IN SEPTEMBER, when the speedsters and noise-makers have mostly gone, the lake and the island belong once more to the silence. To the timeless and the sense of wonder. In that silence, from the old deck on the rocks, one can hear the chuckling of wavelets on the shore, the last wails of the remaining loons, and almost, perhaps, the
AS OUR LAST Road Scholar trip of the season comes to a close, we are left with indelible images and memories. Sunsets and moonrises, loon calls and paddling outings among quiet islands, eagles and rocky escarpments, a wilderness cabin, a winding trail to a high overlook and the drifting tones of a Native cedar flute. And most of all the
YESTERDAY WAS a marvelous day for Doug’s Road Scholars. After Tuesday’s visit to Sig Olson’s iconic Listening Point with Listening Point Foundation president Patsy Mogush, my great friend, we arose early and hiked in to scenic Kawishiwi Falls, along a trail populated with glorious trees, unique specimens growing over boulders and old white pine stumps, surrounded by blue bead lily,
AS WE FINISHED OUR Road Scholar trip into Voyageurs National Park, we looked down the lake, down the historic narrows into the past, and there glimpsed a brigade of voyageurs. They raised their paddles in salute, then continued paddling into the pages of history. And our little band of travelers bade goodby to the Canoe Country, taking home with them
SO UP THE NORTH SHORE we went, on our Road Scholar expedition, making favorite stops, doing favorite hikes. Gooseberry Falls, Split Rock Lighthouse, Tettegouch, Shovel Point. But when it drew near time for dinner—at one of my favorite haunts—The Northwoods Family Grill in Silver Bay—the call came on my cell phone. Both our cooks are out, we can’t serve you,
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, famed soloist Sparky the Cardinal has begun to sing his favorite hymns. After a long winter of gentle ‘chips’ from the forest thickets, and sensing a change in daylight hours or the angle of the sun, he once more dazzles us with vocal calisthenics and time-honored melodies. His tone and timbre are unmatched—until those
WHEN I WAS a little boy, it was a rare and beautiful thing to see a bald eagle. On the annual family vacation to Lake Kabetogama in what is now Voyageurs National Park, grandfathers and grandmothers and parents would say, in hushed and excited tones, “Look, Dougie, it’s an eagle!” And we would all gaze in rapt attention and amazement.
A TILT CALLED the Super Bowl will be played today, But I fear I might miss the fine, fearsome fray. A trail in the woods is calling to me, Past three pines and a birch and a balsam fir tree And the chirp of an eagle in the setting sun’s rays; All call my attention, as they do on most
THESE BUCOLIC SCENES guide a weary traveler down the narrow lanes to the old cabin-in-the-woods. Also known as the Caretakers’ Cabin for the Chuch O The Pines. It is the scene of some Consternation and Commotion over the last few days, as the furnace went out on Friday night—outside temp about minus 5. But with space heaters, a kitchen oven
HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, the congregation arrives, surrounded by beauties. And, of course, contributing to them. It is a good way to live. And, for our humble members, it does not seem to require extra effort—to live a good and purposeful life—just the normal exertion of being who they are. Winter is often difficult and calls for