A headland's fate

Perspective

Ripples marks form as the receding tide bears down on beach sands.  The ebbing water creates undulating wave flow marks. The resulting patterns form parallel with the coastline.  In the geologic record ripple marks are commonly found in sandstones deposited in coastal environments. However, one can only discern these while looking at an outcrop hat is exposed perpendicular to the features- opposite of their formation. 

Water flows from these saturated hills into the losing tide. Water that was short lived to be a storm cloud barely made its way off the ocean only to fall in the coast range.  This was as never destined to rush over the Rockies and be reinvigorated by southern air and fall as part of the two foot snowfall that is barreling down on the north woods as I type. 

At home I observe subtle changes on the property daily. From year to year patterns emerge. Patterns, much like the ripples under my feet, are only obvious if observed at the right perspective and a long enough time to become apparent. Sometimes changing your perspective is he only way to see.  It's important to travel away from your home surroundings to recalibrate your perspective.

 adventure to the Pacific Ocean, Oregon.  

Snow squall over Tom Lake

Ice forming on Two Island Lake.  There's snow in the forecast. 

The leaves have long since fallen.  The snow shoe hare is white.  November gales shove piles of waves that batter the shore of Superior.  The garden has been harvested.  Firewood is split and stacked.  The deer hunting season opens this weekend.  Snowflakes and frost crust the ground cover most mornings.  Darkness prevails.

The summer came and went with the sinking sun of this late autumn afternoon.  We learned what it meant to raise a toddler, improve a homestead, maintain careers and explore the deep wilderness around us.  Our adventures were short.  Our camps offered luxuries we weren't accustomed to having- extra blankets, pillows, fresh fruit, bathing suits, beach toys, boxes of wine.  Our building projects paled in comparison to earlier endeavors.  

In short, we entered a new phase of life.  We learned a lot, enjoyed more.  Now that the bird migrations make their way through the north woods, moose rush to feed in the ponds before they completely glace over with ice, few travelers venture on the water and trails we've come up for our first "breath of fresh air". 

Our focus has shifted up towards the top of the property.  The lower cabin that we inhabit is complete.  Now we set our sites to the larger project- our dream house.  This winter will entail a lot of planning and decisions.  (Hopefully lots of skiing and ice fishing too!)

Oberg Mountain

Golden poplar leaves fall and blanket the driveway like glitter upon Broadway on New Year's Day. Our daily hike. 

 

Fern Near Stairway Portage

 

Summer solstice has come and gone.  The days remain long but are now getting shorter.  Heavy rains continue to pound northern Minnesota out of it's drought.  Long days mean just that for us.  The work days seem never-ending.  Afterward we have plenty of garden chores, BBQ's with friends, moon rises over Superior and angling to take up the remaining portion of our waking hours.

The garden is flourishing.  Fishing is as good as it gets.  Blueberries are ripe for picking.  With great effort, next winter's firewood continues to stack higher and higher...

Cold Rain in July

Ever since I read One Man's Wilderness, the story of Richard Proenneke who homesteaded the remote south west Alaskan bush, I've had this ideal of a life tucked up in the wilderness where I would build and explore and photograph by day and write by night.  The life that we know today is an attempt at this notion mixed up in the realities of modern America.

We were planning on camping on Seagull Lake tonight.  However, a cold July rain hampered our blueberry-pickin', walleye hookin' foray.  Instead, I'm tucked away in along Superior writing, listening to music and watching Penelope play with the camping gear that remains unpacked and strewn around the cabin.

It's funny: I've been more busy in the last couple of months as ever in my lifetime.  I've been maxed out professionally and personally for a while now.  For some reason though despite all this I've gained a particular insight of my current situation.  Although it is nothing that I envisioned as a young kid; camping along the water trails of Boundary Waters reading Proenneke's proclamations by headlamp, I've realized that life is everything that it is suppose to be.  It is a fine, delicate balance of dreams, ambition, thought-out decisions, luck, love and hard work. 

The rain beats down on a forty degree day in July.  Rumors float of snow tonight in the high country.  My back hurts.  Still, I am more grounded than ever...

P is for Paddling: Stairway Portage via West Bearskin, Duncan & Rose Lakes

The warm, sweet smell of pine needles inundate my senses.  A robin chirps in the distance.  Old wolf scat and moose droppings flow by along the ground.  There's certainly no irony there.  Today, amongst the norms of our northern reality, my view is shadowed by the hull of a canoe.  It is the first paddle of the season for us.  Most notable, however, is the fact that it is the maiden voyage of our "new to us" Kevlar canoe.  Penelope rides along on Amy's back down the portage trail and on to the next lake.  She bangs her tiny, delicate fists on the blades of the wooden paddles her mother carries.  I stroll a few feet behind- light weight, space-age synthetic canoe on my shoulders and traditional canvas & leather Duluth Pack on back.  A blend of new and old: today we are headed towards the Canadian border.

Canadian hills in the distance, Rose Lake below the palisades...

The sounds and sights of summer are finally amongst us!  Whippoorwill chat at dusk, I picked off the first tick crawling up my leg, the trees have finally leafed, large leave aster sprouted throughout the upland soils of the forest, and sarsaparilla has begun to turn root beer brown.

Our garden is planted with beans, peas, parsnip, potato, carrot, onion, cucumber, zucchini, and tomato.  We added to our orchard with the planting of a cherry tree.  Our rhubarb is flourishing.  We've started a raspberry patch on the back edge of the vegetable garden and strawberries on the sandy hill in front of the house.  Lettuce is sprouting in lined up containers.

With long days helping the cause I had a birch splitting marathon and now have a pile of curing fuel for next winter's fires.

I often find myself wandering up to the main house site on top of the property during the last fleeting moments of light. I'll stumble there and simply look down over the homestead. Quite often I'm amazed at the sight. These quiet times serve as moments of reflection and inspiration. I've pounded nearly every single nail that holds those buildings together, cut every tree, lifted every rock and dug every hole.  Most of the time, however, I simply find myself standing there watching the wind whirl through forest thinking of nothing at all...

Trees bend, sway and flow across the windows as a stiff yet persistent gale drives a week-old low pressure system that has produced nearly three inches of rain out of the region.  Trunks bend in unison to the mounting wind giving the illusion that they are moving by as if through I'm staring out the window of a speeding automobile.

It's nearly the end of May and yet I'm still splitting firewood instead of planting my onion and potato sets.  We finally planted our new strawberry patch.  There are one hundred newly-planted red pine seedlings scattered throughout the property.  Large leave aster has just begun to poke it's stem out of the ground.  Signs of summer continue to emerge yet the temperatures are hard-pressed to breach 70.  Most nights are in the 40's- tonight it will freeze.

The last touch of light left me crouched over a small hole planting red pine samplings on the far corner of the land.  The woods were still when the gentle patter of a small foot on dried poplar leaves startled me.  I didn't have to search long to see the handsome male ruffed neck grouse ambling within an arm's reach.  He clearly wasn't aware of his surroundings.  Once he realized that I was there he abruptly flew up to the upper branches of a nearby tree where he proceeded to feed upon the budding poplar.  I watched for a few minutes in the diminishing light and then carried on planting the last couple of trees.

Warm weather and high winds have finally forced the winter ice off area lakes!

Snow storms, freezing rain and cold weather have finally given way to more moderate seasonal weather!  With that the spring bird migration is upon us.  Dozens of birds are routinely outside our window pecking away at the ground and bombarding our feeder.  At any given moment chickadees, junco, white-throated sparrow, white-crowned sparrow (migrating), common redpoll and house finch compete for sunflower seeds at our window.  The entire feeder is devoured daily!  This fact relieves me of the nightly ritual of taking down the window feeder so that we don't attract bears.  Bears too are out of hibernation.  We spotted our first fresh bear scat of the season on the trail.  I'll spare you the picture!

Male House Finch

 

Osprey Overlooking Lake Superior

 

Early in the morning we watched a pair of ruffed necked grouse perform their mating dance in the fir stand outside our kitchen window.  The male, in full regalia, acrobatically circled and danced and ruffled his ruff in hopes of wooing his prospective mate.

Inside I've been busy installing entry closet doors and trim work.  I've even dabbled a little bit in HVAC while installing a bathroom fan.  That job was great because it used so many disciplines- wiring, carpentry, duct work.  While working on the exhaust ducting for the bathroom fan I realized that I've cut 18 holes into the house to wire electricity, pipe out smoke, drain waste and pump water.  All this in order to accommodate the amenities that we used to take for granted.   Some of the holes were more hard-fought than others to accomplish than others.  Other holes were emotionally painful to cut (a one square foot hole in the new roof for the wood stove pipe).  18 later, the four inch hole saw bit that I was using for this task made mince meat out of our gorgeous and meticulously installed cedar siding.

Hole in the house #18

 

New favorite thing to do: playing with rocks (just like daddy)!

 

The mud princess herself!
 

The Raid

I was singing a new song to Penelope as we completed the "home stretch" of our nightly walk.  A short spell struggling to remember the words to the the second verse (which was different from the first) left a moment of silence in the forest.  That's when a stricken cry of a chicken penetrated the foggy air.  We immediately looked for our dog Luna (AKA the white wolf).  To our chagrin she was no where to be found.  

Silence continued.  Then, off in the distance, ruckus noise once again muffled it's way through the damp fir and spruce stands to our ears.  Something was wrong!  Here in the back edge of our neighbors land we knew our missing dog was either gleefully massacring their chickens or chasing a deer.  Taking no chances we made our way to their coop.  All we could see was Luna's pom-pom of a white husky mutt tail bobbing.  The rest was silence.  My heart sank as I approached the raided open-air coop.  Feathers still floating in the breeze; four dead chickens were strewn outside.  One carcass remained in the coop.  Luna sheepishly cowarded at the fence line.  She had effortlessly jumped the defenses and systematically snapped the necks of the entire brood.  We were speechless.  I had handed off Penelope before I had approached the scene so I scolded the mutt without inhibition and dragged her by the collar back over the fence and towards the house of the unsuspecting owners- and our good friends.  

"I've got some bad news" I said as the door opened.  "Luna killed your chickens."  "All of of them?"  For some reason the response startled me.  I didn't know what to say.  I had seen a number of dead birds but didn't exactly know.  "She did a number on them" I replied.  We walked back down to the crime scene and in shock gave our deepest, most heart-felt apologies.  After a few speechless moments and futile apoligetic attempts.  We made our way home.

As it turns out she didn't kill them all.  One had apparently flown up into a tree, survived a night of freezing temperatures and showed up the next day plucking the ground for bird seed outside the wood shed!  Even better our friends have been kind enough to forgive us (not sure about the dog though).

When we first moved out here I wasn't sure how I felt about having two families on each side of our land.  I guess that I figured that I was moving out into the woods to get away from folks and live this self-sufficient life.  Now, for many more reasons than I can explain to you in words, I couldn't imagine life out here without those companions.  We built at the same time.  We've struggled individually and together. We harvested at the same time.  Mainly we pass by in the truck on the way to town and give the Northern Minnesota salute.  Sometimes we stop and chat about the weather or wildlife encounters on the trail.  But more importantly, we are growing into a community.  It takes respect, good will and friendship to make that happen.  Even in horrible events like this you realize how much bigger our community is than the individual events that craft the episodes of the experiences we share.  I'm sad that those laying hens had to unmercifully die.  At the same time, I'm so glad that we have such great people to deal with those events together...

The first robin of the year greeted us outside of the kitchen window.  In the meanwhile a flock of juncos pecked the ground around the cabin-looking for the last of the grass seed we sowed last summer.  The bathroom window is open.  The house is breathing fresh air.  Osier Creek is flowing- cascading amongst the mire of rhyolite along it's graceful journey to Lake Superior.

Our lower culvert remains frozen.  One would think that after a decade in the water business I would have a better grasp on the spring runoff of my own property.  I''d be lying if I said that I did.  With the frozen pipe we are a matter of inches of flooding out the base of our driveway.  Good thing that now a days it takes a lot to get me worried.  When living in the woods and building you learn very fast to roll with the punches because if you get phased by the first one you'll surely get knocked out by the one to come.  Instead I'm chipping ice and building up our ditches.

Down by the lake Mountain Ash has begun to bud.  Canadian geese fly north to their nesting grounds in the Canadian wilderness.  Snowshoe hare are almost completely summer brown.  Chickadees, juncos, yellow-rumped warblers continue their endless assault on the bird feeder.  There is bear scat on the Arrowhead Trail.  I spotted a Moose licking salt on the Gunflint Trail.

Albeit later than average, spring has finally come to the north woods!

Penelope loves mud season!

Is it April yet?

A subzero morning ushered a late spring snow storm out of the northwoods.  More than a foot of snow fell with this last event.  An official 22 inches was reported along the Gunflint Trail.  Over three feet of snow greets the unsuspecting traveler if one mistakingly steps off the trail.  Otherwise the packed trails bode well for swift travel.  Despite the warm glaring sun and chorus of birds in the woods spring doesn't seem to want to begin!

 

 

I'm just happy to be home.  I've been on the road for the most part of the last couple of weeks driving white-knuckled through two major winter storms.  Then when I am home I'm busy getting white-washed behind the snow thrower preparing for the next round.  Our travels down south have allowed us to resupply with some much-needed pantry items as well as building supplies for interior projects that I'll be pecking away at in the next month or so.

 

Typically at this point in the season we would be hiking and biking.  However, this year sleds are still the preferred mode of transportation for Penelope.

Dressed for cold wind.

 

 

A dark-eyed junco feeds during whiteout conditions.  Yes, that is a blizzard!

 

Calibration

Finally.  The first trickle of water flowing down Osier Creek signals the semi-official proclamation of spring.  There was a different sensation to the drive up our road today.  Creamy white riffles of melted water running down the ditch brought a entirely new feeling to the land. 

Watching an animal calibrates oneself.  You move when it moves.  Driving up to house I startled a nice, mature white tail doe.  She was standing near the top of the way and made a short jump towards the tarp-covered birch logs I cut last fall.  I turned off the truck, stalkingly opened the door and got out into the warm spring air.  Her eyes met mine.  We traded motionless thoughts for a few minutes.  Her ivory white snout peaked her face and lined the perimeter of her enormous telescopic ears.  The dull yet rich brown of her winter coat shined in the sun.  Finally she wagged her tale just like a dog conveying it's "I'm alright" message.  I remained standing there staring without movement.  A couple more minutes later she chewed the grass that she had been enjoying prior to my startling arrival.   A couple more minutes passed and a overwhelming sense of relief engulfed me.  All of a sudden my anthropegenic troubles of the daily grind in town passed over.  I was back in the world that I feel most comfortable.  A place were time, gravity, temperature and choas reign supreme.  This world makes sense to me. 

Back at home in front of the stove something curious falls from the sky.  I'm not entirely sure what this form of precipitation is.  Small, condensed balls of sleet?  Snow?  A little cold rain?  It's spring? 

April Snowman

 

Winter stubbornly maintains it's fragile hold on the north woods.  Leaning on a shovel standing in five inches of heavy slushy spring snow from yesterday's storm and talking about maple syrup evaporating techniques with the neighbor was decieving.  The sun was out.  Melt dripped off the trees and roof.  Yet given the "fresh blizzard look of the forest" the topic of conversation seemed to be the only hint as to the actual season.   

 

April snow brings what exactly?  Hopefully no more drought!

The compactable snow made for perfect snowman conditions. 

 

We named him Gilbert.

Despite the marginal weather critters are certainly on the move.  The snowshoe hare have a speckled brown hue peppering their otherwise snow white fur.  A pileated woodpecker excavates dead poplar snags on the hill above the house.  Ravens perfect their clever practice of diving between the boards of the otherwise covered compost pile pallets, pulling out uncomposted food and handing it out to it's partner.  They then climb out and feast on their bounty.

Outside snow accumulated.  In the meanwhile, Penelope painted the spring storm away in front of the wood stove.

I was planning on tuning up my bikes and spool fresh line on the fishing pole! Instead we spent our time clearing the driveway, roof, walkways and building snowmen.  More snow and rain are in the forecast...

Mud season

Mud season.  Pussy willows have begun to sprout.  Although the ditches have been slowly flowing about 12" of snow remain in the woods during this nice, slow spring melt.  The daily freeze-thaw cycle has left a thick hard crust on the snow pack allowing one to walk over it in boots.  Back country travel is fairly easy in these conditions.      

Your entire routine changes during mud season.  Our footwear remains as insulated rubber winter boots but everything else begins to adjust to the static season.  Fleece replaces down jackets.  Baseball hits replace their distant wool stocking cousins.  The dog's feet must be cleaned upon arrival at the threshold.  Daylight walks are possible after dinner! 

Penelope bundled up in her wagon.

Despite the improving weather conditions at home we spent the better part of last week in southern Minnesota celebrating Easter with family.  

Here my two "little" sisters show off our egg-dying skills.

We brought Penelope to a small local zoo while we were "down south".  It was kind of odd yet very exhilarating to watch the wolves, fisher, lynx, cougar and otter up close and behind fencing.  I admittedly had a hard time getting over the irony that every single animal at this zoo literally lived in our back yard.  That is except for the cold-blooded timber rattlesnake.  I'm alright with this.  I'll gladly take a wolf or black bear any day over a venomous, highly-camouflaged, cold-blooded, fang-ridden reptile! 

"Gimme that"

Penelope thought the lynx was pretty cool but she really just wanted to see that camera!

Cold, clear skies.  The mornings have been well below zero (minus 17 this morning) and the afternoons have been in the low twenties.  On this day last year the high was well into in the 60's (an 80 degree difference from this morning)!  Despite the cold start to the day, the relatively strong March sun melts the snow off the roof tops in the afternoon.  A light snow has been falling every few nights leaving the ski trails much improved. 

Common redpolls at our platform feeder 

 

Penelope showing off her Easter eggs.  This year we used all natural items to dye eggs - beets, red cabbage, yellow onion skins, chili powder, tumeric, blueberries, and coffee grounds.  I was surprised how well they turned out.  (We were glad they were all hard-boiled after this photo shoot!)

Mashed Potato Trails

Cold nights and warm days.  Lows are just below zero with highs in the twenties.  A classic heavy March snow fell leaving the trails as solid as mash potatoes.  Nevertheless I broke trail the other day on a nice slow "walk with skis".

For the last week or so my mind as been up along the Iditarod Trail following the running of the "last great race".  It's been an exciting race to track as long distance dog teams continue to get faster, mushers get bolder with strategies, and the elements ever-changing.  Our local distance race was run this week as well.  Poor early season snow conditions forced the John Beargrease Sled Dog Race to push the event into March.  The race runs from Duluth to the Gunflint Trail and back.  We spent an evening "on the Beargrease trail" at a check point along the Gunflint Trail cheering on a couple of friends and neighbors who were running the marathon.  This is the first winter in some time that I haven't committed my spare time to running dogs.  Even though it's been a little tough at times I wouldn't trade these days at home with the family for any amount of miles on the trail.  Following the races help ease my yearning for making miles on the runners.

Inside I've been busy with finishing carpentry projects, playing with Penelope, and my latest experiment brewing beer.  I'm two batches into the game an it turns out that this fits pretty well with the way my brain operates.  I like to think of it as an adult chemistry laboratory experiment.  Either way, the booze hasn't made us go blind yet and it even tastes alright!

A view into the woods along the ski trail

Completing the Kitchen

Our latest project completed the kitchen cabinets and sink countertop.  

Penelope had to inspect every corner of the the cabinets.

And of course; she had to confirm the structural integrity of countertop before I could cut the sink opening.  It passed.

Nowadays the sun rounds the world at a relatively high angle.  Nights are near or below zero.  The days, however, are within the twenties- warm enough to melt ice and snow.  

  

Look carefully- can you spot the drop?  

Inside I have been pecking away at my "winter list".  Mainly the list is comprised of finishing and storage-related projects.  I've been busy setting cabinets, building bathroom shelves and a linen closet.

Daddy's Third Hand

Full Moon Thaw

The last cold snowy Alberta clipper left in a wind-driven torrent.  Since then the wind has shifted from the south.  The breezes now carry mild air.  For the first time in months the thermometer surpasses thirty two degrees during the day.  The sun once again warms the skin.  The air smells different.  Melting snow trips off the corner of the house.  The gravel roads are a slippery muddy mess.  Water overflows the river ice along certain reaches where the channel cannot accommodate the surge of new melt.  A couple of remnant cluster flies have stirred to life out of their winter dormancy and fly frantically between the plastic and the window in the temperate sunny light.  The first thaw of winter has begun.

By night the air is chilled and back below freezing.  Frost coats the trees leaving frosted limbs in the morning light.  Over the lake Orion shoots his arrow into the Superior vastness.  To the North Ursa Major is completely upright- perfectly perpendicular to the horizon below.  A full moon rises in the east.  Wolves howl...

Full Moon on the Homestead

Harsh, cold wind buffets the North Shore.  Fifty mile per hour gusts make the minus ten degree air feel like forty below.  Facing the wind, the force of the air into your lungs makes inhaling for a breathe difficult.  Lying in bed listening to the storm my mind raced and construed every possible contortion the surrounding trees could make to hit the house.  My worrying was unwarranted.  We woke to debris-ridden forest floor and snow drifts across the road.

There has been a surge in Boreal Owl sitings on the North Shore.  This small bird is only about 10 inches in length with a wingspan that can approach 24 inches.  Like many owls, it's nocturnal.  The fact that most of these sitings are during the day alarms me.  The home range of the Boreal is further to the north in the coniferous forests of Canada.  However, an apparent plunge in rodent populations  have forced the owls south in search of prey.

Fresh wolf scat is on the road. A couple of nights ago we woke at three AM to them howling nearby.

Successive clippers have brought a series of snow storms across the region; easing the concern of a dry winter and prolonged drought.  Up until the wind storm the ski trails have been perfect!  Now they are littered with fallen twigs and downed trees...

Valentine's Day Sunset Over Superior

Grey Wolf



Lynx and Hare

My stride was strong.  Despite breaking trail through a foot of fresh snow the glide was great and I was skiing along at a respectable clip.  With the recent snowfall the trail had evened out and was prime for making back county ski touring miles.

That's when I stopped dead in it's tracks- literally.  Immediately beside my tracks lined perfect snowshoe hare tracks punctuating a full running get away.  The crude hour glass tracks denote a hare catapulting its way over the trail.  The hare was jumping up hill with strides eight to ten feet apart!  Imagine a two pound animal barely twenty inches long bounding more than one hundred inches each stride!  Snow shoe hare are one of the only species who's nutrition improves as the snow pack deepens.  Their large hind legs provide float and allow the animal to walk atop the snow.  The "pickings" get better as the snow depths build and they are able to access vegetation higher up the trees.  Unfortunately for them they fall prey to just about everything bigger than them.

Further down the trail the broad upward curve of the land directs the trail towards the draw.  The land has been climbing this minor ridge for some time.  Drainages line both sides no more than one hundred feet distant from another.  Each time I round this broad swoop of a immature poplar and balsam fir I study the understory for beaming yellow eyes and black drooping toughs of pointed ears.  This is snowshoe hare country.  In turn, it's perfect Lynx habitat as well.  A specialized predator, the Canadian Lynx preys almost exclusively on hare.  With it's over sized paws and ears, the population of this elusive and solitary cat directly correlates with the ten year cycles of the hare.  When the hare population increases so does the Lynx.  Conversely the same thing happens when Hare become less abundant.  Northern Minnesota is the southern extreme of its range.  Like most large cats the lynx is known to wander.  When prey is scarce home ranges upwards of 300 square miles have been documented.

I see hare on most of my daily ventures into these woods.  While I was fortunate enough to have seen a lynx on a road in the interior Alaska, I have yet to see one in Minnesota.  I know that they're here.  Perhaps one of these days those yellow eyes will great me along the trail...

The thin sliver of a waxing crescent moon rises in the east over the clearing skyline of the Superior shore.  The light of a snowblinded day fades into dark.  Snow blowers hum in the distance.  The scraping of shovels on pavement course in the foreground.  With "town duties" complete the truck lugs in four wheel drive away from the lights of cilvilization and into the woods. The forest is still.  A heavy mantle of fresh snow depresses the world.  At home I step outside and breathe in the cold crisp air.  Slowly I shovel my way out of this storm...

Snowy Night

Snowy Night

The last four hours have practically doubled the entire season's snow pack.  A strong band of heavy snow moved in with the setting sun and has loaded the North Shore with it's first mentionable snow fall in years...

 

 

The North Shore of Lake Superior rarely freezes.  I've only seen it freeze over "99%" in 2001.  As I was traveling east of town today I noticed a thin sheathing of ice on the lake.  The ice, even more so than water, reflects the color of the sky leaving the viewer with an illusion of merging horizons.

 



Looking over Lake Superior- where ice meets air...



Contours

There's something addicting about staring at maps.  My mind wanders along the meandering contour lines with imaginary scenery and adventures to come.  I try to spot faults, contacts of different formations, glacial landforms like moraines and eskers, ancient lake shores.  I route trips and daydream of how to get to the most remote locations the map conjours up.  Visions of year-long trips engulf me looking at major waterways to the north.  Distant mountain ranges, barren lakes and miles of empty terrain fill me with wonder.  I dream of traversing the passes, shooting those rapids and running dog teams along those far-off contours.  

Explorers are drawn to locations where the contours meet. They're places where hills meet lakes, where mountains meet the sea, where cascading rivers tumble over waterfalls.  Most of the time, however, we just follow the contours out our back door.  Today we skied up the Devil's Track River gorge...

 

Deep Winter on the North Shore...

The moonlight wanes on yet another overcast evening on the North Shore.  Snow flakes flutter in the morning.  The thermometer held it's ground above zero during the daylight hours this week.  That is until today.  The subzero cold feels normal right now.  It's alright: snow conditions improve as you ascend and the ski trails provide great glide no matter where you are.  We're content hunkering down and spending the evenings cooking thai, listening to some americana fade to the blues or jazz, reading huddled around the stove with a Chilean wool blanket and playing with Penelope.  Deep winter on the North Shore...

The Shadow of Twigs

The cold streak has snapped!  For the first time since last Saturday night (almost 130 hours ago) our thermometer reads a temperature above zero.  On top of that, a thick (7 inches) fresh powdery snow fall blanketed the upper North Shore last night leaving the trees dressed and ski trails begging to be tracked.

Cozy Night at Twenty Below