Trail Time
A strange thing happened a few weeks ago here on the Gunflint Trail. While Lars was working outside, he heard a loon call and came to alert me, since he knows I am interested in all things bird-ish. I opened the window to the somewhat chilly weather. It was so startling to hear that sound in November. The lake was still open and it was warm for that late in the season (though not warm enough to have windows open), but we hadn’t heard loons in weeks and I had assumed they had all flown south. That last loon called a long wailing cry a few times, sounding so lonely without an answering call from a mate. Days later I was still thinking about it, so I called the fisheries office to find out what the options are if a loon gets stuck here after the rest have migrated. The officer told me that sometimes the bird itself has an issue that keeps it from leaving. Often the best option is to leave the bird alone. But a person can always call the DNR wildlife officers and get guidance. The closest wildlife rehabilitation center is in Duluth, just so you know that going in.
After that last loon call and after Thanksgiving, the snow really started falling. And it fell and fell and fell some more. So last week I decided the time was ripe for breaking out my new snowshoes to start snow-walking again. To me, snowshoeing is right up there with canoeing for a favorite sport. I’m a little rusty — I didn’t snowshoe much last year. And I’ve had a body part replaced this year so I’m going slow and getting my strength back. But oh! What fun it was! It was sunny in that beautiful way it gets when it is really cold out. As my dog and I left the cabin, we spotted weasel footprints leading to a small hole tucked under the woodshed. Alongside and running all over were even tinier prints. Were they mice? Voles? Moles? I remembered a story a neighbor told me: he was out ice-fishing with his buddies and they saw a star-nosed mole running around on the ice. As they watched, a raven flew down and took it away. Ursa caught a mole in the winter one time; she dove into the snow like a hunting fox and surfaced with it in her mouth then quickly dropped it back in the deep fluffy snow. I have read that moles have a strong musky smell to them and most mammals don’t care for them. I have never tried them, but this mammal certainly doesn’t care to even try.
As Ursa and I headed up the hill, I saw more weasel tracks — they must have gone on for 300 feet or more straight down the road — which had about a 6 inches of snow on it. It must have been easier going down the road, and I supposed the snowbanks on each side looked like mountains to a small animal. The view was amazing as we topped the far hill, looking out over the freshly fallen snow, the open black lake with maybe some ice forming and puffy clouds in a blue-gray sky, the golden summer grasses sticking up from the snow, the blue hills in the distance. It was a fun jaunt and walking back home I decided to climb up a steep hill to my cabin instead of going the long way around. We had a minus sixteen degree windchill that day so I was swaddled up well — not too much so I wouldn’t overheat, and not so little that I’d get too cold in the killer wind.
As I ascended that steep little hill, I stepped off the trail and into the deep snow on one side under the snow-covered jack pines. You know how you fall in snow? It always seems like it happens in slow-motion. So I toppled over gently then struggled to stand up. I was basically wallowing in twelve inches of soft snow when my hood came down over my face. That day I had decided to wear my very cute fox hat with ears and those darling little fox ears kept me from pulling the hood back off my face. Then I slowly rolled into a jack pine bough that was bent to the ground by the weight of the snow and got a fresh load of the white stuff dumped on me. That’s when I started giggling, which helped not one bit. I kept thinking if someone were to visit at that point and saw me, they might wonder at my sanity or sobriety, or both. And every time I thought about that, I laughed even harder, just gasping for breath. I finally made it up to the cabin, of course, though not very elegantly and laughing all the way.
Here in our snowy wonderland, the moon came out for a few nights when it was at its fullest. Nothing, I say nothing, beats a full moon on a snowy winter night. Everything glistens, the snow sparkles, and the moon was so bright it made the night sky look deep blue. It was magical and mysterious and heartbreakingly beautiful and I couldn’t stop staring at it.
We have a really good base of snow now, even with the melting that occurred with a few days of above-freezing temperatures. The lodges on the Trail are grooming their ski trails at Gunflint Lodge and Gunflint Pines, and also at Golden Eagle and Bearskin Lodges. The snowmobile club has removed the downed trees from the newly-groomed snowmobiles trails. If snowshoeing, skiing or snowmobiling aren’t your sports, there’s always a horse-drawn sleigh ride at Gunflint Lodge. If skating is your thing, I don’t think this is your year. I have not heard of any wild ice this season up the Trail. The lakes are not all totally frozen yet, so be cautious on the bigger lakes — look out for slush and thin ice. On rivers, where there is a current, the moving water freezes in unpredictable ways and there might be thin patches that appear no different than the surrounding ice. The lake I live on is nearly covered with snow but with large leads of dark water showing on the far shore. Be careful, have fun, and enjoy to the utmost whatever your preferred winter sport and holiday. Have a wonderful mid-winter!
– Marcia Roepke
