Interpreting Wildflowers

[lydamorehouse]

Today was a day when we planned on a grocery run to Grand Marais. Since a trip to town is a half an hour away from the cabin, Mason and I decided to see of we could also squeeze in a hike somewhere. 

 

On our first trip to Bearskin back in 2014, we picked up a brochure called “Hiking on the Gunflint Trail Scenic Byway.” (I feel like you can almost hear the old-timey announcer’s voice in that title, like something out of my second-grade record/slide show civics class… or Fallout 4.)  

 

I have been pouring over this thing with the same kind of obsessive curiosity that I have the ski trail map. We had a pretty good time when we tried out Caribou Rock Trail in 2014 (vistas!), but then there was the somewhat disastrous South Lake Trail… which involved a lot of boggy, mosquito infested trails and no pay-off destination…unless you counted the fresh moose tracks in the mud. 

 

Let’s just say my luck with this particular brochure is very much 50/50. 

 

What it says about the Wildflower Interpretive Hike: “A shaded walk along the edge of the Devil Track River with an interesting variety of native and non-native wildflowers, shrubs, trees, and grasses.” Our book. Gentle Hikes of Minnesota, makes it sound rather lovely.  “This is a self-guided trail that is best explored leisurely. You’ll want to take you time and savor this educational experience as each plant is labeled and representatives of local flora…. We found that the well pump and roughhewn benches formed an irresistibly quaint setting for relaxing along the river and a nice photo op.” (page 141)

 

LIES.

 

Here’s what the “labeling” looks like. 

 

Image: A cluster of yellow flowers helpfully labelled "buttercup." 
 

I mean, this is a label. It identifies the plant, but I was expecting a bit more… interpretation?  Perhaps even some suggestion about whether this plant is native, its scientific name, or… I don’t know?  Maybe something more than something looking like it was hastily written by a very bored park ranger. 

 

Honest to god, the first tag I saw was on a tree and it simply read: Aspen.

 

When I saw that, I thought, “Well, heck, *I* could have figured that out. Thank you, anyway.”

 

The trail itself had recently been re-wood chipped, which helped us identify where the trail head started—at least from the Gunflint Trail side—because the huge pile of fresh woodchips were still mounded there. The trail dumped us out at what was maybe the official parking lot? I am very uncertain. 

 

Our pamphlet implies that the trail was not maintained for several years, so it’s possible that this was once much more photo op-y.  The creek itself is really quite lovely.

 

Image: A shot down river of a creek disappearing into the woods
 

 

The other thing that is very weird about this wildflower “sanctuary” is that it abuts someone’s private property and the lumber yard… so there’s NO SENSE of being “in the woods.” You can always hear the traffic from Gunflint and/or see actual building through the trees. We found a couple of roughhewn “quaint” benches, but no water pump. 

 

I do have to wonder if this was someone’s personal pet project, which is why it’s not actually in any kind of functional form. 

 

Yet it’s in all the guidebooks. 

 

We were not alone on the trail, either. We ran into a father and his daughter. Worse, I feel like it could actually be very cool? If there were a lot more signs, perhaps, and a few of those big boards with the information, like you find in State and National Parks. If I had a million dollars, I’d hire someone to really revamp it and make it as lovely as I think it could be. 

 

As it was, it was a bit of a disappointment.

 

What wasn’t a disappointment yesterday was all the animals we were able to see at the dock. Shawn has been complaining that because Mason and I take evening canoe “strolls”* we see all the beaver. She had yet to see one. 

 

Until last night. Last night we all decided to sit out on the dock at twilight. Mason was re-reading yhlee 's Nine Fox Gambit, but at a chapter break spotted movement in the lake—that classic ‘v’ the beavers make as they slice through with just their snouts above the waterline. Sure enough, a beaver came cruising over to the lily pad. She floated there and munched on water lily root no more than ten feet from our dock. Then a companion joined her.  And then another. 

 

Soon, we had three beaver all just diving for crunchy lotus roots and squeaking at each other. The lake at twilight was so silent we literally could hear the tiny little noises they made both as they ate and as they greeted each other. I had never heard a beaver make noises before. Mason commented they kind of whined like a sad, but not yet bawling human baby. ‘Uuuunngh, Ah, uh!” That doesn’t sound pleasant the way I’m describing it, but it was actually adorable. If anyone has seen the porcupine nom-nom video that goes around the socials sometimes, the sound she makes was similar to this. 

 

They stayed in the lily pads for hours. 

 

And we watched them the whole time… 

 

Hilariously, a duck, who had decided this was her patch, was very annoyed by this and at one point there was a duck/beaver show down, where the beaver and the duck took turns kind of slow speed chasing each other away from the lily pads.  Then, it was won when the beaver slapped and the duck flew off. The duck continued honking flying ‘drive-bys’ for a good twenty minutes. (Ducks are sore losers, or at least this one is.)

Image: Sunset on East Bearskin Lake. Evening being best for animal activity!



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* I call them strolls because are very deliberately slow-moving. We hug the shoreline and mostly just drift in the water. We only paddle enough to keep moving in a direction.