07-03-2016, 12:23 PM
Got a chance to get away last week (ahead of the 4th of July vacationers) so I drove north from the Twin Cities to the North Shore along highway 61 bordering Lake Superior. It's a scenic highway all the way from the shipyards in Duluth to the extraordinarily trendy small artist community in Grand Marais.
Running parallel with the highway for long stretches connecting the various state park campgrounds are bike paths with spectacular vistas. Patches of wildflowers were in bloom everywhere. Whites, yellows and hillsides of purples.
Lots of opportunities to buy fresh baked pies, smoked fish, antiques, and incredibly clever and amazing works of art. A donut shop had dozens of customers lined up out the door.
Had lunch at The Angry Trout sitting on the patio overlooking the harbor. Fresh walleye and ice tea hit the spot for me.
Sailboats in the harbor. Lighthouse standing guard. Seagulls squawking. Bought a fishing license and some live bait along with an Indiana Jones hat for sun protection as I heading
west on the Gunflint Trail bound for the Trails End Campground and the BWCA.
Took my time driving the Gunflint Trail. Nice and slow. Windows down. Stereo off.
Then the road ends. Yes, I mean ends. The Boundary Waters Canoe Area begins and Canada is just a short paddle away.
Rather than canoe I elected to paddle a kayak since I was solo trekking. Had marvelous 70-75 degree weather for three days before storm night came along. Storm night was an adrenaline rush with high winds, pelting rains, a semi-collapsing tent, anchor lines being re-set by flashlight. (Non-storm nights had incredible night skies awash in Milky Way majesty.)
When the sun rose around 5 am I scrambled out of my tent to survey the damage. A large tree nearby had fallen in the night and inasmuch as I do not have a falling-tree-proof tent I was glad it fell in the other direction.
Radio station WTIP was broadcasting out of Grand Marais and with my AM/FM/Weather radio I tuned in for an update only to hear--and I kid you not--the following song:
"Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day. Everything's going my way."
I left a pile of soggy trail mix on a tree stump before I broke camp and a squadron of birds and chipmunks swooped in to leave no trace while I packed up.
Paddled up to a roaring stream feeding into the lake system and anchored for a spell. The sound of the stream was soothing. A couple gooslings were nearby on a rock chewing on a fish skin while their mother was staring into the water hunting breakfast. Saw a couple signs that completely prohibited fishing as it was a protected spawning area. A beaver lodge was nearby and an eagle sat on the highest branch of the tallest tree over-looking the lake. Turtles were sunning themselves. And baby loons were learning how to dive.
That night around the campfire I listened to a Canadian radio broadcast The Vinyl Café hosted by Stuart McClain from the Anapolis Royal in Nova Scotia. He told stories about driving down Hwy 1 through towns so small they didn't have a stoplight; and towns with one stoplight but no cars. One town's sign is a mandatory stop for pictures--Welcome to Paradise. Young musician Jenna Barry sings "Slow Dance With Me" on her guitar. And the Story Exchange Segment sounds just like the retiring Garrison Keillor of Prairie Home Companion fame.
Two other songs stood out during my paddles. One was completely unexpected as an NPR program surprised me with a Skatalites song. (I whooped so loud I probably sounded like a loon.) The other was when WELY 94.5 FM out of Ely played a classic aka Rainy Day Women by
Hibbing, Mn., native Robert Zimmerman (aka Bob Dylan): "I wouldn't feel so alone; Everybody must get stoned."
Good thing I bought that pack of orange Zig-Zags back in Two Harbors. "Have a good one," said the clerk. "I think I will," I replied.
Running parallel with the highway for long stretches connecting the various state park campgrounds are bike paths with spectacular vistas. Patches of wildflowers were in bloom everywhere. Whites, yellows and hillsides of purples.
Lots of opportunities to buy fresh baked pies, smoked fish, antiques, and incredibly clever and amazing works of art. A donut shop had dozens of customers lined up out the door.
Had lunch at The Angry Trout sitting on the patio overlooking the harbor. Fresh walleye and ice tea hit the spot for me.
Sailboats in the harbor. Lighthouse standing guard. Seagulls squawking. Bought a fishing license and some live bait along with an Indiana Jones hat for sun protection as I heading
west on the Gunflint Trail bound for the Trails End Campground and the BWCA.
Took my time driving the Gunflint Trail. Nice and slow. Windows down. Stereo off.
Then the road ends. Yes, I mean ends. The Boundary Waters Canoe Area begins and Canada is just a short paddle away.
Rather than canoe I elected to paddle a kayak since I was solo trekking. Had marvelous 70-75 degree weather for three days before storm night came along. Storm night was an adrenaline rush with high winds, pelting rains, a semi-collapsing tent, anchor lines being re-set by flashlight. (Non-storm nights had incredible night skies awash in Milky Way majesty.)
When the sun rose around 5 am I scrambled out of my tent to survey the damage. A large tree nearby had fallen in the night and inasmuch as I do not have a falling-tree-proof tent I was glad it fell in the other direction.
Radio station WTIP was broadcasting out of Grand Marais and with my AM/FM/Weather radio I tuned in for an update only to hear--and I kid you not--the following song:
"Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day. Everything's going my way."
I left a pile of soggy trail mix on a tree stump before I broke camp and a squadron of birds and chipmunks swooped in to leave no trace while I packed up.
Paddled up to a roaring stream feeding into the lake system and anchored for a spell. The sound of the stream was soothing. A couple gooslings were nearby on a rock chewing on a fish skin while their mother was staring into the water hunting breakfast. Saw a couple signs that completely prohibited fishing as it was a protected spawning area. A beaver lodge was nearby and an eagle sat on the highest branch of the tallest tree over-looking the lake. Turtles were sunning themselves. And baby loons were learning how to dive.
That night around the campfire I listened to a Canadian radio broadcast The Vinyl Café hosted by Stuart McClain from the Anapolis Royal in Nova Scotia. He told stories about driving down Hwy 1 through towns so small they didn't have a stoplight; and towns with one stoplight but no cars. One town's sign is a mandatory stop for pictures--Welcome to Paradise. Young musician Jenna Barry sings "Slow Dance With Me" on her guitar. And the Story Exchange Segment sounds just like the retiring Garrison Keillor of Prairie Home Companion fame.
Two other songs stood out during my paddles. One was completely unexpected as an NPR program surprised me with a Skatalites song. (I whooped so loud I probably sounded like a loon.) The other was when WELY 94.5 FM out of Ely played a classic aka Rainy Day Women by
Hibbing, Mn., native Robert Zimmerman (aka Bob Dylan): "I wouldn't feel so alone; Everybody must get stoned."
Good thing I bought that pack of orange Zig-Zags back in Two Harbors. "Have a good one," said the clerk. "I think I will," I replied.
