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
Hiking
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
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.