Cascade River Skiing

Having passed through the fire of a tested and feeling freedom in my liberation from school for a three day weekend, I was eager for rejuvenation. So myself and friend drove up the north shore with our cross country skis on hand. As we drove fresh snow hanging from the trees grew in thickness while we noticed 4 inches lay on the ground.

Looking for groomed trails we found fresh corduroy along the Cascade River. I was outfitted by my friend with classic gear. I hadn't classic skied since I was 17 and even then it was sporadic at best. I awkwardly applied kick wax and skied away. My technique was clumsy and uncoordinated. My ability to get kick was poor. We threw on some warmer wax and I was on my way. My reintroduction was 8 km of climbing without rest from the incline. I was breathing heavy and feeling my legs were working different muscle than skate. Soon enough the groomed trails ended and we continued on. The trees rained snow as the wind blew it from their branches.

"Chastity" frozen

The way back was refreshing as we flew down hill; the landscape flying by. We abruptly took a hard turn into an ungroomed powder trail. Following the leadership of my friend we trudged down the steep banks to the river. With caution we skied along the river. As the banks became stone and river constricted, I stopped and listened. You could hear the ominous roar of the water in the depths and under the ice. We stopped on the precipice of the water fall entitled "Chastity". We climb back up the bank and skied back to the car.

We stopped to check out Onion River road on the drive home but it was lathered in 4 inches of ungroomed powder. We instead pulled into the Coho Cafe and ate a hardy meal before heading home to Duluth. It was all that I needed to be ready for the rigors of the week ahead.

Fall and the Winter Thus Far

The Autumn season brought the inevitable.... school. Yet despite being beseeched by the daily rigors of holding completely still in a class room for extended hours of fact studded lecture, I managed to get out a bit. I began to run a little more, out of the mere fact that it was accessible. I made it out to several of the NMTC Wednesday night runs and was humbled by my aerobic condition and at the same time was happy I wasn't more out of shape than expected. I also managed to get out climbing before the whether turned too cold. I found myself enjoying a little sport climbing at Sandstone quarry and was happy to be out and leading again.

The last hurrah at Wausau

I also managed to get a little paddling in before the water froze up too much. I hit up the last release at Wausau in September and got a good fix of playboating.Myself and a friend made one last run on the boney lower St. Louis a day before the dams would completely constrict it's flow to unrunnable levels. It was great to jump in the creek boat again and scrape my way down to the swinging bridge. Although I will say, after a summer of play boating I felt awkward in my creek boat. I even managed to get a last minute paddle in early November and played at first wave on Upper St. Louis. It was good just to be on the water. On a whim I also managed to throw myself into a roller ski time trial with St. Scholastica Nordic team. There I managed to further humble myself and my lack of conditioning but enjoyed the strenuousness of it.

Finally the season turned and the cold set in. I found myself stuck between seasons... to cold to paddle or climb, yet no snow to ski. I instead went hunting and managed to provide a freezer full of food for the winter for myself and family members. But winter came soon enough and colored the barren brown landscape with a gorgeous coat of white.

After being liberated from school and embarking about winter break I had my plate stacked full for time well spent. I managed to afford myself a telemark ski setup and hit the slopes of Mt. Bohemia in Houghton, Michigan and ride 96 inches of untouched powder. I made some valiant attempt to find powder at Duluth's Spirit Mtn.

Hitting the powder at Mt. Bohemia

I made two trips up the North shore for what I have labeled "soul" skiing. On each sitting myself and a friend would ski for three and half hours cover over 45 km of the beautiful trails near Tofte. As tradition called for, we sat and ate at the Coho cafe. Food never tasted so good than after a long strenuous ski.

Perfection: XC Skiing Onion River Rd.

The winter has thus been eventful and has kept my diet full of meaningful and adventurous days that have put me to bed at night tired and content!

The Return to Sturgeon Falls

With the specter of medical school looming over my head, leaving Yellowstone I was not quite ready to give up the freedom of my summer. I mounted a bus in Billings, MT that took me to St. Cloud, MN. After 15 hours of the Greyhound population and listening to the "dancer" in the seat behind me drop her whole life story on some kindly elderly woman, I stepped of the bus and into my friends car. We quickly drove up to Duluth, grabbing my boat and another paddling buddy we headed Northward to Canada.

I fell asleep to lull of the open road. Hardly being conscious of anything since our border crossing, I looked to my watch which read 2:34 am and saw the headlights of the car illuminating our campsite. We threw up a tent and went to bed.

A quick nap on the water

Waking up late, we headed down to the water to begin the morning trek to Sturgeon falls. Having arrived, I smiled at the site of the myriad of large play waves awaiting us while excitely ambling up the rocky shore. I was surprised to find that even after a month away from my kayak, I still felt very comfortable on the water. The features had changed significantly due to the relatively low water conditions compared to my last outing to Sturgeon Falls (still at 63,000 cfs though!). "Big Mouth" regularly reared up and spread it's watery jaws in the form of breaking river wave. There were the smaller features to refine one's technique and the larger features to test a paddler's skills.

Myself on "Surfer's" and Dave on "Chameleon"

So for 3 solid days we played on the waves of Sturgeon falls to our hearts desire. A daily noon nap would be had on the island as a necessity to endure an 8 hour day of paddling. Every evening after coming off the water happily exhausted, we would sit along the water's edge drinking a celebratory beer in twilight of the falling sun. I went to bed at night with a torso so sore it was difficult to forcibly laugh and noting that there was plenty of laughter to be had.

Dave on "surfers" and me on "Chameleon"

A day later, having driven home, I found myself in a lecture hall staring blankly into my computer screen as slides of cardiac physiology were flashed incessantly. Yet, I sat focused and felt ready for the onslaught as if floating into the rearing waves of Sturgeon Falls and from the chaos gracefully surfing ahead. It was a renewing and glorious summer and Sturgeon Falls was my my last hurrah before it's end.

Yellowstone- Part 3

My time in Yellowstone was becoming immanently short and in the last weeks there was much to be done. I woke with the morning dew glittering in the sunlight, poured a cup of coffee and watched the sunrise into the sky. I would take my freedom and run with it. My decision was to abandon the trail and bushwack through the backcountry to where ever my curiosity desired. I easily decided that I would go to the area south of Avalanche Peak and head towards Top-Notch Peak, then heading towards the mountains on it's backside.

Exiting my car I took a quick note of the general direction of Top-Notch and headed into the woods. Before hitting the tree line, the going was not easy. But as things opened up I picked my way up a ridge line that appear to make it's way reasonably to the summit.

The ridge line towards Top-Notch

Armed with my pack of essentials, I was feeling strong and energetic and the sun was not yet high in the sky. As I climbed the steep scree and as I crested what I thought would be summit, I found myself on the edge of less than favorable cliff edge. Knowing that what lay in front of me was impassable, I grudgingly headed down and around the backside of Top-Notch with the new intent of reach Mount Doane.

The top of Top Notch

Having crossed over the backside of the mountain into a beautiful pond filled bowl, I began my traverse toward Mt Doane. But the going was not easy, as I found myself down climbing into steep gullies and climbing out again. I was beginning to get tired and hot, as the sun was now baking the earth around me. I got within 6 miles of Doane and looking at my clock knew it would have to wait for another day. I headed back up and over the shoulder of Top-Notch and scrambled down another gully. Into the wood I went a clamored my way through the forest back to the vehicle feeling weary.

Mt. Doane in the distance

An alpine lupine

Two days later having given myself an ample day of rest, I made it out of the cabin late. I quickly decided I'd do the "seven mile hole" trail that took one to the bottom of Yellowstone and to what I presumed was a nice hole... as in whitewater. So I embarked from Canyon village by running down the trail until I reach the descent into the canyon. About half way down, I heard some ominous cracking and breaking of branches. I stopped dead still. Barely breathing I listen intently. Something large was moving on the trail ahead, and I was not about to find out if was a bare. I quietly walked back up the trail with my bear spray in hand and found a decent tree. I climbed up 20 ft up and waited. After hearing enough commotion I decided I'd let whatever it was know I was around and begun singing a tune. Whatever it was it took off.Yellowstone Canyon

I continued down the trail and made it to the edge of the crystal waters of the Yellowstone Stone river. After the disappointment of finding no hole, I decided to take a quick swim before making my way out of the canyon. As I reached the canyon brim I halted my brisk walk to observe two set of bear tracks that had not been there on the way out. I nervously forged ahead, and found no sign of bear. I made it back to the car and drove back to my lodgings weathering the normal afternoon Yellowstone traffic.

The Yellowstone River

After two nights of rest and noting that I had time for one last adventure, I set out to hike a classic trail. I decided I would hike the Yellowstone river trail from Hell Roaring Creek to Gardiner, MT. I would have to leave a bike at the end of the trail and bike 20 miles uphill back to the car after hiking 18. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could do it. I had plenty of doubts as I left a bike under the bridge in Gardiner. But once I got back to Hell Roaring Creek and got established on the trail, my mind wandered elsewhere. However, I did notice that I was on the hot open plateau and hoped that I would find shad along the way. However the shade never came as the temps reach up into the 90's. I soaked my T-shirt in the river many a time in an effort to quench the days heat.

I kept walking along the river until the Mountain sides squeezed together and the water began to roar. I had reach Knowles Falls. Granite (or some other metamorphic rock) walls and smoothed formations pinched the river into some gorgeous whitewater. Viewing it from a kayaker my description is as follows: If kayaking the Yellowstone were not illegal, Knowles Falls would be a classic run. It consisted of 3 or 4 big water class IV+ and V rapids that looked absolutely beautiful.

The Lead-in to Knowles Falls

Knowles Falls!
(much bigger water than it seems)

Moving on past the enticing water, I again began to notice the heat. I walked on in a state of thoughtless motion, there but not really present. However, my conscious came crashing in on me. I had been walking looking maybe only 3 ft ahead of me. It took a second for mind to register what had entered my vision, but when it did I jumped back. I had nearly stepped on a extremely large snake, who otherwise didn't seem much alarmed by me. I'm not generally afraid of snake, but I also don't prefer to get ultra close with a bigger and hissing snake. I took a wide path around him as I snapped a picture. I later discovered that was a non-venomous bull snake, but really wasn't interested in finding out otherwise.

The bull snake

I kept marching down the trail find the Black Canyon of Yellowstone River and being disappointed I could more easily view the crazy whitewater that passed through it. I went on ward and just before the mountains opened up into broad plateau. I was shocked again, as a smaller bear ran from the trail in front of me. My bear spray's safety was off and I crept up a near by hill making all sorts of noise keep the bear from startling. For my good fortune, he had taken off and not looked back. I continued ferociously heated plateau. I was hot, tired, dehydrated, and slightly delirious as I finally reached Gardiner at 6 pm. The thought of biking another 20 miles uphill made me worry. Instead I waited until an older couple came up to the trail head. I asked for a ride and they agreed with thick French accents. I was elated to ride and talk with this couple who had touring the park just in from Paris. But as we neared the trail head, I was feeling more and more faint. I became so nauseous that I had them pull the car out. I felt so hot, faint, and clammy I quickly took off my shirt laid down on ground and poured water over my head. Before long I was ok again and made it back to the car. It was clear that the heat of the day had gotten to me and that I was pretty dehydrated. I made it back to my lodgings and fell asleep quickly.

And so with that adventure my time in Yellowstone expired. I was sad to leave the place I had called home for a month. It was a time for real growth in myself and a time of rejuvenation. I mounted a greyhound bus two days later, waved goodbye to my companion watched the open road open before me.

However, my bus ticket was not for Duluth but St. Cloud. I was on my way to meet a friend and head back to Sturgeon Falls for some last minute whitewater paddling before the start of school. (To be continued....)

Summer in Yellowstone: Part Two

The days turned to weeks and the passing of time was of little concern. I never knew what time I fell asleep and likewise never was quite sure what time I woke up aside for the amount of sunlight streaming into the bed room window.

After several weeks of regular hiking/ running my body was adapting to the regular exercise, sweat, and dirt. I woke one morning and decided to hike up to the top of Avalanche peak, one of the highest points that there is an official trail to. It was a grey day that had enough patches of sunlight for me to get out the door.

Leaving the car behind made my way up the trail excited to leave the treeline and experience the expanse the alpine tundra instills. I was feeling good and brisked my way up the 2,000 and some odd vertical feet in hour and a half.

The view from atop Avalanche Peak

However when I reached the top I noticed some lightning and thunder clouds to the northwest of me. After sitting and watching to see which direction the clouds would roll, I decided to descend. However by the time I reached the tree line the sun was shining again. Looking at the expanse around me, I looked up to the ragged Hoyt peak and decided I might try and summit it and go completely off trail. Letting my curiosity take me where it would. I mounted the gap between Hoyt and Avalanche, and began to realize that Hoyt's peak upon closer look was going to end up in nasty loose 5th class. Looking down into the basin below Hoyt peak, my curiosity was peaked by clear alpine lakes.

I as I descended I felt more and more enthralled as I climbed into one of the most gorgeous places that had graced my eyes. The landscape was foreign to me. Mottled with little lakes along avalanche carved giant furrows and with snow covered remnants of the season previous. I scrambled around with the wonder and curiosity of my childhood. I went where ever interest took me.

Video of Hoyt Valley

Seeing the sun falling lower in the sky I picked my way up the scree filled gap and felt fatigue meet my legs. As I crested the gap, I looked to my right to see ominously dark clouds pouring over and obscuring Avalanche peak as the sound of thunder rolled in my ears. Seeing my venerability being above tree line and 10, 000 ft of elevation I began to run. My flight took me down hill at speed that only my adrenaline could have taken me safely. Thunder roared as I met the treeline and snatched the rain jacket from my pack and dressed myself in it. The rain came soon after and poured down in torrents, and I continued to run until I reached the road and hopped into the car and drove to the dry comforts of my lodgings. I had no idea how far I had traveled, and had little care of making any quantification.

After a day of rest, I headed back into the wilderness. I decided to explore the waterfalls in the southern portion of the park, namely, Union Falls. Getting to the trail head proved more perilous than the actual hike. I knew from my maps that I would be on gravel management roads, but never expected what I was to encounter. The road started out as normal dirt road, but as the miles went by the size of the gravel grew, along with the size of the potholes. Driving a borrowed and new vehicle with little clearance to begin with, I respectfully was forced to drive at an average of 10 miles an hour. After driving for an hour and a half the road became so bad I pulled the car over and began running to the trail head. It now the time being one in the afternoon and having the knowledge of a 16 mile hike in front of me, caused me to run the entire trail. The way out to Union falls went fast. People gave me inquisitive looks as I ran by and bounded through ankle deep river fords. When I got to Union Falls and felt it's cool mist floating from it's base I could not help but relax and feel drawn to it. I climbed down a muddy slope to the base of the falls, and let the ice cold water rain down on me and quench the heat of the sun filled day.

Gorgeous Union Falls


Despite me scarfing a granola bar.... Union Falls video

After a soaking from the heavens, I climbed back up to the trail an began running back. Things were a little more painful on the way back as my knees began to ache and my quads stiffened. I emerged from the trail head and walked back to the awaiting car relieved to drive back to comforts of shelter and companionship.

Giving myself a few days to recover, I headed back to the south and made my way to the top of Mt. Sheridan. Arriving at the trail head at 9 am I was aware that it was going to be a long day. Ahead of me lay 7 miles to Heart Lake then 3.2 miles to the peak of Sheridan then back, round trip totaling 21 miles. The miles towards Heart Lake went by fast as the sun had not risen to it's full height yet and as the lake was visible in the geyser filled valley before me.

Classic thermal pool in Heart Lake Valley

Mt. Sheridan from the beach of Heart Lake

Shortly after passing along the sandy beach of Heart Lake, I began hiking up Sheridan. Monitoring my condition so as to make it back in a reasonable condition, I was feeling pretty good and kept myself cool with the passing mountain streams. I kept the pace up the weaving ascent until reaching the glorious summit. I stopped to rest and soak in the expanse before, seeing the Tetons to the Southwest and all of Yellowstone Lake to the North. I took a few deep breaths of fresh mountain air and let my mind clear itself so as to find room to fit appreciation the vast horizon before me.

Myself atop Mt. Sheridan

I came down from the mountain, and retraced my footsteps as the afternoon heat set in. The sun being high in the sky, the trek back was more slowed and I fell into my normal meditative hiking state, only vaguely aware of the trail and lost in thought. As the trail ended and I headed back to my lodgings content and hungry. Having been lost in my own mind for a majority of my days, I came home to the shelter of warmth, shade, and company. I went to bed at night content and filled with happiness wholly.

Summer In Yellowstone- Part One

After medical school came to a glorious close, and I finished off the month of July banking a small income while gaining a little practical experience in an internship at the Cloquet Hospital. With money in the bank and the month of August free of obligation, the stage was thereby set for my next set of adventures . I started my journey to Yellowstone National Park.

My gravitation towards Yellowstone was two-fold. I needed to regain my soul and spirit and reconnect with that which is the essence of me. It is something that easily is stripped while in medical school, where I lose the absolute freedom to feed that which I love and the nourishes that deep part of me. Secondly, but not secondary, was the opportunity to indulge in the company of my significant other who generously offered a place for me to stay within the park.

I arrived in Yellowstone through smoke and flame. The east entrance to Yellowstone gave me my first experiences with forest fires, as helicopter bearing water flew over head and "hotshots" passed by. Having arrived, my new home for the month was beside Yellowstone lake whose waters reflected the surrounding mountain sides.

Clouds of smoke from fires near the East entrance to Yellowstone

Each day was a taste of freedom I had so missed. I woke every morning and lived by mere impulse alone. My impulse compelled me to hike into the backcountry, 3 days a week, often for 6-8 hours at time. Each day a new location, a new destination, and yet the same pristine solitude.

On the first of these outings, I mounted one of the more stereotypical paths summiting Mt Washburn. However, to spice things up, I decided I'd run the entirety of it. I recall getting many smiles, scowls, and looks of indifference from passers as I ran up and down the slope that reached the peak of Mt. Washburn. The view from on top was the first horizon of many that would come to grace my eye's.

Days later, I ventured onto the Thorough Fare Trail that followed the Northeastern shore of Yellowstone lake. By this time I became aware that carrying a bearspray canister was not necessarily an optional accessory for the backcountry. At this point I had not been entirly convinced of this but on this day was made a believer. I began by running the first few miles until coming up the bank of a creek. I stopped at the sight of grizzly tracks. This is being a heavily todden trail and with the knowledge that a party with horses was ahead of me, I knew these tracks were less than an hour in age. I walked slowly, singing loudly my newly formed and improvised grizzly bear song, which alerted the world to my presence; bears primarily but humans included. I wasn't able to relax until I passed another hiker who, with a grin, complimented me on my song and operatics. I must have hiked 14 or so miles that day. I topped it off by indulgent swim in the lake that quenched the heat of the day and washed the salt from my eyes.

From the paw prints, I guess bears are attracted to the stench of a backcountry outhouse on the thorough fare trail

After a few days had passed, I was back in the back country. I woke early as to avoid the frustrations of the daily traffic that infects the buffalo and tourist clogged Hayden Valley. I often spent more time in stuck in traffic in Yellowstone as I have in some metropolotin centers. Having successfully avoided this fate, I headed North to Tower. Leaving the trailhead behind, my feet carried me across the Yellowstone River and on to Hellroaring creek.

Hellroaring Creek

After fording the creek, I continued along it's banks. As I went the landscape around me changed. I started the day in the dry and open plateau covered in sweet smelling sag brush and blanketed by the noon heat. As I went further up the creek, the tree's and understory grew thicker. Small streams flowed down the mountain sides and the green came into the land. It started to feel like home again, seeing huckleberry's and wild rapsberry's while trodding through a muddied trail rather than the dust sand filled trails. I hiked 11 miles out as the heat rose into the 90's and on my way home jumped into a deep pool of Hellroaring creek's cool waters. By this time I was becoming my comfortable with the notion of Grizzly's and since I was in fairly open country my concern was lessen. However on the way out I noticed a park serive bear trap, along with a couple of old carcasses along the trail. Attempting to drive home, I had the misfortune of hitting traffic. Rather than waiting it out, I decided I'd go around it on a joy ride through the park. The sun was falling as I passed Old Faithful and Grant Village. I arrived home happily
exhausted.

The mighty Yellowstone River

I had gradually fell into a routine of waking each morning pulling out my guide book and deciding a destination. I spent my hours hiking being complative and enjoying my freedom from responsibility. I went to bed at night tired and content!

The Season for Playboating

After all the water of spring rains wained away and the creeks became bony trickles there was still left enough water to playboat. The regular trip to the St. Louis's first wave/hole albeit alone or with friends became a restoring endeavor, since I was still inflicted with the thralls of medical school that raged onward nearly until July. Yet by the time the Midwest Mountaineering Kayak Festival had passed, it was becoming clear that the St. Louis's water was quickly shrinking to it's summer level. In search of more time on the water, I never thought twice upon an invitation to travel to paddle Sturgeon Falls on the Winnipeg River in Canada.

I drove down to St. Cloud and rendezvous with paddling friends Scotty and Nora.We headed Northward under the eventual cover of nightfall. Sturgeon falls in lore and by word of mouth has been described as a world class play boating location. Located 20 minutes East of Winnipeg Manitoba it is within striking distance for us. I had only seen pictures of it's large picturesque features. As we arrived we drove down to the boat landing I peered into the darkness seeing little, but could hearing a distance roar across expanse of water before me.

Myself surfing Sturgeon Falls! (courtesy of Nora Whitmore)

As the morning dew settled upon the tents we awoke and rallied with fellow paddlers from Minnesota, paddling into the expanse of water towards the distant sound of Sturgeon Falls. Upon my first sight of Sturgeon Falls, it looked promising but its beauty and power was yet to be fully appreciated. When we neared the doorstep of Sturgeon's features, the size and magnitude of the waves became wonderously impressive. To the eye, Sturgeon Falls appears as if two lakes are mystically flowing between one another. However in viewing a map, it would become clear that it is actually formed by the flow of mighty Winnipeg River. If one looked casually at it's expanse, you might be able to convince oneself you were standing beside a flowing ocean of perpetually breaking waves. During our time, 68,000 cubic feet per second flowed through Sturgeon falls and created multitude of beautiful standing waves ranging from 4-10 ft. Yet between the maze of waves there stood an singular island of smooth rock, and behind it formed the giant eddy that is a sanctuary for kayakers. The eddy swirled and surged in pattern like that of serpent swimming, creating small whirl pools strewn about. Furthermore, it provided a place of rest and access to the waves.

Over the course of the next three days, I spent countless hours surfing waves from the mounting sunrise to the falling sunset. Imagine being on a 8 ft tall standing wave while it crashes behind you and then throwing a stroke and surfing backwards, staring the explosion of water in the face before you...the feeling is priceless. On Sunday afternoon we left Sturgeon Falls. My body was sore in places I had never perceived. When I arrived home I slept heartily smiling at passing of well spent Fourth of July Holiday.