Come walk with me in the peak Autumn beauty of the Northwoods. To say that I love this time of year is an understatement. Most everyone can appreciate the colorful falling leaves---it reveals the 'true self' of a tree when its leaves are no longer producing chlorophyll. Their true colors are revealed, and there is something simple … [Read More...]
Walking in the Sand
…in every grain of sand there is the story of the earth. –Rachel Carson
Walking in the sand along the shore of a lake or ocean is the epitome of a romantic sunset evening or a sand-castle fun family day. Bare feet sink into the dry sand, slowing down the pace of gait and time. Sand has been used for training athletes, including Walter Payton, to improve speed, agility, and strength with the added resistance of moving through sand. Now imagine going for a hike in the middle of a pine forest in Minnesota and walking in the sand!
Sand Dunes State Forest and Uncas Dunes Scientific and Natural Area is located in the Anoka sand plains created when meltwater from the last glaciers deposited a large area of sand. Sand dunes were formed when strong winds blew across the flat landscape. Prairie grasses grew on the sand, and when European settlers arrived, they plowed the virgin prairie for cropland. The drought and Dust Bowl era of the early 1930’s ended farming in the area as the sandy soil “took to the air and drifted like snow.” Hardwood and conifer trees were planted in 1941 to stabilize the sandy soil. In 1943, the state legislature passed a bill to set this land aside for conservation, and since that time, the forest has been enlarged to over 10,000 acres. It now includes camping, swimming beach, horse camp, and trails for hiking, riding, and snowmobiling.
Over 2,400 acres of pine trees have been planted over the decades. They are thinned and harvested for forest products every 5-10 years.
The Uncas Dunes Scientific and Natural Area lies within and adjacent to the State Forest. It was established to protect the sand prairie, the dry sand savanna, and the Uncas skipper, a state endangered butterfly. We had no idea at the time of our hike what the Uncas skipper looked like, but my photo of a small butterfly turned out to be a Mustard White butterfly.
Prairie, pine forests, and blue skies surrounded us as we hiked. Unfortunately, the deer flies also surrounded us, and I tried implementing the Aaron Brake Mind-Over-Mosquito Strategy for the extremely annoying pests.
We hiked past native hazelnut shrubs with their frilly, pale green seed pods encasing the immature nut.
A fern-lined wetland area held the remains of trees that had died from wet feet.
The trail of trees opened up to a small meadow where a brilliant Butterfly Weed was in full bloom. Dark green lance-shaped leaves were outlined with sunlight. The bright orange flowers attract butterflies and hummingbirds. Native Americans chewed the tough roots of the Butterfly Weed as a cure for pleurisy and other pulmonary ailments.
Another wild flower that I didn’t know was in the foreground of the Butterfly Weed. It is either Hoary or Hairy Puccoon, similar sandy soil-loving perennials that are known for the intense reddish-purple dye derived from their deep tap root.
As the time edged closer to suppertime, we decided to turn around and head back to the car, ready to be free of the circling deer flies. Our footprints sank into the sand, along with deer and horse hoof prints.
Evening sunlight streamed through the trees and lit up a spider’s web that was previously unseen.
Explorer Will Steger has been doing a yearly ice-out solo expedition in Northern Minnesota and Canada for the last number of Springs. He travels with a sled or specially designed canoe that he can either pull across the snow and ice or float in the rivers and lakes when the ice breaks up. He radios in a daily report telling about his night and day. Most often the temperatures are below freezing and sometimes below zero. Some days the wind chills are staggering. Snowstorms can dump many inches of snow that impede his travel. Food and fuel sometimes need to be rationed towards the end of his trip if he is in the wilderness longer than planned. And yet, he wraps up his report of a freezing night in a tent, thigh-high snow to trek through, and treacherous ice to navigate with “it was a good workout, though.” This 71-year-old explorer challenges his mind and body with these solo expeditions, doing the hard work, and calling it good.
We find ourselves in trying times with lives endangered in a myriad of ways. Somehow we must stabilize the shifting sands. So whether we’re trekking through deep snow, walking in sand with deer flies, navigating polarizing politics, or trying to save lives, let Light shine on the previously unseen, let us challenge ourselves to do the hard work, and at the end of each day, call it good.
Gleanings from August 2015
August has almost always been a month of transition for me–a transition from summer back to glorious school! Don’t get me wrong–I love summer–but I have always loved the excitement and anticipation of a new school year. Maybe that’s why I have twelve years of post-secondary education under my belt. Perhaps that is why for twenty-three years we have had back-to-school parties for the kids. But this August is different–nobody’s going to school. No school supplies, no parents’ night, no new classes, no move-in days….
I have been privileged this August to be in contact with two educators of a different sort. Neither is employed at a school, but both educate children and adults alike. Both are writers and speakers who embody the message they bring.
At the beginning of the month we were lucky enough to spend time in the far north at the Steger Wilderness Center.
Will Steger was one of the first people in the world to experience the effects of climate change in his Arctic expeditions, but recently he wrote, “We are all eyewitnesses now.” While we see and experience extreme weather events like the drying and burning of our western lands, flooding rains in eastern and midwestern regions, and erratic and unusual temperatures, do we know what climate change means to the moose or the tree frogs in northern Minnesota?
photo by LAn
Do we realize what impact it has on the aquatic life of our rivers….
or the wildlife and plant life in the old-growth forests?
How does climate change and human destruction of habitat affect the intricate ecosystems of the world? And how does all of that, in turn, affect our survival?
This is where the second educator comes in–we have to teach our children to love the natural world–even the people who are not directly exposed to it. At the end of August we attended a concert by local author and musician Douglas Wood. His books are well-known–Old Turtle, Grandad’s Prayers of the Earth and dozens of others for children. He has written inspiring little handbooks for adults, too. As a musician and song writer, Doug Wood also expresses his love for Nature and our Earth to the people who hear him sing and play beautiful acoustic instruments.
August brings flowers that are striking for their beauty like these Black-eyed Susans…
and for their beauty plus function, such as Purple Coneflowers (Echinacea) that have been used as an herbal remedy for flu and colds for hundreds of years.
August supplies us with food from our cultivated gardens and food from the wild Plum trees.
Mother Nature somehow uses temperature and humidity to synchronize August ‘nuptial flights’ when winged princess and drone ants leave their colonies and take to the sky to mate. The patch of grass in our yard seemed to be shifting and moving as the ants crawled to the tip of the grass blades to fly away from their nest to ensure outbreeding. The females store the sperm in a ‘sperm pocket’ that will eventually fertilize tens of millions of eggs over her lifetime, the male drones die after mating, and the survival of the colony goes on.
August is the month of new school years and new beginnings. Education is the foundation for our lives–the more we learn, the better able we are to understand the balance that Nature brings to our lives and to the lives of all the plants and creatures on the Earth. Doug Wood educates with his books and music–he teaches us to know and love the natural world. Will Steger educates with his explorations, writings, and living example–he reminds us that it is our moral responsibility to be good stewards of our Earth and to build a sustainable future for our children. We take care of the things we love. Learn to know and love Nature, for it is when we love something that we can move beyond ourselves in caring, in responsibility, and in action. And then, as Douglas Wood wrote in Old Turtle, Old Turtle and God will smile.
The Wilderness Trail
In wilderness is the preservation of the world. –Henry David Thoreau
The trail to Aaron’s house for the summer veers from an old, non-traveled road. It winds through rocks and blueberry patches to a huge white pine. There, on a platform of wood is his tent, partially covered by a blue tarp. Clothes hang from a line that stretches under the tarp, a canoe paddle leans on the platform, and a couple of plastic totes house his clothes and possessions for the summer.
This is not his first summer in a tent–he has spent parts or all of six previous summers living in a canvas tent and guiding people through the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA). The BWCA has over a million acres of wilderness with over 1,000 lakes and streams within Superior National Forest. This preserved wilderness was established in 1964 under the administration of the US Forest Service.
Wilderness is a relative term. Any of us who live in a house with running water and electricity would most certainly agree that Aaron lives in the wilderness. But Aaron says the true wilderness is deep in the BWCA where you can paddle for days and not see another person, a building, or a road. Where you take shelter in the tent you carry and set up, cook your packed-in food on a fire after gathering the wood, and where your companions are the wild things all around you.
Nonetheless, I believe if the trail to your house is the same trail a bear travels, that is wilderness enough for me. Earlier this summer Aaron and his friend Jake were walking back to their tents when they saw a black bear on the trail ahead of them. After looking at the two-legged creatures for a minute, he lumbered away. Aaron and Jake followed–yep, followed, to see where he was going. The trail leads to a high ridge above an open marsh area. (read about the firefly phenomenon in the marsh)
Now I say, ‘Luckily’ they saw the bear down below them in the marsh and not on the ridge. The bear did look up at them again but wandered off into the forest.
When we visited Steger Wilderness Center at the beginning of August, we didn’t see a bear, but we noticed evidence of one when we were on a morning hike. Along the trail, a large log had been rolled over a young sapling, exposing grubs and insects underneath. A little farther along the trail were two large ant hills that had the tops scraped off–bears love Thatching ant eggs and larvae. After seeing this ‘evidence’, Aaron did mention that one of the other interns had seen a black bear on this trail earlier in the week! Okay, keep your eyes peeled!
photo by LAn
Our hike that morning was mainly for two reasons–to see a remote lake where the guys go fishing and to pick wild blueberries along the way. The trail led deep into the forest and was beautiful and serene in the morning air. For some reason, the mosquitoes didn’t bother us, making the hike all the more pleasant. The conifer forest was filled with flora that we don’t normally see, even in Central Minnesota.
Wintergreen crept along the rocks. Gaultheria Procumbens produces oil of wintergreen, a flavoring for chewing gum, mints, and toothpaste. We chewed leaves to taste the minty flavor.
photo by LAn
Bunchberry (or Creeping Dogwood) is a woodland ground cover that loves cool, acidic soil. The berries are edible and rich in pectin, making them good additions to thicken puddings and jellies.
photo by LAn
Sweet fern was the most intriguing plant I saw but had no idea of what it was at the time. It’s a small, woody deciduous shrub with scalloped foliage that resembles ferns. The leaves are fragrant and can be used to make tea or as a seasoning. Sweet fern leaves can also be used to repel insects, as an infusion in water to treat poison ivy and stings, and as a lining for a container for picking berries to keep them fresh longer.
photo by LAn
Ground cedar is an evergreen perennial club moss that has been used for Christmas decorations.
photo by LAn
Along with these interesting plants and many types of moss, we trekked by patches and patches of blueberries. At first, we didn’t see any blueberries on the tiny bushes, and I blamed that bear who had left his mark at the beginning of the trail! Finally we came to a large patch that was loaded with berries, so we filled our containers with the small, delicious fruit.
photo by LAn
photo by LAn
After more than an hour of slowly making our way through the woods, we arrived at the lake. Overlooking this beautiful lake was a one-room log cabin, and I hastily exclaimed that I would live there! We sat on the rock outcropping for a few minutes, taking in the peace and exquisite beauty of this wilderness paradise.
photo by LAn
Aaron is a summer intern at the Steger Wilderness Center. The older Homestead is the hub of activity where the interns gather from their tent outposts. An old lodge houses the kitchen, library, and office space powered only by solar. Dishes are washed like the interns’ grandparents or great-grandparents did it, since there is no running water. Food is stored in an ice house and cooked on a gas stove. The ice house is a large cellar built into the hill. Behind three thick, wooden doors is a room filled with huge ice chunks gathered from the lake in February and covered with saw dust to insulate. An adjacent room is where the food is stored at a very refrigerator-respectful 42 degrees F.
Twice a week, the sod-roofed log cabin sauna is fired up for the hard-working interns, stone mason apprentices, and others who want to heat up before jumping into the lake.
The center of attraction at the Steger Wilderness Center is the amazing building that Will Steger envisioned and sketched on his trans-Antarctic expedition. It’s situated high on a hill overlooking the lake, the Homestead, and the surrounding forest. It is a work in progress as materials, labor, and money is made available. It is truly a labor of vision and love.
In the words of Will Steger: My mission for the Center is to make a lasting positive impact for the future by bringing small groups of leaders, educators, and policy makers seeking to re-imagine solutions to the world’s most intractable problems. It is designed to activate our understanding of what it means to be interdependent—with each other, with our earth and as a society—to inspire clarity and break-through innovation that sparks the synergy, inspiration and fresh thinking essential to developing innovative and workable approaches to protecting our planet and creating a better world.
But why the Wilderness? Couldn’t all of this be done at a more populated, ‘civilized’ place that is more convenient to get to, more conventional? The answer to that question is revealed when a person spends time in the wilderness. And it’s hard to explain, yet you know it when you experience it.
All three of our children have lived for at least two summers of their lives in wilderness areas. Our oldest daughter Emily, like Aaron, lived near and guided people through the BWCA. She lived in a very small community of people where it was essential to work together and problem solve. She also spent quite a bit of her time alone and became self-aware that if anything happened, there was nobody else there to help. (She had one summer of a frequently visiting bear also.) She discovered a peace in the wilderness, a feeling of unity, and a strong knowing of her place in the world. Aaron believes the wilderness has grown his confidence in his abilities and has shown him that mental limitations, not physical limitations hold people back most often. He also mentioned how the wilderness has helped him maintain a larger perspective on life, while focusing on the simple, yet important things–food, water, shelter, and more.
The challenge of the Wilderness-minded people–the ones who know first hand what interdependence with our earth means on a daily basis–is to carry that feeling, that knowledge, that wisdom to the larger population. In essence, it is to straddle both worlds. My kids do that in small ways every day of their lives, and Will Steger does that in a big way with his mission and legacy of the Steger Wilderness Center and Climate Generation. Each of us has a wilderness place in our lives–perhaps it’s Central Park in New York City or a neighborhood creek in Missouri or a favorite camping place in South Dakota. Allow that wilderness place to challenge you and lead you on a trail to self-awareness, a world-wide perspective (we’re all in this together), and a sense of unity and peace within yourself.
Living on the Water–Part II
We left the beautiful waters of Lake Superior and traveled ‘inland’ through Superior National Forest to our destination–the Steger Wilderness Center outside of Ely, Minnesota. The washboarded and potholed gravel road of six miles seemed much longer than that, but finally we turned into the fire number-marked driveway. After another mile or so of forest-lined trail, we rounded a corner and spotted the smiling face of Aaron Brake, at the Homestead. Even though our youngest will soon be twenty-three and it had only been a little over two months since we watched him drive away, my heart beat with joy when I saw him. (A mother’s heart for her beloveds.) Aaron introduced us to Will as he walked down the hill to his next destination. I have to admit, I was a bit star-struck by the meeting and greeting of this man. While I was raising babies in the late 80’s, early 90’s, Will Steger was leading teams of explorers by dogsled to the North Pole, across Greenland, and in the epic 7-month, 3,741-mile traverse of Antarctica! It puts nighttime feedings and endless diaper changes in clear perspective. And now, in this remote wilderness, he is leading a team of young interns, apprentices, volunteers and guests in an even bigger quest–to inspire solutions to the issues of climate change that are now affecting everyone on the planet and to be a living, working example of ecological stewardship.
Aaron led us to our accommodations for the next three nights and days–a boat house on the lake–we would literally be living on the water!
That night as I lay in the comfy bed cove of the cabin with a full moon shining through the many windows, I heard rain and wind marching across the lake in another squall, like the ones we had driven through all day. The boat house rocked ever-so-gently in the wind as waves lapped against the floats. I was amazed at how steady it was. What a place this is, I thought, as sleep finally overcame me.
The next morning, I discovered we were sharing our living on the lake with a couple (hundred) creatures. As the sunrise painted the sky and water pink, we heard the eerie, echoing call of a Common Loon.
He swam slowly past the boat house, singing the song of northern Minnesota. (If you are unfamiliar with the song of the loon, click here.)
Our other lake dwellers shared the boat house with us. On the outside of a window was a triangular web, an egg sac, a huge mama spider and hundreds of babies! The Nursery Web Spider resembles a Wolf Spider in size and color. Wolf Spiders carry their newly hatched spiderlings on their abdomen, while the Nursery Web Spider builds a nursery tent web, puts her egg sac into it, and stands guard over the nest and hatchlings until they are old enough to disperse.
Nursery Web Spiders live and hunt on the water! They can walk on the surface of still water and will dive to catch their prey. The females ferociously guard their nests–they can jump 5-6 inches and will bite an invader.
The water in the lake was clear but dark in color, probably due to the mineral content of the rocks and soil. In late afternoon, the shore water glowed an amber color, like fire dancing beneath the surface.
That evening, the blue moon–the second full moon of the month–rose over the trees. The lake reflected a stream of white light.
In the early morning hours of our last night at the Wilderness Center, Lightning presented a dramatic show, accompanied by Thunder and Rain. As I lay awake watching the flashes and hearing the pelting of the drops against the windows, I realized that living on the water makes one feel like an integral part of Nature.
Chris shook me awake a few hours later to witness a rainbow of the sunrise.
And like everything else, the colors of the rainbow were mirrored back by the water.
The lake was calm and still after the stormy night, quietly reflecting the world around it.
The abstract reflections encouraged a closer look at reality on shore.
Living on the water in this remote northern wilderness, even for a few days, changes the way one sees the world. The water tells the stories of the shore, of the sky, of the creatures and humans who reside there. Reflections–mirror images to our sight, echos to our ears, and contemplations for our minds and souls. Are we brave enough to really see the belovedness of this Earth we call Home? Are we strong enough to listen and look closely at our own roles and responsibilities? Do we have the courage to stand guard over that which we love and hold dear and for that which sustains us? Whether your journey in life is by dog sled across the Arctic or by walking through parenthood, listen closely to the steady Song of Mother Nature. She will tell you what you need to do.