Two Island River and Taconite Harbor: Off the Beaten Path

May 25, 2024June 17, 2025 / mariezhuikov / 11 Comments

We’ve been driving up and down Highway 61 on Lake Superior’s North Shore more than usual lately to deliver and retrieve my photos that were on display in Grand Marais. On one trip, I noticed a river that flowed underneath the highway. No sign sported the river’s name. Looking landward as we whizzed past, I spotted a double culvert bridge about a hundred yards away that the river flowed through. Was that a waterfall behind one of the culverts? The scene was intriguing and not one I’d ever seen photographed by established North Shore photographers. I made note of the location and vowed to stop on our next trip.

That “next trip” was last weekend. On our way back to Duluth from Grand Marais, we stopped near the mystery river, which is near Taconite Harbor. The harbor’s a place where mining companies used to load taconite (iron-ore pellets mined and made on Minnesota’s Iron Range) from rail cars into ships bound for steel-making plants in Michigan and Illinois.

We parked our car in a driveway entrance that was blocked by a gate overgrown by saplings. Although the driveway had a fire number on it, that gate obviously hadn’t been opened in years, so we weren’t too worried about blocking access.

We walked across the highway and, as cars rushed past, took a short jaunt to the river. We hopped the guardrail in a likely looking spot and soon found a faint game trail. The trail also could have been made by anglers. We found out later that part of the river is considered an “Aquatic Management Area” allowing angler access by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.

*Two Island River, see the culverts upstream?*

It’s spring and we’d had a heavy rain recently, so the shallow river splashed with gusto over reddish-gray rocks. I clambered along the banks, camera in hand, taking photos at spots that offered a good vantage. But I was impatient to get to my goal: the double culvert up the hill, and that waterfall behind it.

Russ went ahead while I took photos. When I caught up to him at the railroad bridge with the culverts, he’d had time to look up the name of the river on his phone. We were looking at Two Island River, a 15-mile waterway. There’s not much info out there about it, but Wikipedia says the river is named for two lake islands near its mouth.

As you can probably tell, there was a waterfall behind the culverts. A very nice one, too. The steep angle of the sun and rising mist from the falls made for some blurry spots in my photos, but I managed to get a few images without amorphous blobs floating around in them.

Waterfall appreciation over, we investigated the railway bridge. Like the driveway gate, the railroad was overgrown with saplings and obviously hadn’t been used in years. Research I did while writing this post uncovered the facts that the railway was named the Cliffs Erie Railroad. The last train operated in 2001, but after that, cleanup trains, which collected leftover chips and pellets from the mines, operated until 2008.

A bustling little town was situated near the Two Island River, probably accessed through that overgrown driveway where we parked. Taconite Harbor, Minnesota, was a mining town built by the Erie Mining Company. In 1957, twenty-two prefabbed homes were trucked into a several block area near the lake. The little community even had a fire hall, community center, playground, and baseball/tennis courts.

It seemed like a 1950s ideal community. Seventy-five children grew up there and probably played along the river’s banks. In the 1970s, families were driven away by noise pollution and health concerns about the taconite dust that blew off the rail cars and from local stockpiles.

The steel industry lull added another blow in the 1980s and by 1988, the last resident had left the little Taconite Harbor town. In 1990, the remaining homes and buildings were packed up and transported away by trucks. Driving past the site, I recall seeing only empty asphalt streets, home foundations and streetlights. Nature has reclaimed much of the area, but town remnants remain. It’s truly a North Shore ghost town.

Russ and I didn’t have time to investigate the town site ourselves, but there are many good images of it on the internet. “Forgotten Minnesota” has some good ones.

*The Cliffs Erie Railroad tracks that cross the Two Island River bridge.*

The history of this area also includes an event that I narrowly escaped. It’s an involved tale so I’ll start from the beginning. In 1957 when the little town of Taconite Harbor was being formed, the mining company also began dumping ash from its nearby coal-fired power plant near the river and the town. I’m not sure it was illegal at the time, but it probably was as time went on. The dumping continued until 1982 and the pile covered 27 acres.

On the morning of July 28, 1993, I drove up the highway in a pale green government car through a heavy rain on my way up to Grand Marais for my job with the Forest Service. Later that day, thanks to the rain and the fact that the mining company had been dumping excess water from a coal stockpile onto the ash heap, the pile became saturated and it liquified in a rare phenomenon called “static liquefaction.”

The heap collapsed and flowed downhill, covering the highway and contaminating the river and Lake Superior. It knocked out an electric substation and buried someone in their car who was traveling on the highway. I can’t find any news reports about the incident now, but as I recall, the person was rescued. I believe another car was partially buried.

All I could think of at the time is that could have been me! Luckily, it wasn’t. And luckily, I already had been planning to stay overnight in Grand Marais because the highway was unpassable and closed until the ash was cleared later the next day when I traveled home.

Russ also recalls hearing about a truck that hit the top of one of the railroad bridges that span the highway at that site. As a result, the bridge spans that cross the highway have been removed, leaving just the tracks and growing saplings on either side.

In short, this is a picturesque area that has had a lot happen to it! Its history of abuse and neglect is probably why the site is not sought-after by more photographers or tourists. That’s too bad. I suppose the mining company still owns the area and they obviously just want to forget about it. The river and the old town site could use some love. The nearby harbor has had some public funds put into it. It’d be nice to see the same for the Two Island River.

Spring and Newton’s Apple Tree

May 9, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 10 Comments

I traveled to Madison, Wisconsin, this week for a water symposium on the university campus. As I walked back to my hotel from the event, I passed the university’s botany garden. On a whim, I meandered off course a few steps and entered.

Although it was too early in the season for everything to be blooming, enough flowers were showing to keep me moving through. Sculptures with botany themes were scattered throughout the small but pretty garden.

One plant and plaque stopped me in my tracks: a picturesque apple tree surrounded by a fence. The tree sported white blossoms and looked older than its 23 Years. Reading the sign, I learned that the tree, planted in 2001, is a direct descendant of the original tree that bore the fruit which inspired Sir Isaac Newton’s Theory of Gravitational Forces.

Huh. I always assumed that the whole apple falling on Newton’s head thing was a myth. But now here was living proof that the tree from which said apple fell not only could be identified, but its offspring was living in Madison!

The plaque said the original “Newton Apple Tree” grows on the grounds of the National Institute of Standards and Technology. But that institute is in the United States (in Maryland). I thought Newton made his discovery in England.

So, in writing this post, I did some digging. The institute tree the Madison tree is grafted from was a clone. Alas, the clone fell over and died about a year ago “due to unknown reasons” according to Wikipedia.

*Tulips and a crabapple tree were in bloom in UW-Madison’s Botany Garden. The person in the image is taking a picture of the tulips from below.*

The actual original Newton tree grew in the 1600s on the grounds of the English manor where Newton was raised. The Woolsthrope Manor tree has died, but its descendants and clones live on at the manor and many other places around the world.

The story of the apple inspiring Newton’s theory gained public visibility when Newton’s niece related it to Voltaire, who included it in an essay. The apple, however, did not fall on Newton’s head. That is a silly myth.

The Madison tree was planted in honor of F. James Sensenbrenner, chair of the U.S. House of Representatives Committee on Science (1995-2000). Sensenbrenner was a Republican congressman from Wisconsin and a graduate of UW-Madison. From the plaque text, it sounds like Sensenbrenner presented the tree to the university himself in hopes that “the fruit of this descendant inspires others to partake in scientific discovery.” This strikes me as rather self-aggrandizing, but it was a nice gesture, no doubt accompanied by some additional funds.

As if having a copy of the Newton tree isn’t enough, the UW-Madison Botany Garden was the first in the world to be based on the new Angiosperm Phylogeny Group system of molecular classification of plants. I don’t really know what that means but if you visit the garden’s webpage, there’s a chart about that.

As I continued my walk through the garden, I envied the Madisonians their warm breezes and blooms. In northern Minnesota, our daffodils are just beginning to show. It will take us about three weeks to catch up to the plants in Madison. Sigh. But this way, lucky me experiences two blooming seasons and that’s just fine.

I exited the garden, glad for my little educational and botanical detour and that I’d have something to share with you. And now you know more than you probably ever wanted about Newton’s apple tree!

Lake Superior Skink Soup

March 30, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 15 Comments

*Cullen Skink soup, homemade bread and tea served at the Laird’s Kitchen* *in Delgatie Castle* (2016).

I know what you’re thinking – that is an unappetizing name for a soup! But there’s a reason behind it.

Back in 2016, when my friend Sharon and I traveled to Scotland, we became acquainted with Scotland’s version of chowder, thanks to some friendly people in a café in Gardenstown. The soup is called Cullen Skink and they said the best place to find it was Delgatie Castle, which was not too far away.

We took them up on the advice and ate lunch at the café in the basement and then toured the pinkish castle. We tried the soup, which is made with smoked haddock, potatoes, and onions – thus, a very white dish. It was served with homemade white bread slathered with butter. More whiteness!

*Delgatie Castle, Scotland, where I had my first Cullen* Skink.

The soup was very creamy and good. I am a chowderholic, so I loved it. The café is also known for its scones, which were lovely. The soup was invented in the Scottish town of Cullen. It was created from deprivation and want. The skink part of the name is usually reserved for soups in Scotland with ingredients like a shank of beef or ham. Having none of these on hand, smoked fish was used instead, but the name of “skink” stuck to it.

Cullen Skink has been described by The Guardian newspaper as “smokier and more assertive than American chowder, heartier than classical French bisque.” I agree.

The Scottish are proud of their skink, holding an annual Cullen Skink World Championships competition. The most recent event was just a couple of weeks ago in a hotel in Aberlour.

*Kellie Spooner, excited winner of the 2024 Cullen Skink World Championships. Image courtesy of NE Scotland BBC.*

During our trip, Sharon found a recipe in a travel guide and took a photo of it. I recently came across the image and decided to follow up on my long-ago plans to make the soup at home. The only problem is that smoked haddock is impossible to find in my neck of the woods. So, true to the original nature of Cullen Skink, I had to make do with what was at hand, and that was a Lake Superior smoked whitefish.

To make the soup even more white, I substituted white pepper for black pepper. For the milk, I used Carnation brand evaporated milk because it was on sale. But I had forgotten I can’t have it due to my intolerance to corn and any ingredients derived from corn. Carnation contains dextrose, which is derived from corn.

I had migraines for two days as I ate the soup and its leftovers, until I figured out the culprit. So, if you have a corn intolerance, keep that in mind! The generic brand of evaporated milk at my store is free of dextrose, so I will use that next time.

If you want to introduce a bit of color into the soup, I suggest using B-sized (new) red potatoes and not peeling them. The parsley also adds color.

I forgot to soak the smoked fish overnight in the milk beforehand, but it still came out tasting great! If you love chowder but are looking for something different, this is the soup for you.

Here’s my version, which I have named Lake Superior Skink to honor the fish from Lake Superior that I used. If you use a local fish species, feel free to call this recipe your own geographic version of skink. For instance, a version containing catfish could be called Mississippi River Skink. Yet another appetizing name!

For a another version of chowder, see my steelhead and clam chowder recipe.

Lake Superior Skink

(Inspired by Scottish Cullen Skink Soup)

Serves 4, wheat- and corn-free, gluten-free

2 Tablespoons butter
1 onion, diced
2 pints evaporated milk (approx. 3 cans) or whole milk
1-1/2 lbs potatoes, peeled and diced
1 lb smoked Lake Superior whitefish or lake trout
2 teaspoons dried parsley
sea salt and white pepper, to taste
lite sour cream

Soak fish in milk overnight to infuse extra smoky flavor into the broth.

Melt butter in a pan, add the onion and cook gently for 7-8 minutes until it is soft but not browned. Pour in the milk and bring to a simmer. Poach the smoked fish for 3-4 minutes until it is cooked and will flake easily.

Carefully lift the fish out onto a plate and leave it to cool slightly. Add the diced potatoes and simmer for about 20 minutes until soft. Blend some of the potatoes with a stick blender to thicken the soup a little. If you have a regular blender, put about a quarter of the soup into it, blend, then return to the pan.

When the fish is cool enough to handle, break it into flakes, discarding the skin and bones. Return the fish to the pan and stir in the parsley and spices. When serving, add sour cream as desired.

In Which I get Paid to Work in a Bar

March 22, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 10 Comments

*The Kom-on-Inn in West Duluth. Image courtesy of Jennifer Webb, University of Minnesota Duluth*

I recently worked in a bar. Not as a bartender, though. I didn’t even drink! I was there to view art and explore how it relates to community and the restoration of the St. Louis River, which flows along the border of Minnesota and northwest Wisconsin. You can view my resulting story on Wisconsin Sea Grant’s “Unsalted” blog here.

The Minute Men and the Minister

February 20, 2024February 21, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 15 Comments

In preparation for a trip to Ireland and Scotland that Russ and I are planning, I was rummaging around in a genealogy book that my mother and her sisters prepared about the side of my family that has U.K. roots. I was looking for Irish names. I came up empty. Thanks to family lore and 23 & Me, I know I have Irish blood but I’m not sure where it came from.

As I rummaged around in the book, I came across a pamphlet written in 1877 by Willard Parker (Detroit, MI) that I had noted before but never spent much time reading. It was about my Great (to the 4^th power) Grandfather Caleb Parker. He was born in 1760 in Shrewsbury, MA, to Stephen Parker Jr. and Abigail Wright.

The surname of Parker originated in France. In essence, it means “park-keeper” and is an occupational name describing a gamekeeper. Could this be why I like “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” so much? (The book’s main character is a gamekeeper.) The name was introduced into England after the Norman (Viking/French) invasion in 1066.

Caleb’s original name was Nathaniel, but his parents changed that along the way to honor his brother Caleb who died in the French and Indian War in 1755 or 1756. The soldier was never heard from by the family. I suspect Nathaniel must have been very young when his name change happened. The French and Indian War ended in 1763 when Nathaniel was three, so maybe his parents changed his name during that time, once they gave up hope of Caleb the elder’s return.

Caleb/Nathaniel married a woman named Thankful Pratt of Shrewsbury in 1782 when he was 22 years old. He was a soldier in the late part of the Revolutionary War. While in the army fighting under George Washington, he acquired a taste for military life and in 1793 (after he had moved to Vermont), the governor appointed him captain of the Vermont Militia.

Militia fighters were also known as minute men because they had to be ready to drop everything they were doing at home with only a minute’s notice when needed for battle. They are immortalized in Longfellow’s poem, “Paul Revere’s Ride.”

About six years later, Caleb resigned his commission and moved to Stukley, an eastern township of Lower Canada, not far over the Vermont border. He died there in 1826. His wife, Thankful, lived 23 more years, dying in Stukley in 1849.

The couple had 11 children who met various fates. One was killed by a falling tree. One was a founder of Stukley township. The writer of the pamphlet said that Caleb’s “descendants have been mostly tillers of the soil. If there have been but few distinguished men among them, I may say, in all truthfulness, that honesty, industry, temperance and Christian character have been the prevailing characteristics of the son and daughters” of Caleb. “These qualities have been inherited from our emigrant ancestor [Thomas Parker], whose descendants in New England are not unworthy to rank honorably with those among whom they dwell.”

*Parker Tavern image: By Swampyank at English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0*

Thomas Parker, Caleb’s grandfather, came from England originally, sailing on the ship “Susan & Ellen” in 1635. I was surprised to discover that he has his own Wikipedia entry! Thomas was a Congregational Church deacon and had a large family with his wife, Amy Aylesworth. He founded Reading, MA. I also discovered that the oldest surviving building in Reading is named after the family. The Parker Tavern was owned and operated by Thomas’s great grandson Ephriam and it has been turned into a museum. I’m thinking a trip to Reading, MA, is in order someday!

If I were more talented with graphics, I would make a genealogical chart for you, but my skills do not lie in that direction. I did scribble one out with pen and paper for my reference, though, to try and keep everyone’s name straight.

My line of the family is descended from Thomas’s son Nathaniel Parker. But Thomas had another son (I’m unclear whether his name was Hananiah or Thomas) who had some notable descendants. One is John Parker who was another minute man like Caleb. John led the Lexington, MA, militia in 1775. In fact, he was a model minute man. A sculptor used his likeness for the famous Lexington Minuteman statue that stands on the Lexington Battle Green.

*The Minute Man statue on the Lexington Green. It’s based on militia captain John Parker.*

John led the fight against the British in the battle of Lexington on the day the Revolutionary War began. The militia suffered lopsided losses to the British (8 militia killed, 10 wounded to only one British soldier wounded). One of Parker’s men, many years later, recalled Parker’s orders on the Lexington Green: “Stand your ground. Don’t fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here.”

During the skirmish, John witnessed his cousin Jonas Parker killed during a British bayonet charge. Later that day he rallied his men to attack the British returning to Boston in an ambush known as “Parker’s Revenge.”

John is featured as a character in the book and movie called “April Morning,” which is about the beginning of the Revolutionary War. The book is mandatory reading in many a U.S. classroom.

Sounds like I will also need to visit Lexington in addition to Reading some day! I can’t believe that a relative of mine was involved in the very beginning of the Revolutionary War. If I had known that earlier, I would have paid a lot more attention to my American History class in school.

The other notable descendant is Theodore Parker. John was his grandfather. Theodore was a noted Unitarian minister and abolitionist. Just out of Harvard Divinity School, Theodore preached at a church in the Boston neighborhood of West Roxbury. That church still stands today as the Theodore Parker Unitarian Church with a statue of Theodore on its grounds. But eventually, he left after being kicked out of the Boston Unitarian brotherhood for his “radical” views on abolishing slavery and other religious matters. He also believed outrageous things such as women should be allowed to vote, and to become doctors, lawyers, and (gasp!) even ministers.

Theodore is credited for famous quotes later shortened and used by President Lincoln and Martin Luther King. The phrases are, “a government of the people, by the people and for the people” and “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” The former was used by Abraham Lincoln in the Gettysburg Address and the latter by Martin Luther King.

By coincidence, I’m a Unitarian! (Or perhaps it’s not a coincidence?)

Those Parkers were quite a bunch. It’s not every day that a person discovers their ancestors have their own Wikipedia pages, movies, statues, and a tavern and a church named for them! Plus, I learned that they founded two towns. I don’t think my mother and her sisters knew any of this because they never mentioned it.

Although my search for Irish ancestors was unsuccessful, I learned more than I ever dreamed about my family and their role in shaping early America.

*Theodore Parker’s statue in front of the Theodore Parker Church, a Unitarian parish in West Roxbury, Massachusetts. Photo by By Biruitorul (talk) – Biruitorul (talk), Public Domain*

Musical Phoenix

December 29, 2023 / mariezhuikov / 13 Comments

*Phoenix’s Musical Instrument Museum. Image courtesy of the Musical Instrument Museum*

During our recent meanderings in Arizona, we visited the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix. Russ and I enjoy music, both listening and playing, so the museum naturally intrigued us.

This musical museum offers two floors filled with 4,200 instruments from across the world. The CEO of the Target department store corporation founded it to highlight more than just western classical instruments (which are found in many other museums). Robert Ulrich wanted to focus on instruments played by everyday people across the globe. The museum’s motto is: Music is the language of the soul.

The museum delivers on its mission and motto in spades! We could have easily spent an entire day perusing the exhibits. The upper floor has instruments from different geographic regions such as Asia, Europe, and Latin America. Tours are self-guided with an audio headset.

The lower level contains two of my favorite galleries. The Artist Gallery highlights famous musicians past and present, such as Prince and Johnny Cash. Each display features photos, music audio, and memorabilia. Prince’s had a purple piano from one of his tours. One unusual exhibit focuses on the theremin, an eerie electronic instrument played without any direct physical contact by the performer. Clara Rockmore was a theremin “virtuoso” featured.

My other favorite was the Experience Gallery. We were allowed to unleash our inner musicians in this room, which offers banjos to pluck, drums to beat, and gongs to gong.

The museum’s Mechanical Music Gallery shows self-playing pianos and the like. We arrived just in time for a demonstration of a wall-sized instrument called an orchestrion. It’s powered by compressed air and is like having a whole orchestra at the ready.

Until fall of 2024, the museum has a special exhibit called Acoustic America, which displays 90 iconic guitars, mandolins, and banjos that shaped American music since the Civil War. If you’re a stringed instrument-lover, you’ll have to check that out.

If you can’t just pick up and head to Phoenix, the museum provides this virtual tour.

We left the Musical Instrument Museum with many songs in our hearts.

The Root Beer Lady: A True Story

October 28, 2023 / mariezhuikov / 18 Comments

Once upon a time, a woman lived alone in the northern Minnesota wilderness. Except, she wasn’t really alone. Birds and otters kept her company. Canoeists stopped by her island on Knife Lake near the Canadian Border. At one time, she even ran a resort there.

*Image courtesy of the Dorothy Molter Museum.*

But after the land was designated as an official roadless area and then a Wilderness with a capital W, making a living became more difficult for the woman, not to mention getting supplies. Rogue sea plane pilots tried to help her, but they were arrested. The only thing the woman could do was haul in the supplies she needed by canoe, portaging five times over the 33 miles to civilization.

In 1952, a writer with the Saturday Evening Post visited her and wrote a story about “The Loneliest Woman in America.” The article turned her into a national legend – a woman living alone among wolves and braving minus 50-degree winter temperatures. But the woman always contended the writer got it wrong, she was never lonely, even in winter.

One day, she was cleaning and found dozens and dozens of glass bottles left from when her resort served pop (as we call it in Minnesota). Rather than haul out the bottles and discard them, Dorothy Molter (as was her name) got the idea to make root beer for passing canoeists in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

She hit the jackpot. If there’s one thing most wilderness campers appreciate, it’s a fizzy cold drink after days away from civilization. Dorothy made her drinks with root beer extract, sugar, yeast, and water from Knife Lake. They were cooled on ice cut from the lake in winter. Canoeists donated a dollar per bottle.

Dorothy made root beer for years. At the height of her business, she produced 12,000 bottles and still couldn’t keep up with demand. She was trained as a nurse and aided any canoeists who needed help by sewing up cuts and removing fishhooks from various body parts. She once saved the lives of a father and son who got hit by lightning in a sudden summer storm. Dorothy also nursed wild animals, including a crow and a mink.

A strong and plain-spoken woman, Dorothy didn’t swear or curse, but she didn’t mince words either. Her philosophy for surviving in the wilderness could be summed up in the sign she posted at her home on the Isle of Pines. “Kwitchurbeliakin,” it advised.

Dorothy continued living in the wilderness until she was in her late 70s. She kept in touch by radio, checking in with Forest Service staff daily. One winter day she didn’t check in. Then another day passed with no contact. A wilderness ranger made the trek and found her dead of a heart attack from hauling wood.

Although Dorothy’s time passed, her memory is preserved in a museum named after her in Ely, Minnesota. The fame and good will she garnered through her lifestyle prompted its formation.

Russ and I had heard of Dorothy over the years but never had a chance to meet her or visit her museum. We thought we were out of luck on a recent camping trip to Ely because a brochure we happened upon said the museum was closed after Labor Day.

With drizzly weather forecast, Russ and I ditched hiking plans and meandered into Ely to see what struck our fancy. We had driven though the whole town with no fancies struck, when we passed the sign for the Dorothy Molter Museum on the outskirts. The sign read “Open.” So, we turned in, hoping the sign wasn’t just the product of end-of-season-forgetfulness on somebody’s part.

The museum really was open! We spent a couple of hours touring Dorothy’s cabins, which volunteers had hauled out of the wilderness to house her artifacts. We enjoyed watching excerpts from a video about Dorothy’s life. We viewed her root beer-making equipment and perused the gift shop, where visitors can buy a bottle of Dorothy’s root beer. Despite the drizzle, we also got a bit of hiking in on the quarter-mile trail in the pine plantation surrounding the museum.

We left glad to see Dorothy’s memory preserved. As one of the museum signs says, “Although Dorothy has been gone from Knife Lake for over 30 years, we hope that you find inspiration to live your lives like she did, in harmony with the environment, with integrity, helping humankind, and making a contribution toward a better world.”

Last Day at Pictured Rocks: Au Sable Light Station and Luscious Food

September 24, 2023 / mariezhuikov / 7 Comments

Rain moved in on our last full day at Pictured Rocks. It foiled our morning plans to hike from our campground (Hurricane River, Lower Loop) to the Au Sable Lighthouse, a 3-mile round trip. But after Russ and I read and were generally slothful, the rain stopped in the afternoon and we were able to hike.

The “trail” to the lighthouse is more like a gravel road. In fact, the park employees who staff it drive on it with their car. It’s mostly level and easy walking along the shore of Lake Superior. Several shipwrecks lie on the beach near the lighthouse, but we couldn’t access them because of the rough waves.

*The treacherous sandstone makes up Au Sable Point.*

The light station is comprised of a small museum, the lighthouse and keeper’s quarters, a foghorn signal building, two historic outhouses (plus one the public can use), and a small brick oil building.

I’d wanted to visit this particular lighthouse for several years – ever since I discovered it’s the twin of the lighthouse on Outer Island in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. I would like to set a novel in the Outer Island lighthouse but was unable to tour inside it, so the Au Sable Light was the next best thing! Tours are offered during the summer for $5.

With its underwater reefs and thick fogs, Au Sable Point is a hazard to Lake Superior mariners. The lighthouse was built in 1874, the same year as the Outer Island Lighthouse. The light tower is 86 feet high. In 1945, the U.S. Coast Guard took over operation, replacing civilian keepers. In 1958, the Coast Guard converted the light station to an automatic, unattended light and discontinued the fog signal. The station became the property of the park service in 1968. The Coast Guard maintains the small LED beacon and solar panel that charges its battery. The park has completed several restoration projects over the years.

*The Au Sable Lighthouse as the fog rolled in.*

The furnishings inside the lighthouse are not original, but they are of the appropriate time period. The keeper’s quarters consist of a kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom, work room and several closets. The lighthouse tower can be accessed directly from the living quarters.

The second floor of the keeper’s quarters is much like the first and was built for the assistant keeper’s family. Tours include a trip up the 90 steps to the top of the tower, with its impressive view of Lake Superior and the surrounding forest.

After the tour, Russ and I wandered the grounds (with me taking photos). As we prepared to leave for the hike back to the campground, a fog rolled in, completing the ambiance.

Our evening plans included a drive to Munising to trade in our Spam camping food for more elegant fare. We made reservations at Tracey’s at Roam Inn. It was pricey, but the food was worth it! I had the Lakeshore Pan Roast – a seafood stew made with lobster, whitefish and scallops in reposado cream (made with tequila). Russ had the Grass-Fed Bison Filet Mignon. You can choose three different ways for your meat to be prepared. He chose the “House” method, which involves covering the meat in pepper and serving it with mashed potatoes, birch syrup asparagus, and morel mead cream. If you like pepper, this is the dish for you.

*The Lakeshore Pan Roast from Tracey’s Restaurant in Munising, MI.*

Both of our meals were luscious and provided the perfect end to a wonderful trip. For dessert, Russ had the chocolate cake (served with raspberry sauce and whipped cream), and I had the crème brulee served with lingonberry sauce and a stroopwafel (a Dutch waffle cookie with caramel filling). This put our meals over the top!

As we dined, we reflected on our experience. I was tickled by how excited people became from seeing “rocks.” On our sunset cruise, they were taking selfies with the various rock formations as well as cell phone videos to share with friends. Calling the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore “just a bunch of rocks” (like our church friend did) was like calling the Grand Canyon “just a big hole in the ground.”

The next day, we would drive home with our Scamp. But we would do so filled with a new appreciation for an area we had driven past many times but never had time to visit.

A Wisconsin Idea Adventure: Part 1

June 8, 2023 / mariezhuikov / 3 Comments

This post is reblogged from the Wisconsin Sea Grant blog, which I write for work.

I’m a born and bred Minnesotan. I’ve lived there almost my whole life. Sometimes, that can make working for Wisconsin institutions like Sea Grant and the University of Wisconsin-Madison challenging. While I am technically a UW-Madison employee, I live in Duluth, Minnesota, and my office is just across the border in Superior, Wisconsin. Although I’ve worked for Wisconsin Sea Grant 10 years, I’m not as steeped in my workplace’s culture and geography as I am in my home state’s.

This can lead to some interesting mistakes. One happened a few months ago when a co-worker said they grew up on Wisconsin’s Fox River. I only knew the part of the Fox that connects to Green Bay so, in the story I was writing at the time, I put that person’s birthplace near Green Bay. I was chagrined to learn she actually grew up near Oshkosh on a branch of the river 50 miles away from where I originally placed her.

I hate making mistakes in my stories. Even if it’s just during a draft. So, when I saw an announcement for the Wisconsin Idea Seminar in the UW employee newsletter, I jumped at the chance to apply.

The seminar is an annual five-day immersive study tour of Wisconsin culture and geography for UW-Madison faculty and staff. It’s designed so that participants:

Gain a deeper knowledge of the cultural, educational, industrial, social and political realities of Wisconsin
Learn firsthand about the social and cultural contexts that shape the lives of many UW students
See and experience the University’s connections to the state
Understand the public service mission of the University
Nurture an increased mutual understanding between the University and the people of Wisconsin

What this looks like in real life is about 40 people on a big red Bucky Badger bus riding around the state, talking to people and to each other, participating in activities and drinking in the landscape. The theme this year was Forest + River, which was right up my alley as a water research storyteller who is also a Wisconsin geographically challenged person.

This post focuses on just one of our experiences during the seminar’s first day. I plan to write another post later about the rest of the trip and a visit to the Green Bay Packaging Plant, which makes recycled paper used in boxes.

Our experience began on the Madison campus with a walking tour of Ho-Chunk sites. Amid a cacophony of spring birdsong, Bill Quackenbush, tribal historic preservation officer for the Ho-Chunk Nation, took us to several effigy mounds. These are ancient burial mounds formed in the shape of animals — birds, in the case of the two that we viewed.

*Bill Quackenbush, Ho-Chunk tribal historic preservation officer.*

The Madison campus is home to more of these ancient earthen monuments than any other university or college campus anywhere in North America, and probably the world. There are 38 burial mounds. At least 14 others have been lost to development. They are several thousand years old, perhaps as ancient as Egypt’s pyramids.

I learned something new right off the bat, mainly that there is a goose-shaped effigy mound right outside the Sea Grant office in Goodnight Hall. Granted, I don’t work on campus, but you’d think I would have heard something about that during my career here! Quackenbush said a Ho-Chunk village used to be where the office building is now located on the shores of Lake Mendota.

He explained how the Ho-Chunk are working to reclaim their culture. “These earth works are one small example of a portion of our life. We are no different today then we were back then. We humans like to take care of not only our babies and our children, but also our ancestors,” Quackenbush said.

*The goose effigy burial mound near the Sea Grant office on the UW-Madison campus.*

He criticized a stone marker on the mound not only for disturbing the site but for the text on it, which gives the impression that the mound is a thing of the past. “It isn’t a thing of the past at all,” Quackenbush said. “This is ever-present. It’s living and it’s here. Our ancestors are buried in this ground. They’re living, breathing things to us like that tree over there. Their bones have probably returned to the earth by now, but it’s the ground that is sacred to us.

“However, I don’t want to be all doom and gloom. There’s a lot of good things that have come from protecting these mounds,” Quackenbush added.

The mound site was designated on the National Register of Historic Places a few years ago. The University is working to restore an oak savannah that used to exist there.

A short walk took us to the Ho-Chunk Clan Circle, a series of 12 metal sculptures that was dedicated earlier this year. Each depicts a clan symbol. Quackenbush said the circle represents the Ho-Chunk people as a whole.

Fitting my Sea Grant employment, I found myself standing near the Water Spirit sculpture. Quackenbush said the tribe was involved in the process of creating the circle and that the sculpture offers opportunities for him to meet and speak with more groups such as the Wisconsin Idea Seminar participants. He explained the various clan roles and how they fit into the tribe’s governmental system.

Next, the group was able to view a dugout canoe that Quackenbush built with the help of Ho-Chunk youth. They built it in much the same style as the ancient canoes that were recently discovered in Lake Mendota.

“This canoe doesn’t look very exciting, but the journey it’s been on is,” Quackenbush said. “When I saw that the historical society discovered the dugout canoes in the lake behind you as I was drinking my cup of coffee, it shot out of my nostrils! It was amazing to me because we had aspirations of putting one of them together.”

He worked with Dane County to find a suitable cottonwood tree that was going to be removed for a trail project. The county delivered the tree to a youth education center, which is where Quackenbush and the students worked on it. Everything came together and, like the clan circle, the canoe is a great educational discussion piece.

Amy Rosebrough, interim Wisconsin state archeologist, joined us and described how the historic dugout canoes were found. She also detailed the significance of the new canoe. “These lakes remember. With the canoes, they’re telling the story of the Ho-Chunk presence here.”

Her office’s goal has been to work with Quackenbush and other partners to keep that story alive, “…To let people know that when they’re out there fishing, this isn’t something new. This is something that’s been going on for thousands of thousands of years. It’s not just the mounds, it’s this whole landscape. And to have Bill and his team come through with this new dugout, that was a wonderful thing – to sort of bring that back,” Rosebrough said.

Our visit ended with a Ho-Chunk drum ceremony by the Iron Mound Singers. Listening to them was like hearing the heartbeat of the Earth. That is definitely not something I get to do everyday in my job as a science writer. As we walked back to the bus to head to Portage and Appleton, I felt privileged to learn more about Ho-Chunk culture and the history of the land where the university stands.

The Story Behind my Isle Royale Lighthouse Story

May 28, 2023May 29, 2023 / mariezhuikov / 4 Comments

*The Isle Royale Lighthouse on Menagerie Island. Image courtesy of the National Park Service.*

I recently had an article published in Lake Superior Magazine about a family of lighthouse keepers who spent their summers on a remote, rocky island that’s part of Isle Royale National Park. Here’s how the story (“Romancing the Stone”) came about.

Last December, I was hawking my books at a table at Fitger’s Bookstore in Duluth. Many holiday shoppers passed by, but one couple stopped to chat. Somehow, we got on the topic of Isle Royale, and I told them that my first novel was set on this island in Lake Superior.

The husband said something like, “Well, I’ve got a story for you. My ancestors were lighthouse keepers for two generations on Isle Royale.” The husband’s name was John Malone. His wife was LaRayne, and she mentioned they got engaged while on a trip to the “family’s lighthouse,” which was the Isle Royale Light on Menagerie Island. John mentioned that his lighthouse keeper great-grandfather had 11 children who lived out on the remote (and very small) island.

Although intrigued, I had plenty of story ideas in my head to keep me occupied for months. I told them I’d consider it but couldn’t promise anything.

But the more I thought about it afterward, the more interested I became in the story of the Malone Family. I checked with the Lake Superior Magazine editor to see if they’d ever featured a story about the Isle Royale Lighthouse and the Malone Family. She told me they hadn’t and that she would be interested in it.

I couldn’t find John Malone in the phonebook, but I was able to connect with him through social media. I reminded him who I was and told him I was interested in doing a story about his ancestors and family. On New Year’s Eve, he replied to me with his phone number. I called him to get more information so that I could pitch the story to the magazine.

Not long after, I pitched it, and the story was a go!

Then the work began. I was lucky that the Malones had a copy of a copy of the Isle Royale Lighthouse Keepers’ log, which they loaned me when I visited their home for an interview. Also, the National Park Service had done oral history interviews with two Malones a few decades ago. These Malones were now deceased, so those interviews were invaluable. I was able to combine those interviews with the ones I did with John.

After the last lighthouse keeper in the Malone Family quit his job on Isle Royale, he piloted yachts for the wealthy in Duluth. One of those families were the Congdons who built Glensheen Mansion, which is a tourist attraction now in the city. John Malone told me a tale about how his ancestor had been aboard the yacht when it sunk due to a fire. He had this great information (which is in my magazine story), but he didn’t think that the staff at Glensheen Mansion had heard the history.

It so happens that my daughter-in-law used to be a docent at the mansion and still has ties there. I consulted with her and she consulted with the staff at Glensheen to see what they knew about the sinking. It seemed as if a meeting between John and the mansion staff was in order, so I arranged it.

We met at the mansion and met with a Glensheen historian and the education manager. John got to tell his tale and I recorded it for my story. The mansion staff was excited to learn this new information. I hope they work it into the information that they provide to the public. And I think John was touched to have someone value the historic information he was privy to.

The Lake Superior Magazine editor only wanted a 1,200-word story, but I gave her more like a 2,000-word story. I apologized, saying the more I learned, the more there was to tell! But it paid off in the end because she dedicated much of that issue to maritime history.

Trying to sell books to people passing in a hallway can be depressing. I sometimes feel like one of those poor souls who stand on a street corner with a cardboard sign. My sign would say, “Will write for pay.” But this is one case where several good things came from putting myself out into the world.

Marie's Meanderings

Internet home for Marie Zhuikov: Blogger, Author, Poet, Photographer

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