Category: Gunflint Trail Winter

The Gunflint Trail hasn’t escaped the effects of El Nino this fall. There was snow and then there wasn’t. There was more snow and then that gently melted away too. Now we’re back to snow cover and it appears it’s here to stay. In fact, 14 + inches of snowfall is forecasted to fall between now and Christmas Day.

But if I’m being honest, I don’t pay too much attention to the snow accumulation this time of year. Instead, I’m focused on the lake, trying to tell if this is the year it will freeze into a smooth, thick, mirror-like surface and if at long last, I’ll finally be able to test out the new blades I installed on my hockey skates back in spring 2014. I spend a lot of time staring out the window, trying to use mental telepathy to will it to freeze over perfectly.

As a child, much of my winters were spent on outdoor skating rinks, more often than not at hockey practice. I spent a fair amount of time at indoor arenas when we traveled for hockey tournaments. But it’s the rare, precious moment that’s been spent skating on frozen lakes.

It takes a lot for lake ice to freeze up just right for skating. We need a series of still, below freezing days and nights and under no circumstances can it snow significantly while the ice   forms.

It’s a tall order: no wind, no precipitation, and consistent freezing temps.

It happened once while we lived on Seagull Lake, back in December 2011. For a magical week, we swirled across the lake’s glossy surface, chasing hockey pucks, and putting real mileage on our skates as we skated the full mile from our dock to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness sign.

Once when I was very little, probably back in January 1992, the harbor in Grand Marais froze over, just for one glorious weekend. I remember spending that Sunday skating from the Lake Superior Trading Post all the way across to the Angry Trout Cafe and back again. By the time I took the bus into school the next morning, the wind had broken up the ice and pushed it on top of itself on the harbor beach.

That’s how skating on lakes goes in these parts. You must seize the moment as soon as it presents itself because it just takes one slight shift in the wind, one snow squall to put the kibosh on the whole thing.

But because Round Lake doesn’t have a ton of surface area, it’s one of the first lakes to freeze over on the Gunflint Trail and it tends to have more skate-able days than the other larger lakes. I thought maybe we had a shot. But not this year.

This year we got a week of whitecaps on Round Lake before Round Lake finally froze over on the Thanksgiving night. Then we got some snow. Then the temperatures hovered above freezing day and in day out for a week straight. Even though it’s been frozen over for more than two weeks, no one except a brave otter and fox have ventured across the ice. It just seems too uncertain.

Skating lessons or waiting lessons?

Maybe next year.

Celebrating the end of a year and the ringing in of a fresh year Northwoods style is a bit different than most.  We don’t have the throngs of people all bunched together in a valley of buildings watching jumbo-trons and cheering as a giant crystal ball falls.  The dress code up here does not included freshly pressed tuxedos or the most fashionable ball gowns.  Even the paper party hats and noise makers are absent (although we could have had these if any one had remembered to pick up some at the store an hour away).

Instead we donned our warmest layers without concern for style as the wind chill was pushing -20.   We headed outside into the cold pale winter sun, strapped on our skis, and headed off into the woods.  We broke trail across the portage from Round Lake into West Round Lake.  There are no crowds out here, not even a human track, at least not since the last snow fall.  Otter slides cris-crossed the snow.  Fox tracks hurried along their narrow little trails.  But no foot prints, tire tracks, snowshoe or ski trails did we cross.

Pushing on between West Round and Edith Lake we started to pick up fire wood with a little help from Mackey.  We shushed our way across the lake looking for a little sunny spot tucked away from the wind.  Soon we had a merry little blaze crackling away on top the snow and ice.  Who needs noise makers or sparklers when you have a fire with sappy pine in it!  We kept warm hunting up downed wood to feed the hungry flames sputtering along in the winter wind.  Once we had enough warmth to melt the ice off of ski bindings we broke into the snacks.

Our Northwoods version of champagne and caviar could all be toasted over open flame.  Marshmallows for s’mores and pudgie pie PB&Js.  Nothing tastes as fine as fire roasted sugar and slightly burnt sandwiches out in the woods.  The water out of our bottles was as sparkling as the finest champagne with the ice crystals forming at the rim.  Our jumbo-tron entertainment was feeding the flames and watching them crackle up with new flames.

Soon it was time to hurry off to catch the most magnificent of finales.  We retraced our tracks back to Round Lake just in time to watch the sun set.  No Time Square ball has ever been as beautiful as a December 31st sunset over the boreal forest.  While the time might not be midnight (it was actually 4:19 pm) the day and the year were definitely done.

While we waited for the man-made end of the year to arrive, we nestled into cozy cabins with family and friends.  The night black as pitch outside the windows was not noticed as we collaborated on homemade pizza masterpieces, sang along to the music, and laughed at old stories and new.

Where ever you may be this New Years, we hope you are celebrating in your own way.  2014 was a beautiful year and 2015 is a fresh adventure waiting to happen.  Happy New Years to all of our Tuscarora friends!

This is the time of year I like to watch reruns of Northern Exposure, the tv show from the early 90’s.  Set in a fictional town in Alaska, it bears a lot of similarities to northern Minnesota.  The characters are my early winter friends who know what it is like to live in the northern clime, in a place with more trees than people.  They understand the darkness.

They also understand the anticipation of winter.  One of my favorite parts is from the 5th season.  Chris, the radio DJ is waiting for the the first snow of winter with an air of excitement.  Every one is preparing for the upcoming winter which can be challenging, but if they didn’t like it at least a bit way down deep, well, then they just wouldn’t live there.  At the end of the episode, the first flakes begin to fall and the whole community comes out into the streets to wish each other a bon hiver; a French saying that means  good winter.

I like that expression.  Good winter.  All of a sudden it is December and it has all the makings of a good winter.  I eagerly waited for the first snow, the first real snow that sticks around.  Sure, some flakes fall early in September, but nothing that sticks to the ground and stays a while.  October starts to tease you a little bit with snow in the morning frosting the ground but it melts quickly.  By the end of October the snow was starting to get a little more serious.  When we took the dock out the last weekend of October, I got to shovel it off first.  That’s a neat experience, shoveling snow off the dock and watching it float away.

The middle of November was when Round Lake decided to toss up its white flag and surrender to the winter.  The bigger lakes in the area still have some open water, but Round Lake has been tucked in for the winter for close to three weeks now.  And the snow did come.  We don’t have all that much on the ground, but every tree is flocked beautifully for the season.   When it gets really cold like the last few days and the sky clears to a beautiful blue and that pale winter sun peeks out for just a little bit. ..bon hiver.

Then a real live Maggie O’Connell came and landed on Round Lake!  That’s just not something you see every day.  I think I can say that we have enough ice on the lake now, at least enough to support a plane.  No, we don’t have enough snow yet for those who like to shush through the woods on groomed trails or scream around on snow machines.  But it looks and feels like winter with plenty of time to add to our snow blanket.  It’s time to say bon hiver to everyone.  I think it is going to be a very good winter.