Trail Time – Marcia Roepke’s 80th TT Episode! Snow, tracks, good neighbors
It’s a new year on the Gunflint Trail; a new year with a waning moon — the year is already getting older. Last night the moon appeared full to my naked eyes. It sat high in the southern sky right above a straight white birch tree that was lit up by the bright snow underneath — the deep snowy landscape all around us illuminated by the moon. There were very few stars visible in the bright moonlight. The clear sky was very welcome — we have not had many lately. And it stayed clear long enough so early this morning the northern sky was painted west to east with my grandfather’s favorite color: sky-blue pink. The sky slowly clouded over and it is snowing softly again. It’s a good time to visit the Gunflint Trail. Groomed trails are ready for skiing and snowmobiling, and a skating path has been cleared from Gunflint Lodge to Borderland. I’m getting ready to put my snowshoes on and check out some animal tracks in the new snow.
Our cabin has been ringed in animal prints this winter — wolves, coyotes and foxes and other smaller animals. They came for the seed and suet from the bird feeder — and the trash we accidentally left outside our garage after jockeying vehicles around. We’ve stopped feeding the birds and the trash lives inside once again, so the tracks are lessening. We did manage to get one spooky image of a wolf trotting by one night on our trail camera. It was big.
In a wolfy winter we take precautions with our dog; she walks on a leash more often and she never gets let out on her own. It makes for a difficult time when Lars and I are both feeling poorly. We know wolves don’t usually attack people, but it does not matter what we know about wolves when it’s the middle of the night and you’re having fever dreams and it is well below zero and every morning there are more big wolf prints by the front door. It made me think of that show “Alone,” which Lars and I love to watch. In my fevered state I thought, “Are we going to have to tap out?” Of course, some day we will have to— everybody does — but not yet. Not now.
The extreme cold and wolfliness did make me think of all the people before us who lived here without electricity or hot running water or an indoor bathroom. Families lived here with babies and children; families that had to hunt and forage for food and compete with the wolves. It made me feel darn lucky that we had enough wood and we had enough food, for a while anyway. We do have one thing in common with the people who came before: neighbors. Our neighbors delivered groceries and delicious soup and offered care and concern. Thanks to the Loon Lake Wonder Woman and KC the sunshine gal! People take neighboring very seriously on the Trail, and we all benefit from it. Helping seems to be in the DNA up here. Maybe it’s the water.
This new year marks my 81st Trail Time report. I’ve been writing and recording from the Gunflint Trail since July 2021. I’ll tell you how I began. My predecessor, Fred Smith moved away from the Gunflint Trail and WTIP was looking for someone to take over. So, what do you do if you need something done on the Trail? Naturally, you ask Michael Valentini, which they did. Michael is and always has been where he’s needed, but he felt too busy to take on this reporting task at the time, so he asked around and a couple people mentioned me as a likely candidate. I thought about it and then volunteered to take over Fred’s old spot.
Eighty Trail Times later, I feel a real sense of accomplishment and an even larger sense of gratitude for the opportunity to write the stories of the Trail. I’ve learned a lot about nature and the Trail and about story-telling and my neighbors. It’s made a significant difference in my life to not only witness but record what I see and think and feel about our beautiful boreal woods, lakes, trees, animals and the people who share this with each other and the world. I want to thank everyone who has encouraged me and continues to do so. And I want to say a special thank you to all the people who don’t like Trail Time and don’t tell me. I appreciate it.
I’ll leave you with my version of a New Year’s blessing, inspired by my dog Ursa’s snow baths that leave her coat so clean and fresh:
May the new year’s wind blow away the ash from last year’s fires, may the snow wash way the bad from the old year’s struggles, may you be able to draw all last year’s good into your center so your spirit has fuel to keep the fire inside burning for the cold months ahead. And be good neighbors.
– Marcia Roepke – on the Gunflint Trail
