The Joyce Estate

Ode to a Place: The Joyce Estate

Story and photos by David Johnson

I’d just convinced myself that it was just the cold air carrying the sound of the howling wolves so purely over the icy lakes that made it sound like they were right next to the tent. “They’re miles away” I thought and began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly, a loud bang jolted me awake. In the dark, my mind raced to explain the sound. Anything that loud, I knew, was bigger than a wolf. It had come from somewhere out on the lake by which we were camped. Why would someone be out dropping an aluminum boat on the ice, now, in the middle of winter, in the middle of the night, miles from a parking lot? Or had a moose crashed through the ice while crossing the lake? Maybe a tree had cracked and fallen?

Beside me, my fiancé, Alison, wrapped tightly in her sleeping bag, was also awake, taking measured breaths and trying to listen more fully. It was our first time winter camping. For the occasion, we’d skied to our favorite summertime campsite on the Joyce Estate, north of Grand Rapids. Like the winter-camping newbies we were, we’d carried our gear on our backs instead of pulling it on sleds. The extra weight overwhelmed the camber of our skis, making them stick instead of glide, which made the trek to the lake harder than it needed to be. After a hot dinner, an early January sundown, and appreciating the quiet, crystal-clear stars, our skiing slog caught up to us and we tucked into our bags. That’s when the wolves started up. Unlike with the wolves, however, I couldn’t presume that the sudden, loud and strange sound was a safe distance from our tent.

The Joyce Estate, now part of the Chippewa National Forest, was the summer camp of David Gage Joyce, a Chicagoan and heir to a timber fortune who chose the North Woods of Minnesota for his grand summer retreat. ‘Nopeming’, or ‘Place of Rest,’ by his own translation of the Ojibwe word, was surrounded by 4500 choice acres of lakes and forest. Construction on Joyce’s compound began in 1915 and ultimately sprawled to 40 buildings. They included an enormous main lodge, private cabins for guests and quarters for staff, boat docks, a seaplane hangar, a greenhouse, an observation tower, a lakeside sauna with a rooftop tea house, a tennis court, and even a nine-hole, par-three golf course. Mr. Joyce entertained America’s jet set at his Nopeming with summer parties. His love of premium liquor was famous, and when supplies were low he was said to have it plane-dropped by parachute into his lake and picked up by rowboat. Joyce passed away in 1937, followed by his second wife, Beatrice, in 1948. Joyce’s only child, Beatrice Clotilde Joyce, inherited the estate and kept the parties going. She died childless in 1972 as the third-richest woman in the world, with almost $800 million in today’s dollars. With the family line at its end, the Joyce Estate went on the market. The Nature Conservancy bought the property for $2M (or $12.3M today), and turned it over to the U.S. Forest Service (USFS) in 1974. Today, nature has reclaimed most of Nopeming, but the USFS continues to preserve the shells of a few of its original buildings. Many other concrete foundations and examples of stonework are left to slowly crumble. What remains is, as intended, just enough to appreciate the old grandeur of the place where people of unimaginable wealth once threw boozy summer parties.

Growing up, I ran the old access roads. These narrow and rolling trails, now open to hiking, biking, horseback riding, and classic skiing in the winter, have tire ruts first laid down by David Joyce himself. I swam in the perfect, cold sand-andturquoise-water of the estate’s deep Trout Lake. In the winters, skiing at night with a headlamp, alone, it was easy to imagine the old spirits at my back, chasing me out. Presently, no imagination was necessary. Some brute and very real thing was haunting us. Then, the same loud crash came from the lake again, and again. A quick discussion with Alison landed me the job of leaving the tent to check it out. I quickly layered up and stepped out onto the snowy mound where we had pitched our tent. With the headlamp off, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Nothing moved out on the blank white of the lake. Everything was fixed under the canopy of stars. Then came the sound, yet again, loud enough to echo off the frozen shoreline trees. But I still hadn’t seen anything move. I don’t remember exactly how long it took, standing there in the freezing air, looking for a man wrestling a boat, or an angry, drowning moose. Embarrassingly long. But finally it dawned on me. The ice was alive. Logic poured in, and relief with it.

The lake was simply expanding and cracking as it cooled after a sunny winter day. I’d just never spent a night outside next to a lake in the middle of winter. Now I knew how loud it could be. I laughed at my fear and felt gratitude for having a place like this where I could witness and learn wild things lost to civilized life. I shared my epiphany out loud with Alison, still waiting in the tent. Back inside my sleeping bag I rewarmed, and finally slept. It helped that the wolves had moved on, too. There is no substitute for ‘being there’ when it comes to the experience of wilderness and, I argue, historic places. Being there will always be the best portal into the spirit of a place like the Joyce Estate. It’s where I learned to ski, taught my dog to trail run, and where I first mooned a game camera to make my girlfriend-now fiancé-laugh. It’s a sublime and restorative place, and I always look forward to returning, much like its former millionaire owners who had the power to go anywhere and do anything.

Historical facts from: Waleski, Joseph and Boese, Donald L. (1991) “The Joyce Estate.” Grand Rapids Companion: Reflections of the People and Events That Shaped Grand Rapids During Its First 100 Years (1891 - 1991). Grand Rapids, MN: Grand Rapids Centennial Committee. Hawkinson, Susan and Jewett, Warren. (2003) Timber Connections: The Joyce Lumber Story. Grand Rapids, MN: Bluewaters Press.

Find the Joyce Estate north of Grand Rapids off MN Highway 38. To reach the southern access trail, turn onto Clearwater Road (County 60) at mile 12.5. After 1.3 miles on Clearwater Road, turn left onto Bluewater Road (County 335; a dirt road). Follow Bluewater for miles. You’ll arrive after a curving downhill and a sharp right bend in the road. The parking lot is on the left. From this southern trailhead, it is 3.3 miles one way to the estate.

David Johnson is a runner and skier from Duluth with a passion for exploring Minnesota’s Outdoors. His bucket list includes skiing the whole Banadad Trail.