tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-276481992024-03-14T11:50:35.421-05:00Clearwater Lodge BlogStories and pictures from historic Clearwater Lodge on Minnesota's Gunflint Trail - A memorable access point to the eastern Boundary Waters Canoe Area.Clearwater Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604520471646795326noreply@blogger.comBlogger586125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-70268420680027889502015-01-26T17:32:00.000-06:002015-01-26T17:32:12.406-06:00 2015 Overnight BWCA permitsOvernight permits for the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness will be available starting Wednesday January 28th at 9am CST; day passes are always free and do not need to be reserved. Contact us (218-388-2254) if you would like help securing your permit or you can head over here:<a href="http://www.recreation.gov/wildernessAreaDetails.do?contractCode=NRSO&parkId=72600">http://www.recreation.gov/wildernessAreaDetails.do?contractCode=NRSO&parkId=72600</a> and do it yourself.<div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-14618487365865977862014-10-01T18:35:00.002-05:002014-10-01T18:35:31.618-05:00Historic Lodge Restoration Efforts Reveal Time-CapsuleWell, not an intended time-capsule anyway. We removed the half logs from the railing wall on the porch today. In the space between the logs we found a whole lot of "junk" from the 1940's(approx.). It was a fun surprise during an otherwise tedious day of prying off logs. We never knew what the next section would hold. Some of our favorite finds were an old fishing lure, a license plate, a canteen, dozens of hilarious old candy wrappers and an empty tobacco tin with its colors in such great shape it might be worthy of display in our lodge museum. I hope you enjoy the pictures!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-1849672461511715052014-09-22T23:44:00.000-05:002014-09-22T23:58:20.657-05:00Mixed Berry Jam! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Adam and I just finished making our first batch of homemade mixed berry jam with berries picked right from the Gunflint Trail! A mix of blueberry, blackberry, strawberry and raspberry were the sweet pickings from the summer. We weren't expecting blackberries to show up when we went out to pick blueberries, but they were a nice surprising addition. I do have to say it is pretty tasty, so here's to hoping it will last longer than a few days.Clearwater Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604520471646795326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-4709403915623425832014-09-19T08:42:00.001-05:002014-09-19T08:44:30.197-05:00Gunflint Trail Garage Sale-Used Canoes and EquipmentClearwater Lodge is the first stop on this weekends Gunflint Trail wide garage sale. We will be selling a lot of camping/outfitting equipment including Granite Gear portage packs, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, stuff sacks, pots and pans and cooking utensils, stoves and a variety of tents. We will also be selling canoes including Alumacrafts, a Wenonah MNII Kevlar canoe, a Wenonah Encounter Solo Kevlar canoe and one Bell Northwoods Kevlar canoe. As always we will be selling baked goods, but will be running some specials this weekend so come on in for some camping equipment and pie!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-23088236226984335292014-09-06T12:40:00.000-05:002014-09-06T12:40:03.404-05:00Summer Sights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Recent guests Latta and Janice Johnston shared with us some spectacular pictures from their stay, and we are happy to be able to share them with all of you. Enjoy </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-64388262531726279252014-07-18T08:16:00.000-05:002014-07-18T08:16:30.617-05:00Historic Lodge Restoration <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With the 100 year anniversary of Clearwater as a business only a year away we thought it was time the main lodge got a face lift. The lodge is 88 years old and its logs are covered in multiple layers of stain and thick paint and in need of cleaning. The paint has begun to crack and flake leaving the logs exposed to the elements. This exposure has also left some logs too rotten for simple refinishing; they need to be replaced. We will be teaching ourselves how to do that this fall. For now we have begun the long process of stripping, scraping, sanding and re-staining, we expect the whole process to take until next summer. We will keep everybody updated to progress. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-80546930134480967812014-05-18T19:28:00.000-05:002014-05-18T19:28:01.789-05:00Ice Out!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We are calling it. Winters official time of death 5/18/14, 7:24 pm. If there is any ice left out there I couldn't find it. It coincided with a nice calm night allowing us the seasons first palisade reflection. Come on up, spring is finally here! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-1016749827162861322014-05-17T19:52:00.001-05:002014-05-17T19:52:24.177-05:00Ice Update 5/17/14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC_ei5GQsuElu0MQ2bYxyRAAaoYC1jh9jED6y9APAIMQlQurVHGFS67RmX8wqvpyo_6KKSLSBOT94WtW57SpCGTGGeAkbukXy_U4CDURG1KWUS-bvBWXE9j2o1pId80SonkK4/s1600/cwl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC_ei5GQsuElu0MQ2bYxyRAAaoYC1jh9jED6y9APAIMQlQurVHGFS67RmX8wqvpyo_6KKSLSBOT94WtW57SpCGTGGeAkbukXy_U4CDURG1KWUS-bvBWXE9j2o1pId80SonkK4/s1600/cwl.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
If you look hard enough you can see the ice sheet out at the point.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-71587256251324985992014-05-16T16:21:00.002-05:002014-05-16T16:24:06.454-05:00Ice Update 5/16/14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEPnmmQxrTnTobdIhVDwYAuE2UmzS-w5bkkIdy6o-tqT9RyQSMZY-onTZbgRzjTU43sOypoQCMZr2WiicGGhGm8r3UsiEwS0dqGmsAG5us7gIMiFJUcJzhRZhEhsSrK7LnBcE/s1600/cwl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEPnmmQxrTnTobdIhVDwYAuE2UmzS-w5bkkIdy6o-tqT9RyQSMZY-onTZbgRzjTU43sOypoQCMZr2WiicGGhGm8r3UsiEwS0dqGmsAG5us7gIMiFJUcJzhRZhEhsSrK7LnBcE/s1600/cwl.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
With shifting winds today's ice update looks like we've gained ice. Temperatures below freezing at night and barely cracking 40 during the day has made little head way in getting rid of this rotten ice. We are still optimistic it will be out by Sunday, but are all about as sick of winter as one can be.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-22121950889234450872014-05-14T19:21:00.000-05:002014-05-14T19:21:10.573-05:00Ice Update 5/14/14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2OSWKvssPlCxWNtl3nasAKJMEtTUDeGaHfqQiQNPAXsA1_9JqFWDCdCVGh41Hw516h6iXWm_x5i9RFdCGAIR4p3rXob7dQAigXcPxOikJW7QySTxq3j1Hi1w9bSrKto3icMw/s1600/cwl-4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2OSWKvssPlCxWNtl3nasAKJMEtTUDeGaHfqQiQNPAXsA1_9JqFWDCdCVGh41Hw516h6iXWm_x5i9RFdCGAIR4p3rXob7dQAigXcPxOikJW7QySTxq3j1Hi1w9bSrKto3icMw/s1600/cwl-4.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
Slowly but surely.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-22241447152026923132014-05-13T18:29:00.001-05:002014-05-13T18:29:42.001-05:00Ice Update 5-13-14<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKH4buWeLOYFaCSdPREeCywDd_jObmPNHi9JdJFxbzA9FX9PLVPmhcYTHzYbewexv6do3YHBj-FIL6_yk1Dnz3BR7s8YZ_-SS0N1yL2Z9FNf8_2SI9MLohmGBJF5UZZo9oueJM/s1600/cwl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKH4buWeLOYFaCSdPREeCywDd_jObmPNHi9JdJFxbzA9FX9PLVPmhcYTHzYbewexv6do3YHBj-FIL6_yk1Dnz3BR7s8YZ_-SS0N1yL2Z9FNf8_2SI9MLohmGBJF5UZZo9oueJM/s1600/cwl.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
Ice out is only days away.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-81185007959670441992014-05-12T19:35:00.000-05:002014-05-12T19:35:10.300-05:00Tonight's Ice Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19KdV_Y8a-cridhDXkvYnpAOz00MUP2EKGC6qixBJPPygeDS4MPgrI8SYDuezMZr7gG23hi9Rm68ohGOo2j68mDm5Gr40iwPwdC3e1yLSfcS_ZzAl0Lgmdsf6fUgr658MGgiD/s1600/cwl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19KdV_Y8a-cridhDXkvYnpAOz00MUP2EKGC6qixBJPPygeDS4MPgrI8SYDuezMZr7gG23hi9Rm68ohGOo2j68mDm5Gr40iwPwdC3e1yLSfcS_ZzAl0Lgmdsf6fUgr658MGgiD/s1600/cwl.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
Here is quick shot of the ice from this evening. Today's wind and rain has really battered the ice. More rain and wind is forecast for tonight and sunshine on Wednesday has us all thinking it will be out by this weekend. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-81203424504918242812014-05-11T13:52:00.001-05:002014-05-11T13:52:54.771-05:00Current Ice Conditions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Two days in a row of temperatures in the 60's and clear blue skies has all of us doubting reality. In fact though it is real and it seems like spring is starting to win the annual bout for season supremacy. Most of the small lakes in the area will be going out today or tomorrow. I urge you not to hold me to this prediction but Clearwater Lake is looking like it will be out by next weekend. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-18339437110198806412014-05-09T11:11:00.002-05:002014-05-09T11:11:58.562-05:00Ice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fQWX9yv4n2x-V_uvvRc586cPuD_e1wjf70Cu_aIPNHPdOaoo_aIn21f6GfjFkLwaKTVdeYMVU7awr1jZTiZV3ReS4gPWbUqJ0XYM5MVQimUQWTb4pXotlzcuFrpgZvpB13Yl/s1600/cwl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fQWX9yv4n2x-V_uvvRc586cPuD_e1wjf70Cu_aIPNHPdOaoo_aIn21f6GfjFkLwaKTVdeYMVU7awr1jZTiZV3ReS4gPWbUqJ0XYM5MVQimUQWTb4pXotlzcuFrpgZvpB13Yl/s1600/cwl.JPG" height="640" width="424" /></a></div>
This is the view down Clearwater Lake from Cabin 6 from yesterday. There are large dark patches and open water along most shorelines. These are both great signs. I would post a picture of the ice from today but the lake is shrouded in thick fog. Our bets for ice out at the lodge range from May 11-May 20. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-83168313168729520452014-05-07T12:33:00.001-05:002014-05-07T12:33:17.202-05:00The Slow March to Spring Continues<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-85295784906219399432014-05-01T10:22:00.001-05:002014-05-01T10:22:29.398-05:00Progress?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We've managed to rid ourselves of the foot of snow we received last week and are back to working on the old piles. This past week brought cool temps with intermittent light snow/rain showers. We mostly missed out on the heavy rains received by folks central/southern Minnesota. Temperatures are staying above freezing at night which is a big help, and the latest forecast has us sitting under sunny 50 degree skies by Sunday.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-65057512097321997462014-04-22T10:57:00.001-05:002014-04-22T10:57:49.323-05:00The Countdown Begins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Winter has just barely begun to loosen its eight month death grip on the north country and the light at the end of the tunnel is no longer a figment of our frosty imaginations but a glorious reality. <br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-17452452199705142092014-02-06T15:49:00.000-06:002014-02-06T15:49:25.359-06:00Open Water MemoriesHere are a couple more days from one of my late fall Quetico paddling adventures.<br />
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October 9, 2012 Batchewaung Lake Quetico Provincial Park<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cold winds usher out
the rain overnight, and we pack up under low hanging clouds. The featureless gray ceiling of clouds we
have become accustomed to begin breaking up, and the seemingly unsympathetic
sun appears. Our damp crew heads north,
towards our first portage. Multiple
beaver dams are overcome before we reach the actual portage. I am happy to deal with them in daylight,
instead of the gloom we would have surely fumbled through last night, had we
not found a site. We haul over into
Walter Lake and elude increasing winds by paddling the shadows of steep
shorelines. Walter’s black waters open
up and we are forced to deal with the wind.
Carefully we quarter into northwest breezes. Nefarious dark blobs whirl out of the horizon
and spit bitter drizzle at us. It is the
beginning of a trend. Throughout the day
we would work to stay ahead of capricious skies, constantly doffing and donning
rain gear. After a short carry into
Elizabeth we reach the 740 meter portage into Jesse, the longest since our
struggle through the quagmire south of Trant Lake. The well-worn track winds through open stands
of jack pine, and up and over numerous slight hills before opening up into an
expansive beach. Obviously wolves use it
more than humans. A dozen picturesque
islands provide shelter and we easily paddle up Jesse. The portage into Maria is immaculate. Portions of it have been built up with gravel
and channels for drainage. It is clear
we are getting close to the edge of the park.
After a short paddle and a shorter portage we drop packs on the shores
of Pickerel Lake. Temperatures have been
dropping all day, and the drizzle turns to snow. The snow squalls pick up in frequency and
intensity, making for painful progress.
A nasty one rears up as we turn west.
Our red bare hands are easy prey for the biting gusts. Whizzing chunks of slush sting the face and
jab our eyes. I can barely look up. We fight our way into the Batchewaung Narrows
and gain some respite. The idea we would
make it up to Nym Lake disappears with the sun and the sight of hulking
whitecaps blanketing the surface of Batchewaung Bay. We’ll be lucky to make it much farther at
all. We linger long enough for the
squall to taper, make our move and swiftly work towards the closest island. The cry for a fleece glove from our red
aching hands is ignored as we thrust paddles out of necessity into the frosty
water. Try not to dwell on the
pain. As soon as our canoe reaches the leeward
side of the island we shove stiff fingers into armpits and double over. After warming our throbbing hands slightly we
move on down the shore and find a campsite.
Half of the site is exposed, but the back half offers much needed
protection from the bracing gales and the thickets surrounding the site are
choked with dead downed trees.
Considering the strenuous day we seem set up for a pleasant night. Northwest winds pick up during our stir fry
dinner and the snow starts accumulating.
I take one last look at an increasingly wintry scene as I draw the
zipper on the tent, and dream in color.
Golden reflections of emerald and cerulean loom over a tiny white canoe. Beneath a cloudless sky it drifts towards a
warm horizon where it teeters a second before sinking with the sun.<o:p></o:p></div>
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October 10-11, 2012 Atikokan, Ontario</div>
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Noticeably calmer winds and colder temperatures greet us as
we wake. Heavy frost encases everything. As the weakening sun pokes through the tree
line we stoke a fire and decide to leave camp set up while we spend two days in
Atikokan. This allows for a quicker
departure and soon we are moving easily into light headwinds. The sun breaks free of the horizon into a sky
filled with tiny gray wisps, which rarely diminish its full potential. It has been a week since the sun has warmed
our backs and the glorious natural warmth encourages us to move consciously
towards the only portage of the day.
Minds reflect and stomachs yearn as we coast towards the completion of
the first leg of our journey and Poutine Deluxe. The portage out of Batchewaung is heavily
dusted with glittering snow. An
uncontrollable smile creeps across my face as I climb towards Nym Lake. There is a curious magic in portaging through
a white wilderness. Invigorated, we make
double time across the cabin blemished shoreline of Nym. The whole time our eyes are locked on a
blurry green and white sign that I know is the landing. We know we’ve made it when finally our eyes
discern the mystic word “Quetico”.
Canoes are stashed, and we begin following a faint yellow stripe down
the middle of a long neglected public access road, soon it deposits us next to
a bullet hole riddled stop sign and the Trans-Canadian-Highway. We drop our pack and paddles on the shoulder
as a bulky logging truck roars by drawing with it a swirling cloud of freshly
fallen snow. A Wednesday morning is
apparently not the best time to try and hitch a ride in the middle of Ontario
as we stare down an empty highway in both directions for 10 minutes. Just as we start thinking of walking the 11
miles the first truck to pass stops.
Synthetic warmth oozes out of the passenger window as he asks us where
were heading, Atikokan of course. We hop
into his cozy cab and within a minute are hurtling dizzyingly past a blurring
landscape. A bit of small talk reveals
that the hydroelectric plant (who knew?) is currently being overhauled by men
and women from across this great province.
As we swing into the insipid outskirts of Atikokan I wonder what effect
an influx of non-native construction workers will have on the availability of
rooms in the few local hotels. Quickly
we realize it is having a total affect as the words “No Vacancy” glower from
every hotel window in town. I have never
seen moods shift from resplendent to despondent so swiftly. We ask our gracious chauffeur to drop us at
The Outdoorsman Cafe where we can at the very least accomplish packing our
gullets to capacity with poutine deluxe.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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For most corn-fed Yankees the term
poutine might conjure images of peculiar colored bits of what appears to be
food meticulously arranged atop pure white plates. Thin artsy swirls of orange crisscross the
square(!) plate making the whole meal even more befuddling. This surely is one of the very few plates of
food in an Americans life that would cause them to stop and ask “How do I eat
this?” Poutine deluxe is the opposite of
all that, and I cannot comprehend how this meal is not an institution in the
States as it is in Canada. Essentially
poutine is gravy on fries, or as The Outdoorsman sees it, fries in gravy. What makes it deluxe is the addition of
ground beef, onions, tomatoes and shredded cheese. This makes it a meal that one could not
possibly find peculiar, or confusing to eat.
The only question’s you’ll ask is how to acquire more, and where a
napkin is.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The gorging distracts us
briefly. We come to terms with our dire
situation over bloated abdomens. At 2pm
we find ourselves four hours removed from our beds in a bed-less town. A town that would typically be ecstatic to
give away a hotel room to an itinerant wolf is apparently and vexingly booked
solid. Either we need to force a retreat
back to camp immediately or find a bed.
The only other place in this god-forsaken town I can imagine offering us
repose is Canoe Canada Outfitters. While
the others come to terms with the onslaught of gravy I totter up town towards a
faint possibility. From a block away I
can see stacks of canoes, parked transport vans, and boarded doors and
windows. Being this late in the season I
wouldn’t be surprised if they were closed, but fortunately the plywood door
opens. Obviously they are not up to full
operational status, with stacked boxes of merchandise and cleaning materials
blocking the entrance. After a brief
explanation of my sordid crews’ desperate situation the owner and operator Jim
(who seems as shocked as we at the lack of rooms in town) offers us a bunkhouse
for the night; I almost jump and click my heels together. Successful, I strut back to my gravy laden
comrades and break the news. Our
glorious moods return and we spend the rest of the day resupplying in leisure,
guzzling Canadian lagers, and returning to the Outdoorsman for massive pizzas,
knowing warm dry beds await us at the end of the day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Through
the foggy window of our eerily empty bunkhouse I stare at the orange glow of a
single streetlight illuminating the blowing sleet and ruminate. I find myself fortunate to be in this warm
wooden building full of wool blanket, hot showers and mattresses, but I can’t
wait to leave. Atikokan in October helps
one appreciate the untouched wilds of Quetico more than any city I’ve ever
visited. Our adventure up to this point
has been just that. It has been filled
with daring and exciting moments; unusual and hazardous moments; character
elucidating moments. Enthusiastically I
anticipate more. Its why we’re
here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-89226752737330398272014-01-17T13:12:00.003-06:002014-01-17T13:12:50.656-06:00Cabin Fever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Even though the days grow longer, we are still in the heart of winter. Thoughts of soft water, warm nights and new routes through the BWCA and Quetico increase as we draw closer. The mind travels, but unfortunately the body cannot follow, yet. At best we can relive old trips, and plan new ones. The best part about keeping a journal during Boundary Waters trips is enjoying them on cold January nights. Even entries involving driving rain and heavy winds entice when the thermometer drops below zero. Maybe some of my experiences will stir your imagination in planning this summers adventure...<br />
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Oct 8, 2012~Lonely Lake-Quetico Provincial Park<o:p></o:p></div>
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Considering the forecast rain, the tough days leading up to
now, and the desire to fish, we decide to make it a shorter day. Scripture Island on Sturgeon is our easily
attainable goal. We begin the day as we
have the past four, under decidedly complete gray skies. The map shows four portages between us and
Fred Lake. At this point in the life of
Cutty Creek, its waters are much diminished.
The first marked portage turns into two, and our ankles are put through
the rigors of traversing algae covered rocks of a drained narrows. The portage out of Nan Lake is there, but so
is an unmarked second portage, around a set of dry rapids. We portage four times, when expecting to
portage twice, it makes everyone angry.
The landings are littered with unstable rocks and muck warming the blood
even further. As we cross the second to
last “marked” portage Tori takes a spill and slams her knee cap into exposed
rock, and it starts raining. Tempers are
close to boiling over at this point. It
has been a slow and irritating start to the day. Standing on an expansive beach on the south
side of Fred Lake we celebrate our final release from the vexing grasp of Cutty
Creek. We can hardly anticipate the
trials still waiting for us. The
precipitation is in constant flux. One
moment it is barely noticeable, the next it drives into us, determined to soak
us to the bone. Our boats thread the
narrows between Fred and Heron Bay, and out into Sturgeon Lake proper. It is early in the day yet, and the rain
still ambivalent, so we decide to press on past Scripture Island. This means we have two more portages if we
want to camp on Lonely Lake. A downpour
ensues as we reach the first of two portages.
Again moods sour. After two short
steep climbs up to an unnamed creek we stop for lunch. Huddled under a clump of spruce trees we
enjoy peanut butter and Nutella tortillas.
Nobody says anything, were soaked.
Slick angled rocks invite us for a swim at the landing. We decide it better to load canoes and be on
our way. The half-way point of the creek
is blocked by a two foot high beaver dam.
I sigh as our canoe slams into it.
Tori hops out, I scramble over packs and we both lug the packed canoe up
and over, then Tori scrambles to the bow.
This is a skill we would continue to master throughout the coming weeks. As the canoe slides out into higher water I
jump in, and try giving us one more shove off.
My foot hunts for something solid, finding nothing it searches deeper,
then my knee starts looking. From the
depths my leg yells out, “Hey, I think that arm should help look, and send Tori
down here while you’re at it.” The canoe
lurches to the left; quickly we adjust and send it wobbling back to the right. Our gunnel kisses the rain pocked surface of
the creek, and for an instant I picture us floundering in the bottomless
squalid muck. As the canoe comes back
level Tori turns and offers a glare that threatens my manhood. All I offer in return is, “whoops.” Through pouring rain we press on, climb over
the last portage and start probing for someplace high and dry to lay our heads. We deem the first site unworthy, and head out
into the open part of the lake.
Considering the relentless rain, Lonely Lake is stunning. An ominous dark blue wall of clouds quickly
wheels up from the southwest and catches us off guard. Swiftly our tranquil (albeit wet) scene turns
to chaos. White caps materialize in
minutes and the rain becomes a torrent.
We need to find a site. Our two
diminutive boats move towards the north shore, where the Fisher map promises
campsites. Only one site is found. Closer scrutiny reveals it could not possibly
provide us with safe shelter. Most of
the already flooded site rests on a barren spit of Canadian Shield that juts
out into the whipping elements. It seems
like a nice summer spot. Everybody wants
to stop, but we can’t. The waves are
lumbering masses now, making the last mile of the day the most harrowing. We are relieved to find a tolerable spot on
the last point of the lake. If it had
not existed, our weary group would have been forced to press on into dimming
wilderness, attempting two more portages, a scary thought. Hastily we pitch camp in the unyielding
deluge. I plunge into the dripping
forest hoping for dry wood. My rain gear
had kept me mostly dry up to this point, but slogging through this water-park
proves to be their breaking point. Every
time I bump a tree it dumps gallons of water on me. By the time I return with a few scraps of
wood it looks as if I've been for a swim.
I’m soaked to the skin. The
previous occupants of this modest site were thoughtful enough to leave behind a
nice stack of wood under the bench next to the fire. With this mostly dry wood we light a fire and
start drying out, one layer at a time.
After finishing rice and beans with kielbasa, exhaustion hits us like a
wet wool blanket. The rain recedes
slightly as we unzip sleeping bags.
They’re the only dry place for miles. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-60940915196396403402013-06-25T10:04:00.000-05:002013-06-25T10:10:11.607-05:00Burning Desire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyeDHIzNLj4kHuzfJ4iyhSoagsgJpZRhNXJpE2jqBYKH5-Kkd15AFIUUWbySIZmlGtGoA7J8oVgXSoY6sg70EUmj8Rw4x1ld4tDIf78TPy370NjDpudq6JvnHIf9IdJQ4FtI7/s1600/Summer-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyeDHIzNLj4kHuzfJ4iyhSoagsgJpZRhNXJpE2jqBYKH5-Kkd15AFIUUWbySIZmlGtGoA7J8oVgXSoY6sg70EUmj8Rw4x1ld4tDIf78TPy370NjDpudq6JvnHIf9IdJQ4FtI7/s400/Summer-12.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the years I have
come to recognize Clearwater Lake as a fickle temptress. Every spring afternoon she beckons me to
continue my eternal investigation into the whereabouts of the furtive Lake
Trout that call her waters home. I have
returned fish-less more times than I would like to divulge and every time the
flames of desire dwindle a bit; the 35 pound trout hanging over the fireplace
in the lodge never lets the embers die though, and once again I find myself
walking down to the waterfront with rod in hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clearwater
Lake is long and winding with a couple of larger expanses of water on its east
and west ends. I decide to paddle out a
ways and troll through the narrow mid-section of the lake in hopes of a
lunker, or at the very least dinner.
Within minutes my shad-rap has snagged and I start back paddling. Upon picking up my rod I notice a different
sort of weight on the line. I decide to
set the hook and immediately my drag is buzzing and line is flying off my
reel. It must be a massive Lake Trout. The fish slows and I gather myself and begin slowly
working the beast back in. It is dead
weight at this point and it feels as if I’m hauling in a marlin. I've managed to retrieve half my line when he
decides to take another run and in an instant: nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s no let down more instantaneous than
feeling that much weight vanish in a flash, and for a second I think I might
cry. As I wind in 50 yards of limp line
I swear off fishing. It really is a
pointless endeavor I tell myself; a complete waste of time. Screw that fish, I hope he chokes on that
lure; it probably wasn’t that big anyway.
Who am I kidding, it was a monster, world record most likely, and I had
to go and mess with the drag. I’m an idiot;
I’m a pathetic excuse for fisherman, a pathetic excuse for a man. Take a deep breath, get a grip and know that
it was only a fish. As the sheared end
of my pitifully flaccid line comes into view I pull out a new snap swivel and
start thinking about possible lure selection.
I snap on a copper ¾ ounce daredevle spoon and flip it behind the canoe
and continue trolling. As I pick up
speed the line goes taut. Within minutes
the rod tip twitches then quickly doubles over from the weight. The flames of
desire burn white hot, and as I reach down to set the hook I think about all
the times I've sworn off fishing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydrHb_SORvIBkaYyG0orqd7mtdbS9CKgGPJcgmhf0fWC1ZRCKylDgtncyS9RsdWaBL0YhR2yinWByW6Y9of_TjFEef3CfIAYzHFBrJR3xNcnXPM8frhzTuL5aoieUyeWAt1qk/s1600/spooncity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydrHb_SORvIBkaYyG0orqd7mtdbS9CKgGPJcgmhf0fWC1ZRCKylDgtncyS9RsdWaBL0YhR2yinWByW6Y9of_TjFEef3CfIAYzHFBrJR3xNcnXPM8frhzTuL5aoieUyeWAt1qk/s400/spooncity.jpg" width="81" /></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-1778788352607609142013-06-22T23:13:00.001-05:002013-06-22T23:16:56.787-05:00A night of family fishing fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Last Tuesday, taking advantage of a slow day in the Lodge we decided to grab the monster 4 man canoe down at the waterfront and head out for an afternoon of bass fishing. With the winds low and the temps in the mid 70s we thought that even if the fish weren't hitting, it would be a great day for a short canoe adventure. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFysy7KUAr1rtdCTStNRcpfNRD5ddvu4AtqGbr9qtCTGc1QU4XCMdJxATQpHQb8ujMZ3JjozbdhbHX1JbdNwgCs4Vs_HwFWAw3jMRodiQeSB7p_RvbLathJXkyHuGl2nsPDB76pA/s1600/P6180032.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFysy7KUAr1rtdCTStNRcpfNRD5ddvu4AtqGbr9qtCTGc1QU4XCMdJxATQpHQb8ujMZ3JjozbdhbHX1JbdNwgCs4Vs_HwFWAw3jMRodiQeSB7p_RvbLathJXkyHuGl2nsPDB76pA/s320/P6180032.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
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After portaging into Caribou Lake the fishing commenced. After only a couple of casts Kasey landed the first big fish of the day. A nice 19 inch smallmouth slammed her 5 inch watermelon senko, and after posing with her big fish, Kasey successfully released the fish to be fought another day. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq4kC91Hd0Ddt6GWGxxU_uxHU8MZ47OeXJdn06mSVf_xTwW02jJFtjy-KdI2R0m0wswzsnlOoG4Gt_91xD68aQYc98uUBkZ8tSsAF1YjMLcyr95axMaZv1_tjUNpIo7fZIUhOdpg/s1600/P6180025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq4kC91Hd0Ddt6GWGxxU_uxHU8MZ47OeXJdn06mSVf_xTwW02jJFtjy-KdI2R0m0wswzsnlOoG4Gt_91xD68aQYc98uUBkZ8tSsAF1YjMLcyr95axMaZv1_tjUNpIo7fZIUhOdpg/s320/P6180025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Wasn't much later that I had the opportunity to land a big smallmouth. What a day!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoJBOcfJbPsOb-FVEA9oAj2fjv2T9MfiWR0mAB0afbIgWRjIoLahCR4s7MBRash7JeRt5eH8Purtt5-D4g8UHB0fJ3pcezt4QQoLmC3vukvX53JT-qtXCu2QATSFjTz-81PbJxQ/s1600/P6180034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoJBOcfJbPsOb-FVEA9oAj2fjv2T9MfiWR0mAB0afbIgWRjIoLahCR4s7MBRash7JeRt5eH8Purtt5-D4g8UHB0fJ3pcezt4QQoLmC3vukvX53JT-qtXCu2QATSFjTz-81PbJxQ/s320/P6180034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Kasey's cousin, Cameron, wasn't to be left out of the action and he too landed a nice sized smallmouth. The only person left in the boat without a fish was Ady. Ady is now 6 years old and while quite experienced with fishing off the dock, she she wasn't sure about fishing out of a canoe. Besides, she was spending more time rifling through the day pack looking for snacks than she was fishing. After some coaching she managed to land a 14 inch smallmouth and declared her time fishing to be over. An hour and a half and a dozen fish later Ady announced that she was board. We all looked at her, by this time she was laying down in the middle of the canoe. Not wanting to leave while the fish were biting but also being worried that Ady would have a bad experience on her first fishing trip, we told her that if we caught 3 more fish we would go. Upon hearing that, she immediately sat up, picked up her rod, grabbed a pumpkin seed 4 inch senko and casted for the shore. Upon watching the soft plastic hit the surface, Ady closed her bail like a pro and begin a slow retrieve. She had only gone around 2 or 3 times when the end of her rod dipped and Ady leaned back to set the hook. Immediately, the wonderful sound of the drag zipping out line from the reel's spool could be heard, and I felt my own pulse quicken as I realized she had a big fish on the line. A few seconds later the fish broke water and we watched the bass shake its head trying to spit out the hook before falling back into the water. All three of us reeled in our lines so as not to have her line cross ours and snag up. Twice more the fish jumped out of the water and I tried to coach Ady to keep the line tight but not to horse the fish in. Ady continued to reel in the line and fight the fish while we watched the fish get closer with each pass. After a few minutes Ady told us that her arms were tired and the reel wasn't getting the fish closer, it just kept pulling out more line. Once again we urged her to continue fighting the fish and not to give up. Finally, after another minute or two the fish was alongside the canoe and Kasey was able to scoop it out with the net. Beaming with pride Ady wanted to have her picture taken, but said she was afraid to hold the fish since it might flop around she could drop it. Not to worry, Kasey stepped in and held it for her while I snapped the photo. Here she is, 6 years old with her first big smallmouth bass. She did it all herself and I hope this is the first of many great fishing stories for her. Enjoy her picture!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQkMHCgit_JC_ohJdWsh9OZKZMQdYK1fN07pWRefn9WF-RF9siMRTxFhLfuUoG-M6Szrx9BZRX1u_16RgnHx-_JQZO6Al0HK12eBbW-hcYMWIzTMarHXlgGyohJRPpUcqO-XV0w/s1600/P6180040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQkMHCgit_JC_ohJdWsh9OZKZMQdYK1fN07pWRefn9WF-RF9siMRTxFhLfuUoG-M6Szrx9BZRX1u_16RgnHx-_JQZO6Al0HK12eBbW-hcYMWIzTMarHXlgGyohJRPpUcqO-XV0w/s320/P6180040.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
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Adyson Van Tassell 6/18/13 19.5 inch Smallmouth Bass </div>
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<br />Clearwater Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604520471646795326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-12357501334542121502013-06-15T07:15:00.001-05:002013-06-15T07:15:59.607-05:00The Stars At Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wT3KhN-Dql3VPc6UygVCxKJJMLnLGtx2wu36talpbUAlC17o9bloPPlf2k3NTL94_gKrp58ZgboZckMc2F-nYoP-xED9KlNDVnM5DLoPE23jIK8X0-5NBTf8f-x1tiJ19Gsw/s1600/Summer-5-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wT3KhN-Dql3VPc6UygVCxKJJMLnLGtx2wu36talpbUAlC17o9bloPPlf2k3NTL94_gKrp58ZgboZckMc2F-nYoP-xED9KlNDVnM5DLoPE23jIK8X0-5NBTf8f-x1tiJ19Gsw/s320/Summer-5-3.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
On a recent two day trip down the Magnetic River our foursome was treated to an incredibly clear night, and the milky way ate up the sky. Even in June clear cloudless nights typically bring cold conditions as was evident by the thick coating of frost the next morning. The temperature rose with the sun and in no time we were down to short sleeves. It was yet another reminder that we live in the one of the greatest (and darkest) places on earth. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0FwTvkQHqrLpqR7RjDAg9KKwc_BgL49DfQtIijHsg2HSC0chkg0CMIvwJ61gTQry11BWG_GIxTjks4ipQIv_q44bOpMnsUmiLf7WHc1MvJPs60G_KYSGSlZtKcCoxhpVK6_Y/s1600/Summer-2-5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0FwTvkQHqrLpqR7RjDAg9KKwc_BgL49DfQtIijHsg2HSC0chkg0CMIvwJ61gTQry11BWG_GIxTjks4ipQIv_q44bOpMnsUmiLf7WHc1MvJPs60G_KYSGSlZtKcCoxhpVK6_Y/s320/Summer-2-5.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-8819319345073572072013-06-03T22:13:00.000-05:002013-06-04T16:16:29.824-05:00Clearwater Totem Pole Unveiling <div style="text-align: center;">
We invite all to come join in the official unveiling of the new </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Clearwater Lodge Totem Pole</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
carved by Robert R. Olson</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIz_gRSY-P6d5yaM1tie-K3kClFITRukPXUYI9Y4vhOvhGsLNVjWY1xgXpbejCOtT0uVeCBc-PWRCsN3EZpGI_y1dxmY3sN_LN9o041ySlnB7vwTs_1F7_rdB7KgU1UghCZUSlaw/s1600/GSI+Credit+App.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIz_gRSY-P6d5yaM1tie-K3kClFITRukPXUYI9Y4vhOvhGsLNVjWY1xgXpbejCOtT0uVeCBc-PWRCsN3EZpGI_y1dxmY3sN_LN9o041ySlnB7vwTs_1F7_rdB7KgU1UghCZUSlaw/s1600/GSI+Credit+App.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Date: Thursday June 13, 2013</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Time: 7:00 PM</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Place: Clearwater Lodge</div>
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Refreshments to follow </div>
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Clearwater Lodgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604520471646795326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-43737735765665577412013-05-31T10:19:00.000-05:002013-05-31T10:19:51.397-05:00The Fifth Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8YbLS6cuUNqUvWmD-RcOxtfnzfA1LDInkQprn4ZdizuR5gXoxj20Q10nqjxzA-A3Tm_f7Bvh8vYp_syGoUi6ziyI94Z3ucr9VRWaD1-VzMWj5ITOpkPgZewl3NJh9_arwmQAP/s1600/cw.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8YbLS6cuUNqUvWmD-RcOxtfnzfA1LDInkQprn4ZdizuR5gXoxj20Q10nqjxzA-A3Tm_f7Bvh8vYp_syGoUi6ziyI94Z3ucr9VRWaD1-VzMWj5ITOpkPgZewl3NJh9_arwmQAP/s400/cw.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reemergence of leaves on the Gunflint Trail marks the
end of the stagnant and seemingly endless fifth season in the north woods. It
is my opinion that this fifth season only afflicts the northern most reaches of
Minnesota. The weeks and sometimes months between the end of winter and the
beginning of spring is the fifth season I am referring to. In more
geographically blessed regions of the world four seasons reign. Other regions
have two or three seasons and in some cases only one; HOT. This fifth season is
a heart breaking, mental war of attrition that affects inhabitants of these
northern climes. The passing of visible snow on the earth in most places is a
sure sign that spring is right around the corner. This passing of snow on the
Gunflint is a sure sign spring is still a few weeks away. Within those few
weeks it is a battle of the seasons. Spring versus winter in a <a href="http://clearwatercanoeoutfitting.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2008-12-31T22:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2009-05-25T13:42:00-05:00&max-results=50&start=100&by-date=false" title="Click to Continue > by Text-Enhance">winner</a> take all grudge
match. Spring of course is undefeated, but rarely in a knock out in the early
rounds. Gale force winds accompanied by horizontally blowing snow and 3 foot
rollers on the lake in mid-May, painfully remind you that winter still has a
few desperate tricks up its sleeve. In epic and record breaking fashion spring
fights back with 80 degree temperatures and calm waters a few days later. Every
time you think the wrath of winter has passed, it sneaks up when you are
sleeping, in the form up sub-freezing temperatures and frozen water lines. At
this point though you can rest assured that spring, with the help of summer and
a few million motorists, will prevail. The days are quickly warmed by the sun
and the last dying breaths of winter only come creeping in long after the sun
sets, late in the night when we're fast asleep. Being witness to this annual
feud of the seasons is something I always hated. These last few years I have
come to enjoy watching the slow change, the battle. Always cheering for spring,
even though I know it will eventually outlast winter. After the fight has ended
and summer picks up where spring left off it is 3 months of glorious days and
nights. It puts the fifth season in perspective and reminds you it was worth
the wait; worth the fight. Finally we can forget about winter for a while, the
season that dominates this part of the world, if not forget at least push it to
a rarely visited closet in the mind. It sits in that closet until late one
summer day you realize winter has been using the last three months to get back
in shape for its annual bout with fall. And, we all know who wins that fight.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27648199.post-387852120947003422013-05-20T08:49:00.000-05:002013-05-20T08:49:38.722-05:00The Ice Finally Went Out Last Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNWJpgSDGxsTrszR2BaszPfoscu2jrXh-lVSGnSMFhfVb0c1zpOLaVFgblsRvI6Ly3_8lhTtSFFjpaSzKpSA8aR-zyWM_BsrELJ4yftjZ4hgx9rkjhWcwys5rBrM5I0uWcVDK/s1600/water.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNWJpgSDGxsTrszR2BaszPfoscu2jrXh-lVSGnSMFhfVb0c1zpOLaVFgblsRvI6Ly3_8lhTtSFFjpaSzKpSA8aR-zyWM_BsrELJ4yftjZ4hgx9rkjhWcwys5rBrM5I0uWcVDK/s400/water.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Clearwater Lake finally gave up the ghosts of winter last night. A northeast wind blew hard all night and is still gusting up to 40mph, sending 3 foot rolling white caps crashing into our dock and flooding boats. The wet and windy weather is forecast to continue through the next couple of days. It has been seven months since we last paddled Clearwater, whats another two days.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10370648252411893474noreply@blogger.com0