuation home: the bus, parked at the Recreation Park in Grand Marais, right on the shore of the big lake, complete with a cold east wind. The only way to warm up the parked bus is with the miniature woodstove in it. Were we starting a fire at that moment? No way!

It's true, we do have a furnace in the lodge, as our back up heat source. But when the daytime temps get into the upper fifties and lower sixties, with plenty of sunshine, it's hard to justify running the furnace and burning propane. The flip side is that the nights get down in to the upper thirties and low forties, so that cools the building down a lot. (Oh, and that open window upstairs so that we can hear the sounds in the night!)

As a result, it is often about 56 degrees inside in the morning. So I put on a couple of sweatshirts and bravely face it while drinking my morning tea. If I hadn't been conditioned to warmer weather, thanks to Hawaii, it might not feel so cool. Mostly, though, I just miss having a small fire in the morning and the evening, to take the edge off of the chill. In the early spring, as in the late fall, a fire in the woodstove requires only two or three chunks of wood, and the whole place is warmer. No need to stoke the fire and stuff the stove full for overnight. That would make it too hot. But there is nothing like a fire in the woodstove to warm bones that are chilled in the early morning.

This is just one of many reasons why we are grateful that it has finally rained up here. On Thursday evening, the raindrops came along with a bit of thunder and lightning. Friday morning we had several intermittent showers. Last night we had some good hard rainfall coming down. Though the noise of it woke us up many times, we didn't mind. It was a good sound, one that we had been craving. Our rain gauge hasn't been put in to place yet, but we do have some unofficial ones out there. A bucket here, a container there, these will have collected the water, and we'll get an idea of how much fell. It isn't enough to quench the continued fire danger, but it does quell it for a bit.

And it means that at least for today, a little fire to warm up the place is not a bad idea. The sun is out this morning, and that too will help to bring us up into the sixties, at least inside. The Sixties...that's when my real memories begin....

Early Morning Songs

Since my last post in early March, many things have changed, as always happens this time of year. Some of the most prominent changes are in the sounds that I hear in the morning upon waking up. As I was preparing to write this blog post, I came across in my queue a post that I wrote on March 5th. Why I did not publish it to Blogger that day has totally escaped my memory. Here is what I had written then:

Two wolf concerts in one night...actually morning...was a pretty impressive showing. We heard the first songs at 2:35, and they struck up again at 5:30. After the early performance, I thought about how great it would be to record the sound. I realized that my camera happened to be upstairs in my room, rather than downstairs on a shelf. I could use the video function to do that, but the wolves seemed to be done. I went back to sleep.

When the second concert began at 5:30, it took me a moment to remember my earlier thoughts. But then it came to me, and quickly and quietly I got out of bed. I went to the window, and reached for my camera on a nearby shelf. I could faintly see the outline of a wolf, out front on the ice near the sauna. "Greg," I said, "They're right down in front!" In the dark without my glasses, I attempted to set the camera on record. In the meantime, Greg went downstairs to retrieve his video camera.

We listened to the wolves, and I could identify three different voices. The first one was the most recognizable, and is usually the one to lead off. A second one chimed in with its own tune. The third added yips to the mix. What an amazing harmony.

Soon we could hear another sound in the distance. It took a moment or two to recognize it, but all too soon it was the unmistakable sound of snowmobiles. To the west we could see two, and then four headlights, traveling east. The wolf chorus stopped, and then I could see three seperate bodies gather. They took off running, also east, but towards our bay. There would be no more singing this morning.

We dressed and went outside to see if there was another kill on the ice. The dawn skies showed us the pristine landscape of frozen ice. A barred owl hooted in the distance, and the ravens tested their morning voices. No sign of the wolves. We'll have to wait until tomorrow to see what the next chapter brings.

Since that time, the wolves have moved on to different locations. Greg has howled every now and again, trying to conjure up a reply, but without much luck. I guess I'll be waiting all the way until next winter for my wolf buddies to return.

In the meantime, the birdsongs have picked up considerably. Before we went on vacation earlier this month, I brought in the feeders, so as not to attract any bears. Even without a steady supply of feed right here, the birds are still nearby...chickadees, nuthatches, crows and ravens. And with the warmer weather, I have heard loons, eagles, winter wrens and white-throated sparrows. There is a lot of comfort in hearing these old, familiar songs. It's almost a signal that things are fine in the world...the natural world at least...when the birds are still singing.

While on vacation, we had the opportunity to hear a most incredible sound in nature: humpback whales singing to each other. We had the good fortune to visit the state of Hawaii, and it happened to still be whale season there. While snorkeling, we could hear the sounds in the not-too-far-off distance. It was amazing! Listening to them, watching for them, and seeing them, were all a breath-taking experience. It reminded me in some ways of my interest in wolf-watching. If the whales were near the shore, I had to stop everything and watch them. If we were driving near the coastline, we kept our eyes scanning the ocean, hoping to see a hump or tail rise out of the water, or to see a water spout indicating that those actions might follow. What a privilege to see one of the largest mammals on earth!

Perhaps someday we will return to Hawaii, and we'll make sure that it is during the time the whales visit the islands. 'Til then, we'll keep an eye out on the woods and waters of Gunflint Lake.