The Perfect Christmas Gift for Me

Gift Box

Gift Box (Photo credit: Ken’s Oven)

On this Black Friday frenzy of Christmas shopping, which, by the way, I am NOT participating in, I wanted to write about the perfect Christmas present for me — a Northern Minnesota woman – just in case you were wondering.

The perfect present would be a snow blower – a two-stage, push-button-start, Craftsman model from Sears with a three-year warranty to be exact; a new machine to save me from being at the mercy of a thirty-two-year old Toro blower, which I inherited from my parents, who bought it when I left home for college and took my strong shoveling arms with me.

I love shoveling – I enjoy the exertion, and, unless the blizzard is still howling, it’s usually quiet and sometimes starlit work. If the neighbors are shoveling, they often end up taking a break, gathering in the street to shoot the breeze and make sure everyone made it through the storm all right. But there are times when the snow is piled too deep, and the need to get down my 30-foot driveway to the office is too urgent for shoveling.

The old Toro ran well up until last year when the pull cord got stiff and the auger started jamming. I promised myself the whole of last winter that this winter I would get a new one as a Christmas present of sorts.

I made good on that promise last week. But you know what the real gift was? The time my friend took to accompany me to the store and pick it out. Not to mention the pickup truck he provided to haul the snow blower home. Now, if I could just get him to read the manual for me so I know how to start it . . . . (smirk)

Happy Holidays everyone. May you find the gifts within your presents.

Whaz SUP? Stand Up Paddleboarding in Duluth

Stand Up Paddleboarding

Proof that a 50-year-old can learn new tricks!

It all started so innocently. I was biking on the end of Duluth’s Park Point Recreation Area when I noticed the sign for Stand Up Paddleboard (SUP) rental. I’d been wanting to try SUP for a couple of years so I stopped and spoke with the attendant. The price was right ($15 for an hour) so I made a reservation for the next day.

The day dawned with perfect SUP weather – calm waters and gorgeous sunshine. But I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Despite being half-mermaid, I’m a warm-water mermaid. The harbor water was 73 degrees – pretty warm for these parts, but what if I fell in? It would be shocking. And what if I made a fool of myself? Leave it to me to practice Fall Down Paddleboarding. Okay, this last one was only a slight fear. I’ve been on the planet long enough and made myself a fool several times over and survived. But still . . .

I went anyway. At the boat access, I met Heather with North Shore SUP. She had me sign a waiver (“SUP is an inherently dangerous sport,” blah, blah, blah) and read some rules, the first of which was, “Always SUP with a partner.” Guess I broke that one right off. I’d tried to find someone to join me during the past 24 hours, but my friends were all otherwise occupied. Heather let me go anyway.

Next, Heather’s partner Garrett gave me some cursory instruction. I could tell he’s given the spiel many times; he went a little fast for a newbie like me, but the other issue was that he was instructing me on land. I learn better by doing. But I must have absorbed enough because I’m still alive to write this. And, by the way, he’s one of the few certified SUP instructors in the country, so he knows what he’s talking about.

Heather introduced me to my board and instructed me how to get on it and stand up, and what to do if I fell. Then she cast me adrift. I’m thinking, Shouldn’t there be more to this? You mean no one’s going to come out with me for a few minutes to make sure I stay alive? Nope.

I kneeled on the board for a few moments until I got a feel for how it handled, then I took a big breath and stood. My first impression was one of tallness. I’m used to seeing the water from sitting in a canoe or kayak. My second impression was that it takes a lot of leg and core body power to make the board move. My legs began shaking in no time. BUT I didn’t fall.

Accompanied by distant cheers from a different paddling event across the way (the Dragon Boat Festival on Barker’s Island), I tooled along the shore, going into a bay where several sailboats were moored. I had this sudden sense of freedom. I could go over and see the sailboats more closely if I wanted, which I did. After a while circling the bay and enjoying the bright stands of purple loosestrife (a pretty, but invasive plant), I reversed direction and headed toward a nearby seaplane base.

Two balance challenges presented themselves along the way. One was a rock that my board scraped against and the other was the wake of a boat. Although not the most graceful, I remained upright. I made it part way to the base when my legs told me it would be a good idea to turn back and stop soon. So I did, enjoying the feeling of walking on water along the way.

Once I beached the board, I got to talk to Heather. She said that SUP can burn 500-800 calories per hour and that she is also a yoga instructor. She even teaches a yoga SUP class – imagine that! Both of my new interests combined. With the strength required for yoga poses combined with the workout of balancing on water, I bet a person must burn about 1,000 calories doing SUP yoga.

Heather mentioned she and Garrett used to run a whitewater rafting business out West. I didn’t get the chance to ask her what drew them to Duluth because another customer was waiting to buy one of their end-of-the-season boards.

Once home, my mom called me to be sure a storm didn’t blow me and my board away.

I guess the lesson is: don’t let your fears hold you back. Use common sense, but don’t sit out life!

Touring the Tall Ships on a “Short” Ship

The Schooner Coaster JJ

The Schooner Coaster JJ

I arrived at the Duluth Tall Ships Festival just when it was closing. Workers were pounding and pulling stakes out of parking lot asphalt once covered by tents, and festival T-shirts were being offered for half-off by a desperately vocal vendor.

But the nine tall ships were still in port and that’s what I was after. I was looking forward to a close-up view of the tall ships via a short, regular sailboat berthed in the ship canal in downtown Duluth. However, the craft was neither short nor regular but a gorgeous 42-foot Beneteau with cabin floors varnished so thickly it was like walking on water, and a nimbleness of handling that belied its more than adequate size. Named the Makena, the craft was one of two in the Moon Shadow Sailing fleet, which offers tours of Lake Superior and the harbor.

Joining me were a couple from Rochester, Minn., and a couple from Duluth who were friends of the captain. The sun finally smiled upon the festival, a light breeze blew; it was a perfect night for sailing. With a warning ring, the Canal Park pedestrian bridge raised and we were off.

Pictures will probably do more justice to the experience than words. Let me just say that the company was outstanding and it was an experience I won’t soon forget. Happy Sailing!

A sailor out on a (sailing) limb.

A sailor out on a (sailing) limb.

The Privateer Lynx

 

The Privateer Lynx and the Aerial Lift Bridge

The Privateer Lynx and the Aerial Lift Bridge

Captain Marie (and friend)

Captain Marie (and friend)

The Aerial Lift Bridge welcomes us back.

The Aerial Lift Bridge welcomes us back.

The Lark Descended

This is a quick update to my previous post about the Lark, a replica of a 1913 sea plane that was built in Duluth and celebrated recently with a weekend festival. I am sad to say that the Lark crash-landed in the Duluth-Superior Harbor yesterday as its builders were testing its flight capabilities. News reports say the craft was “totaled,” but that no one was hurt in the crash.

I do believe yesterday was one of the first times the Lark was airborne. So the good news is that the builders know it can fly now. The bad news is that the landing needs some work! A small group of dedicated aviation enthusiasts labored over 5 years to build the replica, which attracted attention nationwide. I sincerely hope the crew takes time to mourn the damage but then gets back to work to rebuild it again. I’m sure the community will gather behind the effort and will want to help in some way.

The Lark Ascending

The Lark of Duluth
The Lark, a “flying boat” that first took off in Duluth, MN.

I wanted to share some photos I took this weekend at the “Lark O’ the Lake” Festival, which was held in Duluth. The Lark is a replica of a seaplane that was first flown in Duluth 100 years ago. It was called a flying boat back then. During the winter the original Lark was transported to Florida where it served as the world’s first airliner – transporting passengers between St. Petersburg and Tampa.

The Color Guard at sunset, Sky Harbor Airport, Duluth, MN
The Color Guard at sunset, Sky Harbor Airport, Duluth, MN

Several of my friends were involved in rebuilding the Lark, a labor of love and ingenuity. The builders worked from photos, written descriptions and studying other similar seaplanes. Last weekend’s festival was held to remind Duluthians of their place in aviation history and to show off the flying boat. I attended the opening ceremony of the three-day event, which was complete with skydivers (including the intrepid Mayor of Duluth), spectators in vintage clothing, a band, and carriage rides. The skydivers in my pictures all landed safely, however, later in the weekend, a couple of them ended up landing in Lake Superior. Only in Duluth!

Michael Gardonio, Thomas Betts

Mr. Gardonio and Mr. Betts were among the builders of the Lark.


Duluth Mayor Don Ness in a tandem sky dive for the opening ceremonies of the Lark O'the Lake Festival.

Duluth Mayor Don Ness in a tandem sky dive for the opening ceremonies of the Lark O’the Lake Festival.

Duluth Mayor Don Ness skydive

Duluth Mayor Don Ness, glad to be alive after his skydive. His family is behind him.

Movie Madness

Thanks to the Duluth Superior Film Fest, Duluth was awash in independent films last week. The event offered an interesting slice of culture and some trips down memory lane. I skipped the much-lauded reunion for the Disney movie “Iron Will,” which was shot in the region 20 years ago. I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet (!) and I had other things going on during the screening. But I did attend screenings for two other movies.

Fifty Lakes, One Island,” by Chicago-based filmmaker, George Desort, is about one of my favorite places on Earth: Isle Royale National Park. In a quest to visit each lake on this wilderness island, which is itself in the middle of a big lake (Lake Superior), Desort spent 80 nights on Isle Royale. The movie is not so much a lake-bagging countdown as it is an exploration of external and internal wilderness terrain.

Of course, the external wilderness is the island itself. Desort bushwhacked to many of the lakes, a feat complicated by wetlands and the rugged landscape, which he often negotiated carrying his kayak, camera equipment and food. The trip was made further challenging by the island’s mercurial weather and penchant for stealing things (like water shoes) strapped to the outside of packs.

Exploration of the internal wilderness comes with the isolation and lack of distractions. As the film’s Vimeo website states: “Desort’s breathtaking footage is paired with his personal, unvarnished story-telling.” He introduces this in the very first scene, in which he’s kayaking and reminiscing about how the tent he is using ties him to his sister and father. The personal narrative continues through to the end of the film where, punctuated by loon calls, Desort talks about feeling as if the island is about to unveil a great secret. Does he learn the secret? You’ll have to watch the movie to see!

The other screening was for a work-in-progress called “In Winter.” In a freewheeling discussion, local director Alex Gutterman described the process of making the movie and showed trailers and clips. Set against the starkness of a northern winter, the movie deals with the themes of class, culture, and relationships.

One of my friends is an extra and supporter of the film and it was fun to hear his experiences being involved in the production. It’s certainly not glamorous. But I think that makes a person appreciate the finishing and polishing that goes into the final product all the more. This movie is expected to make its debut in November 2013.

My claim to fame is that I was in a movie with Bradley Cooper. “Older Than America” was shot in nearby Cloquet, Minn., about six years ago, back before Cooper became famous for his roles in “The Hangover” and “Silver Linings Playbook,” and as “People” magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. I never did see Mr. Cooper on set (sigh) but in my role as an extra I did get to work with the talented Tantoo Cardinal of “Dances with Wolves” fame. I had the privilege of touching her arm as I led her from a hospital room where we were “electroshocking” her niece.

English: Bradley Cooper at the 2009 Tribeca Fi...

Bradley Cooper. Credit – Wikipedia.

But enough name-dropping. The independent film deals with the fall-out from the common past practice of sending Native American children to boarding schools to acculturate them. I got to play a nurse who was assisting with the electroshocking of the aforementioned Native American lady. Although the role was not one I would have chosen, I jumped at the chance to be involved and learn more about the workings of movie production.

I suspect I got the part because I was the only one who could fit into the period nurse uniform they had. Even so, a button popped off when I put it on, and the staff seamstress had to sew it on before I could go on set. The button situation was holding up production, and the seamstress was so stressed, I thought she would stab me with her needle as she sewed while I stood there wearing the uniform. I escaped unscathed.

I learned that movie production is a lot of “hurry up and wait,” and repetition. We must have done that electroshocking scene 15 times. I felt so sorry for the actress who was writhing on the table. She expended a lot of energy! There were also some psychologists on hand who coached the actress about how a patient being electroshocked with 1950s equipment would behave.

I also learned that once you’ve served your purpose, filmmakers tend to forget you. My name does not appear in the credits and I got no notification about the local screening. I heard about it by accident and snuck in unticketed (shhhsh) in a move of stealth I’m still proud of even today. But I get to brag that I was in a movie with Bradley Cooper and I appear in the movie trailer (and the movie). Seems like payment enough.

Rounding Off the Rough Edges of Torment and Desire

Kevin Kling

Kevin Kling

I didn’t mean to start taking notes during the keynote speech at the Northeastern Minnesota Book Awards when they were held last week in Duluth, but I couldn’t help it. When a speaker quotes Johnny Cash: “Talent is God-given; style comes from our limitations,” and starts talking about writing, well, it’s hard not to . . . start writing in every open space on the back of the program.

But I also need to let you know that there was pie at this event; five kinds of free pie provided by the Rustic Inn up the North Shore of Lake Superior. I wrote my notes under the sugar-rush influence of a raspberry cream variety, so keep that in mind as you read this.

The speaker was Kevin Kling, noted playwright, speaker, author and storyteller who I am ashamed to say, I’d never heard of before. But hey, I live in Duluth. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Kling is almost as cool; he hails from Minneapolis. He talked a lot about why people write and how the process helps people deal with emotions, tensions and physical difficulties.

Kling’s physical differences are more apparent than most. Although he was born with a short left arm that has no wrist or thumb, audience members couldn’t help but notice it because it’s the only arm he can use. His right arm (which he used to depend on) was rendered pretty much inoperable by a motorcycle accident over a decade ago.

Kevin Kling as a Minnesotan.

Kevin Kling as a Minnesotan.

Despite a shorter than usual appendage with which to make his point, Kling made his point clear, even to the sugar-impaired. He told us a condensed story about his accident and used it to illustrate how, when he tells a story, it doesn’t control him anymore. “By the telling and the asking, we know we’re not alone.” Kling was in therapy after the accident and described how retelling the story of his accident so that he didn’t crash lessened the hold the experience had on him. By rewriting it in his mind, he took away its power.

Other notes I scribbled include: stories are tension – things that need to be worked out. And, “God loves stories so much; he created people so there would be an endless supply.” (Love that quote!) And Kling discussed how stories “round off the rough edges of torment and desire.” Now, as an eco-mystic romance writer, I know a bit about desire and torment. I lived with it for the 17 years it took to write my first novel, and I’m living through it now while writing the sequel (which I hope will take me less than two years). I suspect the thing that kept me going that long on the original (other than to eventually prove I could finish it) was to work out the feelings that inspired it. Did all that writing help? Yes, I think so. The feelings aren’t locked inside me anymore. They are loose upon the world, for better or worse.

By the way, my novel was not up for consideration in the competition, since it was set on Isle Royale, which is technically an island in Michigan (not Northeastern MN), and it was published in 2011. The stories under consideration for this ceremony were published in 2012. I attended the event to just to enjoy hob-knobbing with bookish folks in hopes it would help me stay inspired.

My first novel did not have a happy ending for the human protagonists. I’m a sucker for a happy ending, so I’m working to find them one in the sequel – so that some of their desire and torment can be lessened; and in doing so, lessen mine.

But right now, I’m desiring more of that pie. . . .

God loves stories so much; he created people so there would be an endless supply.

Kevin Kling – author, storyteller, playwright
Northeastern Minnesota Book Awards ceremony, May 23, 2013 in Duluth, MN

Beer: A Love Story

Woman holding glass of beer over her head

Woman holding glass of beer over her head (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s not my love story; I’m more of a wine person. But I did meet someone who loves beer. A group I’m a member of met at the new Canal Park Brewing Company in Duluth a few days ago. In addition to our group meeting, we got a tour of the on-site brewery by Jeremy, one of the brew masters.

Jeremy is just four days into his job and it shows. Bright-eyed and bushy-faced (he has a sparse beard), he spoke with true enthusiasm. He comes to northern Minnesota from Milwaukee, which, of course, is known for its beer. Jeremy has a good pedigree; he’s done college work in biochemistry and almost has a doctorate in it. It sounded like the only thing standing in his way was some impatience with academic bureaucracy.

He’s done a lot of work with yeast and home brewing, and he worked as a volunteer for a well-known brewery in Milwaukee, the name of which I can’t recall because I was drinking wine at the time. And I’m drinking a nice zinfandel as I write this, which is not helping.

Anyway, this is Jeremy’s first paying job at an official brewery. He showed my group around the temperature-controlled vat room (a cool 53 degrees) and the warmer room where they store the hops. We also got to see the fancy computer panel that he uses to cause various mysterious things to happen to the brews, and the hopper that dispenses the grain so vital for the operation.

So it was the lure of this job that brought him to Duluth, and also . . . you guessed it . . . a woman. His lady friend happens to work for the competition: Fitger’s Brewhouse , just up the shore of Lake Superior a bit.

Seeing someone so obviously well-suited to their job was fun, and it was nice to think that love was an important side-benefit of Jeremy’s move north. Being a fly on the wall during one of his conversations with his lady friend about brewing and what their respective work places are up to would be so interesting. Do they share trade secrets with each other or keep mum for fear of giving the other an advantage?

Although I didn’t drink the beer so can’t comment on it (and you wouldn’t want me to), the food was notable, the wait staff attentive, and they were patient with someone like me who had questions about which entrees are best to eat for someone who can’t tolerate wheat (yet another reason I don’t drink beer, besides the taste). I had a Jaeger burger, which features smoked gouda cheese, black forest ham and sautéed wild mushrooms (without the bun), along with some garlic mashed potatoes.

And Jeremy answered all the questions we threw at him. I could tell he loved the topic of beer and I’m sure he’ll do credit to this profession. So, if you’re ever in Duluth, stop in at the Canal Park Brewing Co. And no, they are not paying me to say that!

A River Runs Through My Bucket List (or Learning How to Fly Fish Before It’s Too Late)

English: Green Highlander salmon fly. The hook...

English: Green Highlander salmon fly. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have to admit, I like creating lists. They help me remember things and when I cross something off one, it gives me a straight-lined sense of accomplishment. A few years back I started a “Things to Do When I Retire” list; not really a bucket list (things to do before I die), but a similar concept. The list contains things like volunteering for the Red Cross, taking painting lessons, taking classes at a local folk arts school, and doing more photography.

I was content to delay the activities on the list until I had time during retirement, which was probably about 15 years away. That was, until one of my friends died unexpectedly in his early 40s. A sense of mortality smacked me in the forehead and I realized how much I’d been putting off really living and making the most of the present. In my friend’s honor, I decided to stop PLANNING and start DOING.

One of the activities on my retirement list is fly fishing. I suspect the inspiration for that came from watching the 1992 movie “A River Runs Through It.” Directed by Robert Redford and featuring Brad Pitt, the movie centers around fly fishing scenes in Montana. It was also around that time that I visited Montana and helped fight a wildfire on the White River National Forest in Colorado. I saw people fly fishing on rivers in these places and it looked so idyllic, I knew I had to try it someday. Plus, the biological aspect of the sport appeals to me. You have to know how to think like a fish and be aware of what’s going on with the local bugs to be successful.

Well, “someday” came last week. Rogue, non-retired list-breaker that I am, I took a fly fishing class with a group of women along the banks of a river on the outskirts of town. The opportunity was organized by one of my women friends and taught by Katherine Lansing, a local fly casting instructor certified by the International Federation of Fly Fishers.  

Katherine Lansing

Katherine Lansing

Lansing became an instructor by accident. She had been fly fishing for a few years, then she signed up for a class she thought was about how to learn to cast better. Turned out it was about how to learn to teach other people to cast better. Although hesitant, she took the class, which led her on the path to becoming one of only 80 female certified fly fishing instructors in the U.S. at the time.

We met under a picnic shelter at a local city park on a 40-degree evening. As the five other women described how they became interested in fly fishing, I realized I was the only one there not introduced to the sport by a man. Everyone else had been introduced by a boyfriend, husband, brother or father. Not sure what that says about me. I do admit I had been hoping “some man” would take me fly fishing, but it just never happened.

Lansing started the class by giving us an overview of the various fly fishing equipment and showing us how things worked. Then she introduced us to knot tying. We learned two knots, practicing first on chunks of nylon rope, and then on the more challenging fishing line. Tying the knots became more difficult as the cold temperature took its toll on our fingers. But it wasn’t long before we were up and moving, practicing our casts on the lawn beside the river, which was roaring with melt from spring runoff.

Casting was fun, and people kept remarking that I’m a natural at it (preen, preen). If I am a natural it’s from a lot of practice casting regular fishing lures and maybe from throwing an atlatl (a prehistoric throwing spear), which is a story I’ll perhaps tell another time. As we casted, Lansing went around and gave us tips in her no-nonsense and helpful manner.

After about 2-1/2 hours outdoors, I could no longer feel my toes, so I decided it was time to head home. But I enjoyed the experience and I’m looking forward to actually getting out on the water to fly fish next time. Then I’ll be able to officially cross that one off my list, and I’ll have a new hobby NOW instead of waiting for my retirement or until I’m dead, whichever comes first. (Smile.)