Tuscarora Lodge & Canoe Outfitters

Shelby was driving us up the Gunflint Trail Tuesday night when she had to pull over and wait for a mother moose herd two little guys across the road. We chatted about how difficult it can be for one mother to protect twins–or other multiples against wolves….I’ve heard some people call the 2nd calf “wolf bait.”

Then on Wednesday morning, Peter, (staffer from Hungry Jack outfitters) stopped by in his funky painted car. He had just paddled out of Brant Lake, and he shared his photos and story with us (all photos credited to Peter.)

He was really surprised to see a mother and two calves swim from the point right in front of him, to another shoreline on Brant Lake.

He took some photos of them, before he looked back at the point, wondering why they had left so abruptly.

He found another subject for his photos. Yikes! Thanks Peter.
As far as he could tell, the calves got away safely…………this time. Beautiful animals, all of them, just trying to make a living like everybody else.

By staffer Carl Hoeg

This summer I came to Tuscarora to enjoy a final summer before entering the “Real World”. Come December I will be finishing graduate school and be faced with the prospect of finding a normal 9-5 job, thus I decided that instead of looking for a summer internship I wanted to spend my summer somewhere exciting and adventurous, so I came to work at Tuscarora Outfitters on the Gunflint Trail. Here I expected to work hard but also to spend my time off exploring the wilderness of Northern Minnesota and the BWCA.

Two weeks ago another staffer, Andrew Yates, and I went on our first overnight BWCA trip of the summer. Neither Andrew nor I had seen much of the area around Tuscarora so we decided the goal of our trips was to “Make Tracks” and see as much of the surrounding area as we could during our day off. I would have to say that we were completely successful in our goal as in 23 short hours (12 of which we were making camp) we covered 22 portages (totaling over 1,300 rods), 21 total miles and over 20 different lakes!

Picture #1: Our Route (Click to expand it)

We set out at 3:00 pm after work on Monday (May 31^st) from Round Lake and headed to Tuscarora Lake, where we had originally planned to camp for the night. On our way we got to do the legendary Tuscarora Portage, which depending on which map you consult is anywhere from 360-425 rods (anyway you look at it, that is long and over a mile). A personal point of pride is that I carried our aluminum canoe over the entire portage! When we got on Tuscarora it was still early and we had favorable winds so we decided to keep going instead of making an early camp. The result was we were able to make it to Crooked Lake and find a suitable campsite by around 6:00 pm. In camp we enjoyed the delights of expired dehydrated foods (which we get for free from Tuscarora Outfitters as they cannot sell it to clients), a campfire, a beautiful sunset, and starry night (complete with loon calls and beaver tail slaps).

Picture #2: Me at Tuscarora Lake (After the big Portage)

Picture #3: Camp Site at Crooked Lake

Tuesday morning (June 1^st) we got up at sunrise, packed up camp, and were canoeing again by about 6:00 am. As there had been decent winds the day before we decided we wanted to get out early in order to get to Little Saganaga before any major winds camp up (Little Sag is a big lake, despite its name, and unfavorable winds would have made canoeing it very difficult). When we arrived at Little Sag the wind was just getting going for the day, but lucky for us it was mostly at our back. As the wind increased we decided that we would take a chain of smaller lakes back to Tuscarora Outfitters in the afternoon as opposed to going into other big lakes such as Gabimichigambi and Peter Lake. The result of this decision was a lot of portages! Despite our aluminum canoe though we only had one big pack and a small backpack so there was no double portaging for us.

Picture #4: Sunrise at Crooked Lake

Picture #5: Portaging away from Little Saganaga to Virgin Lake (Senic Overlook of Little Sag)

Our final stop on our trip was on Bat Lake, where we stopped for a quick lunch at midday, before we finishing the last leg of our journey that afternoon.

Picture #6: View of Gillis Lake from Portage to Bat Lake

Overall it was a great first trip! We managed to see a big portion of the BWCA that is right in our backyard. It is great having seen all these lakes as many of them are ones that our clients here at Tuscarora are constantly going on trips to, thus now when they ask us questions ahead of time or tell us about their trip afterwards we will be more knowledgeable about the area. Finally it is good to know that it still only mid-June and that there will be many more trips yet to come as a part of this summer adventure in the BWCA.

The days are spinning by us here at Tuscarora.

We’re in full spring with all of its florescent green.

It still amazes me when guests show up after a trip, and I’d swear they just paddled away yesterday………..yet they have photos, and sure enough, they’ve had a week’s worth of memories. They’ve caught fish, they’ve had some rain and some hail, they’ve had hot sunny weather- enough to swim, and cold enough to freeze a water bottle one night.

Our Memorial Day weekend was especially busy. Former staffers Lindsay, Jen, and Dave came to help out those of us who are here. The regular family and friends crowd filled the cabins, and this morning, I’ve got a minute to reflect on it all before people start paddling in, with more stories.

When cousins Kjersten and Joe drove up the Gunflint Trail with Shelby and Daniel on Friday night, I had to shake my head; I’d swear that they were all using toddler car seats yesterday ….yet we have photos, and sure enough, they’ve each had a childhood’s worth of memories. They’ve caught fish, had some rain and some hail, they’ve been hot enough to swim, and cold enough to freeze a water bottle.

I sort of like the way they charge ahead without nostalgia. I also like it that they’ve grown up together, and they have such gentle acceptance of each others’ quirks.

They know each other inside and out. Joe still pushes the edge on raunchy jokes, and Daniel still stresses out on the responsibility. Shelby still looks to stir things up, and Kjersten has a mind of her own. They laugh. Their relationships with each other have nothing to do with us adults anymore. I love that.

This weekend the boys fished, Kjersten and Shelby took photos. The light was especially dramatic after the storm Saturday evening, and Kjersten with her new camera and her artistic eye captured some winners (the’ Wow’ shots posted here are hers).

My sentimental favorite was the path near Cabin 2—where the four of them used to don their special powers of invisibility or flight and play. I’m betting this photo will give them some nostalgic childhood memories some day, when they’re my age and ready to be wistful, when there’s time to remember.

We wish you a wonderful Memorial Day.

We’ve all been seeing many moose around this spring on the Gunflint Trail, and I like it.

Do you notice the piece of skin and hair—the dewlap— hanging under her chin? I’m calling this one a “her” because she had a calf in the weeds, which was why we quickly left her alone. There’s not a great way for me to otherwise distinguish the hims and hers in this season of the year before antlers emerge. The gender of the one in the video? I do not know.

At any rate, the dewlaps, or bells, or moostaches, are a mystery. Both males and females have them, but male bells tend to be larger. Some of them are fat and 20 inches long, some are just tufts of hair.

The moose experts aren’t in agreement as to the purpose of the dewlap. Some say it helps with heat regulation. The long strands that sometimes hang down can also freeze and break off in the winter. Ouch.

Apparently they reach their biggest magnitudes on the chins of 3-5 year old bull moose.

Many biologists speculate that dewlaps (bells) play a part in the mating rituals, perhaps for dispensing scents (from bull urine and saliva, if that could ever be appealing). Perhaps size and shape are attractiveness indicators.

I’m thinking that the bells have to get caught up in the brush sometimes, and that can’t be comfortable. And that is all I know.

-Written by Sue Ahrendt

Spring is a great time to see moose on the Gunflint Trail, because they prefer cool temperatures under 60 degrees Fahrenheit and the lack of snow allows them to move through the forest with ease. In May, watch for cow moose with their newborn calves. Be respectful and observe the new family from a distance.

As you can see in the photo below, you have to look closely for moose. With their mottled brown coats, moose often blend into the background, especially before the trees and scrubs leaf out.

There’s no secret trick for how to see a moose on Gunflint Trail, other than going out frequently and looking carefully. You’re most likely to see a moose feeding and moose favor swampy areas where they can feast on a couple of their favorite foods: water lilies and willow branches. On great spot to look for moose is the beaver pond on the Round Lake Road on the way to Tuscarora Lodge and Canoe Outfitters. As temperatures heat up in the summer,  moose are more likely to feed in the cooler dusk and dawn.

 

 

The families came to plant trees last Saturday for Gunflint Green up. I can’t tell you what a pleasing little tradition it has become these last five years.
Tom and Julia (who add a little more style to Cabin 2 every summer) and I were a trio. My job was to hoe the grass clumps, Tom would dig, Julia would plant. I was truly a happy hoer.

Last year at this time of year, Shelby wrote a poem of her memories of the start of the Ham Lake Fire. We really would have preferred to shelter our kids from the whole forest fire experience. Not something to wish on a 10 and a 12 year old. Even though adversity builds character and resilience, I think this one went a little too far.

However, we’re proud of the young adult she is becoming.

(12 year old Shelby)

Fire

Five minutes to fit my entire world into

This vacant suitcase in front of me

All my memories, necessities, smiles

Crammed in a single duffel

My heart pounds a

Panicked fluttering inside my chest

What what what?

What should I choose to bring?

The photos smiling on the walls

The battered lamp beside my bed

My favorite strawberry T-shirt.

What do I treasure most?

My time is ticking away

Throw in a few pairs of jeans

The money from my top dresser drawer

A third grade year book

What should I save?

Everything? Nothing?

Grab some pictures off the wall

Toss them in the pile

Five minutes and my entire world is packed into

This bulging suitcase in front of me

The tromp of heavy boots echoes upstairs

A firefighter’s gruff voice hollers

I sprint up the steps

Bag slung over my shoulder

Sunlight beams through the haze

As I dash to the idling Jeep

My dad at the wheel

My brother beside me in the back seat

We roar down the dusty driveway

A blanket of smoke curling thick among the pines

Now, I count

One dad, one brother, one panting Labrador…

No Mom

Where is Mom?

We round the corner

And collide with the flames

I open my mouth in a silent scream

Hands clench the door handle

A cocoon of fire envelopes the road

Flaming tree tips plummet and ignite the parched straw

Red and orange flickers burn my wide eyes

With their terrorizing image of destruction

As I glimpse mom’s grey suburban

Motionless at the Cross Bay Lake Entry point

The terrifying truth burbles up

And washes over my forced calm

Straining against my seatbelt

Hysterical panic exploding inside of me

Out there in the blazing inferno

My mom faces a hurricane of flame and heat she can’t fight

Helpless tears streak my cheeks

Strapped in a car; stuck

We approach the second entrance to the Cross Bay Lot

A grey suburban pulls out ahead of us

My heart soars

Stopping the sobs

We screech to a halt at the Gunflint Trail

And slowly turn

The smoky billows climb the air

Purple and orange hues blossom through the gray

Our house, our life

Disappearing into the sky

I discover the panic has stopped

Take a shaky breath

Somehow, some way

We’ll survive this

Waiting, breathing, accepting

Watching the firefighters

Hearing the radio exchanges

Dreading the hour we’ll see the destruction

———————————————-

The mile driveway stretches into millions

As we head back in the anxious car

The true wrath of the fire

Is revealed

Wasteland stretches before me

A desolate scene of smoking silence

Charred black from the raging blaze

Only a splintered shadow of the majestic beauty this forest once was.

The flames have stripped the very soil of its memory

Scraped down the rich dirt to raw rock

Leaving beached granite whales

In the ocean of blackness

The ashes ache with death

A forest that was once filled with life and energy

Now flutters between my fingers

And blankets the ground with a heavy sadness.

Towering white pines

That I had loved to lean against

Because they felt so completely solid and secure

Are left as frail slivers struggling to stand

But my eyes stretch over the hill

There, in a sparkling bubble of green

Lies our house, our resort

An island of survival in the sea of disaster

And my heart flies higher

Than the topmost branches of the soaring white pines

Because there will be new life in this desert

A new emerald woods

It may be my children

Who are the ones leaning against grand old trees

The ones who get to experience their great support

But sprouts are already tunneling up through the ash to sunlight

So I unpack my world, my suitcase

Put back my treasures

And watch this stunning forest

Create and recreate its beauty

(This poem appeared in the Boundary Waters Journal, Spring 2011 issue.)