The piping plover pair that nested on Wisconsin Point this summer. The birds are marked with colored plastic bands to identify and track individuals. Photo credit: Mikayla Erickson
I’m happy to announce that the endangered piping plover shorebirds (Charadrius melodus) have nested for the first time in 49 years in Superior, Wisconsin. This culminates years of habitat restoration work by many groups, including the St. Louis River Alliance, which I worked for in the past. I wrote the first grant to receive funding for this work, but I left the Alliance for my Sea Grant job before I could see the results come to fruition.
I took what I learned through that experience and applied it to my second eco-mystic-romance novel, Plover Landing. The book tells the story of Melora, who is fighting to save the habitat of these birds on the shores of Lake Superior. It was published in 2014.
In Plover Landing, the birds nest on Minnesota Point, but in recent reality, they nested in a bird sanctuary on Wisconsin Point. We’d often had reports of single plovers passing through on migration, but this time, a male and female plover must have been passing through at the same time and decided to make a go of it.
Alas, their nesting efforts were not successful, but natural resource managers hope they might return next spring and try again. Here’s a link to a good Wisconsin Public Radio story about the topic.
I am so excited to see the situation I dreamed of in my novel burst into reality! And I’m happy that these adorable birds are making a comeback.
If you’re interested in my books, please check out my Books page. And if you live in the Twin Ports, be sure to visit my booth at Chester Bowl Fall Fest in Duluth on September 19th. I’ll be selling and autographing books along with local poet Stanley Kusunoki.
Road Scholars view microscopic zooplankton and algae from Lake Superior on a computer screen aboard a boat.
Well, my initiation as a Road Scholar trip leader is over! As you may recall, I was hired this summer to lead two trips of people ages 50+ along the shores of Lake Superior. Each trip lasted about five days. We hiked in state parks, canoed down a wild river, heard from local experts, and plied Lake Superior’s waters on a science mission.
During the first trip, an experienced co-leader showed me the ropes. In the second trip, different people supported me each day, but leadership was up to me. Due to the excellent orientation I received during my first trip, I felt fairly confident leading the second one. But I still messed up a few times. The mistakes were minor, and I’d like to think they involved issues that the scholar tourists didn’t notice.
An ocean-going ship at anchor in Lake Superior.
The weather was wonderful and so was the clientele. Their ages ranged from mid-fifties to mid-eighties. I was impressed by their curiosity, enthusiasm, intellect, and good attitudes despite physical challenges. Even though the program was rated as moderate to hard, some scholars had recently replaced joints or used a cane to get around. We had some falls (which resulted in only minor scrapes), and some difficulty getting people out of canoes and kayaks at a tricky landing, but I’m happy to say that everyone completed the trip otherwise unscathed.
The Amnicon River, Wisconsin
On the other hand, I was exhausted! By the end, I was glad not to wake up to an alarm every morning and to return to my routine. But I immensely enjoyed showing the scholars this part of the world. Topics included geology, botany, aquatic science, Native culture, and maritime history. I’d like to think they all left with greater appreciation for Lake Superior and the communities that surround it. As I mentioned to them, they probably know more than most locals now. If I’m able, I’d be willing to do it again next year, especially now that I know what I’m doing and would have a year to recover. 😊
Between the two trips, I discovered I had Lyme disease thanks to a deer tick I picked up during my recent stay in Brule, Wisconsin, which added to my exhaustion. But the antibiotics for it soon had me feeling more like myself.
I’m including some of my favorite images from the trips with this post.
The Superior Ship Canal entry as seen from the back of a boat
Disclaimer: The views in this article are my own. They do not represent views of the official Road Scholar Program.
My friends and I were supposed to go into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in mid-July. Unfortunately, wildfires happened there and in Canada. The fire danger was so high and the air quality so poor that the Forest Service closed the entire wilderness! It seems funny that a wilderness can be closed, but there you have it.
We wanted to do something together nevertheless, so we needed to come up with a Plan B. We decided to spend a few days in a friend of a friend’s cabin in Brule, Wisconsin.
Besides enjoying meals of whitefish from Lake Superior, hiking, and chasing waterfalls, we satisfied our need for canoeing with an afternoon trip on Bark Bay Slough, near Herbster. I’d been to the canoe landing there before but never had time to venture out on the water, so I was looking forward to this trip.
The three of us piled into my Old Blue canoe with our camp chairs and books. We headed out onto the smooth water toward the bay mouth, where the slough empties into Lake Superior. Bark Bay Slough is bounded by the mainland on one side and a two-mile sandspit on the other. It’s a Scientific and Natural Area full of floating bog islands, birds, fen and bog plants that’s managed by the state of WI.
Old Blue where the slough meets Lake Superior.
As we paddled, I thought about how the Duluth-Superior Harbor back home used to look like this slough before dredging occurred for shipping and the Duluth canal was cut, which allowed the bog islands to just float away into Lake Superior. Canoeing the slough was like stepping back in time.
We passed modest cabins perched on the sandspit and amused ourselves by pointing out which ones we would like to own if we could. None of us chose the beaver house, though, that came into view. Even though it looked well-constructed and had wild roses in the “yard,” that particular house would have been too dark and damp. No windows!
A beaver house in the slough
Eventually, we reached the bay mouth, which was surrounded on both sides by sand beaches. We landed our canoe and spent the rest of the afternoon swimming in the cold waters, lying in the sun, wandering, and reading.
Finally, the lure of an ice cream store in Herbster dragged us back into the canoe for our return paddle.
Reflecting on our adventure at Bark Bay Slough, I realize how sometimes the best memories are made when plans change. The peaceful beauty of the slough, the laughter shared with friends, and the chance to experience a landscape lost elsewhere left a lasting impression. Our trip reminded me that detours can create moments we’ll cherish long after the paddle home.
Listen to me Don’t go chasing waterfalls Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to —Waterfalls, lyrics by TLC
My friends and I didn’t obey these song lyrics. Last month, we found new rivers, and best of all, new waterfalls while staying in a cabin near Brule, Wisconsin.
Lost Creek Falls
The first was Lost Creek Falls. The trailhead for the falls is near the town of Cornucopia. From there, it’s a fairly easy 1-1/2- mile hike to the falls and a small picnic area. The falls feature an eight-foot plunge with a few feet of cascades above and below it.
You can get close to the falls by walking through Lost Creek, which was shallow when we were there (we were able to rock hop across). A tree has recently fallen in front of the falls, so if you want good photos, you need to get past this visual barrier.
Behind Lost Creek Falls
Town of Bell Cemetery
My friends and I enjoyed walking behind the falls, which is not common for waterfalls around Lake Superior. The spray refreshed us, and we were heartened to see how many families were out on the trail, showing this natural wonder to their children.
When we returned to our car, we took time to explore the small Town of Bell Cemetery across the road. It’s home to 23 graves from 1902-1915. They feature simple wooden crosses, and many are for infants.
Next was Siskiwit Falls, which is also near Cornucopia. A short walk from the parking lot brings you to this series of gentle ledges. The falls are known as a good “butt slide” area, but we did not partake in that particular activity.
Siskiwit Falls
On another day, we visited Mays Ledges. I guess they aren’t technically a waterfall, more like a series of cascades, but they were part of our trip, so I’m including them!
Mays Ledges
The ledges are in a nature reserve on the Brule River. The walk to them isn’t very long. It’s downhill with a series of stairs on the way there, which means uphill on the way back. Some of the ledges feature interesting circular holes, which I assume were formed when rocks were trapped in softer stone and whirled around during high water. This time, we took a dip. Beware of poison ivy along the trail.
The Brule River, which is famous for trout fishing and past visits by U.S. presidents, empties into Lake Superior. We meandered over to that site and spent an afternoon soaking up sunshine and Vitamin D on the sand spit.
My friends at the mouth of the Brule River
One waterfall we noticed a sign for but didn’t get to was Twin Falls near Port Wing. One of my friends went there later and said it was worth a visit.
Exploring these waterfalls and ledges reminded me how much beauty is tucked away in Northern Wisconsin. Each site offered its own unique charm, from tranquil cascades to lively sprays and quiet moments of reflection. If you’re ever in that area don’t forget to chase the promise of discovery that lies beyond the familiar.
Although it may sound like a Finnish battle cry, the title of this post actually refers to a small town in northern Wisconsin (population 560). The town was named by Finnish immigrants after the fifth-largest city in Finland.
I meandered to Oulu late last month during a trip with some friends. The attraction that drew us was the Oulu Glass Gallery Studio. It’s run by Jim and Sue Vojacek, glass artists who are influenced by Lake Superior and the Bois Brule River, which runs nearby.
The teapot garden
Their studio looks something like a geodesic mushroom. In winter, visitors can watch the glass-blowing process. In summer, you can tour the teapot garden, planted in memory of Sue’s mother, who collected the teapots. In all seasons, you can purchase unique glass art.
An example of Oulu glass art, a fish.
As we entered the studio, we were greeted by one of several calico cats that roam the property. Sue emerged from a back room and chatted with us as we perused the glass art. I ended up choosing a paperweight inspired by a Lake Superior wave and a small blue-and-yellow glass vase complete with a glass flower. Sue said that she and her husband made the vase and flower separately, but they went together so well, they made a match. I loved hearing the stories behind the art!
As we left, we toured the colorful teapot garden and met another one of the cats.
If you’re ever on Highway 2 going across northern Wisconsin, turn off at the Oulu Rock, and you’re in for a treat!
The locally famous Oulu Rock. Image courtesy of the Oulu Cultural Center.
The contract is signed, so it should be safe to let you know about this travel opportunity: I have a gig lined up this August to lead two trips for the Road Scholar Program along Lake Superior. I learned about the job from an email forwarded by a friend who knows about my outdoorsy and traveling nature.
Road Scholar is a nonprofit travel organization designed to inspire older adults to learn, discover and travel. Their learning adventures “engage expert instructors, provide extraordinary access, and stimulate discourse and friendship among people for whom learning is the journey of a lifetime.”
These Lake Superior trips are based in Superior, Wisconsin. Travelers will learn about the history of the Twin Ports (Superior and Duluth) and enjoy field trips to historical sites and presentations by local Indigenous elders and historians. Experience hands-on learning, explore the aquatic creatures of the Brule River State Forest and surrounding natural wonders through canoeing and hiking.
There are a few spots left for the two trips I’m leading in August. If you’re over 50, have $2,000 lying around, and want to spend six days meandering with me, consider signing up! It’s rated as a vigorous trip, so you’d need to be in shape. You can learn more at this link: A Superior Exploration: Lake Superior’s History & Ecology. [UPDATE: The 2026 trips are all sold out now!]
I can’t wait to share my love of Lake Superior with fellow travelers.
Big Manitou Falls, Pattison State Park. Note the tiny people on the overlook platform in the upper left.
Last weekend, admission to Wisconsin State Parks was free. Russ and I took advantage of this annual event to visit a park that’s only 22 miles from our house. As you, dear astute readers, can tell from the title of this post, Pattison State Park is home to the state’s tallest waterfall. The Black River falls 165 feet down a basalt cliff called Big Manitou Falls. A smaller waterfall, Little Manitou Falls, is also in the park, farther downriver.
The swimming beach at Pattison State Park.
Martin Pattison, a lumber baron who had a logging camp on the Black River, donated 660 acres of the 1,400-acre park to the state. If you’ve ever toured Fairlawn Mansion in Superior, Wisconsin, that was his house. In 1917, Pattison learned of plans to build a hydroelectric dam on the river, which would have destroyed the falls. With his wife’s encouragement, he secretly purchased all the land surrounding the falls to block development, and Pattison Park was formed in 1920.
According to the park newspaper, Patterson saved the falls because he felt a connection to them. “In being able to grant this site to the public, I have accomplished one of my chief ambitions. For years, I have spent much time amid the surrounding of the falls and have received so much enjoyment there that it gradually became part of my life,” he said.
On our trip, Russ and I left Duluth, Minnesota, which was shrouded in fog with temps in the 50s, and mist rising off the harbor. We journeyed to inland Wisconsin, with temps in the 70s. We parked in the main lot and took a short hike on a paved trail past the swimming beach on Interfalls Lake, then through a tunnel that runs under the road. Of course, we had to make noises in the tunnel to test the echo. 😊
The tunnel to the Big Manitou Falls Trail.
A small bridge took us across the river. From there, it was a short walk to an overlook where we could see the impressive power of the water flowing over the top of the falls. Another short walk (part of which was along the road and past the Big Manitou Falls parking lot) took us to several overlooks of the falls. Wild and rugged, the falls are the antithesis of the farmland and village we passed on our drive to the park.
We thought that we might get a good view of the falls from the riverbed, so we took the Big Manitou Falls Trail a half mile down to the river, but we were mistaken. We “only” saw the river. But if you like rivers, it’s worth it!
The view from the top of the falls.
Then came the half-mile hike back UP to the top of the falls. The trail is rated moderate to difficult due to the incline, but most of it was wide enough for two people to walk beside each other and was fairly level.
We walked back to the bridge and hiked along the other side of the river to two overlooks. The last overlook is not for the faint of heart! A wooden platform perched on the hillside makes you feel like you’re hanging on the edge of the cliff (because you are). But the view of the falls and the river gorge is spectacular.
The park features several other longer hiking trails, a campground, picnic area, and a backpacking camping area.
During our trip, I marveled that I’d never been to the park, especially since it’s so close to Duluth. After arriving back home, I checked with my older brother, and he assured me that I visited the park several times as a child.
I have no memory of those visits. Perhaps I was too young? In any event, I’m glad I rediscovered this gem of a park. It offers a blend of natural beauty, history, and adventure that makes it worth the visit. Whether you’re drawn by the thunderous falls, the hiking trails, or simply the peaceful setting, there’s something here for everyone to enjoy. I felt grateful for the chance to experience such a remarkable place—and am eager to return for more memories in years to come.
If you’re ever in northwestern Wisconsin, be sure to check out Pattison State Park!
The Superior ship canal and Wisconsin Point lighthouse.
Russ and I visited a windswept peninsula near Superior, Wisconsin, last weekend. We wanted to check on how the prescribed burn area was rejuvenating after the burn I helped with last fall. As we approached Wisconsin Point, the steady roar of Lake Superior on one side and the more muted lap of Allouez Bay on the other created a backdrop of sound. Once, the Ojibwe lived there, but now the point is mainly a recreational area. It’s known for its towering pine forest and the distant flash of its lighthouse.
The prescribed burn area on Wisconsin Point.
In the burn area, the air still held a faint, smoky tang, but plants seemed to be coming back well, even with our chilly spring. Bright green grass sprouted bravely through ashen soil, and I ran my fingers over the bark at the base of some trees, rough and blackened but still sturdy. The large trees seemed little worse for wear—did you know that the rugged bark of red pines is fire-resistant? The trees need fire to regenerate, so they have adapted to it. That’s one reason for the prescribed burn: to encourage red pine regeneration. The point’s white pines, their needles soft and fragrant, are doing fine, but the red pines remain sparse. On our walk, we spotted an eagle’s nest, a massive tangle of sticks perched high above, and heard the sharp calls of the birds echoing through the canopy.
Bear Creek Trail, Wisconsin Point
Wisconsin Point also sports a relatively new nonmotorized trail that I haven’t had a chance to hike yet. The Bear Creek Trail begins near Hwy 53 and parallels Moccasin Mike Road to Wisconsin Point. Once on the point, it crosses Wisconsin Point Road, enters a wooded upland, and then a marsh for a total of 2.3 miles. It ends at the first parking lot on the point and sports a gravel surface, wooden bridges, and an impressive floating boardwalk over the marsh. Along the way, a pagoda provides a scenic view of the lake and the bay. Although the weather was a blustery 45 degrees, the forest provided shelter and warmth.
The pagoda on Bear Creek Trail
As we crossed the marsh, we noticed a beaver lodge and heard a Sora waterbird call. Soras are also known as Carolina Crakes. They’re brown and white, about the size of a chicken, but with longer legs perfect for wading in the shallows. Although the birds are common throughout the U.S., they are relatively rare in Wisconsin because they require large and healthy wetlands for habitat, and we all know what humans like to do to wetlands. (Drain them!)
A wetland along the Beaver Creek Trail, complete with beaver lodge.
Our visit to Wisconsin Point was both invigorating and enlightening. Seeing the resilience of the landscape, from the recovering burn area to the thriving wildlife, was a reminder of nature’s ability to adapt and flourish. The combination of ecological restoration, immersive natural experiences, and unique wildlife sightings makes Wisconsin Point a destination delights the senses and invites return in every season.
Dear readers, you may recall that Russ and I have a penchant for fine dining. When we travel, we try to hit at least one gourmet restaurant per trip. Featured on this blog in recent years have been The Rhubarb Restaurant in Edinburgh (with its rhubarb-themed drinks and a Châteaubriand Angus steak platter for two), The Wharf on Grand Cayman (with lobster, and you can feed the shells to awaiting tarpon fish off the dock), the Mariposa in Sedona (with juniper cocktails and mejillones con chorizo, a mussel and sausage appetizer), the Von Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe (with a lingonberry spritz and quail/venison dinner), and the Eiffel Tower Restaurant in Las Vegas (with its grand Marnier souffle), to name a few.
More recently, our dining experiences have literally taken a dive. We’ve been exploring the cheapest (but tastiest) places we can find. Whether this shift is because we’re both retired and on fixed incomes or simply inspired by the fun we had last year at the Czech Grill in Grand Cayman—where we wrote on the walls and enjoyed our sixth wedding anniversary with ribs, potato salad, a tabby cat, and a handsome rooster—the change is noticeable.
We’ve experienced several memorable meals this past year, dining in northern Minnesota/Wisconsin dives. Our definition of a dive is a place where we can buy dinner for two for $40 or less. Many times, this even includes adult beverages and the tip! We have friends who also love dives, and they’ve introduced us to a few.
With that in mind, here are six of our favorites, listed in no particular order. Each offers its own unique charm, and we’d happily return depending on our mood.
The Alborn Tavern is a family-owned, small-town restaurant and bar in northern Minnesota. If you like a place with crumbling vinyl seat covers, pool tables, dart boards, and meat raffles, this is the place for you! BTW, a meat raffle is a community fundraiser where people buy tickets for the chance to win packages of meat, usually steaks, roasts, and bacon.
Art on the door of the El Toro Lounge.
The El Toro Lounge and Wilbert Café is a historic stopping place and local watering hole along the highway that leads to Canada. It used to be THE place to stop when Greyhound bus routes ran between the Iron Range and the rest of Minnesota. Now, it mainly serves locals, anglers, and snowmobilers. Diners can get breakfast all day most days of the week. There are also bingo nights and Friday fish fries. We celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary in the lounge.
Near the El Toro is the Dawghouse in Canyon, Minnesota. The renovated restaurant has a more modern feel than the Wilbert Café, plus there’s a large and lovely event venue suitable for hosting a wedding reception or party. There are even customized racks so that snowmobilers can hang their helmets and gear while they eat, and an outdoor patio that’s dog-friendly.
Diners order dinner at Gordy’s Hi-Hat.
Gordy’s Hi-Hat in Cloquet, Minnesota, is a family-owned burger joint that’s only a few years older than me. It’s well known for stellar customer service and a family atmosphere. Guy Fieri, with the Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives television show, has even dined there. If you’re more into salads and coffee, stop next door at their Warming House. We celebrated my recent birthday at the Hi-Hat with a Swiss-and-mushroom burger, fries, and a hot fudge malt. I highly recommend the malt!
The Anchor Bar in Superior, Wisconsin, wins “best burger” almost every year in local competitions. Their burgers are homemade, cheap, and good. The fries are plentiful. But what’s most notable is the maritime décor. Ship ropes hang from the ceiling, sailing books line the shelves, ore boat photos grace the walls. It’s also been featured on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. The clientele is mixed, from doctors to longshoremen, from college students to truckers. The cashew burger is my fave. Look for the ship’s anchor outside the door.
The aftermath of a meal at the Anchor Bar.
Tired of burgers? Try the India Palace in downtown Duluth. It offers a plethora of Indian food options with levels of heat friendly to Minnesotan palates. There are also vegetarian options. It’s known for tandoori chicken and curry dishes. The service was very good.
True to this trend, we plan to spend our seventh anniversary this week at another local dive. If it’s any good, I’m sure you’ll be hearing about it!
Please feel free to share a link to your favorite dive in the comments and tell us where it’s located!
A fire crew member monitors the Nov 2025 cultural prescribed burn on Wisconsin Point.
A story of mine appeared in the April/May 2026 issue of Lake Superior Magazine. It covers a project I’m involved with that’s designed to bring back the Ojibwe tradition of prescribed burning on Wisconsin Point, a long sandspit on Lake Superior. The Ojibwe once lived in the red and white pine woods there until they were moved to reservations in the mid-1800s. Before then, they would set small, controlled fires to keep brush down, encourage plants like blueberries, and help red pines sprout. They call these fires “Ishkode,” or good fire.
I first heard about this practice a few years ago while I was still working as a science communicator for Wisconsin Sea Grant. The organization funded research that studied tree rings and fire scars on Wisconsin Point and its neighboring sandspit, Minnesota Point. I reported on the project by writing articles, news releases, and producing a podcast.
Last year, a few months before I retired, I heard that the Ishkode group was looking for help with communications. I immediately volunteered, and you can read about the results in my article. I’m happy to say that last fall, Ishkode successfully returned to the point for the first time in 159 years. And nobody got hurt! More patchwork burns are planned in the future.
As a result, I was approached by a different group that’s working to bring Ojibwe fire practices back to Minnesota Point. Although the two points are separated by a short span of water, they are different politically and socially. Not only are they in different states, but Wisconsin Point is uninhabited, whereas more than 100 homes line Minnesota Point, many of which are beachfront mansions. Wisconsin Point is owned by the City of Superior and the Fond du Lac Tribe. Minnesota Point is a mix of private, city, and state Department of Natural Resources property. There’s even an airport near the end of it.
Both fire projects are led by Fond du Lac tribal members. Except for those folks and me, most of the rest of the people involved in each project are different. Because of its complexity, the Minnesota Point group is much larger (about 40 people). I began helping them this winter and finally have everyone’s names and affiliations down.
Our goal is to conduct a prescribed burn on Minnesota Point this spring. It will be the first time in 180 years that a burn has occurred there. Things are falling into place nicely, and so far, public reception has been good.
I’m happy to have a hand in returning a missing piece of the ecosystem to the shores of Lake Superior. As one of our group members said, the burns will help the choked forests breathe again. These points aren’t the only places where the Ojibwe used to burn. Evidence can be found all around the lake.
For more information, check out my article in the print version of the magazine, or check the Wisconsin Point Ishkode webpage.
Smoke from the prescribed fire drifts through the pines on Wisconsin Point. The fire will help the beleaguered red pine population regenerate.
Marie's Meanderings 