When we packed up in early August, we were ridiculously naive about what kind of weather to expect on this trip.  Disregarding the news reports we've heard all summer about the brutally uncommon heat suffered even in the northern reaches of the U.S., we pulled out long-sleeved shirts for our trip.  Yes, we had more appropriate seasonal attire as well, but as we have discovered, our only use for wrist-length garments has been in restaurants where the AC was turned too low.
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Today, however, would be different.  We were sure of it; we were heading into America's refrigerator.  If you've ever noticed how often you hear in weather reports, "And the coldest temperature in the country today was in International Falls, Minnesota," you'll understand our optimism.  We were heading into "Frostbite Falls," where the January temperature averages 2.7°, where the high temperature reaches a balmy 32° only 12 or 13 days from December to February.  This is the town that has fought for the trademark to the 'Icebox of the Nation' title.  To prove its claim, just after the city's 2008 victory against an upstart Colorado town in a recurring battle for the slogan, International Falls recorded a temperature of 40° below zero.

But today, the temperature in town had very little resemblance to a freezer.  Our final hope for cool weather dashed, we resolved to rip the cool weather clothes from our bags and store them in the car so we can quit carrying them around on a daily basis.
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Timber awaiting processing

With abundant supplies of wood and easy access to water, International Falls was an obvious choice for the construction of a paper mill in the early 20th century.  In 2010, that mill, now owned by Boise Cascade, celebrated 100 years of operation.  Built to meet the burgeoning demand for newsprint in the U.S., the mill has changed with the times and now produces 548,000 tons of office grade copier and printer paper.  As an employer of nearly 1,200, the mill is a major player in the town's economy.

International Falls is also home to Minnesota's only national park, Voyageurs National Park.  Established in 1975, the park pays homage to the voyageurs, French-Canadian merchants and canoeists whose industrious travels created a flourishing fur trade in the late 1700s and 1800s.  According to legend, an average voyageur paddled 16 hours per day.

Voyageurs National Park Visitor Center exhibit

Voyageurs were adventurers with many types of skills they learned from Native peoples.  Their trade journeys often lasted many months and covered thousands of miles.  Voyageurs National Park preserves much of the scenery and waterway system that formed the routes of these early traders.

National Park Service boat

Dominated by water, the park is quite popular for boating and fishing.  Campsites in the park are accessible only by water.  On our way back south today, we saw dozens and dozens of boats headed north for the Labor Day weekend and wondered how many will be visiting these protected waters.

While visiting the park, we kept our eyes open for our hiker pal Kenny that we met a couple of days ago on Isle Royal, but our trails did not cross again today.  We're confident that he completed his goal of seeing his final national park.

FRIDAY, 31 AUGUST 2012

Honest Sign of the Day

INTERNATIONAL FALLS STATS

• Population:  6,424
• Average low January temp:  -6°
• Average high January temp:  15°
• Average snowy days per year:  60
• Record low temperature:  -55°
• What residents do when temp falls below 0°:  Keep calm and carry on 
• Famous International Falls native:  Tammy Faye Bakker

Lots of these larger-than-life Voyageur tributes in the area, this one in Ranier, MN

Why don't we use these temporary signals more often?

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The center's mission is teaching about wolves, their relationship to wildlands and the human role in their future.  We found the $7.50 senior admission very reasonable and eagerly paid our way to learn more about wolves.  As it turned out, we could not have arrived at a better time.  Not only was a "Pups 101" presentation about to begin in ten minutes, there was also a rare wolf stimulation event scheduled during the educational activity.  
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Liza teaches about the center's wolf pup program.

Yesterday we left Duluth and our wonderful Lake Avenue restaurant behind, heading up Minnesota's busiest road, MN-61.  Known as the North Shore Scenic Byway, the highway follows the coast of Lake Superior from Duluth to the Canadian border.  Along the way we stopped to search for letterboxes at a couple of state parks.  In Gooseberry Falls State Park, we found lots of visitors escaping the day's heat (high temp 90°) in the cool waters of the falls, the perfect distraction while we located a letterbox nearby.  (Middle Gooseberry Falls pictured above)

But our primary purpose in driving up the byway lay near the end of the road—Isle Royale National Park.  Part of the national park system since 1940, Michigan's only national park embraces the rugged, isolated main island of Isle Royale and 450 smaller islands and the waters surrounding it.  Due to extreme winter weather conditions, the park is open only from mid-April to the end of October.  It is a remote wilderness, a road-less haven, reachable only by boat or floatplane.


Although it is technically a part of Michigan, Isle Royale lies only 15 miles from the Minnesota shore.  It's six hours by ferry from the Michigan UP, which means you either have to book a room at the single lodge on the island or camp.  We opted to take the day trip ferry from Grand Portage, MN, which takes only 1.5 hours each way.
   

Since this trip was less flexible than our usual agenda, we made advance reservations to ride the ferry to Isle Royale today. Rising early, we left our hotel in Grand Marais before 7 a.m. to make the 40-mile drive to the Hat Point Marina in Grand Portage, where we would catch the ferry.  Fortunately that left us a cushion of a few minutes because we apparently blinked and passed by the "marina" without recognizing it.  When the end of the road loomed, we figured out our mistake and reached the boat in plenty of time.
   

Best seats by chance

Passengers were called by name to board the ferry and select a seat, which turned out greatly in our favor.  By the time we boarded, near the end, all the seats were filled except the exterior seating on the sides of the boat.  Once we were underway, we quickly realized that these were the best seats on the boat—great views without the wind or spray in our faces.  The lake was nice and calm today, eliminating any potential problems with motion sickness, which the crew told us could get pretty bad when things are choppy, apparently a fairly frequent condition.

To stretch our 15-mile journey into an hour and a half, we paused at a couple of places along the way including the Little Spirit cedar tree.  With an estimated age of more than 400 years, the scrappy little evergreen defies the odds, clinging to a rocky cliff on the Grand Portage Indian Reservation.  Believed by the Ojibwe to harbor evil spirits bent on endangering canoes that passed too closely, the tree is also known as the 'witch tree.'  In times past, offerings to the spirits were left at the base of the tree to ensure safe travels.

Little Spirit

Another pause on our trip occurred near the wreckage of an 185-ft steam ship that carried supplies and passengers between Minnesota, Isle Royale and Canada before sinking in 1927.  The bow of the ship can be seen just below the surface of Lake Superior, yet its stern is more than 90 feet deeper.  The wreck is a popular site for divers.  Fortunately we did not suffer a similar fate and arrived at the village of Windigo on the western end of Isle Royale with no incidents.

Ranger Katie and Ranger Cindy greeting visitors

With its location on an isolated island, Isle Royale is one of the least visited national parks.  However, according to Ranger Cindy, the park has the highest rate of return visitors of any park.  "In fact," she informed us, "I first came to the park as a visitor myself."  After we split into two groups of day trippers and campers, the rangers provided a brief orientation to the park.  We checked in at the visitor center and decided to pass on the ranger-led nature activities in favor of a four-mile hike and picnic on the Feldtman Lake Trail.

Feldtman Lake Trail

Mostly shaded, the trail skirted the harbor and wound through the boreal forest.  Plant life was abundant with carpets of bunchberry, moss and lichen decorating rocks and trees, and lush ferns often lining the trail.  At times we waded through waist-high thimbleberry as we made our way on the narrow trail, thankful that no deer lived on the island to populate it with ticks.

Our hopes of seeing some of the island's population of 750 moose were dashed as we hiked along encountering nothing larger than chipmunks and insects.  Because they live in a contained environment on this island, the predator-prey relationship of Isle Royale's wolf and moose populations has been the subject of an ongoing study for more than 50 years.  

The first moose migrated to the island in the early 1900s, swimming the 15 miles from the Canadian mainland.  Voracious eaters, the moose population waxed and waned as they destroyed their food supply and periodic fires stimulated new growth. Then in a particularly cold winter in the 1940s, wolves crossed an ice bridge from Ontario to the island.  Over the years the populations of each species has fluctuated significantly, according to the study.  Researchers are concerned today about the survival of the wolf population, which is now down to nine from a high near 50 fifteen years ago. 
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Rock of Ages lighthouse, Lake Superior

On our return trip to Grand Portage, the ferry stopped near Rock of Ages lighthouse.  Guarding ships against one of the most extensive reefs on the Isle Royale archipelago, the lighthouse was built in 1908 after numerous ships fell prey to these reefs during storms.  From its beginning until it was automated in 1978, the light was manned by Coast Guard keepers who would land there at the beginning of shipping season in the spring and remain until the season ended in fall.  One can only imagine what a lonely existence this remote assignment must have been.

While we were hiking on Isle Royale, we encountered an interesting fellow hiker from the Cumberland Gap area of Virginia.  An avid hiker and traveler, Kenny has made it a mission to visit all the national parks in the 48 states.  As of this morning, he had but two remaining—Isle Royale and Voyageur National Park in International Falls.  Many of the parks he has visited more than once, and without hesitation he named Glacier National Park in Montana as his favorite.  With that kind of expertise, he sealed Glacier's spot on our list of places to visit in Montana later this year.

ISLE ROYALE STATS

• Location:  Lake Superior
• Part of:  Michigan
• Length:  45 miles
• Width:  9 miles
• Annual Visitors:  15,793 (2010)
• Population:  0 humans, 9 wolves, 750 moose
• Day trip visitors today:  67 

Dock at Windigo village, Isle Royale

The moon over Lake Superior

The engine that E.P. Allis Company (now Allis-Chalmers) built in 1890 did the job quite well.  Boilers that powered the pump devoured 42 tons of coal each day.  The 40-ft. flywheel sent power to pumps that removed 3,000 gallons of water from the mine per minute.  After producing more than 27 million tons of iron ore, the mine was closed in 1932, and the pump is now housed in a very interesting museum which tells the story of iron mining in the region.

Many of the immigrants who flocked to the UP to labor in the mining industry in the late 19th century came from Nordic countries.  These snow-loving miners brought their winter sports with them, and in 1937 Iron Mountain became home to what was then the world's highest artificially created ski jump.  At 120 meters, the Pine Mountain Ski Jump glides a fine line between ski jumping and ski flying.  (The maximum height permitted for Olympic ski jumping is 90 meters.  Ski flying is not an Olympic-sanctioned sport.)
  

Pine Mountain has hosted annual ski jumping competitions since 1937, attracting the top athletes in the field.  Thousands of spectators converge to watch jumpers leave the 176-ft scaffold at 55 mph to soar 400 feet before landing at the bottom of the hill below.  Numerous world records have been set here.
   

But skiers aren't the only ones who climb to the top of this daunting hill.  When the jump was first built, a set of wooden stairs was built to transport skiers from the bottom of the hill to the top.  There's no lift in operation here.  The stairs have been repaired and replaced several times in the last 75 years, most recently with the 6-ft wide concrete steps completed earlier this year.  Sponsorships were sold to help pay for construction, and the number of steps was increased from 400 to 500.  Each step has a plaque personalized with its number, the donor's name, and sometimes an inspirational message.  Both locals and visitors like to take on the challenge of what's known as the Pine Mountain 500.  We did not climb the 500 today but met a local guy who said that he goes up and down four times for his daily workout.  (We told you these guys are hardy!)  Every 100 steps, there's a rest station and bench—for the tourists, of course.
   

Continuing north on US-141, we drove through long stretches of thick forests—no power lines, no side roads, just an occasional snowmobile trail crossing the highway.  Between Iron Mountain and the shore of Lake Superior some 80 miles away, we passed through only one small town and a couple of crossroads.  A bit like southwest Texas except the landscape is vastly different.

Near the hamlet of L'Anse (pop. 2,011) on the shores of Keweenaw Bay, we came across a shrine to another Yooper trooper.  Born into a wealthy family in Slovenia in 1797, Frederic Baraga dedicated himself to a life in the Catholic priesthood.  In 1830, he departed his homeland for life as a missionary in America.  Having learned several languages as a child, Father Baraga showed an aptitude for learning the languages of the native tribes and was assigned to work among the Ottawa and later Chippewa nations.
   

Baraga began working in the UP among native tribes and later with immigrant miners and lumberjacks.  Even the heavy snow of the area's formidable winters did not prevent him from ministering to his flock.  Traveling hundreds of miles on snowshoes each winter earned him the nickname "the Snowshoe Priest."  To honor the legacy of the man who eventually became the first bishop in the UP, a shrine was completed in 1974, featuring a six-story statue of the priest holding 26-ft snowshoes, quite an impressive site.
 
Almost to Houghton, our destination for the night, we stopped briefly to search for a letterbox in a small park near Chassell Township (pop. 1,822).  Before we could look for the box, we had to investigate some very interesting boats docked at this small park.  As we scratched our heads and tried to figure out what kind of boat this might be, another pulled up and tied up.
   

We chatted with the sturdy fishermen who brought the boat in and learned that this type of vessel is a Great Lakes fish tug.  This design evolved over a period of years as fishermen experimented with various means of covering the decks of their fishing boats to withstand the rigors of Great Lakes winters.  These boats are used to set nets, sometimes as large as a mile long, and later pull the nets on board, removing the fish by hand, where they are iced.  Inside the deep hull is a modified processing plant, so the catch can be prepared for market on the way home.  With their steel hulls, these rugged boats can even break through ice to continue their work when the lakes freeze over.

Tunnel Boat testing

At the same park, we also encountered another robust Yooper, a petite forty-something woman who races tunnel boats.  She and her husband were there to test a new carburetor they had installed on her boat in preparation for the Outboard Performance Craft Sport C national championship races coming up next month.  If you've been listening, it won't surprise you to learn that this tenacious Yooper is the defending national champion in her class.

    

Father Baraga, the Snowshoe Priest

Leaving these friendly natives to their testing, we finally we turned our attention to the letterbox hidden nearby, found it, and got back on the road toward our destination for the evening— Houghton (pop. 7,710).  The gateway to the Keweenaw Peninsula (that crooked finger poking into Lake Superior) and the area known as Copper Country, Houghton is home to Michigan Tech, its largest employer.  

   

With the advent of fall semester, the town was teeming with students and their parents.  After a terrific vegetarian pizza at the local Ambassador restaurant, we strolled along the Keweenaw Waterway, a canal dredged in the 1860s to allow easier transportation of mineral production to other parts of the Great Lakes.  Still used for commercial shipping, today the waterway is also a favorite of canoeists and sea kayakers.
   

On Saturday, we headed out to see the end of this "crooked finger" of Superior, driving north on US-41, the same highway that goes down through Georgia all the way to Miami.  Our first stop was across the waterway in Hancock, where we visited a remnant of a bygone era.  Now part of the Keweenaw National Historic Park, the Quincy Mine was an extensive set of copper mines operated from 1846 to 1945.  The remaining shafthouse sits over a shaft that extends almost two miles down into the earth.  Guided tours into the shaft are available in summer, though we passed on this opportunity.
   

Pine Grove Cemetery, Eagle Harbor, MI

Though our journey to the end of the peninsula was complete, it was after 3 p.m., and we still had another 220 miles to reach our resting place for the evening at Bayfield, Wisconsin.  We turned the car around and began retracing our tracks to Houghton, where we turned west toward Wisconsin.  Wanting to arrive before nightfall, our aim was just to cover miles as efficiently as we could.  We didn't even plan to search for any letterboxes along the way.  As we drove through Wakefield, MI, however, a familiar sight caught our eye, causing us to stop in our tracks.

    

It was another of Peter Toth's Whispering Giant sculptures.  And since Illinois letterboxer Shorty has made it a mission to plant letterbox tributes near each of these statues, we grabbed our smartphones and began scrambling for clues.  Sure enough, Shorty had been there before us and left another of his remarkable rubber stamp carvings of these beautiful memorials.

Before we left Wakefield, we had a chat with a former Chicagoan who operates the local tourist information office.  Finding the Windy City too expensive for a retirement pension budget, he jumped on his wife's suggestion that they move to her home town of Wakefield.  When we asked how his life had changed from the big city, he immediately cited the robust UP winters.  In response to our puzzled reply, he said, "In Chicago, if we had 25 inches of snow, it was a big winter.  Here we get 25 feet."

    

Ironwood Miners Mural

Shaking our heads in amazement at his nonchalance, we wandered further west to our last stop in the UP in the border town of Ironwood (pop. 5,335).  While looking for one last letterbox, we came across the town's pride and joy.  Just dedicated this June, the Ironwood Miners Mural on the side of a building in the downtown area honors the dedication and sacrifice of men from the area who worked in local mines.  The last shipment of iron ore left the local mines in 1967, but few have forgotten the town's mining heritage.  

A longstanding movement favors the secession of the Upper Peninsula from the state of Michigan to form a new state called Superior.  The completion of the Mackinac Bridge in 1957 strengthened ties with the Lower Peninsula and weakened the movement.  However, there are still Yoopers who prefer to remain aloof from Troll Land.  Based on our experiences in a couple days in the UP, we found it to be pretty special, too.