Wandering back through my summer

I woke to a leaden sky, and a cold, damp dawn that in every way spoke of winter’s return.
I love this season more than do most--its character of change, its constant contrast from the delicate vulnerability of a single snowflake to the strength and fury of a stinging blizzard. But, given a shorter day, one bound by a hesitant sunrise and hasty sunset, I am left with little time to be in the outdoors.
It’s just as well.
This is the space between the holidays.

To that, introduce deer hunting season with its dangers to off-trail pursuits, and it's likely that a trip to the store or a jaunt along a tamer trail will, in this time, replace my walk in the woods.
I wander through my summer memories.

Lake Kabetogama
Voyageurs National Park

This is Lake Kabetogama (Ka-buh-toh'-guh-muh), an expanse of cool, clear northern Minnesota water that, linked with Rainy Lake, Sand Point Lake, and Lake Namakan, makes up Voyageurs National Park.

Un voyageur

Named for the apparently very large French Canadian voyageurs of the late 18th and early 19th centuries who paddled canoes for fur trading companies along a route between Canada's northwest and Montreal, its 55-mile length is a maze of inland waterways including over 30 lakes and 900 islands. In addition to its being a water-based park, meaning that the access to sites within its boundary is primarily by boat, Voyageurs National Park is the most recent addition to the national park system, having been acquired just 35 years ago, in 1975.

The dock
Moosehorn Resort

With walleye, northern pike, muskellunge, small mouth bass, and crappie abundant in these large lakes, fishing is by far its greatest draw. Try to find just one poster promoting the area that does not boast a boatful of broadly smiling fishermen or a toothless child proudly displaying his record-breaking catch.

common mergansers on the lake

But the attraction for me was its wilderness.
Accessible to any who wishes to hike the miles of backcountry trails or step out of canoe or kayak onto the land once walked by the Chippewa, the morning air rings with the call of the loon.
A wolf print is left in the soft mud along the trail.
And the still water is parted by a beaver swimming at dusk to his lodge at the edge of this small island.

Echo Island
Lake Kabetogama, Minnesota

Translated as Rough Waters, Lake Kabetogama at 25,000-acres in size can in one moment become a small craft’s captain’s nightmare. Wind raging its length piles 5-ft waves on top of its 80-ft depths. Islands become the only refuge in a storm.
But, each morning it lay again invitingly still—shrouded in a heavy fog that obscured both boat and bird.
And begged to be discovered.

Foggy Morning

Morning Sun

Solitude

Little Beaver Lake

We pushed off in Red Canoe with barely a glance over our shoulder, hurriedly strapping seatbacks into place, and grabbing day packs and paddles--anxious to make up for what had been a late morning’s start followed by several detours down the invitingly shaded, sandy paths on Michigan’s UP. This spot on the map, Little Beaver Lake, looked to be an easy paddle. A 39-acre lake, adjacent to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, bound by dense, piney woods and ringed with horsetails, dragonflies darted from ridged stem to ridged stem, lighting at the tip—tipping, tail-up in the strong midday sun.
Hidden in the far corner, a secret passage.


Aptly named for the residents of these waters, the narrow channel with tall pines to either side appeared from its widest point, to dead end in a large, tangled mound. Slender, trimmed sticks, their gnawed ends angled and left piled on top, confirmed recent beaver activity. But, as we slowly glided forward to get a closer look, the shallow water flowing past the dam easily carried us through the passage to the lake beyond—Beaver Lake, its broad, smooth surface, at over 750 acres, many times larger than that of Little Beaver.

Beaver Lake

The water was dark, but clear--again tannin-stained from the bark of the trees surrounding it, but reflecting deep blue of a cloudless sky above. A broad sandy shelf, dotted with large, half-buried, freshwater clams, extended more than 30 feet before dropping off to deeper water.




We stepped out into the warm, clean water of the shelf and pulled Red Canoe to the edge.
A colorful mosaic of small, smooth stones collected here and several large snails cruised the bottom until it became the shore, where grasses and wild orchids grew in a narrow strip between water and woods.

freshwater clam in sand

freshwater snail

Barely seen against the dark trees across this expanse, there was a flash of color--as two kayaks, their double-bladed, yellow paddles rising swiftly along the shoreline, quietly circled the large lake and disappeared from view. Until, on this fine September day, we were left alone, looking out across Beaver Lake, walking ankle-deep in the clear, amber water.





Heading back toward the passage an hour later, we soon encountered a bird, swimming toward us in the shallow water, the small crest of her rusty head parting the surface, as she peered below for small fish—a common merganser.



Dipping and lifting, and dipping again, the drops of water fell from her face, as she moved forward, swimming strongly.

Common Merganser

Until, as if we were of no concern, she arrived to within just feet of Red Canoe.
We turned and paddled slowly beside her, across the clear water of the sandy shelf, for many strokes. Then, she turned and was gone.

I wonder at these close encounters, when nature seems more trusting than I would expect, if it is the sound and speed of our lives that teaches them to fear--a fear of man that is learned by our loud presence.
For, in these spaces that preserve solitude, it seems it has not learned to accept us, but has simply not yet learned to fear.

click image to enlarge

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Shades of Indigo

Scilla sp.

Deep Blue blooming

If a day were to be remembered in color,
I would tag this day, Indigo.

Great Blue Heron, Ardea herodias

By the time we reached the lake at Englewood, the morning clouds had all but passed, a brilliant blue we’d long been promised, today, a sure thing. Across the broad, open water, several tall silhouetted forms stood out—slowly stepping and stalking between the islands—the Great Blue Herons that enjoy this shallow, silt-filled reservoir and all the frogs and small fish filling its boundaries.
Conservancy Lake, only several feet deep, is a large wetland area that fills when Stillwater Creek overflows onto the formerly farmed fields bordering its path. Becoming naturally shallower each year, as deposits are carried and left by rising waters, this basin hosts many wading and dipping waterfowl and large jumping fish that swirl at the edge of the mudflats, churning below the surface.

Green-winged Teals, Anas crecca, feeding with Mallards

Common Merganser, Mergus merganser

Flock of Northern Shovelers, Anas clypeata
(in distance, behind geese)

From across the water where Green-winged Teals cluster near an edge of brushy growth, Canada geese honk and defend territories claimed for this season’s nesting. Dark lumps rest in the sunshine, safely hidden against the brown earth of an island. A Common Merganser, dipping and diving for small fish, popping up haphazardly with his brilliant red bill, weaves his way past, as careless needle strokes through blue fabric, while we watch from the bank above. Beyond the island, flocks of Northern Shovelers dip and bob, their large, green heads shining, rusty sides, dark against the white of their bodies.
Many birds love this lake.

Blue-winged Teal, Anas discors,
dabbling with Mallards

At the other end, in a quiet corner where Leopard frogs are calling from submerged logs, a smaller group is dabbling. Against the smooth blue and brown reflection, with barely the depth to cover exposed roots in this secluded overflow, just one of his kind, head-down more than above water—a Blue-winged Teal, the striking white crescent marking his face, as he moves slowly with this group of Mallards, feeding here.


And I, not normally the bench-sitter, found one too difficult to resist,
and sat, looking out over the many shades of indigo.

Still Water of Conservancy Lake

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