Did you know that there are over 130 waterfalls between Duluth, MN and the Canadian border?
We tried camping one more time this summer, this time up at the North Shore (the week before we started school) with the hopes of seeing a few more of the famous falls as well as Grand Portage and some rock hunting beaches. Yes, you read that right. I tried camping again and I almost liked it enough to try again next summer. Almost.
For about twenty four hours I thought I might take to tent camping after all. The the air was cool and dry. A light breeze blew away the mosquitoes. The bathrooms at the MN state park were the cleanest yet. I thought perhaps we had just been camping in all the wrong places and that the best place to be was definitely the North Shore where it was cooler. We enjoyed the evening by the campfire, a chilly night, and awoke to a promising day.
The first thing on our agenda was a hike to Devil's Kettle Falls, a challenging one mile hike but totally worth the effort. There are two large falls and the first one was a wonderful place to linger.
The Devil's Kettle Falls is a geological mystery - no one really knows where half the Brule River goes after it falls into the cauldron on the left.
Waterfalls are so amazing. The sound of the rushing water is energetic, the sight of the falling water mesmerizingly relaxing. The thought of falling to one's death and being swept away down river adds a certain adrenaline rush.
We vetnured off the path and found a little bench in the rocks to sit on and contemplate the destiny of so much rushing water. Most likely both halves of the falls lead to eternal life in Lake Superior, but it was amusing to imagine the possibility of half the water gushing into the underworld.
After lunch and a trip to Grand Marais the wind and rain clouds blew in. We had a cool evening by the fire and I still felt like I might like camping after all - until the rain started hitting the tent roof at 1:00 am, the baby woke up crying at 1:30 and the 4yo threw up at 2:00. I resolved for the umpteenth time that I would never go camping again. At last until the youngest is six.
The next rainy morning was spent at the laundry-mat and the World's Best Donut shop. I was feeling rather sorry for my poor sleep-deprived self until an older couple at the donut shop struck up conversation about our "lovely family", if our daughers' good posture was due to ballet and if we were unfortunate enough to be tent camping. As it turned out they had six children, took them to the North Shore every summer, and all of them now home school their children. After raising their family they retired and bought a house on the North Shore and love having their children and grandchildren come to visit. Their witness to me that day at that particular time was just the encouragement I needed to get through the rest of the trip and, well, perhaps the rest of life.
Although the rain ceased, the fog and mist lingered that day. With Grand Portage on our agenda, we proceeded northward towards the Canadian border. All three times we have been this far north there has been rain or overcast skies. In fact, everything north of the Naniboujou Lodge seems eerie and haunted to me. I kind of like it and kind of don't.
Grand Portage was once the fur trade center of the universe - the half way point between Montreal and the fur trading lands further west. The visitor's center offered interesting displays and a great movie about the lives of the voyageurs complete with their little rest stops to smoke their pipes, the songs to which they paddled, their mosquito repellent of bear grease and skunk oil, and of course the grueling portages. Can you imagine carrying almost 200 pounds on your back on miles of hiking trails? Or carrying this canoe uphill? At least it provided shelter at night.
The gift shop had two great books I have no regrets about purchasing: With Pipe, Paddle, and Song: A Story of the French-Canadian Voyageurs (Bethlehem Books) and Waterfalls of Minnesota's North Shore. We used the waterfall book on the way home and I had the Voyageurs book read by the end of the weekend.
Since the forecast predicted rain for the rest of our time except the following morning, we decided to pack up during the dry stretch and head home. Joe did not want to pack up camp in the rain, even though it meant we wouldn't be able to get together in Duluth with our dear friends, Lori and family from Loving Them From Scratch.
The drive down Hwy 61 was broken up with several stops - one at Cascade Falls.
Another at Caribou Falls. We were all wishing we had worn swimsuits for this one.
The Little Princess was quite done with all this traveling by the time we hiked to Caribou Falls. She had a tantrum all the way there because she didn't want to go and all the way back because she didn't want to leave while I had that old conversation in my head questioning why we even try to travel with young children at all.
The Little Prince, however, was an angel when he knew we were heading home after not being a happy camper (like, not at all a happy camper) the whole time we were there. Too much wind, too many tree roots to trip on at the campsite, too many people shouting "No!" when he got too near the fire. Nothing seemed to be right with him. He was so glad we were packed up and heading out.
I was pleased too. Even though every time we have camped and I swear I will never do it again, I know I probably will - if faced with the choice of traveling or staying home. I'm sure we will try it again next summer - but at a campsite right on the lake shore. Don't tell my husband, but I even find myself daydreaming about retiring there up like the couple in the donut shop, as long as our kids and grandkids have to camp out in the yard so they know what we went through for them!
