Last weekend I meandered up the Gunflint Trail in northeastern Minnesota near the Canadian border. I was able to spend time on Gunflint Lake with friends, old and new. I also made friends with this trio of ducks who were out for a peaceful evening swim.
I found this gem of a book at Chequamegon Books in Washburn, Wisconsin. Would you read it? I especially like its promo blurb by USA Today: “A fascinating romp through the world of ‘stuffed’ animals.”
Somehow the phrase “fascinating romp” has never combined in my mind with the topic of taxidermy.
I did not buy the book. But I was impressed with the bookstore. The last time I visited years ago, the store looked like the kind of place where books go to die. It’s been spiffed up recently, with better lighting, ventilation, and a new back room that makes space for lots more books!
The topics are all well-organized and easy to find. It’s a book nerd’s dream. Stop in if you’re ever in Washburn.
The back room in Chequamegon Books in Ashland.
While I was in the area, I had the chance to visit Raspberry Island in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. My bookish theme continued when the lighthouse keeper on the island showed me the traveling bookcase that the lighthouse service used to provide to help entertain the keepers and their families.
And I really do mean that he only showed me the traveling bookcase. Of our group that visited the island, I was the only one who opted for the $5 lighthouse tour, so I got personal service!
Raspberry Island Lighthouse in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.
The view from the top of the Raspberry Island Lighthouse.
After the tour, I took a hike to an overlook along the coast of the island. On the way, I found this fine example of Canada yew.
Christmas colors in August! Canada Yew is an important shrub for wildlife. Not often found on the mainland because it gets eaten by deer, it sometimes thrives on islands like Raspberry Island, which have few, if any, deer.
Books and lighthouses: a good combination for an outing….
People who live in Duluth are sometimes snobbish about their city parks and trails. They think they’re the best in the Twin Ports. I know, I have been guilty of such civic offenses.
Well, I had my eyes opened when I attended a recent after-work picnic in Billings Park across the bridge and the state line from Duluth in Superior, Wisconsin. In all my years of living in the area, I had never been to this gem of a park. It’s gorgeous!
The park features several picnic areas, a playground, grills, a volleyball pit, and trails along the bay. I’ve been back the the park twice more to walk Buddy and to paddleboard. With a public water access and calm bays to explore, the park is great for human-powered watersports.
I urge fellow Duluthians to put aside their prejudices and explore Superior. Get out there and get your Blue Mind on!
A view from the Alex Leveau Trail in Carlton.
We heard through the bicycling grapevine that the Willard Munger Bike Trail was all repaired (from the storm damage a few years ago) and open now in its entirety. So my friend Russ and I headed to Carlton, Minnesota, to catch the trail there and bike to our hearts’ content.
The only problem was, the bicycling grapevine was WRONG. When we got to the Munger Trail parking lot in Carlton and started biking toward the trailhead, we found a large sign that said the trail was closed!
Another trail is accessible from the same area, named the Alex Leveau Memorial Trail if you head southeast across the railroad tracks. I had biked it a few years ago, and remembered it was there.
Somewhat disconsolate, we biked that instead. But our mood soon lifted because the trail is just so gosh darn nice. It features views of wetlands and farmlands, barns and raspberries. Without huge hills, it’s an easy ride, and would be a good trail for children to try. But it’s not too monotonous either.
The segment we travelled is 6.5 miles long. Most of it is a paved trail, but when you get near Wrenshall, you have to follow the highway for a while. At the 6.5-mile milepost, the trail seems to dead end at a highway. We weren’t sure where to go from there, so we just turned around and went back to Carlton, although I think there might be other parts of it farther on.
The trail was named in memory of a former county commissioner and dairy farmer who was an advocate for using abandoned railways as public trails.
As we biked back to the parking lot, a series of “pop-up” rainstorms popped up. We thought they would miss us until the wind changed and one caught us. The rain spatters were cold, but we kept warm by biking.
If this had been a romance novel, getting caught in the rain could have led to a passionate embrace in rain-slicked bike clothes. But it’s kind of hard to kiss when you’re both wearing bike helmets and you’re trying to go fast enough to ward off the chill.
So we opted for just being thankful to arrive back to our vehicle wet, but no worse for wear – no road rash from slippery pavement, no lightning strikes nearby. Sometimes, in your elder years, that’s as good as it gets.
We sailed in a 32-foot Westsail.
When our sailing captain was hoisting the genoa sail during my recent trip (see Part One), the block for it broke off the top of the mast. A block is a pulley that the line (rope) for the sail goes through. Let’s just say it’s a rather necessary piece of equipment if one wants to use a sail.
We had other sails up, however, so we were able to voyage to our desired destination without the genoa. But the issue needed to be addressed. So after we anchored off Outer Island in the Apostle Islands (the most remote of all the islands), our captain decided on a daring and strenuous plan.
My friend Russ was to hoist him up to the top of the mast so he could replace the block with a spare he happened to have on board. This feat would involve several ropes and climbing gear, along with the help of a winch. Russ was supposed to pull the rope by hand, which was wrapped around the body of the winch spool several times for support.
My job was to take pictures of the event and pray that our captain did not fall and hurt himself in the process. If that happened, let’s just say we would have a questionable chance of making it back home. So I felt I had a rather important job.
The captain donned his harness and got all the ropes in place. Russ started pulling, I started taking photos, and the operation commenced.
Now, you should understand that masts are tall. I’m not sure exactly how tall, but they seem even taller when you’re on a boat that’s rocking in the water, even if the rocking is gentle.
Captain on his way up the mast…
Russ was able to get Captain about a quarter of the way up the mast when his progress slowed and it became obvious that more person-power was needed. So I pocketed my camera, put the handle in the winch, and hauled away. Between my winching and Russ’s pulling, we were able to get Captain half-way up the mast where he had a different job to do, fixing something else that had broken a while ago.
We rested while he worked, but soon he was ready to go to the top. Man, we winched and pulled as hard as we could, and slowly, steadily hoisted Captain all the way up. Thankfully, the waves and winds remained calm, and he was able to do his work.
Then his legs started going numb from the pressure of his harness. And clambering up a mast is hard work, even if you’re being hoisted. And I suspect it’s a bit scary up there.
All the way to the top!
Before he had the job completed, he wanted to come down. So we lowered him, with me standing behind Russ and holding the rope as a backup in case another set of hands was needed to steady his descent.
When Captain’s feet touched the deck, we all breathed secrets sighs of relief, even if the job was incomplete. We couldn’t sail as fast without the genoa, but suddenly, that seemed all right for now.
And I gained yet another new sailing skill on this trip, that of a Winch Wench.
Outer Island sand spit, Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.
Other things I learned as a Lake Superior sailing newbie:
-You need to be willing to take orders.
-You have to be willing to be taught everything, even how to go to the head (the boat had a compostable toilet).
-Bring your winter clothes, even in the middle of summer.
-Pay attention all the time to everything.
-The captain is the boss of the ship, but the lake and the winds are the boss of the captain.
-Bring along good food, good music, and good scotch. They can go a long way to make up for any uncomfortableness.
Anyone else out there have more to add?
Sunset in Grand Marais Harbor, Minn.
I recently meandered out onto Lake Superior on my first extended sailboat trip across it with some friends. We left Duluth, Minnesota, and headed to Wisconsin’s Apostle Island National Lakeshore, and then traversed the western arm of the lake to Grand Marais Harbor in Minnesota.
Since I am writing this, you know I survived the three-day trip. If fact, I would like to think I thrived, despite turning green with seasickness once (I avoided hurling, though!) and having to wear all my winter gear, plus hand warmers, on the 4th of July.
I learned a lot about sailing, but still have more to know. And I got a firsthand look at conditions on the lake, which is useful for my job, since we fund research projects on Lake Superior.
Two things struck me and my sailing companions. The first was the color of the water. Almost all the way to the Apostles it was the hue of chocolate milk. The large extent and persistence of the coloring was unusual. There were also floating logs to watch out for.
According to a news story I read upon returning home, the condition is due to a series of recent heavy rains that have sent thousands of tons of silt into the lake. Chequamegon Bay, on the other side of the Apostles, is also experiencing heavy sedimentation.
Usually, the chocolate milk dissipates within a few days, but this round of it is lasting longer than usual because we kept having downpours every few days. Most of the sediment comes from the Nemadji River and its red clay banks, along with the St. Louis River.
We also had more than double the amount of usual rainfall for the month of June. Anglers and charter captains are having to travel farther than usual out into the lake to find clear water for fishing.
Stable flies covering jeans during a beach walk. Good thing they can’t bite through denim!
The second notable thing were the flies. Known locally by the name of “ankle-biters” or sand flies, stable flies look like a common housefly but they are meaner because they bite – usually a person’s ankles. I can attest that there are roughly a gazillion of them out on the lake and its shores this summer.
The only thing that saved us from certain insanity on a shore trip to Outer Island was the fact that we were wearing jeans, which they couldn’t bite through.
The flies congregated in seething clusters from our knees down, rarely venturing farther up our legs. Thank goodness they had no interest in our bare arms or we would have had to run screaming back to our dinghy!
According to a story on National Public Radio, researchers have figured out how and why the flies and other biting insects like mosquitos do this. They think these biting bugs target feet and ankles because we are less likely to notice (and therefore kill) them. They hone in on their target by smell, and apparently, the sweat and skin on our ankles smells different from that of the rest of our body.
Besides wearing jeans, we found it helpful to elevate our feet off the ground while we were on the boat. They didn’t seem to be able to find our ankles if they were level with the rest of our legs. Conditions on the boat never got bad enough that we needed to apply repellant, but we were glad we had some along, just in case.
Although the water wasn’t its typical crystal-clear blue, and we had many insect stowaways aboard our sailboat, Lake Superior was still magical. I greatly enjoyed spending time on it, and hope to do so again someday.
A bear got to this beach before we did.
Last week, I meandered over to Two Rivers, Wisconsin, birthplace to the ice cream sundae. We arrived at the Historic Washington House Museum and Ice Cream Parlor at noon, just in time to have ice cream for lunch!
The Washington House is not the original place where the first sundae was served in 1881, but the original bar is in the building, which also features artifacts from that time, up to more modern times. A more modern parlor in a separate room offers the creamy confection to hungry travelers today.
We were met by a little girl who seemed to be related to the parlor manager. As she stood next to the counter, hugging her fluffy teddy bear, she gave us recommendations for the best flavors, extolling the virtues of each.
She tried to talk me into strawberry ice cream, but once I saw they had coconut, I begged her permission to have that instead. She graciously granted my request, so my lunch consisted of Coconut Joy ice cream (with coconut flakes, chocolate chunks and almonds), topped with hot fudge sauce.
OMG, so good! Sated, we then toured the rest of the building, which houses different historic collections of clothing, clowns, typewriters, etc. A film crew from Chicago was interviewing a man who was dressed in a soda jerk uniform behind the original bar as we left. I took his photo between takes, and he gave me a wave and a big smile. One of the historical volunteer ladies told me that several television stations had been to the parlor recently to do stories. I guess it’s that time of year.
Although some other towns make rival claims for the origin of the sundae, the place in Two Rivers is the only one recognized by the National Register of Historic Places. Read here and here for more info.
I just returned from four action-packed days in Las Vegas. I travelled with my new manfriend, Russ, so it was a chance for us to get to know each other better. We chose activities with an eye toward the romantic. Here’s a quick rundown.
The Nature
Red Rock Canyon
What could be more romantic than the color red? Lucky for us, the Red Rock Canyon was just a short drive outside of Vegas. It offers plenty of trails for hiking, but if you don’t have time for that, you can drive on the one-way, thirteen-mile road through the reserve to see the spectacular scenery.
Pictographs at Red Rock Canyon
We hiked two trails and saw lizards, cacti, colorful rocks, kangaroo rat dens, soaring vultures, and even some ancient Native American pictographs.
Tip: Hike in the morning, before it gets hot! During our stay, it was in the upper 90s every day with sun. Bring plenty of water.
Sharks may not be romantic, but they could make your loved one hold onto you for dear life. We visited the Shark Reef Aquarium in the Mandalay Bay Casino. Plenty of rays, sharks, and jellies.
Entertainment
Get up close and personal with your fantasy partners at Madame Toussand’s Wax Museum in the Venetian Casino. Russ and I temporarily ditched one another in favor of Brittany Spears, Celine Dione, Bradley Cooper, and George Clooney. Sigh.
The High Roller Observation Wheel will take you and your date to new heights on a slow spin five-hundred feet above the city. The wheel is so huge, it takes a half-hour for one rotation. Day or night, it’s a great way to get your bearings in a city with so many landmarks. Likewise is the Eiffel Tower Replica at the Paris Casino. Take an elevator ride to the top for a spectacular view.
Any of the Cirque du Soliel performances are romantic since they are French, after all. I would recommend the watery one called “O.”
Celine Dione has recovered from her ear surgery and is back giving concerts at the Colosseum. Somehow, we scored big on our seats. We were supposed to be in the second balcony, but got upgraded to seats on the main floor, only twenty-five rows away from her! How romantic to listen to “My Heart Will Go On” from that vantage point.
Tip: If all our nights hadn’t already been booked with shows, we would have tried a gondola ride outside the Venetian Casino. Don’t make our mistake!
Best Romantic Food
Vegas offers every type of food imaginable. But the most romantic we found was at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant. It is French, no?
If you reserve your table for two at 4:30 p.m., they will automatically seat you at the front window where you can watch the fountain show across the street at the Bellagio Casino. As with the Celine Dione concert, somehow, we mysteriously scored big on our seating. We were shown to the corner table at the front of the restaurant with a 180-degree view.
The food and wine is pricey, but oh so worth it! I had the lemon sorrel soup appetizer and veal medallions with morel mushrooms and fiddlehead ferns. So good! Russ had the roasted beet salad and bison with an asparagus add-on. For dessert, we romantically shared a Grand Marnier soufflé. Words fail me.
Grand Marnier souffle
One of the views from Ely’s Peak.
Last weekend, a friend and I meandered up 200-300 feet in elevation to the top of Ely’s Peak near Gary-New Duluth. I don’t have a more specific elevation to give you because the different trail guides that I consulted are inconsistent on that point. But I can say that for my 50-something-year-old legs, it felt more like 300 feet. Also, some of the guides say it’s a 1.5-mile round-trip hike. Others that it’s 1.8 miles. I vote for the latter.
We chose the trail to see a new place and because the crisp and sunny spring air seemed to demand it. We didn’t go seeking a vision quest like Native Americans are said to have done on the peak, nor to seek our spirit animals, but we just might have had a dose of both of those things along the way, too.
The trailhead is off of Becks Road. On this particular day, the trailhead parking area was easy to find from the many other cars gathered there.
I followed the directions given on this website, although I would argue that the “beginner” level trail classification is not accurate. I would rate it as “moderately hard” because near the peak, I found myself thinking it would have been helpful to be part mountain goat. And a young mountain goat at that.
(I would say that this trail is not for 80-year-old mountain goats, but for all others it should work as long as you are reasonably fit and coordinated.)
At the start, a boardwalk invites you into a spindly birch forest. The boardwalk gives way to a muddy climb up an incline to an old railroad bed for the Duluth, Winnipeg and Pacific Railway.
Inside the railroad tunnel.
Follow the railroad bed to the right until you come to a rocky tunnel. The tunnel was built for the railway in 1911. There are trails on the other side of it, but we did not attempt to go through the tunnel because of the sheet of ice layering the way. You may run into some rock climbers, who practice on the craggy basalt in the tunnel.
Although it may seem counter-intuitive, from the tunnel, you should follow the main trail, which goes down the hill to the right. Don’t take the spur that goes up along the side of the tunnel, unless you really are a mountain goat and want to test your mettle.
Don’t be impatient, you will come to an incline soon enough. You are now on the Superior Hiking Trail, which is marked by blue blazes on the trees and rocks. Keep to the left and follow the blazes up the blazing &!*()%$ hill.
Soon enough, wide vistas will offer views of the St. Louis River and the Gary-New Duluth neighborhood.
Dogs like the Ely’s Peak Trail, too.
No leaves were out on the trees yet – everything looked stark and clean.
The peak offers breath-taking 360-degree views. It was named after Edmund Ely, a Presbyterian missionary from Massachusetts who began teaching the Fond Du Lac Native American community in 1834. Local lore says that this was one of his favorite spots.
As we sat, resting, we noticed several turkey vultures lazily circling the thermals below us. The more we watched, the more vultures seemed to appear from nowhere. Eerily quiet and patient, they circled and circled. We joked that they were probably looking for hapless hikers who fell down the trail.
There’s a school of thought that says if you sit out in nature long enough, an animal will appear that has a lesson to impart. Were the vultures trying to tell us something?
Once back home (and safely out of a vulture’s gullet), I looked up what vultures symbolize. Here’s what I found: the vulture is considered a symbol of cleansing, renewal, and transformation. Vultures are viewed as fearless of death – they stare it in the face and eat death for breakfast (literally)!
I did feel cleansed after that hike. It was like the sunshine and clear air burned off all the old gunk. Perhaps it’s only to make way for more new gunk (ha ha), but I’d like to think I’ll have some time before I get clogged up again.
Laura Mullen, co-owner of Bent Paddle Brewery, introduces Deborah and James Fallows to writers in Duluth, Minnesota. James holds up their new book, “Our Towns.”
Yesterday, I meandered over to the new taproom of one of Duluth’s noted microbreweries, Bent Paddle, even though I don’t like beer (I know, gasp).
Amongst other local literati, I listened to a panel discussion in the brewery’s back room about how to apply for arts grant funding. The event was hosted by Lake Superior Writers, a group that fosters the literary scene in these parts.
The panel was sooooo interesting. Four writers and one person from an arts granting agency shared their experiences and insights. I now feel less intimidated by the idea of applying for one of these grants, should I ever be so inclined.
During the intermission, the coolest thing happened. Just by chance and happenstance, James Fallows, a long-time writer for The Atlantic Magazine was in the taproom, filming a segment for CBS News Sunday Morning. The segment will promote a new book he wrote with his wife Deborah, called “Our Towns: A 100,000-Mile Journey into the Heart of America.”
Deborah was with him, too, and when they heard from the owner (Laura Mullen) that a bunch of writers were in the back room, they HAD to come speak with us. Although it was hard to hear them over the din of the taproom, here’s what I gleaned.
James first came to Duluth to do a story about Cirrus Aircraft, a local company that makes private planes, which deploy their own parachute in times of peril. He also became familiar with Bent Paddle Brewery, which was just starting up at the time. Then he and Deborah had an idea for a book project that would allow them to take the social pulse of America as it stands now. In their own Cirrus plane, they flew to a dozen cities for their research, concentrating on ones that weren’t too large like Greenville, South Carolina; Columbus, Missouri; Burlington, Vermont; Fresno, California; and Duluth, of course.
When asked, James and Deborah said their favorite cities on their tour were the ones with “heart.” They included Duluth in this list. And they said they were so glad to see that the brewery was thriving. James offered us intel on what the Atlantic is publishing these days and even gave us his email address in case we have story ideas to pitch.
How cool is that?!
In preparation for the book’s release on May 8, they had decided to come back to Bent Paddle to film the promo segment. They also filmed in Greenville. The segment will air on CBS Sunday Morning on May 6.
I suspect I unwittingly got filmed for it earlier in the evening when I followed another writer to where the taproom offers three different kinds of water on tap (sparkling, ambient and chilled). We were talking about short stories. When we turned around from the water taps, we were met with the glare of camera lights and shadowy cameramen behind them.
We didn’t think much of it, continuing on our writerly ways, trying to look nonchalant. But after the event was over, I excitedly told my writer friend that our backs might be on national television! Can’t wait to see if we made the cut.
It just goes to show, you never know what can happen when you follow your passions, and that good things can happen in a brewery, even for people who prefer wine over beer.
Marie's Meanderings 
