If You Build a Seventy-Foot-Tall Hunk of Ice, Will They Come?

Photo by Josh Parsons

Photo by Josh Parsons

So this winter, as a tourist attraction, someone wants to create a seven-million-pound, seventy-foot-tall block of ice right near the building where I work. What could possibly go wrong?

Said person is Roger Hanson, a computer software developer who hails from Big Lake, Minn. He’s been forming huge hunks of ice in his back yard since 2007.

Perhaps hearing that we were nervous, Roger recently came to our office bearing donuts and information. He said he started his hobby because he’s a hoarder. He has a geothermal heating system at his house that creates wastewater. He didn’t want to just dump the water into the river that runs nearby, so he got the idea of using his computer and technical skills to build an ice formation with it. He’s built some impressive ones that have garnered local and national media attention.

He uses a computer-controlled robotic water sprayer and metal cables to create the structures. And like any good hoarder, his piles of ice keep getting bigger every year. I think he reached 64 feet last year.

This year, he’s moving outside of his back yard for the first time, onto Barker’s Island in Superior, Wis. The island is man-made, composed of sand and soil dredged from the harbor in the late 1800s. The City of Superior, inspired by the unprecedented popularity of the natural ice caves at the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior last year, thinks Roger’s artificial ice formation will make a good tourist attraction. Roger explained that he wasn’t the city’s first choice – they wanted an ice castle builder instead. But those folks had scheduling conflicts. The city has committed Roger to a three-year, $135,000 contract and is advertising for vendors to provide hot chocolate and the like for the masses it hopes the ice will draw.

One of Roger's previous creations by his house.

One of Roger’s previous creations by his house. Photo by Roger Hanson

Roger plans to build his largest formation yet at ninety feet wide and seventy feet tall. Already, he’s learning things and overcoming obstacles. For this endeavor, which he calls the Lake Superior Ice Project, Roger is pumping water out of the Superior Harbor. Although he thought he’d only have to lay one hundred fifty feet of tubing, he laid two hundred fifty feet out into the harbor in order to reach an eight-foot depth of water to be safe from a deep freeze. In the process, he ended up tripping on the tubing and got the cold shock of a dunk in the harbor.

He’s spent the past month setting up. Now the wind and the weather just need to cooperate. He explained that he designed the computer system for the prevailing wind direction for this area. Darn wind has been blowing from elsewhere, and the air temperatures have been too warm for him to begin spraying water for ice.

Roger also mentioned he dropped one of the seismic sensors he brought along that helps him predict when the structure will break up in the spring. He described how huge chunks of ice fall off the formation when it starts to melt. The stress on the structure can be measured with seismic sensors, and when the time between fractures starts getting too short (like labor contractions), Roger knows the thing’s going to blow – something very useful when there may be onlookers who need to be moved away for safety. But never fear, Roger was able to fix the sensor with some ingenuity and PVC pipe.

What the ice formation on Barker's Island looks like now (because the weather is not cooperating).

What the ice formation on Barker’s Island looks like now (because the weather is not cooperating).

If nature cooperates, he hopes to have the formation built by mid-February. He will light it up at night and give periodic tours. The city has a traffic flow plan in place. And although the city is spending thousands of dollars on this project, a city staffer who visited us admitted they have no advertising budget. As was the case with the Apostle Islands ice caves, the city hopes that social and news media will do the advertising for them. Also, the ice formation will be visible from a nearby highway and the city hopes that people driving by will see it and be drawn to it.

So we have a new location, finicky weather, seven million pounds of pressure atop a sandy island, no ad budget, huge blocks of ice calving off the formation, and massive amounts of meltwater come spring: what could possibly go wrong? Nothing, I hope, but stay tuned . . . .

Happy International Migratory Bird Day from a Recovering Birder

Birders on the shore of Lake Superior, Wisconsin Point.

Birders on the shore of Lake Superior, Wisconsin Point.

No, I’m not writing about Mother’s Day, but about a lesser known and newer commemorative event that celebrates birds. Yesterday, I participated in the second annual International Migratory Bird Day, held in Superior, Wis.

White pines on Wisconsin Point.

White pines on Wisconsin Point.

I haven’t been to a birding event in years, partly on purpose and partly due to other demands in my life. I like to think of myself as a recovering birder. I took up bird watching in seventh grade and was active in the birding community through my twenties – even participating for a year on the Audubon Expedition Institute, where I travelled across the country in a yellow school bus for a year with 24 other people interested in birding and the environment for master’s degree studies.

It was during that experience that I overdosed on birding. I came to realize that people stopped looking at birds once they had identified them. I rebelled against the obsession to name everything with feathers that I saw or heard. I rebelled against using eyesight aids like spotting scopes and binoculars – wanting to view the birds instead as part of their surroundings.

But I still feel an affinity with birds. My upcoming novel is about them, after all, and this event seemed a good excuse to get outside on a rare warm spring day. We met at Wisconsin Point, a long sandbar just outside the city. A small group of us spent three hours birding. We didn’t see very many birds but there were bald eagles, chickadees, scaups, red headed ducks, lots of blue jays passing through, and the requisite ring-billed gulls. I do admit to looking through a spotting scope (and the world did not end!), but I tried to keep it to a minimum to allow others the opportunity. After birding, we went to a local inn to listen to some presentations about migration.

My camera isn’t built for bird pictures, but I do love the lighthouse and the white pines on the point, so I thought I’d share photos of them with you.

Wisconsin Point Lighthouse

The Wisconsin Point Lighthouse.

Wisconsin Point Lighthouse and log

Sea Cave Pilgrimage

sea cave icicles

Icicles hanging down from the ceiling of a sea cave.

Icelanders resembled Minnesotans (at least of the last generation) in this regard: if nature has condemned you to life in a continuously foul climate, you have no choice but to ignore it and proceed with your plans. If you wait for the weather to improve before doing anything, your bones will have crumbled to fine dust. – Minnesota author Bill Holm

Despite the National Park Service urging people to visit another day because the wind chill was twenty-five below, my son and some friends traveled to the sea caves in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore last weekend. We weren’t the only ones disobeying the feds to see this natural wonder on the south shore of Lake Superior. Since the parking lot was full, a line of cars was already parked on the main highway. This added ten minutes to the twenty-minute walk we were expecting across the ice to the sea caves.

Apostle Islands mainland sea caves.It was no mean feat just to get this far. My son, who is a teenager, and his friend, would have much rather stayed home on the couch, little balls wrapped in comforters, playing computer games. “Why do we have to go?” They challenged more than once. After about the fifth round of such questioning, I was reduced to, “Because you’ll have fun, dammit!”

Once they were off the couch came the trial of getting them to wear more than one layer of clothing. Exhortations about how cold it was were met with more, “Then why do we have to go?” Somehow, the mother of my son’s friend (Charlotte) and I got the boys dressed and into the car. The wind direction made the walk from our car to the lake the coldest part of the trip. Charlotte and I were surreptitiously looking at each other, questioning whether this adventure was wise, and, although they would never admit it, I could tell the boys were happy they had been forced to wear so many layers.

Once we got to the lake, we joined the others on a hard-trodden snowy path along the shore. With the wind at our backs, the sunshine helped us feel warmer in spirit than perhaps in body. After about half-a-mile into the mile-long walk, I marveled at how warm my feet were. I thought my toes would be the first to go.

DSC01358 We were joined by snowshoers, skiers, dog walkers, and people pulling sleds containing mounds of blankets, which, from the hats sticking out of them, must have contained children. For the most part, it was too cold to talk, so we walked in silence – pilgrims on our way to see a natural wonder denied us for five years due to poor ice conditions.

Walking on the winter ice is the easiest way for most people to see the caves. In the summer, it requires kayaking or canoeing skills, or paying the price for a tour boat. A hiking trail runs along the top of the caves, but the view is nowhere near as spectacular as from the water.

I had seen the caves from water level, but never in winter. This year, the formations were more intricate and extensive than most, prompting widespread media coverage that piqued interest by the masses, including Charlotte and me.

Before you venture to the caves, it’s a good idea to check with the Lakeshore’s Facebook page and check the Sea Cave Watch website, a Wisconsin Sea Grant project. The site features real-time images of the ice conditions at the caves, although the wave sensor has been pulled for the season.

frozen waterfall

A frozen waterfall.

When we reached the start of the caves, the boys were quickly taken in by opportunities to explore. Icy nooks, frozen waterfalls, tunnels, slides, and hidden alcoves proved irresistible. When it came time to go due to a commitment back home, they protested, saying they wanted to stay longer. I couldn’t help but smile, noting their change in attitude. Nature had worked its subtle magic.

I hope the lesson is lasting and that next time, it will be easier to tear my son or his friend away from their comfortable couches and computers to experience real life.

One thing I want to mention if you go: please don’t break off the icicles from the caves. The conditions that formed them are not likely to happen again this winter, and it ruins the formations for those who will come after you. Take away memories, not icicles!

frozen Lake Superior

The view of Lake Superior when you turn away from the caves.

Working by the Duluth-Superior Harbor and Lake Superior

Huge chunks of ice piled atop eachother off of Wisconsin Point, Superior WI

Huge chunks of ice piled atop eachother off of Wisconsin Point, Superior WI in April.

No deep thoughts for this week; just wanted to show you some photos I’ve taken recently at and near my office on an island in the Duluth-Superior Harbor. I feel so fortunate to work in such a cool place and I never take it for granted. Ice can still be found in the bays and along the shore, but the spring break-up is finally here and it’s as if a bottleneck of birds has been unleashed upon the waters. I haven’t taken any bird photos, but I did manage to catch a fox kit out the office back door, an instant before it got scared away by someone approaching outside.

A fox kit investigates a stick as seen out the back door of my office last week.

A fox kit investigates a stick as seen out the back door of my office last week.

Yesterday I accompanied some researchers out on the St. Louis River Estuary. They were taking water samples for an ongoing project about seasonal water quality variation in the river. Because it was a calm day, we went out on Lake Superior just for kicks, through the Superior Entry. I got a good shot of the lighthouse despite the chilling wind that stole my cap later on and dunked it into the river. The researchers were nice enough to turn the boat around so I could retrieve it. My cap is now christened in the estuary, so I guess I’ll have to wear it out there all the time now. Anyway, I love the reflection in this photo!

The lighthouse that guards the Superior Entry into Lake Superior.

The lighthouse that guards the Superior Entry into Lake Superior.

On the other side of the breakwall was the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers dredger and some tugboats. The Army Corps dredges the harbor (digs out the muck) to ensure that the harbor is deep enough for the boats that ply its waters. The dredge is resting here. I thought this photo looks like a little mechanical family; papa dredge, mama tug and baby tug. Enjoy!

Dredge and tugs, Superior WI Entry to Lake Superior

Dredge and tugs, Superior WI Entry to Lake Superior