The events of May definitely shaped the days of the summertime, in ways I anticipated, but also in unexpected gifts and experiences. So many good things have come our way, and the gratitude we feel is immense. Large things, such as generosity beyond our dreams, down to small things like skeins of yarn gifted to me---it�s been overwhelming, breath-taking, and healing. The thoughts are coming to me in bits and pieces, but my plan is to write some of the shorter anecdotes here, and on the Planet Heston�s page, I will post the larger stories. Thanks for bearing with me as I get my act together and do this.
From spring drought to fall rain, forest fire to near flooding, it has been a season or two of extremes. Recently, we heard that the Gunflint Trail received 22 inches of rain in five weeks from early September into October. Boy are we wet!
The old adage, be careful what you wish for, really hasn�t applied here. Despite the challenges the water has brought, nearly everyone I�ve encountered is cheerful about it. We�ve seen what happens when we don�t get the necessary rain. I was in the lake more in September than all summer long. It certainly was not because I am a fan of cold water. All that rain falling into the lake brings the water up to some extent. But then over the next few days, it continues to rise, as the little creeks wash down the hills. At one point, Greg said the lake level had risen by 24 inches. Currently, the water laps at the very top of our cement ramp at the landing. That is normally a sight reserved for spring, right after ice out.
Plenty of adventure comes along with the rain. Just about the time that we think our boats and docks are pulled up high enough, we lose another few inches of beach, and the boats are escaping. Early one morning, Greg informed us that we had to rescue a loose boat of our own, as well as a neighbor�s that was found by fishermen the previous night. I got dropped off in our wandering boat, armed with a bucket to bail it. Greg and Paul went to gather equipment, and to wrestle with a sailboat that was on our beach. Addie was on shore to help them. I emptied the boat of as much water as I could, and then paddled it in to shore. My! What a fine morning to feel like a pirate---hopping aboard wayward vessels. Once things were secure on our beach, we headed down the lake to look for our friends� boat.
Our first stop was the dock and boat lift. The decking was askew, thanks to high water and winds. The boat lift was in some very deep water, and wasn�t to be budged with out getting in to the lake. The slowly-rising water had easily floated the boat right off the ramp. When the fishermen found it, they tied it securely to some trees just to the east of the dock. It was rocking gently, not in immediate danger, so we decided to go home and eat breakfast before trying to move it.
When we got back to Heston�s, Greg drove the boat right up on to our dock. It was sitting so low in the water, it was like a ramp.
There�s something about coming back home in the middle of a job....so many other chores call out, that it is hard to get back to what we were doing. That�s how it was that day. By afternoon, we still hadn�t gotten back down the lake. The waters remained calm, but we knew it was due to change, with northwest winds predicted. Sure enough, by late afternoon, the winds did roll in, and we knew that we had to move that boat. Greg grabbed his chest waders, and I wore my usual �going in the lake in spring/fall� outfit of fleece long johns, rubber duck boots and sweatshirt. What a crazy sight.
This time, we drove to the property, and after walking through the woods on the shoreline, we came to the boat. This is a large boat, not like our small fishing boats. We couldn�t just push it off and walk it back home--not against the waves. Greg went scouting to the east to find an appropriate and safe landing for it. When he returned, he said that we could take it to another neighbors� boat lift. They had already taken their boat out of the water.
Greg got in to the boat as I untied it and then began to push it off the shore. He hollered to me to jump in--no easy task with a big boat like that. Soon enough I managed and we cast off with only two paddles and the wind pushing us down the lake. We hoped that we could paddle it to where it needed to be. By this time, I was really feeling like a pirate, onboard in stormy seas, adrift with plunder! Then, whoops---we hit a small bar. Greg jumped overboard, and I pushed on the bottom with my paddle to help free us. He got back in, and just a short ways more, we reached the dock. Our friend Larry was waiting.
We cast him a rope, and he helped to guide us on to the lift. It took some fiddling, but we eventually got the boat situated and up on the lift. Greg found the proper button to get the bilge pump running. Another boat was rescued and safe.
Larry invited us in for a beer, but we took a rain check, since by then we were a pretty soggy pair. We slogged back to the truck to head home. Along the way, we stopped to check on two more boats belonging to friends. Sure enough, these two boats also needed more attention. One was not to be budged--too much water on board and no easy place to pull it higher. The other one was a bit more manageable. With the aid of a come-along, we pulled it to high ground. It wasn�t going anywhere.
We got home about seven-thirty, just in time to cook a quick dinner, get changed, and then head down the trail. Paul�s band was playing music at Windigo. �Come hell or high water,� we weren�t going to miss that!
P.S. Many thanks to my friends Orv and Alice, and Cindy P. for giving me that gentle nudge to get writing again. Without you, I may have been stalled for even longer!
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