Southbound

I knew I had reached Nachusa Grasslands when I stopped seeing corn. Four hundered some odd miles from Duluth I left the truck in a gravel parking area and stepped back in time. The Nature Conservancy's work here has preserved, through easements and acquisitions, 2500 acres of tall grass prairie that has never been touched by the plow. When I say tall grass I mean rolling hills of six foot tall grasses glowing gold and tawny. Interspersed are islands of broad spreading oaks. When E.O. Wilson makes his argument for the human affinity toward savannah landscapes it makes logical sense. Seeing the frontier vistas for my self, I fully understand. There is something so pleasing about it that I wanted immediately to live in it, to have a small home tucked in a hollow where the woods meet the grasslands. Walking along a few paths I flushed at least five pheasants, several ducks and caused scurryings I could not see. Prairie landscapes are overlooked so easily with our obsession with mountains. Imagining these grasslands stretching hundreds of miles around and you understand why volunteers give so much time to managing it, picking exotics and using controlled burns. A grain of salt on a road atlas would be sufficient in representing its size in comparison to the rest of Illinois. Prairies like this represent one hundreth of one percent of Illinois. Trevor Garrod of Tea Leaf Green writes in a song "I guess the meaning of holding on is what you're holding out against." I think the volunteers here would agree.

That first night I boiled water for a a pretty unsatisfying dinner of bowlappetite rice. Compared with the dinner Jamie and I had the night before (butternut squash ravioli and vegetable lasagna) at the New Scenic Cafe, it just plain hurt. The moon came out strong between broken clouds flowing over it like a river at ice out. Coyotes lit up the night, tossing their high pitched howls over the hills. They were everywhere, continuing their revelry as I talked to Jamie and heard about Chuck's outbursts from earlier in the day. A cold night ensued.

A badger hole maybe?

Split Rock River

Last weekend was our first dayhike in some time. It seems we are always trying to camp. But it felt nice to have only a daypack on the shoulders. The Split Rock River is on the North Shore of Superior, about 45 minutes northeast of Duluth. Therefore, on a weekend it's bustling. We had to wait at the turn off for a spot to open in the small lot at the trailhead. I was a little apprehensive about the whole weekend crowd thing, thinking we had left that behind in the Cascades. However, great thing about this hike, is everyone has to hike it in the same direction. We saw I think two groups on the 5 mile circuit. Also, as it was the Superior Hiking Trail (the AT of Minnesota) there were many options for the crowds to disperse. Anyhow great hike. Both Jamie and I were taking pictures on this one.

Legend has it the trail was named for the two rocks Jamie is repositioning. Who knows? But the river cuts a nice canyon, constantly being spit through shutes and tumbling over wide rocky slopes. The foliage was near peak. Ice floes broke apart the original bridge and the replacement seemed a little shaky. It was arcing in an odd manner, suggesting its need to buckle. I'm no engineer, but it seemed like a lot of fanfare for a trail bridge.

Autumn in Duluth

Porcupine Mountains

Locals call these "mountains" the "Porkie's." I didn't actually see any porcupines or mountains for that matter, but that wasn't the point in the first place. So what was? The wilderness state park, which are two titles I've never encountered together (a state park usually having much pavement and little solitude), is a rarity anywhere in America. Quick stats for the place: 59,000 acres of old-growth (uncut) hardwood forest abutting the south shore of Lake Superior in the Western UP of Michigan. That's why I traveled the 130 miles to get there. Walking the trails, which were a dream come true compared to the brush of the Border Route, was like walking in Northwest CT in the 1500's. Grizzly red maples stood side by side with arcing red oak, birch and elm. Hemlocks, the likes of which we think only grow out west, exist here in almost pure stands. In a few marshy spots white pines grew to impressive heights as well. Birds were plenitful, as was the foliage. Too bad there aren't more places like this.

Cabins for rent were numerous throughout the wilderness. A perfect place to shack up for a winter trip. All of the above and below pics were taken on the first day of what was planned as a three day trip. Toward dusk on the first night, the wind picked up fierce, smashing heavy clouds together like ice floes. You learn from experience. This was definitely one of those times. The long range forecast for Duluth was sun and mid fifties for five plus days. That first night I awoke to rain pattering the tent, and by daybreak it was obvious these were no passing showers. Packing up proved wet and arduous. Chuck stood in the rain as I rolled up and stowed the tent. We were a bit miserable. I was debating whether to stay the course, traveling ten more miles to the next camp along a high escarpment, when I met a couple coming across the valley I had camped in. They claimed the forecast called for more rain, all day and tomorrow, in fact. It hit me that there is an obvious difference between the north and south shore of Superior. I was on the "Oregon" side, the lee side of clouds, lake effect weather and moist instability. Duluth lay on the north shore, the continental side, recieving most of its weather in semi-predictable patterns from the plains. Lesson learned. Chuck and I reluctantly turned in the direction we came. To take the dog, who would be soaked through within the hour, force him on ten more miles, then stick him into the tent wet and stinking to shiver through the night, which was bottoming out around forty, just wouldn't have been fair. We turned and bossed through nine miles of undulating hills in about four hours, maybe a bit less. I haven't been sore like that in a while. I'll have to make it back here again under better circumstances.