As winter winds down, the days are relatively quiet. The most activity we see is in the world of the birds. Flocks of them are returning, whom Greg fondly refers to collectively as Tweety birds. I've seen red polls and finches, some grosbeaks, and the usual chickadees and nuthatches. The songs they sing are more spring-like, and they are voracious at the feeder. We've started to toss a handful of seeds out the window of our room, on to the roof of the screen porch. It makes for some great viewing. We get a kick out of some of the feisty finches, who spend more time defending territory from their flock-mates, than actually eating. I wish I could tell them that there is plenty of seed to go around.
For more years than I can recall, whenever Greg would see a small plane going over Gunflint Lake, he would declare that the pilot should come down to pick him up, and take him for a ride. After the blowdown, and since the fires, that desire has only grown stronger. He had been up in a plane many years ago, but with the changes our forest has endured, he knew the scenery would be different now. That wish came true yesterday. A friend taxied down the ice, stopped out front, and invited us for a quick tour.
For my part, I, too, had been up above Gunflint Lake many years ago, when our friend Bill had his plane at the airport at Devil's Track. He offered to take me and the boys up for a ride. Addie was too little, so she stayed home with Greg, waiting on our landing, to wave at us as the plane came by. Robert sat up front, and Paul and I enjoyed the view from the back. Since it was a good seventeen or so years ago, my memory of it is a bit faded. Mostly green and blue, that is what I recall.
On this day, of course, things were predominantly white. We do still have a lot of snow, especially when seen from the air. Add to that the expanses of iced lakes, and it almost looked like a black and white landscape. The sun was shining brightly, and it was easy to identify the lakes with which I am most familiar. Looking west into the BWCA, it was quite helpful to have our pilot pointing out the various familiar names of distant lakes. Turning south, he showed us the tip of the Lutsen ski hill area, and we could see Lake Superior on the horizon. I was totally struck by how close these places are really are to me. It may take me an hour to drive to town, but up in the sky, I could almost see it from here. Ely is further---three and a half hours away by car, but it was out there somewhere to the west. Out of reach, of course, due to the flying restrictions over the Boundary Waters, but not so far away just the same.
We circled back along the south side of Loon, and I could see over to Gunflint Lake, the ridge between the two lakes stretching long. Paul and I had hiked the eastern section of it in January, when we took the trail to Bridal Falls. Patches of forest butted up against open area that had been parts of prescribed burns in the past. I recalled one such event, the Saucer Lake burn, back in the fall of 2005. I was home alone with Addie when the Forest Service came through to rent our boats and use our landing. Another section of the burned area had resulted from prescribed burning during the Ham Lake Fire. Without those planned activities, the wildfire in 2007 may have had a different ending for us.
Soon we were making our way from east to west down Gunflint Lake, descending closer to the ice. The lake is mostly clear of snow, save for a few thin crusty patches. The ice is super slick and bumpy. The wheels touched down with a loud thump and we slowed as we approached our point. We got out and thanked the pilot for our adventure, grateful for the opportunity to see it ourselves, and for the photos we were able to capture. What an awesome surprise!
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