Explore the Northern Wilds
As someone who invested his vacation time in the 1990s in backpacking and canoeing across North America, I’d been itching to introduce my young family to the backcountry. My wife maintained one condition: toilet-trained children. So 18 months after our youngest kicked the diaper habit, we reserved our first Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness permit.
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The members of the species Rockhoundicus sapiens can be found throughout northern Minnesota and northwestern Ontario, particularly on gravel roads and pebble beaches. You will often see them hunched over at the water’s edge, picking through wet rocks with the patience and focus of an archaeologist sifting fingernail-size pottery fragments from a dirt pile. They often travel in family groups.
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Years ago, when 20,000 latter day hippies known as the Rainbow Family traveled to the North Shore for their annual Independence Day campout, I was the editor of the Grand Marais newspaper and learned the State Patrol was stopping vehicles at random on Highway 61 as part of a stepped up enforcement effort for the event. My father was coming up to go fishing with me, so I thought it wise to give him some advance warning that he might get pulled over on his drive along the Shore.
Dad simply said, “I didn’t fight in a war to put up with that crap.”
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Most Minnesota anglers celebrated the May 14 fishing opener by going after walleyes, but a friend and I headed for alternative waters. We spent opening weekend fishing for steelhead near Grand Marais. We weren’t alone. Other anglers were enjoying the fishing in North Shore streams. We met anglers who had traveled to Grand Marais from Duluth and the Twin Cities.
Saturday afternoon we ate lunch in Grand Marais. The streets were busy with folks who were enjoying a warm, sunny day. Many were young urban couples who clearly hadn’t come to Grand Marais for the fishing. After lunch, we headed for a river access that shares a parking lot with the Superior Hiking Trail. There were eight vehicles in the lot when we pulled in, leading me to fret the river was crowded with anglers. Not to worry. All of the vehicles belonged to hikers.
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It’s not about numbers. So says my friend about steelhead fishing. You see, steelheaders are notoriously numerical, measuring every outing first by how many hook-ups they had with big trout and second by the number of fish they actually landed. Thus it is common for one steelheader to say another, “I hooked seven and landed four.”
So maybe it really is about numbers. How else can you measure fishing success? Even my friend who says “it’s not about numbers” carries a small notebook in his fishing jacket where he has fastidiously recorded his personal trout and salmon statistics for decades. After all, the point of going fishing is to catch a fish. Or is it?
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The other night, I decided to climb a mountain. Out for a walk with the dog, I drove inland from Lake Superior with no plan other than a whim to go a-wandering in the woods. However, while the snow was gone along the North Shore, there was still plenty on the ground once I got a couple of miles away from the big lake. So I turned around and headed back to the snow-free zone.
That’s when I decided to go mountain climbing. Ok, I wasn’t ascending Everest, just a rocky knob crowned with white pines that is an unnamed local landmark. In other words, it’s a mountain to me.
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The next best thing to spending a fine April afternoon fishing a trout stream is to go for a walk beside one. And so homeward bound on Easter Sunday I made a half-mile hike to the Knife River's second falls. The yellow dog joined me while Vikki waited at the truck with the old dog.
Decades had passed since the last time I'd followed this muddy path. Why? Living more than 100 miles further up North Shore Highway 61, I have a dozen enticing rivers much closer to home. Still, the Knife is the North Shore's best known trout stream. Nearly all North Shore rivers have a high waterfall less than a mile upstream from where they enter Lake Superior, which blocks the spawning runs of the lake's trout and salmon. On the Knife, trout make it over two waterfalls and can ascend all the way to the river's cold headwaters, where they spawn.
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Gonzo journalism is when the journalist becomes a participant in the story. I'm not sure it applies to clipping samples of moose browse along the Gunflint Trail. Researcher Dr. Ron Moen gave me a pruning clipper and a handful of paper bags to collect twigs as we started into the woods. Behind me, I heard graduate student Amanda McGraw quietly whisper, “Yes!” Clearly, snipping twigs is not her favorite task.
It was April 12 and we were wearing snowshoes because the forest was still blanketed with three feet of snow. Last winter, a helicopter crew had captured several moose in the vicinity and fitted them with GPS tracking collars as part of Moen’s research project. Other area moose wear similar collars as part of research being conducted by the Grand Portage Ojibwe. Today, however, we weren't looking for the collared moose, because the snow conditions made it tough to travel in the woods. Measuring browse availability was something we could do without venturing far from a plowed road.
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In a time when politicians seem to view the natural world with attitudes ranging from indifference to abhorrence, in separate conversations I recently asked three prominent environmentalists the same question: Is there a discernable environmental movement in Minnesota?
The question gave each of them pause. After all, environmentalism is an institution here. Numerous environmental and sportsman’s groups are large enough to support offices and paid staff. All are active in a wide array of causes and good works. Still, with longstanding conservation programs and environmental regulations at great risk of being dismantled by short-sighted politicians in both parties, the broader environmental movement seems unable to engage the public to defend them.
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The first portage of the trip (my first portage ever) started out well enough. There was a nice sloped beach to unload the packs onto and an easy trail to hike. It all seemed quite civilized. Would it really be this easy?
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A recent interview with DNR commissioner Tom Landwehr in Minnesota Outdoor News ended on a less than inspiring note. When asked about what he hopes to accomplish in the next three to five years, Landwehr’s first answer was he hoped to encourage Minnesotans to take kids fishing.
Really, commissioner?
Special programs to introduce kids to the outdoors have been part of conservation since at least the 1950s, but they rose to prominence in the past decade or so as demographic statistics showed youth participation in steep decline. Suddenly, everyone and their uncle jumped on the “take a kid fishin’” bandwagon. Little data exists to measure the success of these much-ballyhooed efforts, but saying you support youth outdoor programs is politically safe with just about any crowd. We can only hope Landwehr was playing safe politics and not simply ducking the question.
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Soon the rivers of the north will be rowdy with April showers and the melt of February blizzards. Spring is prime waterfall-watching season. And who doesn’t love waterfalls? The water pounding white into a canyon gorge, the steady roar, the feathery kiss of mist on your face, the jostle of the crowd…
Okay, so no one daydreams about watching a waterfall with 47 other people. While researching our book, “Waterfalls of Minnesota’s North Shore: A Guide for Sightseers, Hikers & Romantics” (North Shore Press, 2006), we visited over a hundred waterfalls in the Northern Wilds and found some oft-overlooked gems. Here are 10 of them.
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At the very least, the following list of essentials will help keep your next Boundary Waters canoe trip from turning into an epic debacle. With luck, it will help make your trip an enjoyable adventure.
Planning ahead is the essence of a successful trip. For starters, don’t get on the water without route maps and the required backcountry permit.
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The snow is gone and mud season is almost over. It’s time to pore over a race calendar and choose which running events to target this year. And when it comes to race selection, novice runners and veterans alike are in luck. From the mile to the marathon, from roads to trails, you have a cornucopia of race options that showcase the beauty of the Northern Wilds.
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The dramatic Death Valley segment of the Casque Isles Trail, which snakes along the Canadian north shore of Lake Superior, gets its name from a time when Ojibwe hunters perched on the surrounding hills to shoot moose and caribou below. Pictographs grace a rock face near Worthington Bay.
Despite the distracting beauty, be sure to watch your step. The segment features “some serious ravine climbs,” says Doug Stefurak, president of the Casque Isles Voyageur Trail Club. You will also navigate a shoreline trek on bedrock riddled with deep crevasses only 2-3 feet wide on the surface. “You have to be particularly careful if you have your dog along with you.”
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Spring snowmelt and summer dam releases supercharge the St. Louis River, creating a surging, roaring spectacle for hikers and waterfall-watchers—and a playground for whitewater junkies.
Born near Hoyt Lakes, the St. Louis carves a fishhook shape through northern Minnesota and empties into Lake Superior. While the minimum flow on the St. Louis is about 350 cfs (cubic feet per second), the flow nearly doubles to 600 cfs during peak times, which makes running rapids more challenging and more fun.
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“They were coming for him.” So begins this historical young adult novel by acclaimed novelist William Durbin. “The Darkest Evening” tells the story of an idealistic Finnish-American family whose 1934 move from Virginia to Soviet Russia quickly turns from a dream to a nightmare.
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First published in 2002, now revised, updated, and reissued in a handy paperback format, “Backroads of Minnesota” tempts visitors and residents alike. Northern Wilds publisher Shawn Perich and well-known Minnesota photographer Gary Alan Nelson reveal the state’s nooks and crannies with backroads driving adventures from the Iron Range to the St. Croix River Valley.
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In wry prose that skips seamlessly between topics, following the oral tradition, “Anishinaabe Syndicated” chronicles daily happenings and immense changes in the Anishinaabe community between 1989 and 2001 with equal parts humor, grace and fire—often in the same sentence.
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The most striking thing about the Raindrop Jacket—a waterproof, breathable rain jacket that doubles as a light windbreaker—is the smart styling. Tailored to lightly skim the waistline, yet roomy enough to layer fleece underneath, the Raindrop flatters while it functions. An inner zip pocket and four outer pockets give you plenty of room to stash your stuff. A light dotted pattern adds dimension to the solid color fabric. All the seams are taped. I wore a fleece underneath on a wet, blustery spring day and stayed warm and dry.
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