Heather and Barry's Homepage

Lack of thunder did not alert Barry to the rain that was destined to come, nor would it have helped, for the drops started descending at about 2ish in the morning. I awoke to the tapping on the tent and tried restlessly to fall back asleep. The night was the coolest it has been thus far and both Barry and I were chilly throughout our sleep. I awoke fully at 7ish needing to go to the bathroom, but had no desire to leave the house, as it was now pouring. The rain let up and eventually ceased around 9, so I pulled myself from sleep and walked to the necessary location.

The sun was shining and the view over Lake Superior splendid. White fluffy clouds played in a light blue sky as we ate breakfast. The clear water reflected a grey hue that was captivating and as soon as Barry and I had put everything but the tent away (as to give it time to dry), I went to photograph these scenes. As my trigger-happy finger danced with the ripples in the water, Barry walked down the beach and met with a couple from Minnesota. They were taking a week to head east around and camp along Lake Superior, unlike us, who were cramming the trip into three days. The two campers - one potentially a Minnesota native, the other originally from Hawaii - told Barry that there are fire restrictions all across the Dakotas and that driving along I-90 was going to be very flat and very hot; the latter two I knew from my previous cross-country trip. The woman’s pooch, a Siberian Husky named Tiger, was chilling in the shade when I approached; I partially joined in their conversation while taking more pictures from a different perspective on the beach. Thanking them for their wisdom, we waded our way back to the tent. Although the fly never completely dried while we were roaming the shores, we were forced to unceremoniously stuff it and the rest of our house into its sack when we returned. Likewise, we threw whatever was remaining around the site into the trunk of the car and began our trek around the rest of Lake Superior. Given our “free park entrance fee” for the day, I looked at the map to see what Provincial Parks laid ahead for the day. One of the big ones was Sleeping Giant. The description in the book we had received at one of the Tourist Information Centers made the park seem interesting, so with that as a potential destination, we drove westward.

As we were on our way, Barry told me that it was mandatory for us to stop at a chip stand before we returned to the states. I kept my eyes peeled for such a place, as they seemed to be rarities along our route of the past few days. It seemed a perfect coincidence, but very shortly after mentioning his request, this bizarre-looking rock creation erected on the side of the road grabbed my attention. Behind this feature was the essential chip stand. Quickly, I pulled off the road into the driveway, passing a mural-covered store painted with fantastically beautiful images of wildlife. I parked next to the chip stand and we both got out of the car, Barry mentioning that he was dubious of the little red barn as it did not say “chips” anywhere. He was in luck, however.

After each of us ordering a small container of freshly made-to-order fries, I went to inquire (with camera in hand) about the tall piece of rock sticking out of the ground. Made by some artist whose name is in a pamphlet I picked up in the store, this “Indian Head” was designed after a Native American legend. The sign in front of the structure told some of the story with a map that outlined the legend somewhat. I took pictures of this replica while we waited for our fries, which were made to perfection moments later. We sat down behind both the statue and the chip stand to eat. The fries were consumed in record time and we were soon licking our fingers from tomato, salt, and grease (and mustard for Barry). Upon cleanup of our meal, we entered the mural-laden shop where I picked up said pamphlet describing the great rock of tallness as well as one about the building and the paintings. I could not resist the fudge that was staring at me, begging me to purchase then eat it, and when the sale was complete, Barry and I were back on the road heading toward Thunder Bay.

Twenty minutes or so later, we arrived at the turn for Sleeping Giant. I asked Barry if he wanted to stop, and he said he’d rather go to the store that had been recommended to us, “Take A Hike,” in Thunder Bay to find out where all of the climbing was*. I shrugged, we switched drivers, and I passed out from (what I thought was) the grease of the fries. Barry woke me when we arrived at the outskirt of town so that I could navigate to the shop, and we were soon inside this very quaint little outdoor store in the heart of Thunder Bay. We asked the gentleman behind the counter if he could tell us where all the excellent climbing was in the area. He and his co-worker quickly responded - prepare yourselves for irony and a soon-to-be-grumpy Heather, folks - that the best places to climb were back near the Sleeping Giant turn-off and a place a bit further up the road eastward.

For those who care or want to know for future reference, the first place they recommended is called the Silver Harbor Conservation Area. It offers a variety of both difficulty and type (all top, sport, and trad) of climbing. This was the place that is along Route 17, turning, as mentioned previously, at the Sleeping Giant Provincial Park exit. The second place they said to climb, a bit farther east past Silver Harbor from Thunder Bay is called Pass Lake. The woman at Take A Hike said that the area is all sandstone with bolted routes, and a favorite for sport climbing among the locals. [Note: Silver Harbor was all of 20-30 minutes of backtracking eastward, hardly an insurmountable distance. —Barry]

Given the fact that I was still tired, and that it was late in the afternoon, I told Barry I just didn’t want to climb today. None-the-less, we took the advice of the people who worked at Take A Hike and walked a few blocks to the public library. The two guides in the area - the Bluffs right in Thunder Bay and Silver Harbor – were both part of the special collections unit. Barry needed to fork over his license in order to view them. Meanwhile, I located a book on the shelf that discussed areas in Minnesota to climb. This book had two of the favorite crags for climbers from Thunder Bay that Take A Hike told us about: Shovel Point and Palisade Head. These locations can both be found along Route 61 South (from Cananda) in or near Tettegouche (tet-a-goo-chee) State Park. More Irony: when Barry and I visited my aunt and Uncle last year, we purchased the Falcon Guide for climbing in Minnesota and Wisconsin. This book is packed with my guide books in Northampton, hidden beneath mass amounts of other things in the storage space I use. Barry wistfully wanted a copy of the Silver Harbor guide book if we decided that we were going to climb there; the author did a fabulous job of putting it together and making it very user friendly. [NOTE: to obtain a copy of said guide book, try calling Frank Piarka at the Canadian Alpine Club at 807-577-7950.]

After much discussion, Barry agreed with me that the best thing to do was to punt on climbing today. We were both low energy and it was practically evening when we left the library. Instead, we would hike at Pigeon River Provincial Park (get our free day pass!), cross the boarder into Minnesota, camp out somewhere along Route 61, get up early to climb at one of the MN places, and then head to the Minnesota Roe’s house. Happy with this plan, we got into the car and headed south.

My sleepy head knocked me into dreamland as soon as we were on the main road and left Barry alone to drive to the park. He woke me when we arrived in the parking lot, and it was here, at 5:30 PM, that our day truly began.

High Falls in Pigeon River Provincial Park, according to the map that Barry picked up when he arrived at the visitors center (letting me sleep more), was approximately a 5-kilometer loop trail. We headed out with camera on my back, Nalgene in Barry’s hand, and began our exercise. The first part of the trail was buggy as it paralleled the highway. We were soon away from road noise, and while the bugs were still annoying, as bugs are supposed to be, of course, they were less so. We could soon hear the rushing water of the water and Barry made an interesting comment about what it would be like to be deaf and thus unable to hear the huge gush of a waterfall when so close. A sign marked our destination by telling us that there were “steep cliffs” that were “dangerous” past it. Ignoring the warning, we charged ahead and scrambled down the rocks to obtain a beautiful view of an amazing cascade. In picture mode, I attempted to capture images that possess the same beauty of the rush and the fall of the sparkling sun hitting the bonded hydrogen and oxygen molecules in nature. Barry, in typical Barry-like fashion, scrambled further down the canyon toward the pool at the bottom of the falls. Without hesitation, he dressed into his birthday suit and slid into the water. He smiled up at me with a request to join him. Carefully, I descended the cliff, making sure to protect the camera. My bare feet hugged the smooth rocks that conveniently formed a staircase to the bottom. I struggled with the idea of being nude in a public place, but Barry was having way too much fun in the water. Soon, I was next to Barry, enjoying the delightful feel of warm whitewater splashing all over me.

Having way too much fun, Barry pulled out his waterproof camera and used the timer to get a (appropriately decent) picture of us with the falls in the background. Then, with said camera in hand, we fought the gentle current and swam to the other side of the pool.

The sun was soon setting and the bugs sang their evening song in the background as Barry and I resumed our hike around the loop. With a smile on his face, Barry wrapped his arm around me and said that our little jaunt into the woods and waterfall made the entire 3-day trip on the “Lake Superior Circle Tour” worth it. :)

Minutes later - literally - we crossed the Canada/United States of America border and were back in home sweet home. Half a mile down the road was a gas station and a store named Ryder’s. With the last of my Canadian cash, I purchased a few items that I thought cute and a gift for my nephew Cian, which he won’t get ‘til his birthday in October. As we browsed, we saw a Minnesota postcard with a picture similar to one of the many I had just taken at High Falls. We turned the postcard over and were shocked to find out that the falls we had just played in for the evening in Canada were actually noted as the tallest falls in Minnesota! Little did it matter. Our trek was worth-the-while to the fullest, and we loved the irony of the situation.

Done with our shopping, we drove down Route 61 in MN and tried to find the nearest campground so that we could set up camp, cook dinner, and hopefully avoid the blood-sucking mosquitoes. We came to a state park about twenty or so minutes later and happily jumped out f the car to self-register only then to see the sign yelling loudly that the campground was full. Sighing, we plopped back into the vehicle and returned to the road. Using our technology, we got out the ‘puter and ran Streets and Trips, thus locating Grand Marias (Mar-eye) Municipal Campground. We called ahead to reserve a space, of which there were few remaining, and headed to our home for the night. It was about 9:45 PM when we entered town. We used the GPS component of the mapping software to guide us there and were very confused when the program kept trying to send us into the local landfill to camp for the evening. Thankfully, Barry’s cell phone had coverage and we called the site back to correct this heinous error. Turns out that Streets and Trips had the wrong side of Route 61.

Another hour passed and the day ended as amazingly as it began. We set up our lovely yellow house, snuggled up to each other, and contently drifted off into a blissful sleep.

• Note to readers: Barry and I found out our first summer together that the best places to find out about the local crags and rivers to play on were the outdoor stores or rock gyms that were located in the vicinity.