Is This Spring?

Spring Shuns Minnesota
April 2011, The Mountain Times
http://www.mountaintimesoregon.com/modules.php?name=Columns


“Is it spring yet?” I say aloud to myself standing in a vacant parking lot between Highway 61 and the shoreline. Next to my truck with a dripping kayak at my feet, I have some fast bluegrass playing out through the passenger window while I peel off the top half of my wetsuit.

It’s 10 degrees above freezing but with the sun setting on a cloudless day and Lake Superior gently sloshing on the cobbles, the two mile paddle I just finished has me convinced that the warm season is at the door. Maybe it’s not breaking down the hinges but it’s certainly on the welcome mat.

The very next day, a buddy and I are standing on the thin shoulder of Cook County Road 7 behind my truck, which is parked more in the snow bank than on pavement. While we zip our packs shut and buckle our touring bindings I make Tischer wait on the tailgate as a few cars speed by.

She is shivering with excitement, waiting to leap into the woods.

Beyond the snow bank is someone’s property, but to the right of that and past the guardrail is a smooth white slope down into Cut Face Creek. From here, a mile and a half from the lake, it drops more than 400 feet back down to the shore where Nate’s vehicle is waiting for us.

It looks much more appealing to us than heading further inland where it mellows and sprawls into shrubbery filled flats.

The previous weeks have been mixed with rain, wind and sunshine. Knowing this, our better judgment is that we can stick a fork in stream skiing for the season.
However, we crave one more descent.

After skidding down the embankment and spending 20 minutes climbing over tree limbs and trunks, the first bit of slush appears in our ski tracks. As I watch Nate pull himself out of the crater he’s just made following a crust breaking crash, I wonder again to myself, “Is this spring?”

This question becomes more legit a few more stream bends down when we encounter open water, the beginning of a trend.

As we quickly scamper across patches of 4-6 inch deep slush and hope that our old school leather backcountry boots and gaiters keep out the cold river, it is apparent that the warmth and sun have been reaching into these narrow canyons. Tischer wades through, the chilly brown water reaching halfway up her four legs, without even a thought.

On the third day, I have to work. It’s an exciting day with the hype of a huge winter storm that much of Minnesota is bracing for. It ends up developing in areas to the south but spares us the precipitation, instead thrashing the north shore with constant winds and big gusts. And when wind blows across Lake Superior, it means good surf on the receiving shoreline – and this day we shall receive.

I hurry home to let Tischer out and meet Nate on my deck. It’s another bluebird day, though the sun is getting low in the sky, and we gear up in our paddling clothes. Eight miles down from my place is a fantastic surf break at Mile Marker 121. As we pull up we see three other surfers already paddling out. They turn out to be from Thunder Bay, Ontario, just down for the afternoon to partake in the stellar conditions.

The surf is big in the middle, rolling in tall and smooth. Some of the waves close out altogether but some curl steadily to one side or the other. I watch the Canadians catch a few good rides and also get pummeled by a couple frothy explosions.

Nate and I take turns surfing his white water kayak as the sun sets. If it weren’t for the ice and snow on shore, looking down the line into the golden reflection of surf-able waves the scene appears tropical.

It’s then, though, standing on the frozen cobbles as darkness creeps in, that the cold sinks deep into my bones.

To avoid soaking his seats we drive home with the windows down hoping to keep our wetsuits frozen. At home we stand in my kitchen prying pieces of gear off and throwing them into my shower to drip dry.

Is this spring? Does it matter?