It’s been more than a week since I returned home from a long weekend in a camper cabin in Tettegouche State Park. Now from the comfort of home, I find myself recalling the quiet nights beside the glowing wood stove while the winter wind howled past the windows, and the way my boots would squeak while making fresh tracks in the new snow during day time forest explorations. At night, on those brisk trips to the bath house, it was impossible not to stop and gaze at the stars for a moment, vast, quiet, and a world away. Nearly every aspect of this trip was simple and memorable, but that is not to say it was easy.
If you have never been to Tettegouche State Park, most of it sits on the shore of Lake Superior just outside the town of Silver Bay, MN. The main park is known for its rocky cliffs and impressive waterfalls, including High Falls, the tallest waterfall completely within the boundaries of Minnesota. The camper cabins sit a few miles inland on the small and otherwise uninhabited Mic Mac Lake. The cabins were originally part of a logging camp in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. In 1910 the camp was purchased along with 1,000 acres around Mic Mac Lake by a group of Duluth businessmen who had formed an conservation club they called The Tettegouche Club. They used the camp for rustic retreats until 1920 when the club disbanded. Following the disbandment, the land was bought by Tettegouche Club member Clement Quinn. He independently continued their vision, keeping the land rustic and expanding the borders of the property over the 50 years he owned it. The land changed hands one more time before being sold to the nature conservancy in 1978. In 1979, the camp was joined with Tettegouche State Park.
To reach the camp visitors may either hike 3.5 miles from the park visitor center, or choose the steeper though much shorter option at 1.5 miles from the Lax Lake Road parking area. This trail is the clear winner for most cabin campers, myself included.
Although this wasn’t the first time I’d visited these cabins, this trip was distinctly differnt. Though the trail and camp were familiar, many other factors had changed. I’d had three more years of maturation since the last time I sled dogged my belongings in a toboggan to the remote camp, and my company was different. Previously I’d stayed with my friend and fellow aspiring outdoorswoman, Holly Rose. This time I was venturing into the woods with Joe, who I had been dating since summer. This would be our first long weekend away together. In hindsight, a trip to a remote, unheated cabin with no running water, vehicle access, or cell service is a brave choice for a first weekend away together, but then what better way is there to really get to know someone?
Our trip began with the drive up the shore from Duluth. Though only a little over an hour, the grey skies and harsh winds dampened our moods. By the time we reached the parking lot off of Lax Lake Road the idea of sitting beside a nice warm wood stove got me out of the car and moving. It may have even given me a little extra gusto as I pulled the sled up the steep hills of the trail.
The hike didn’t take long. We reached the cabin ready to start that fire and relax, though it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. The stove, being cold and full of ashes, needed some TLC first. We spent the next hour cleaning it and convincing the cold, snow laced wood to keep burning. It would be at least another hour before the little cabin began to warm up. As we worked together steadily at this task, our outlook for the weekend improved as the temperature in the cabin rose.
That night we found that much like a new baby, the fire needed to be fed every couple of hours or it would wake us up. Having no children, this kind of scattered sleep was appalling to me. After the 4 A.M. stove fill I suggested we just let the fire go out and restart it when we woke up for the day so we could at least get one REM cycle in. When we awoke at 8 A.M. in a cold cabin I was delighted to find that the now warm stove was easy to relight and was spitting out heat again in minutes. This 8 A.M. fire starting taught me to keep birch bark and kindling beside the stove so it can be started quickly, and to keep several hours worth of wood inside the cabin so it is dry and warm and quick to burn when added to the fire.
Although rose tinted expectations and an inaccurate weather forecast had us believing that the weekend would hold sunny skies and 25-degree days, we had to make due with subzero temps and mostly grey skies.
The first day began with an introspective solo walk in the woods. At this hour, though cold, the sun was out and the world overtly beautiful. The forest of pine and birch rolled up sloping hills that rose and fell to the horizon. The low spots held uninhabited lakes, all frozen now and singing their freezing songs. Around the lakes were rock walls which rose high and rugged and seemed to glow in the winter sunlight.
I returned to the cabin to find breakfast made for me. After relaxing for an hour or two, I headed back out for another hike, this time with Joe. We trekked up to a snowy vista that overlooked a quiet valley. Beyond it the hills rolled toward the great lake. From this overlook Joe gave in to a boyish impulse and hurled his crooked walking stick over the edge. We watched it spiral perfectly, silently through the sky till it tipped and fell to join the forest below. As our hike continued we passed a frozen waterfall that still trickled under heavy layers of ice. The soft sounds were pleasant and unexpected in the frozen forest.
We returned to a cold cabin that was easily made warm and found ourselves with no other option than to relax: to nap, to journal, to read. There was nothing to accomplish and it was freeing feeling.
It was in the same manner that dinner was prepared: the limiting of options simplified the experience. The cabins all come with an electric stove top, pots, pans and cooking utensils. Water is brought in via a multi gallon jug you fill from a hand pump which stands at the center of camp. Washing dishes requires heating water on the stove for the provided dishpans. Every step of the process takes a little forethought. It could be seen as an inconvenience, or an invitation to slow down and come back to the basics of existence. Heating water and gathering wood are elemental, grounding tasks. And once they were completed, Joe kicked my ass at cribbage. Then it was time for bed.
By the next day I was feeling pretty comfortable in the woods and in our cabin, though we did trek back to civilization that day to go the park visitor center and hike along the lake, after housing a couple of burgers in Silver Bay first, of course.
It was another frigid day and the trail to Shovel Point was icy. Still, we made it to the outlook and watched the waves of Superior roll. Steam hung above the water and ice clung to the rocks of the shore where the waves ran up agains them. Looking west we saw a forest of pine and barren deciduous trees, the white of the ground joining the white of the sky almost seamlessly. It was quite a different scene from the inviting days of summer.
Back at the visitor center we noticed more people checking in to the cabins and found our time alone in the wilderness was now behind us. Our trip was subtly shifting back towards civilization.
Having brought the toboggan with free of gear we were able to use it as god intended on the way back and sled down some of the hills. Highly recommend, though I had forgotten how hard it is to steer a sled, and how much snow is thrown up in your face. Regardless, it was a great thrill racing down those hills.
That night we ventured onto Mic Mac Lake. It was a moonless night and the stars were brilliant, the ribbon of the Milky Way weaving through them. We laid on our backs and looked up, aware that we were looking at a map, though the only direction we could find on it was North. But whether we could read the map or not, its influence was not lost on us.
By now, life at the cabin felt almost normal, although the time to leave was drawing near. After a cribbage rematch, which I won by a landslide, and some cleaning and packing, we settled in for our last night of getting up every two hours to feed the stove. In the morning the taboggan was loaded and sled dogged back to the car and we were on the highway by noon. Another trip complete and the boundaries of what is known, if not comfortable, expanded just a little.
If you are interested in visiting Tettegouche State Park or renting one of their cabins you can visit their website via the link below.
Thank you for reading, and as always, keep listening.
Jenny Marie