Boundary Waters vacation, Days 5 and 6

 

Thursday, August 13

As we were finishing our blueberry pancakes, I saw a head pop out of the water on the other side of the lake. We had been waiting all week to get pictures of loons. We grabbed our cameras and went down to the dock. We quickly realized that these were not loons. It was three river otters! We took dozens of pictures, but mine were all out of focus. With my bifocals, I can’t focus manually, and autofocus behaves badly when trying to get a small object in a large background. Jane had one good picture of many.

Two heads and the back of river otters

I took a picture of a waterlily blooming, just because I have to every year.

My annual waterlily picture

When we were back in the cabin sorting through the pictures and deleting the hopeless ones, Dave came to the door with the message that I had an urgent call. It was Nancy with the tragic news about Pat (see post from August 17). The rest of the day was a fog of shock, disbelief, and tears.

We eventually were able to rouse ourselves to carry on with our plans for the day. On our way to the Gunflint Trail, we saw the merlin again. This is a picture of the merlin’s tail as it flew out of the first picture.

A merlin leaving the picture (top)

It landed nearby, where I was finally able to get a decent, in-focus shot.

Finally, a good picture

Normally, the Chik Wauk Museum has a new display each summer featuring a different individual or event from the history of the Gunflint Trail. I’m not sure if it was because I was lost in grief or because COVID had impacted the museums usual schedule, but it didn’t seem like they had changed their displays since last year.

We went to the campground at the end of the trail. COVID has been good for camping. It seemed that every site was filled.

After a trip to town for wine, gin, and a stop at DQ, we went back to the cabin. We had spaghetti with chicken in a wine, mushroom, and garlic sauce for supper. I made peach and blueberry cobbler with cream scones. We put together the last of the 100-piece jigsaws.

Peach and blueberry cobbler; goldfinch jigsaw

Friday, August 14

As much as I hoped that Pat’s death was a bad dream, she was still dead when I woke up. I made eggs with stuff (peppers, onion, cheese), toast, and bacon for breakfast. The otters came back, and we took a bunch of bad pictures again. I had two that were almost focused. In this one, the otter on the right seems to have something in its mouth.

A not-too-bad picture of two otters

I’m not sure if these two otters are sharing or stealing food. Without knowing their motivation, it is impossible to tell.

Sharing or stealing food?

We went to Tofte to visit the North Shore Commercial Fishing Museum. I’d wanted to go there because I thought that Pat would enjoy reading about it in a letter, especially if she and Nancy had not been there before. It felt hollow now, but I have other readers.

North Shore Commercial Fishing Museum sign

The museum was small but filled with information and artifacts. It is difficult for the modern mind to imagine how hard those early fishermen and their families worked. This picture tries to capture the fisherman’s typical attire. The plaque next to the mannequin explains that the wives made the fishermen’s clothes beginning with sheep. Think of the skills they would have to have! Shearing, carding, spinning, weaving, sewing. No Asian sweatshops for them. I bet they never threw anything out before it had been repeatedly mended and patched. I wonder if they even had a second set so that one could dry before they had to go out on the lake the next day. Oh, and when they got in from the freezing cold water, they had to clean, salt, and pack their catch before they were done for the day. Oh, the family sometimes lived above the fish shack. There would be no escaping the smell.

Typical clothes of fishermen

Here is a picture of the pathetically small boats they fished in.

A small boat for a big lake

This is a herring shovel that was used for scooping herring out of the boat. The water went through the holes in the shovel, and the fish stayed in. One of my questions going in was about the herring. This particular fish was a different species than the herring that lives in salt water. It is more closely related to the lake whitefish than the ocean herring.

Herring shovel

We stopped at DQ on the way back to the cabin so Jane could have ice cream. I didn’t have much of an appetite. We had our final happy hour of gin and tonics on the deck.

Last happy hour on the deck

We packed our things and loaded as much as we could in the car. Time to go home.