Clean the House or One Last Paddle?

Friends were getting together up in Grand Marais over Thanksgiving weekend and I was invited to join them. 

I'd been looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with my family, and after that had been making virtuous and productive plans for the rest of the long weekend, most of which were variations on the theme of getting caught up with just about everything after a self indulgent spring, summer and fall of paddling.   Cleaning the house was a prominent item on the to do list.  But if you dangle a chance to go kayaking in front of me, I have a hard time turning it down.  And hanging out with good friends is always a treat.  So it wasn't long before the house cleaning was blown off and the departure planning was underway.

Tony and I ended up driving up together on Friday morning, and we both felt just a wee bit silly loading up our boats with the temperature in the teens, snow on the ground, and ice on the lakes.   Just in case the weather precluded paddling, we also packed up cross country skis and snow shoes, which ended up making us feel even more foolish when we looked at the sheer volume of gear we had along.  But ... in for a penny, in for a pound, and we were soon headed north.

In Duluth, Tony introduced me to the Lake Avenue Café, a little restaurant in Canal Park with an inventive menu ranging from pulled bison to falafel to pheasant and rabbit ravioli.  It was vastly better fare than McDonalds or Subway.

We arrived in Grand Marais late Friday afternoon, just as Jeff and David were heading out for a paddle in the harbor.  Tempting though it was to join them, there just wasn't enough daylight left, so we saw them off, then unloaded our gear and settled in to our respective lodgings.  Post paddling and unpacking, all of us gathered in the townhouse and enjoyed a second round of Thanksgiving dinner with leftovers from Michelle's feast from the previous day. 

Saturday's weather forecast was looking likely for kayaking, so after dinner the discussion turned to where.  A suggestion was made that we drive up the Gunflint Trail to Lake Saganaga.   We discussed it, but with the early winter sunset limiting our daylight, an additional 120 miles of driving, and ice along the shore that would be a bit of challenge to launch on and an even greater challenge to land on, we decided that it wasn't feasible on this visit. 

This time we decided we would stay on Lake Superior and head to the Susie Islands, an archipelago a few miles from Grand Portage, just south of the Canadian border.  Susie Island is the largest of the islands and is owned by the Nature Conservancy.  The remaining dozen islands are owned by the Grand Portage Band of Ojibwe.  Landing on the islands is prohibited without prior permission from the respective owners. 

The Nature Conservancy website describes the Susies as "both young and old. The bedrock is slightly metamorphosed sedimentary rock, deposited in a sea over one billion years ago. These rocks were later intruded by molten magma to form resistant dikes. Glaciers of the Great Ice Age scoured the rocks many times over the last two million years, but the Susie Islands only emerged about 5,000 years ago.

"In this isolation, a pioneering community of plants continues to thrive. Species that disappeared from the rest of Minnesota after the glaciers receded northward still survive here. Today, many of these plants are more typically found in Arctic and sub-Arctic regions."

On Saturday the weather cooperated with our plans, with sun and a temperature in the 20s.  We drove up to Grand Portage and started looking for a launch site.  Ice coated rocky shores and roads that were either closed or ice covered limited our options and reminded us that winter paddling requires more than just open water. 

We finally found a viable place to launch from, and it was about 12:30 when we got on the water.   Round trip around the outside of the Susies is a little under 15 miles, and sunset would be about 4:15.  We decided to paddle out until 2:00 and return, however far we'd gotten at that point.

We paddled northeast towards Hat Point.  I initially thought the white stuff atop the rocks was guano, but then realized it was bright white ice.  The waves from the high winds of the previous few days must have crashed on the rocky shore, creating "flung spray and blown spume" that built up and froze into a brilliant white coating on the rocks and trees and grasses.

The Susies came into view as we rounded Hat Point.  The featureless two dimensional green blobs on the map became intriguing islands of varying sizes and shapes.  A couple of rock outcroppings and small cliffs were coated in the same white ice as the mainland and were highlighted by the sun behind us.   The most distant island seemed to be floating free atop the lake surface.

But alas, as our turnaround time approached, it became clear that we weren't going to make the Susies this time.  We reluctantly turned around and headed back to pay our respects to the Witch Tree.  This iconic cyprus clinging to solid rock is sacred to the Ojibwe, who name it the Spirit Little Cedar Tree. Small and gnarled, the tree stands alone between the lake and the cliffs.  It was first mentioned in historical documents in 1731, and was a mature tree at that time, making it at least 300 years old.  Seeing it on a quiet afternoon, it was hard to imagine the violent storms and bitter cold it has seen and endured.  Respect is indeed due to this survivor, holding fast against the odds.

Then we paddled back around Hat Point, past Grand Portage Island, and back to our launch site.  We landed well before dark and loaded up the boats to return to Grand Marais. 

It was a fitting final paddle of the year.  The chill in the air, the low sun and its faded light, and the snow and ice starting to claim their sovereignty over the land were all signs that winter had arrived.  Getting to the Susies and Sag will have to wait for next year, but it was a treat to have one last chance to appreciate the lake with my friends. 

On Sunday we headed for home, with a stop for a short hike in Split Rock state park.

And the house cleaning did just fine waiting one more week.