Trail Time – Winter Is Here
It’s snowing pretty steadily right now and was all last night. The sky is flat and gray, and the lake with its still-open water is a liquid continuation of the sky. To the east, where the wind is blowing the snow, land and sky disappear, merging into the far shore which fades into the paleness above. To the west, land, lake and the heavens merge together in a whiteout. I can’t see Canada today.
We’ve got about 5 inches of snow on the ground so far but the wind is whipping up drifts of greater height. It whistles in the eaves and roars through the tops of the pines down by the lake and up above us on top of a cliff, sounding like the surf of a nearby sea. The spruce and balsam fir trees all bow a little away from the wind, bending slightly toward the east in a kind of curtsy. The birch and aspen sway back and forth, waving their naked branches high in the air. Even in this steady wind the birches are still holding on to their catkins, those tiny seed holders of the next generation of trees and a favorite food for grouse. One of my favorite sights in winter is a fat grouse or two or three perched in a birch tree, swaying in the breeze, snacking on catkins. They belong here more than I do yet they always look incongruous.
I’m thankful for grouse, and for birches and catkins.
We’re solidly into winter now. It’s cold enough that I have already unpacked the heavy duty cold weather gear that some years doesn’t see daylight until January or later. Even with more room this year, it still looks like 18 people live here when you see the pile of boots and the number of coats, anoraks and puffy jackets that are hanging in the coatrack, never mind what is stored in the coat closet. This is for only two people, mind you. Most of the gear is well-used and proven — old gear that we accumulated during the winter camping portion of our lives. From the Sawtooth Mountains in Idaho, to the Northwest Territories of Canada, to Greenland and here in the Boundary Waters, this gear could tell a lot of stories. I’ll tell you a few this winter.
I am thankful for this snow. It is part of an ingenious system that stores water during the winter that the woods will need come spring. A good snowfall also means that the three almost yearly sled dog races will take place along the Gunflint Trail this season.
If you have never been to a dog sled race, this might be your year to fix that. I tell you in truth you will never meet a more enthusiastic bunch of workers than sled dogs. They just love their work. It really shows and the spirit of the dogs is infectious. I feel myself leaning in to any task at hand just thinking about those dogs. There’s an old saying that might fit here. It goes like this: “The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man.” It means looking at healthy animals fixes something in our spirit, if you are that type of person. It’s an old saying and sexist at that, but I think it can be translated to have meaning today. I’ll try this: Being in the company of sled dogs is good for the soul. I’m thankful for sled dogs and mushers.
This year’s John Beargrease Sled dog race is scheduled for January 25th and the Gunflint Mail Run for February 7, 2026. The Dig Days of Winter fun will be in April, on a date yet to be determined.
We are fortunate in that Lars and I have plenty of fuel and the ability to wield shovels and snowblowers and tire chains this winter. I am thankful for that and I am thankful for all the wonderful friends and neighbors on the Gunflint Trail that help make this unique place such a great neighborhood, where we help each other regardless of our differences and try hard to help others too.
I am especially thankful for our hometown radio station WTIP, which does so much good for our community and also gives me a home for my thoughts about what it’s like to live up here in the north woods, where the woods and waters spread out, joining us to that great circle of boreal forest that circles the globe of our beautiful planet Earth, our island home.
— Marcia Roepke
