My family’s road trip continues with an auto tour down U.S. Route 56 in Southwest Kansas.
Road Trips
Traveling the Southwest: Salina, Kansas
Driving to the Southwestern U.S., we stopped in Salina, Kansas for a night and were delighted to find the Central Kansas Flywheels Yesteryear Museum.
Just Me and My Dogs: A Solitary Hike on the Lake Superior Hiking Trail
Just me and my dogs, alone, on the Lake Superior Hiking Trail. I’ve hiked portions of this trail many times in my life, but never alone with my dogs, and never this particular segment. Early in the afternoon on Saturday, August 18th, I drove the short 2.5 miles up the gravel road from the location my family was vacationing at, to the Castle Danger Trailhead. I noticed a few cars in the small trail-side parking lot, but saw no one. I leashed the dogs, threw my backpack over my shoulders, and headed over to the trail sign: Crow Creek .5mi Red Pine Overlook 1.5mi Encampment River 2.6mi Sure! Why not? I felt a sort of elation as the dogs and I stepped onto the trail – alone. In my day-to-day life I’m a stay-at-home mother of 7 and 9-yr. old children, which I love, but it’s been years since I’ve walked alone; at my own pace; in silence. Nature, here I come! The dogs started off the hike with an excited burst of energy. They seemed to know that a wilderness hike was waiting for them. Brook, my 12-yr. old border collie-lab mix, and Ayla, my border collie-Australian cattle dog mix, were pulling at the leashes with their noses buried in the long grass. I noticed a silence, devoid of others’ voices. But shortly thereafter, new sounds of rustling grasses, branches hitting each other as the wind swept through the high tree tops, and the poignant call of a bird evaded my ears. I was zoning in on the wilderness around me. Within minutes we came across a sign: As I gazed past the sign, I noticed a sharp drop in terrain. We must have made it to Crow Creek. I let Brook off of her leash for the steep descent down as I didn’t want her restrained while she climbed down the stairs – her old hips need special attention. But, the dogs barreled down the wall of Crow Creek anyway, while I tried to avoid the poison ivy that was invading the trail at every step. “If you stay to the left, it’s easier to step down to the creek bed” came a female voice from below. “Thank you!” I replied. A slim lady with short grey hair and a hard hat greeted me as the dogs and I stepped into the mostly-dry Crow Creek. Brook, off her leash, gingerly made her way over to the lady to say hi. Everyone is Brook’s best friend. Luckily, the lady was a dog lover, and squatted down to give Brook a thorough pet. “What’s going on down here?” I asked. “Well, last month we had 8” of rain here, and several footbridges were washed down stream, so we’re here to disassemble them and fix the steps on the sides of the creek. As I looked up the creek, I was surprised to see workers hauling a huge boulder using a four-handled sling – one man per handle. They were gathering the boulders and placing them on the sides of the creek to be used as stairs. There was no way to get heavy machinery into the creek, so everything has to be done using human power. A few of the workers waved, and one said “You’re the first one to use our new steps!” “I’m honored, and thanks so much for the work you’re doing here!” I replied. The dogs and I said our goodbyes, tested out the new steps on the far side of the creek – “They’re sturdy!” I yelled down to the crew below – and continued on our way. Up, up, and up, we climbed. “This is going to be some overlook.” I thought to myself. The dogs and I hiked up steep hills, we climbed up small, but challenging rock obstacles, and cherished the brief flat terrain. The billion-year old basalt cliffs surrounding Lake Superior were proving to be formidable hiking opponents. Now I was hearing the dogs panting, my deep breathing, my new barefoot trail shoes crunching on gravel trails, and I think I could hear my heart beating. The challenging hike was invigorating. The same bird with the high, sharp call continued to follow us on our hike for about a half a mile. I never did see the shy, but curious bird as it kept itself well-hidden in the canopy of the trees. Soon after the mystery bird left, we arrived at the breathtaking Red Pine Overlook. Small, but perfectly manicured farms dotted the vast valley below, we could see tree tops for miles, and the distant landscape was tinged a milky bluish-white due to the Canadian wildfires that burned hundreds of miles away. Brook, panting like crazy, chose to lie down on a rocky outcrop to enjoy the breeze coming up from the valley. Just as we were all sitting down to catch our breath on the overlook, the dogs and I heard something crashing through the woods behind us. I immediately thought black bear, or maybe a moose. Whatever it is, it’s big, and it’s CLOSE! Ayla, my ferocious 35lb. 1-yr. old dog jumped straight up, and turned a 180 in the air. Her buck was up as she barked wildly at the crashing sound. Just then, we saw an old red pine trunk crash through the trees right over the trail we had just walked, though it didn’t touch the ground as a young red pine exerted its strength and held that old trunk about 8 ft. off the ground. Settle down, heart! Since we were all up and alert, we decided to continue our hike to our final destination – the Encampment River. The next mile-long stretch of our hike would end up being my favorite. Towering red pines lined the high bluff we explored, thick layers of pine needles cushioned our steps, and a beautiful overlook accompanied us along the way. Have you noticed the sweet smell of browned pined needles? It is one of my
Rio Grande Valley: From MN to Texas and Back Again
On The Road Again During the arctic winter of 2014, my family decided to pack up and head south. A few weeks ago I shared the first part of our road trip when we explored Port Aransas, Texas. Today we continue our road trip from Minnesota to Texas as we drive south from Port Aransas, TX to the Rio Grande Valley via U.S. Highway 77. Onion fields and chicken farms dotted the sides of highway 77 as we drove south toward the valley. The shadeless and parched terrain offered no respite from the sun as the cattle slowly roamed the open fields. At one point, we passed a group of about 20 men, women, and children on horseback. I wondered where they were headed as we hadn’t seen a town for dozens of miles, and we wouldn’t pass another for about the same. I hoped that they had water for the horses and young children that traveled under the mid-day sun. Within three hours, my family and I reached our new destination – Orange Grove RV Park in Edinburg, TX. Orange Grove RV Park – Edinburg, TX That’s right! We were joining the Snowbirds for the next five days (Snowbirds: North American term for people who migrate from cooler northern climates to warmer southern climates during the winter). I had visited the park a couple of times in years past, as my grandparents overwintered in Orange Grove. The things I remembered most about the park were: the way the orange blossoms perfumed the air throughout the late winter months (the park was built on an old orange grove), how grapefruit hung heavy on the trees, how we played games late into the night, and enjoyed conversations with neighbors that regularly stopped. Nothing much had changed in the park since I had been there last. The orange blossoms still perfumed the air, grapefruit the size of my three-year old daughter’s head still hung heavy on the trees, and neighbors still stopped by to visit. My family also enjoyed the park pool and hot tub, and celebrating Great-Grandpa’s 80th birthday with friends and family in the community room. Orange Grove Park was the perfect place for our young family to relax and enjoy the warm Texas weather – fresh citrus fruit to pick and enjoy, a clean pool to play in, friendly people to chat with, quiet streets to walk in, and plenty of space for games, parties, and other social gatherings. Much of the second portion of our trip was spent in the park, but we did take one day-trip to the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge – a 2,088-acre refuge. Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge Established in 1943 for the protection of migratory birds, Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge happens to be positioned along an east-west and north-south juncture of two major migratory routes for many species of birds. It is also at the northern-most point for many species whose range extends south into Central and South America. The refuge is right in the middle of all this biological diversity, which is what makes this 2,088 acre parcel the ‘jewel of the National Wildlife Refuge System.’ Though small in size, Santa Ana offers visitors an opportunity to see birds, butterflies and many other species not found anywhere else in the United States beyond deep South Texas. – U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Throughout the winter of 2014, one of the coldest on record, my parents escaped the icy MN winter to volunteer at the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. My father helped to rebuild bridges in the park while my mother traveled to local schools to educate students about monarch butterflies. On the day that we visited Santa Ana, my father was busy building a bridge, but my mother got the day off to show us around the refuge. We had our own tour guide! The first thing that my family noticed was all of the Spanish moss dripping from every tree and vine. The soft, gray moss gave every walking trail a storybook feeling. My son was amazed that the moss didn’t need to grow in the dirt. He was also delighted with the sabal palm trees. My family spent the day in the reserve observing green jays and listening to the loud cackle of the plain chachalaca, exploring the canopy bridge, and discovering new flowers on trees and shrubs. Many of the mammals, birds, and reptiles that would usually be out and active were not due to the unusually cold temperatures that Texas experienced in the winter of 2014 – Minnesota wasn’t the only state. I would love to return to the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge in the future when temperatures are warmer and wildlife is more active, but the day at the refuge was still full of exploration, new experiences, and exciting flora and fauna. Thank you, Mom, for a great day! Thanks for joining me on the second part of our journey from Minnesota to Texas and back again. This week I will share my favorite tip for long road trips with kids and dogs – you may be surprised.
Port Aransas, Texas: From Minnesota to Texas and Back Again
I’m happy to report that since my last post, almost all of the snow (18″) that was dumped on us here in Minnesota on April 15th has melted away. Mother Nature gave us what seemed to be an epic ending to our winter weather as spring has finally arrived. The scilla in the garden have bloomed and the daffodils are close behind. Relief! The same feeling we had after we decided to drive south during the cold and snowy winter of 2014. The winter we drove from Minnesota to Texas and back again. We left our house on the morning of February 27th, 2014 when the air was frigid enough to freeze exposed skin in 10 minutes or less… …and arrived at our destination – I.B. Magee Beach Park in Port Aransas, Texas within 36 hours. I.B. Magee Beach Park is located on the northern tip of Mustang Island in Port Aransas. The park consists of 167 acres, and offers 75 modern camping sites that include electric and water, plenty of primitive camping space just feet from the warm Gulf of Mexico waters, extremely clean bathhouses (if you know me, you know I can’t do dirty public bathrooms – I’d rather find a wooded area), fishing, birding, shelling, swimming, and is pet-friendly. We pulled into the park at 10:30 pm – the park was dark and quiet, but we could hear the lapping of the waves on the sand. We couldn’t see a thing on that moonless night; however, I opened the windows and asked the kids “What do you smell?” My 5-year old son replied “Fish!” and my three-year old daughter asked “What is that smell?” as she wrinkled up her nose. “That, my dears, is the smell of the ocean.” I replied as my husband and I started to laugh. I guess maybe it’s an acquired smell. As we pulled up to the park office, friendly staff members were awaiting us in the lobby. We were quickly checked in, given a park map, and guided to our campsite. We tried to be quick and quiet with our set-up as campers surrounded us. Luckily, my parents were our neighbors to the East as they were spending the winter in Texas volunteering at the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. So, they took the kids while my husband and I set-up the pop-up camper. Within an hour we were all settled and ready for bed – excited to explore the island in the morning. When we awoke the next morning, we found that my parents had gone into town and bought a variety of bakery treats to greet us with. Eating outside in the sunshine with green grass beneath our feet was a gift. Bakery goods were a regular treat that our family shared up at the family cabin on summer weekends for decades, so my parents thought they’d bring that special tradition to us on the first morning of our trip. Immediately after the kids finished their doughnuts, they made a bee-line for the ocean – through the campsites, over the bunkers, and out to the sand they ran. They couldn’t wait to see this large body of water we had discussed before our trip – the thing that incensed the air with the smell of fish. Ha! The Beach I.B. Magee beach was expansive, offering a lot of play room for our family. Picnic tables lined the backside of the beach, and a fishing pier could be seen on the north side of the park. The sand was soft and clean with very little seaweed littering the ground, and the ocean waters were warmer than expected in the middle of winter. Our first morning on the beach was quite cool and windy, but it didn’t stop my daughter from making sand angels (which turned out to be much different than the snow angels she was used to making at home) in the soft sand that was warmed by the sun, and turning our dog, Brook, into a sand pup. My son was most excited to try out his new metal detector on the wide beaches. He found fish hooks, tent stakes, old cans, and a few treasures – coins that had been eroded by years of salty water and sand washing over them The next few days were warmer, so the kids braved the ocean waters, and even gave it a little taste. As you can imagine, we got a laugh out of seeing more wrinkled noses as they figured out just how salty ocean water is. The beaches at I.B. Magee were relatively empty at the end of February. There were a few walkers here and there, a couple of surf fishermen and women in the evenings, but for the most part, we had miles of open beaches to ourselves. This was perfect for treasure hunting, dog walking, shelling, sand castle building, and exploring the wildlife on the beach. Oh, and for my three-year old daughter to pretend that she was hunting the seagulls. At least, I think she was pretending. Port Aransas offers much more than stunning beaches, and we didn’t wait long to continue our explorations. Aransas Pass Ship Channel Two days into our stay we took a walk to the north end of Mustang Island where the Aransas Pass Ship Channel runs. The walk to the channel was full of wildflowers… …fishermen sitting in lounge chairs with their poles in hand, and kids flying kites. Our favorite observations were the brown pelicans flying by… …the massive shrimp boats of different shapes and colors moving at a snail’s pace through the channel… …and the playful dolphins swimming alongside the boats hoping for a shrimpy treat. I bet you’re wondering if we were lucky enough to eat some fresh Gulf shrimp. We sure were! Into Town Downtown Port Aransas is what you would expect to see in a small island town. Businesses and small homes of bright island colors paint the town happy. Funny signs greet
From Minnesota to Texas and Back Again: I Blame the Snow
I’m sitting at my desk staring out of the window as the soft white snowflakes continue to blanket the landscape. My little plot in Minnesota has amassed over 18-inches of snow in the last 24 hours, and there is no sign of it stopping. I usually love snowstorms as there’s a quiet peace about them, but not today (or yesterday, for that matter). It’s April now. Minnesotan’s have already endured a long winter, and we are ready to get outside without requiring snowshoes or having to bundle our kids in 752 layers – think Ralphie’s brother in the movie A Christmas Story. April has been most unusual with multiple snowstorms and cold temperatures (today the temperature is 25F when the average is 60F) this year. The daffodils and tulips should be emerging from the ground, and my husband and I should have our greenhouse up by now (last year it went up in mid-March). Instead, we have two feet of snow on top of the still-frozen ground. My son should be starting his spring soccer practices, but the outdoor fields are obviously not playable, and the indoor dome that my son has been practicing in collapsed last night due to the weight of the snow. This has been an April that we won’t soon forget. In fact, this weather is reminding me of the cold and snowy winter of 2014. The winter of 2014 was paralyzing. Getting outside when the snow piles up and the temperatures are cold enough to freeze the comb off of our rooster (yep, that happened) is hard to do with two small children. I remember feeling trapped as a stay-at-home mother, and the kids had cabin fever too. We needed to get out, so we decided to borrow my parent’s camper and head south – all the way to the southern tip of Texas. We loaded up the camper, made our camping reservations, chose our stopping points on the way down and back, mapped our driving routes, and prepared to head south – except another big snow and ice storm hit. The storm that ravaged our area in mid-February was so bad that the state shut down many of the highways and freeways in Minnesota – something that is virtually unheard of in this hardy state. Ice glazed the roadways, the temperatures were too cold for chemicals to melt the ice, snow piled up, and the wind continued to blow the light snow over roadways making the streets extra dangerous. Consequently, we had to delay our trip by a few days, because who wants to pull a camper on treacherous roads? After snow removal, canceling of a reservation, and waiting out the storm, we departed three days late. We left our home at 5 a.m. with temperatures dipping well-below zero degrees Fahrenheit. In 24 hours we would smell the salty ocean air and feel the relief of southern temperatures. In the next couple of weeks I will share the adventures of our 3,300-mile road trip, and how we managed a fun and fuss-free trip with two young children and a dog. Get ready for first ocean experiences, wildlife adventures, and grapefruit the size of your head! Please join my family and me for a road trip from Minnesota to Texas and back again. In the meantime, I hope the spring returns to Minnesota; otherwise, I’m going to dig out that camper and head south again.
Lake Superior: The World’s Best Playground
The birth of Minnesota’s North Shore was a dramatic fire and ice event – the end resulted in the world’s best playground. Stephanie Pearson, from Outside Online, discusses the Lake Superior area and writes: “All together it’s a giant, world-class playground for hiking, trail running, mountain biking, kayaking, sailing, backcountry camping, and open-water swimming (for anyone crazy enough to try).” I would like to add agate-hunting, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, bird-watching, nature-photography, mountain climbing, canoeing, berry picking, and fly-fishing to the list. Eight state parks line the North Shore of Lake Superior in MN, ready for explorers. Each park has unique and magnificent natural wonders that really need to be experienced in order to fully appreciate them. Because of the dramatic geological history of the Lake Superior area, much of the North Shore is wild, rugged, and left untouched. Cascading waterfalls awash viewers in a light mist, deep gorges give the faint of heart butterflies in the stomach as I cling to a tree while others go to peer over the edge (wait, did I write “I”?), layers of pine needles on the trails feel soft underfoot and give off a sweet strawberry aroma, wild blueberries, raspberries, and thimble berries await the hungry hiker in late summer, and bright colors of lichen adorn the ancient basalt bedrock that lines the lake. You may even catch a moose swimming in a backcountry wetland, bald eagles soaring over the cliffs, deer nibbling on spring growth, and trout darting under the overhangs in the many creeks and rivers that bubble and tumble into Lake Superior. If you are one of those people who is crazy enough to slip into the icy waters of Lake Superior, you are in for an adventure. Taking The Plunge When you step into the frigid waters of Lake Superior, it takes mere seconds before your feet start to ache from the arctic water, and only a minute or so before your skin goes numb, thank goodness. Although, at the numbing point you have to exercise caution, as the feet tend to stumble around as they try to navigate the slippery rocks underfoot. My family has had a yearly tradition of submersing ourselves in the icy waters. I swear, we are not crazy (okay, at least not all of us). This tradition is more of an “Okay, Lake. Give us all you’ve got. We can handle it!” kind of thing. We often have one or two people that slip due to numb feet – sending them splashing, ill-prepared into Lake Superior’s ice-bath. For some reason, those who are standing can’t help but laugh, but at the same time are thanking the Lord above that it wasn’t them – this time. We usually have curious on-lookers, who are most certainly happy they are still dry and warm where they watch, but can’t wait to see the reactions of the swimmers as they dive it. What does it feel like to dive in? Walking out to the point where we submerge ourselves usually takes us at least five minutes. I don’t know why we take so long. It’s not like we ever really get used to the water. Our minds are probably stopping us. We don’t swim on days when the waves are large. No thank you! Here in MN, most of us don’t know how to handle those ocean-size waves – especially those that are near freezing temperature. The guys usually take a little longer to get used to the water (ahem), but usually stay out longer than the women. There is usually a 10-second count down to submersion. On zero, we dunk under. Our breath gets caught as the cold envelopes the our entire body. In seconds we explode out of the cold water. A few of the crazy ones stay to swim (I told you not all of us were crazy) for a few minutes – relishing in the cold, weightless, free-feeling of swimming. Everyone who emerges from the lake (we haven’t lost anyone yet) steps out with a smile on their face. If for only a minute or two, we bested the giant, frigid, vast lake. After stepping back onto the shore, we like to warm ourselves on the rocks. This always (yes, always) leads to agate hunting as we relish in the warmth of the rock. Hunting The Not-So-Elusive Lake Superior Agate Agates can be found in almost every country around the world, but the regions around Lake Superior are the only areas in the world containing the Lake Superior agate. According the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (DNR): The Lake Superior agate differs from other agates found around the world in its rich red, orange, and yellow coloring. This color scheme is caused by the oxidation of iron. Iron leached from rocks provided the pigment that gives the gemstone its beautiful array of color. The concentration of iron and the amount of oxidation determine the color within or between an agate’s bands. These agates can be found in much of Minnesota and into Northwest Wisconsin, as glacial movement spread agates with constant friction and movement throughout the ice age. What I believe is so special is that anyone can find agates in Minnesota. Agates are everywhere. Every time we go to the North Shore, my family brings home dozens of Lake Superior agates. Most of them are the size of dimes or quarters, and if we’re lucky, we may go home with silver-dollar sized rocks, but these are much more rare. All you need is to know what to look for when searching for the not-so-elusive agate. The DNR goes on to provide a list of what to look for when searching for one of Minnesota’s state gemstones: Iron-oxide staining in shades of rust-red and yellow is found on most Lake Superior agates. Translucence allows light to penetrate the stone. Sunny days, especially early morning and late evening, are best for observing translucence as the sun rays shine through the stone. A glossy or waxy
Lake Superior: A Watery Graveyard
Lake Superior attracts thousands of visitors from around the world each year. What many don’t see is how quickly the lake can transform from a sleeping kitten with glassy waters to a raging tiger with 30-foot waves when a storm blows in. A nightmare for those working the Superior waters. Hundreds of shipwrecks lay on the cold, dark, rocky bottom of Lake Superior. A haven for scuba divers, these shipwrecks lay preserved in the icy depths of the lake. The Lake Superior Visitor states: All over the Great Lakes, wooden schooners were colliding, breaking away and sinking. Others were destroyed by fire. Actually, it wasn’t usually the dark, stormy nights, but the inexperienced crews that caused most of the shipping accidents in the late 1800s. However, Lake Superior shipwrecks continued well into the late 1900s. The Edmund Fitzgerald Perhaps the most well-known wreck on Lake Superior is that of the Edmund Fitzgerald – thanks to the popular 1976 folk song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot. Sean Ley, Development Officer, at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum writes: The final voyage of the Edmund Fitzgerald began November 9, 1975 at the Burlington Northern Railroad Dock No.1, Superior, Wisconsin. Captain Ernest M. McSorley had loaded her with 26,116 long tons of taconite pellets, made of processed iron ore, heated and rolled into marble-size balls. Departing Superior about 2:30 pm, she was soon joined by the Arthur M. Anderson, which had departed Two Harbors, Minnesota under Captain Bernie Cooper. The two ships were in radio contact. The Fitzgerald being the faster took the lead, with the distance between the vessels ranging from 10 to 15 miles. Aware of a building November storm entering the Great Lakes from the great plains, Captain McSorley and Captain Cooper agreed to take the northerly course across Lake Superior, where they would be protected by highlands on the Canadian shore… According to Captain Cooper, about 6:55 pm, he and the men in the Anderson’s pilothouse felt a “bump”, felt the ship lurch, and then turned to see a monstrous wave engulfing their entire vessel from astern. The wave worked its way along the deck, crashing on the back of the pilothouse, driving the bow of the Anderson down into the sea. No one knows exactly what happened to the Edmund Fitzgerald, but 29 men lost their lives on that fateful day. The great ship did not survive the 80mph winds nor the 25-foot waves that Lake Superior threw at the Fitz that day. Ley writes, “what caused the ship to take on water, enough to lose buoyancy and dive to the bottom so quickly, without a single cry for help, cannot be determined.” Shipwrecks are still being discovered today. In fact, the J.S. Seaverns, a 130-ft. ship that went under in 1884, was just discovered in the summer of 2016. The J.S. Seaverns was used to haul supplies to lumber camps and to transport supplies to build railroads from 1880 until it sank in 1884. Amazingly, 132 years later, much of the ship was largely intact when it was discovered writes Andrew Krueger from the Duluth News Tribune. Ships aren’t the only vessels to sink to their watery graves only to be preserved in the arctic water – people are preserved, too. Lake Superior Doesn’t Give Up Her Dead An old saying, “Lake Superior doesn’t give up her dead.” is both folklore and fact. The cold water of Lake Superior does not allow bacteria to grow like it would in warmer water. The bacteria that usually causes the body to bloat and float is kept at bay in the frigid waters of Lake Superior. Because the temperature of the water is so cold, bodies can be preserved for many years in the deep depths of Lake Superior where water lingers around 34F or 1.1C. One can imagine the secrets and stories that Lake Superior has yet to reveal, or may never reveal. Even though the deep depths of the lake contain sad and tragic stories, the surface of the water and surrounding land offer incredible scenery and opportunities for the young and old. See the last installment to my Lake Superior series here: Lake Superior: The World’s Best Playground
Fly Fishing For Trout in Minnesota: A Summer Paradise
Time To Head Out My husband and I roll down the car windows and turn up the radio as the heat of the day creeps up. We turn onto the back country roads that run parallel to the river, and listen to the crunch of the wheels on the gravel roads. Once we reach the easement to the river, we park on the side of the road and prepare for fly-fishing. Chest waders go on first, followed by our fly-vests. The leather harnesses of our split-willow creels are draped across our chests – though we never seem to keep the trout we hook. Two-way radios are hooked onto our vests to communicate on the stream, and waterproof cameras stuffed into pockets to capture the moment we catch a lunker. We grab our fly-rods and head out. Waiting Waters Tall grass and wildflowers greet my husband and me as we step off of the road. Five-foot tall stinging nettle threatens us as we near the trout stream. We lift our arms and rods high in the air to avoid its sting, while dodging the outstretched arms of nearby trees grasping at the tips of our rods. A light morning fog appears before us – a sure sign that the icy water of the stream is imminent. We crouch beside the bank of the trout stream as we approach the water. The water is clear, but alive. An ever-observant brown trout darts from under the bank beneath our feet – spooking several other fish in the process. My husband whispers that he is heading upstream. I will stay here as there are fish to catch. I enter the waiting waters cautiously as my husband tiptoes away. Swift currents and smooth rocks underfoot threaten my balance. I take my time – feeling out each step before fully committing. Cold water presses my waders against my legs as I move toward the center of the river – cooling me from the heat of the day. I have my eye on an undercut bank on the opposite side of the river a few yards upstream. I stop in the middle of the river – it needs to rest. The water continues to rush past me, carrying away the evidence of my arrival, and the trout calm – a sense of peace restored. The Rhythm Of The Cast Bringing the fly-rod straight up, I grip the fly-line with my rod hand as I release the fly from the hook holder with my other. I peel line off of my reel, letting the hook and line drop beside me. The floating line moves with the tumultuous water – curling and twisting around me before straightening as the water carries it downstream. I grip the line by the reel with my free hand and raise the tip of the fly-rod into the air – keeping the rod in line with my forearm. In a straight and fluid movement, I bring the rod tip down in front of me – pausing to let the fly-line follow. I repeat the pattern, but this time I allow the line to unroll on the surface of the water after the last forward movement. The fly lands in the quiet water near the undercut bank. Patience Moving water carries the line back toward me as I watch carefully for any movements indicative of a strike. I slowly pull the slack line through the guides on my rod. As the fly approaches, I begin the rhythmic casting again. The process repeats until I see the slightest pause in the movement of the fly-line as it floats toward me. Everything surrounding me disappears as I focus solely on the line. I hold the fly-line and raise my rod tip straight into the air as I feel the erratic pull on the line – fish on. Keeping the rod tip up, I strip the line steadily while keeping the line taut. The fish attempts to dart back under the bank, and I lose my footing for a moment as I try to maneuver the fish, but remain standing. Up stream, down stream, through fallen trees, and around large boulders – the fish tries to escape, but I am patient. Soon I land the 10″ brook trout. Keeping the fish underwater, I gently dislodge the hook. The scales are so small that the trout feels smooth – almost scaleless. The gold color of the fish is highlighted by red spots rimmed with an electric blue. I observe the most obvious sign that I have caught a brook trout – the contrasting white accents on the bright orange, lower fins. Gently, I lower the fish deeper into the water allowing it to swim away. It swims slowly to the river bottom – pausing to recuperate before moving on. I radio my husband to notify him of my catch. Time to move. I move upstream; looking for a new place to land my fly. Downstream of fallen logs or large boulders, deep holes – often appearing turquoise in color, or another undercut bank will do. My husband and I fish a couple more hours as the fog disappears under the heat of the mid-day sun. Submersed in Beauty We pause for a lunch break, a quick dip in the water – yes, it takes our breath away, and an hour of reading by the trout stream. My husband goes back to fishing late in the afternoon, but I choose to sit on the bank near where he fishes. I enjoy watching him fly-fish as the cast of a fly-rod is one of the most breathtaking displays – an art. The rhythm of the cast and the silent movement of the fly-line in the air is captivating. The way the line rolls out on the surface of the water is awe-inspiring. I sit for an hour before the fog begins to return as the sun lowers in the sky. Twilight arrives and sparks of light begin flickering throughout the
Minnesota’s North Shore: From Fire and Ice to a World-Class Lake
The beginning was a dramatic fire and ice event – the end resulted in a world-class lake.