Back on the Whitefish Chain

We left gloomy St. Paul on Tuesday morning and headed north. Who knew it would take a full hour to drive from St. Michael to St. Cloud? We heard on the news last night that locals don't use 94W for that usually short hop north, in fact, Michele Bachmann visited with Gov. Dayton yesterday to discuss the widening part of that bottlenecked section of I94.

Still, we checked into Manhattan Beach Lodge around 2:00 p.m. and had soon launched the boat at the public launch not far from the resort. Since my fake knee is older than Bob's by 6 months, I got the job of climbing into the boat from the trailer at the launch. I've done this only once or twice (in 30 years!) but I was able to get in easily and with confidence. I was lacking competence in the basic skills required, however, and I mean basic -- like unsnapping the bow cover.

My driving has improved so much that I wasn't terrified by the drive back to the resort to park the vehicle and trailer, or, rather, position the vehicle so the trailer could be parked. We enjoyed a beautiful afternoon on the Whitefish Chain, much sunnier than the overcast skies we had left at home.

The only challenge was getting out of the boat. For me, it was easier than in years past because I finally have two stable knees for the first time in 50+ years. However, the docks at the resort are shaky and, in my opinion, dangerously unstable. Bob was very hesitant and somewhat afraid of getting up on the dock. Fortunately, someone came along to help and Bob was, in fact, able to figure out his exit.

It was all very unnerving. This morning, I checked all the docks for stability by rocking each one gently and almost ended up in the drink myself. I set off a scary wave motion and ended up bending over to stabilize myself with my hands. An image of Nik Wallenda came into my head and I started feeling dizzy. Fortunately, I got my wits about me and was able to walk upright to the shore without totally disgracing myself.

A Long Ago Memory of Crow Wing County

I love to cross the line into Crow Wing County. The summer of my first year in Minnesota I thought of Crow Wing County as the gateway to the north, and the long drive would soon be over. Thirty years later, the ride north is on improved highways, and the area doesn't seem remote, as it did before cell phones, cable TV, and, more recently, wireless internet.

One of my first experiences was fighting for a camping spot at the Army Corps of Engineers Campground at Crosslake. For many years "getting a spot" meant waiting in line for hours outside the ranger station. That line extended out into the street, often in extreme heat.. Family members would often take turns standing in line and sometimes the "spot holding" or attempts to "budge" to a better position would create friction among the campers. I nearly got into a fight myself one time, though I quickly backed down and ceded the spot.

On one brutally hot afternoon we were unsuccessful in the wait game and ended up instead at Crow Wing Campground several miles down the road. We set up the heavy army tent and retired early on our cots. Bob and Chris quickly fell asleep: there was nothing to do and the Coleman lantern wasn't safe to light inside the tent, so even reading was out of the question. After sundown, the temperature quickly fell and I was soon freezing cold in my thin sleeping bag.

Eventually I went outside the tent. The sky was black, illuminated only by a full moon and a sea of stars. The night birds kept me company during the long, magical summer night. The next day we got our spot.

Although we haven't camped for a few years now, and our wireless devices reduce the sense of blessed remoteness, the Crow Wing County sign still signals the beginning of a pleasant stay in the north woods.

Dat's de Mississippi River

 Here begins the Mississippi River's  2552 mile journey to the Gulf of Mexico.
 

There are few tourists on this cloudy Monday afternoon: some family groups, including an older couple with children and grandchildren. The man looked like one of those Swedes or Norwegians who seemed to populate Minnesota when I first moved here 30 years ago: a stereotype, the kind of guy who wears overalls except for church on Sunday and sounds like an Ole and Lena joke.

He was  quiet until we the headquarters came into view, and then he stopped in his tracks and gestured toward the water. "Dat's de Mississippi River", he said reverently to no one in particular.

The view was awesome.

Caretaker Woman by Jeff Savage. Itasca State Park.

Women are the caretakers of the water in the Anishinabe tradition. Sculptor Jeff Savage's beautiful Caretaker Woman watches over the path that leads to the headwaters of the Mississippi River. The artist writes that she is a reflection in the headwaters, and her flowing hair represents the flowing currents of the water.

The river is about 800 feet from this point. The walk reminds me of the approach to Sacré-Coeur at the top of Montmartre in Paris, where anticipation increases just before the church comes into view. It feels like a holy place, and we stop for awhile at the little bridge over the creek where the great river begins it 2522 mile journey to the Gulf of Mexico.

Creator Spiritus

The north country is filled with the images and songs of the Creator. The colors and sounds of the land and water reflect the splendor of God, and I am at peace here in the north. The morning birds wake as dawn slips into being beyond the horizon, before the sun splashes light and heat upon the water.

In June, the days lengthen and the solstice is near. Brilliant greens and blues grace the day with the boldness of youth, and the Spirit whispers softly in the peaceful, black night.

Leech Lake

Leech Lake Lighthouse

Land of the Ojibwe, Leech Lake is always in the running as a destination for the Governor's Fishing Opener. I've always imagined it as full of, well, leeches, but I was very excited to stop near Walker for an introductory view of the big lake.

Not a leech in sight, but there were lots of mosquitoes (fish food, I think). A couple of fishing boats were visible from shore and large dead bass in the rocks was evidence that there are indeed fish in that huge lake.


Leech Lake

The wind blew and a chill filled the June afternoon.