Bear Cubs

Last night a momma bear and 3 cubs came by the lodge. It was a little hard to get a picture since it was after dark but Kirsten and Will saw them along the outfitting building.

Loon Calls

On our recent trip to Mountain Lake we got to hang out with some loons just after portaging into the lake. There voices are incredible; listen closely and you can hear their calls echoing back.

Where Are All The Fish?

Although this blog has produced some pieces worthy of nomination for an "Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence", i'm sure some of you are wondering,"Where are all the fish?" These college kids DO work in an area known for some of the greatest fishing in the world, right? Solo hiking, fog storms, and what's this "gunnel pumping" business i'm not familiar with. What gives? I am here to set the record straight, we do fish, and the area does live up to its reputation. You can't blame us though, gunnel pumping is quite the spectacle. Since it has been a while since one of those slimey buggers appeared on our blog, I figured we were overdue.

Though I am sure this blatant attempt at a bragging board will have a negative affect on the board of judges for the "blog awards", I feel it is worth it to please all of the fish starved readers in cyberspace.

-Erik

Stormy Wet Summer

I'm sure many of you have been experiancing the wet stormy weather down towards the cities this past week or so. I have heard reports of some severe storms from groups coming and going up here. I can guarentee you that we have had our fair share of storms up here as well. Early last week we had a storm come through that turned the sunny 4 o'clock weather into a dusky dark afternoon; it felt dark enough to be about 9 o'clock at night. However, the worst storm of the summer came this last sunday night. The forecast had predicted some scattered storms and about 40% chance of rain. But when our electricity went out at about 5:30, the wind picked up, and we started to see the storm clouds broiling in from the north, we knew we were in for a some rain. What started as a heavy rain turned into a pounding down pour, and a good dose of quarter size hail.

Those of us here at the lodge, sat out on the back porch and watched the storm runs its course. The sky over Clearwater lake was amazing, rolling dark, greenish tinted clouds. It was quite spooky. And the noise of the hail was great! Although we were pretty worried about those that we had recently sent out on BWCA trips... I cannot imagine what that hail would have sounded like in a tent. The reports varied from groups coming back in this last day or so, some said they had been terribly frightened, and had feared for their safety, others said that while it was scary in the its extremity, it was amazing to see. I think I would be right in the middle.

As usual, the boys had gone fishing after work. When the storm started coming through, Donny and Kevin were still out on or near Daniels lake. We were certainly curious how they were making out: if they were running back the portage, trying to outrun the hail, hunkered down under the canoe, or out on the lake still. (We hoped the last one wasn't true-no one would want to be on a lake during hail). Sure enough, right as the hail started to let up, and the rain slackened, they came jaunting around the corner of the lodge. Wet would have been an understatement.

While the rain lightened up a bit, but we did not got our electricity back until over hour or so had passed. During which we started a fire in the lodge, and all of us staff members sat around watching the fire, listening to the rain, and chatting. While that was by far the worst part of the storm, it lasted well into the night. It was almost as if the storm was circling around us and then back tracking a couple times to make sure we were good and wet. There were times the sky would lighten up, and it would look as though the storm had ended, for it to only get darker and begin to rain again. Luckily, the storm brought with it sunny weather, both monday and today have been beautiful days, sunny and on the warmer side.

-AJ

Mike Turns the Big 6-0!

Sunday evening we celebrated Mike Trace's (AKA Boss Mike, Bald Eagle, etc.) 60th Birthday with style. Erik grilled some amazing trout that he had caught on a trip to Canada earlier in the year. Stuffed with green peppers and mushrooms, this course was as good if not better, than any we have had on the O'Brien restaurant tour. This was accompanied by a seven-layer salad, corn casserole, roasted almonds, garlic bread, and the "World's Best Sangria". It was like Thanksgiving in July (but instead of watching football after dinner we played a round of badminton). Though we were stuffed, we of course had room for a slice of ice cream cake (which, staying with the party theme of fish had a picture of a jumping fish on it). We made sure it was a feast all day for Mike too, with peanut-butter chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and a personal batch of his favorite cookies.

Mike entertained us throughout the dinner with jokes and his usual humorous antics. He recounted stories of his childhood friend, Abe Lincoln, and told us what life was like before electricity. And though he jokes about his age, Mike is one of the youngest 60 year olds out there. The only place he shows his age is in his knowlege and understanding that he has gained from his various life experiences. We are lucky to learn from him.

Till next time,
Kirsten

A Gunnel Pumping Trilogy (Lundeen Style)

Here are some new videos of Kevin prepping for Wednesday's Gunnel Pumping. (editor's note: if you are interested in the Gunflint Canoe Races, they will be taking place Wednesday July 16th at Gunflint Lodge; the races begin at 6:00pm...come out and root on Clearwater!). The weather hasn't provided much for practice days lately. But today brought low winds and a clear sky, perfect g.p. conditions. Four of us, including two newcomers: the voices of the front desk, AJ and Kirsten, took to the water after work today. We are much improved. But will it be enough for the GF races? We'll see...and hopefully you will too. Go Kevin!

Part I

Part II

Part III

Gunnel Pumping Video

Ramblings from a greenhorn about our green efforts...

When I was a kid I had a few chores: make my bed (rarely happened), mow the lawn (only completed after nagging), help with never ending home improvements (would have rather slept in those Saturday mornings), and so on... But probably the worst was garbage duty. Every Monday night, one of O'Brien brothers had to collect the 9 garbage cans around the house and sort them for recycling and trash. And every Monday night that it was my turn I tried to spend extra time on my homework, go to bed early, find an educational program on TV, or some other excuse... Recycling stunk (usually literally). What was the point of saving a few pieces of paper and rinsing out some old stinky milk cartons? Back in the mid 90s it seemed that only a few products were made of just 10% recyclable paper, holes in the Ozone didn't make it any less rainy in (my home) western Washington, and Al Gore was just a internet inventing vice president (sans an Oscar and Peace Prize).

Fast forward to summer ought-8, and I am a recycling lovin' fool. This spring I decided to 'go green' at my apartment in MPLS. So when I got to Clearwater, my mind was already in high-'green'-gear. This place (including the BWCA) is the type of place worth going green for. The lakes and critters are very deserving of our green efforts...

But anyway, we here at Clearwater have recently updated our recycling efforts. While we've been recycling for years, now it is going to be easier. That is, we added recycling bins at nearly every cabin, bed and breakfast, screen and bunk houses, and outfitting areas. So now, rather than walking the paper, plastic, glass, cans, et al. over to the recycling van, we will come to you.

We're trying to do our part to keep our waste down, and we appreciate your help when you come visit. Bear with us as we continue to become more efficient; we still need a few more bins (so if you now a guy...).

And thanks Mom and Dad for getting me 'excited' about recycling.

(editors note: that really is Will, sans his beard)

Into The Great White Abyss

Everyday on the Gunflint Trail is different when it comes to the weather. Today brought sheets of thick fog rolling off the lake. I am sure the gentleman from the United Kingdom who is out on a canoe trip feels right at home. "Thick as pea soup" is how they would describe it on the other side of the pond, and a good description indeed. Kevin and I decided to test our navigation skills and take a boat out in the gray mess. No more than a 100 yards from the dock we were shrouded in the misty fog, with shore nowhere in sight. From the picture you can tell Kevin was as giddy as a school girl. The fog surely made navigating the lakes in a canoe tough, but it also created a great chance for some pictures. I hope you enjoy the product of a couple hours of "hard" work on the trail.

-Erik

You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Well actually it was the best of times, ever, because I was gunnel pumping. I'm sure that the term "gunnel pumping" triggers a crinkled brow and the thought "What's that?" to all the avid readers of the Clearwater blog. Gunnel pumping is a very obscure method of locomotion in the canoeing world. It consists of standing on the gunnels of a canoe and rocking up and down to move it forward. And seeing as how I think that anything strange, out of the ordinary, or just plain odd is awesome, I needed to gunnel pump as soon as I heard about it. As far as the staff was concerned I was just blowing steam. They thought I would never do it. Things changed on my lunch break today.

Why all this fuss about gunnel pumping you say? Well, at 6:00 on Wednesday night, July 16th on Gunflint Lake there will be the annual Gunflint Canoe races and the last race of the night is gunnel pumping. And yours truly intends to race.

As I found out today, it takes balance and coordination to be a top tier pumper. Fortunately, we Lundeens are blessed with these gifts. I was like a snow leopard chasing a moutain goat in the Himalayas on that canoe today. As each wave beat upon my canoe I braced myself and managed to get the better of it. It was tricky at first, especially getting on the gunnels, but as soon as I stepped into my stride I found out that it would be possible to pump myself into the annals of history by winning the mens gunnel pumping race of the 2008 Gunflint Canoe races. I know my competition will be very stiff, and most likely a lot like myself, so basically idiots. After all, who in their right mind would want to gunnel pump? But in a race full of idiots, I'll be the biggest one out there.

Kevin

Only Moose on Deer Lake

Many guests come up with the anticipation of seeing the king of the north woods; the moose. The roads around Clearwater are generally full of the monstrous mammals around dusk as they come out of the mosquito infested woods to lick up salt remaining from the previous winter. No matter how many moose I see, and I have seen many this summer, the excitement never goes away, sometimes a little more exciting than others however. As Kevin and I arrived to Deer Lake a few days ago, we were discussing strategies on how to catch enough walleyes for another staff fish fry. Little did we know that the fish we were going to catch will not be what will be remembered about the night. We battled the west wind and made it around the point to the calm side of the lake. Immediately we saw a cow on the other side of the bay submerged from the chest down in the water. Was she hot? Maybe trying to get a break from the pesky bugs? We didn't know, but we didn't care either. "Get the camera, let's sneak along the shore to get a closer look" I said. Her ears perked up. "shhhh!" we said simultaneously. She let us get close to her, but Kevin took it to another level. He took control of the canoe, I manned the camera, and he got us so close that we could see individual bugs on her back; amazing. We were in the pristine wilderness without any motors except a 1-moose-powered engine. Once the boat stopped rocking from her wake, we watched her trot back into the mosquito infested woods and we sat in awe.

-Donny

On The Trail Again

My new found love of solo hiking lead me back to the trail this last week. I decided I needed to see more of the border route trail and put in at the South Lake trail, which runs north for about 3 miles before it intersects with the border route trail, where I would follow it east to Rose Falls. From Rose falls I would get reaquanted with the Caribou Rock trail and head south 3 miles to Hungry Jack road. My lack of planning, or lack of caring to plan left me 5 miles from my car once I hit Hungry Jack road. This small inconvenience seemed slight as I struck off on the South Lake trail at noon. My experience from the hike a week earlier prepared me for the familiar overgrown conditions of the trail. With each step north taking me farther from the sounds of cars on the Gunflint, I set a brisk pace and was thankful for the beautiful day. An hour later, and after twice being convinced I had lost the trail and would need to retrace my steps, I met up with the border route trail. This section of the trail was in much worse shape than the section I had been on a week prior. Most of this trail made me feel like I was straight out of Hollywood, stalking through the jungle crouched over, pushing brush out of my way to keep an eye on the trail, the only things missing were a knife in my teeth and a blood soaked bandana on my forehead. Just as my thoughts of Rambo were reaching their imaginary peak, the brush cleared and I started ascending a rocky "Aggro-Crag" of a hill. Only with the help of Mark O'Malley cheering me on in my mind did I manage to summit the hill. The work was worth every second as upon reaching the top I was rewarded with what must be one of the best views I have ever had the privilage of laying eyes on. I spent some time trying to come up with the words to describe the view and my feelings at that moment, but decided there is no way I could do it justice. After rejuvenating in the sun and breeze for a while I headed out, knowing I would never forget my short stay on that rock. The trail down to Rose Falls was more of the same and I assumed the commando position. I reached Rose Falls and didn't spend much time exploring. It made me realize how much time I have spent up here and how many times I have seen the falls. From there I was a bit disappointed I would be traveling over the Caribou Rock trail again, but as there was no other way to get back without going over trails I had been on, it was the fastest way. My planning for this hike was done in a way that copied my first hike, except for when I started. All of my rations were the same, including the amount of water I brought, which was more than enough the week before. I am assuming it was the sun and the strenous nature of the days hike that caused me to run out of water 2 miles before I got to Hungry Jack road. Either way I was in a bit of a pickle as the last bit of water was savored on Duncan Lake. As I hiked the signs and symptoms of dehyradtion started in. I had quite sweating in the hot afternoon sun, my mouth was dry as a bone, and even the smallest inclines sent me into a hunched over gasping fit for air. All of these were clear signs I needed water. Reaching Hungry Jack road was a relief, although I was still 2 miles from Trail Center, the nearest establishment that provided clean drinking water. These were 2 miles from hell, I thought the fact I would be on a smooth road would make it easier. The only thing the road provided was a clear picture of just how far I was from water, as well as plenty of time to feel my thighs cramping harder with each step. I could picture a happy family heading up to the cabin rounding a curve in the road and finding my remains, a pile of clothes and a backpack, as my body had already dried and shriveled to dust only to be blown away in the wind. Just when I thought my legs had finally turned to cement I stepped back onto the Gunflint, with Trail Center and a glass of water, only one hundred yards away. As I zombie walked into the restaurant the last open bar stool was glowing from a single beam of heavenly light. Angels with harps and a gospel choir started warming up in my head as I sat down and ordered two glasses of ice water with ice. The angels and choir came together in glorious unison as I chugged the water down. Instantly feeling revived, I savored the second glass and reflected on a wonderful days hike turned death defying. I now have a much more serious appreciation and understanding of the power of water. Never again will the water filter be left behind on a solo hike, and never again will I underestimate the power of a tall glass of ice water on a hot afternoon.

Thanks For Reading

-Erik

Wild Flowers in Bloom

All these photos were taken in the past few days on Clearwater Road. It is a riot of different colors and flowers now. - Lynn