Author: Sue Ahrendt

Last week we took a little canoe trip. Only 2 nights, but we paddled a long long way, and that is my favorite way to keep warm on a fall trip. We left from our dock, which I also like because it reminds me that we have access to a really big backyard. Really big.
We camped on the south shore of Little Sag, and then took a day trip down to through Makwa, Pan, through the Kawishiwi River area (haven’t been there in 20 years…glad to see that it is still wonderful) and up through Adams, Boulder, and back through Makwa. It was a full scenery day The forecast called for 20% chance of rain 100% of the time which turned out to be an accurate prediction, because it seemed to rain about 12 minutes out of every hour. Perfect, because we couldn’t have been in the tent yard cleaning tents even if we had wanted to be.
We took the Bell Northshore canoe—the one my friend Kelly Dupre calls “the party barge”, which is sort of accurate and sort of misleading because really it is sleek and fast, 55 pounds only 19 feet long. We completed our marathon daytrip and arrived back at our campsite just at total nightfall—on the last portage we didn’t actually need a headlamp until the very end. Ideal timing, if you’ve ever taken a fall trip with Jim Wiinanen . However, some people I know think that we were pushing the daylight envelope just a little too far.
The next day we paddled home through my favorite Peter Lake area—the only recovering forest part of our trip-those (above-the-tree line) alpine lakes touched deepest by the Cavity Fire in 2007. I can’t quite get over how cool it is up there. It isn’t just me, others throughout the summer have loved it in there too. Something magical about the tundra feel to that area.. We saw a moose on the hill, like a big horned ship on a mountainside, and if you look very closely you can see the cow down below him.
When I visited French, Peter, and Virgin in 2007 (a full year after the Cavity Fire) these rocky portages looked as if the vegetation may not recover. Apparently 2007 had an impressive growing season—especially the poplar trees took off. Even if the parent poplar trees burn, fires stimulate production of suckers from the massive shallow root systems of these trees. Poplar trees (along with birch) seed readily, even the fallen branches can sucker into new trees. Once Shelby got an ominous voice as she looked at the rapid regrowth and said: “Mom, we couldn’t stop those Ppoplars if we wanted to.” She’s probably right—Look at this hearty guy, and you can see just how determined they are.

I f you look closely at these photos, you can see that they are taken of the same hill—one in 2007 (1 year after the Cavity Fire) and one in 2008. It was just a lucky coincidence that I took them on the same spot!!! But they do illustrate what is happening in there—and it certainly won’t be a group of tundra lakes for long. I’m loving it while it lasts! There’s something about that Peter Lake.

I’m pretty content with the (approximately) 759 shades of green that we get to live with and observe during the spring and summer around here—especially on the bright blue days.

Then come these fleeting fall days, as chlorophyll leaves the leaves, and we get the splendid outburst of color. I’ve had decades of autumns in my life, so why is it still so surprising? The last few days have been absolutley lovely. Great for canoe trips, hiking, working, driving, just living.

Something about the peak of fall colors makes me anxious. The colors are stunning for such a short slice. I wonder why can’t I just enjoy and appreciate it, live in the moment? Instead, I ache to hang on, take a picture, save some perfect leaves, because everyone I know should see it RIGHT NOW—because if we have a windy storm tomorrow, or next week, it might be gone. Mother nature only shares her florescent finery for a brief minute—you either catch it or you don’t. Maybe she is too modest to show her colors for long, and then we’re back to the subtle humble majesty that is so calm and peaceful in any season.
Wouldn’t it be fun to do the fall color tour…to start in Canada and just follow the changing of the leaves for weeks, until it is done. When and where is it done? Late October in Missouri? I don’t even know. Sounds a little tense to me, trying to follow the peaks. Instead, I’ll join our guests and be grateful that I’m here today—it’s another golden one!

Sunny days keep us hopping—the best time to dry and clean equipment, linens, carpets, EVERYTHING….something about the crisp cold days trigger the instinct… “Hurry hurry hurry button down before the snow blows again!”
And this is what tent hill looked like today—(and those who have scrubbed a tent on tent hill have the truest appreciation of the scene—none more than Andy and Paul)

On our local wolves—
All summer they intermittently reminded us that this is still their territory-they came and howled right next to the lodge. Made for a chilling thrill for guests, but we think we’ve found the pattern—when other dogs come to visit, it sets them off. They come in close, howl–we see them on the road by the back house. Then Andy supplies Daniel and his friends with soda–sends them out to “mark” our territory. I don’t know that it works, but the boys sure get a manly kick out of it; I think they feel like pack leaders.
A few weeks ago, staff members Andy and Paul were in the canoe yard when they thought they saw someone swimming across the bay out in front of our dock. Upon closer look, they realized it was a deer with a full rack swimming like crazy across from the rock (we call Yogi) toward the public landing. Andy Ahrendt was sure wolves must be chasing. About 5 minutes later, a wolf trotted down in front of Cabin 2 stopped next to fish surgery, where our guest Ed was cleaning fish. This wolf clearly had only one big buck on his mind, and no regard for the rest of us. Andy and Paul scooted after that guy as he headed over toward the Trading Post and into the woods.

Sadly, Paul saw a wolf pup carcass on the Gunflint Trail by our mailbox—apparently hit by a car. Later in the day, the pup was gone. Did people or the other wolves take it? Does the pack mourn the pup? I’ve usually had multiple dogs, pretty sure that they do—I wonder what that looks like.