Intangible (Spring 2024)

INTANGIBLE

A VOICE FOR WILDNESS AND WONDER

INTANGIBLE

A VOICE FOR WILDNESS AND WONDER

OUR MISSION

The Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute prepares people to meet the challenges of the future with intellectual and artistic creativity by promoting and protecting experiences of wildness and wonder.

To realize its mission, the Institute hosts LoonWatch, the Timber Wolf Alliance, the Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Awards, and numerous events for young people and adults.

LOONWATCH

LoonWatch protects common loons and their aquatic habitats through education, monitoring, and research.

TIMBER WOLF ALLIANCE

With a particular focus on Wisconsin and Michigan, the Timber Wolf Alliance uses science-based information to promote human coexistence with wolves and an ecologically-functional wolf population in areas of suitable habitat.

SIGURD OLSON NATURE WRITING AWARDS

Established in 1991, the Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Awards honor the literary legacy of Sigurd Olson by recognizing and encouraging contemporary writers who capture the spirit of the human relationship with the natural world and who promote awareness, preservation, appreciation, or restoration of the natural world for future generations.

YOUTH AND ADULT PROGRAMS

To promote experiences of wildness and wonder for young people and adults, the Institute offers annual internships, camps, clinics, lectures, conferences, retreats, and outings.

THE COVER

Departing York Island ahead of a small-craft warning. Photo by Polly Keith Scotland.

Editing by Alan Brew

Design by Brian Donahue, bedesign, inc.

© 2024 Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute 715-682-1223

soei@northland.edu • northland.edu/soei

Since 2007, I have had the good fortune to travel around Lake Superior ten times. Most of my journeys have been in May and nearly all of them have been with students enrolled in Northland College’s Superior Connections program.

Traveling around Lake Superior as part of an intimate group has been incredible, and inevitably each of us has brought unique life experiences and varied interests to the journey. Some have embraced the adventure of hiking shoreline trails; climbing lake-side cliffs; or paddling on water that is expansive, frigid, and always unpredictable. Some have immersed themselves in the natural history, tracing folds, uplifts, and intrusions in the rock; listening attentively to bird calls; identifying arctic disjuncts and delicate wildflowers. And some have devoted themselves to capturing and preserving our experiences, in words carefully penned across a page, in the rising and falling notes of an original song, in brushstrokes with colored water, in digital images deftly aligned to tell a story.

But always, we have shared the beauty of the sun and moon rising and setting over the Lake; of water rushing, roaring, and cascading through deep gorges; of smooth, multi-colored stones washed by clear, clear water. And together we have been transformed by the Lake’s deep rhythms and long horizons, slowing our breath to align with the gentle ebb and flow of water on a pebbly beach; wiggling our toes into soft sand; stretching out, bare skin to warm rock; gazing, reflecting, meditating.

In this issue of Intangible, our contributors share with you their experiences with and feelings about this special, superior lake. If you know Lake Superior, I hope the words and images will resonate with you, evoking memories. If you don’t know Lake Superior, I hope you will be inspired to immerse yourself in its wonders.

ALAN BREW | EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

PHOTO BY BOB GROSS

WRITING LAKE SUPERIOR

SWEDE

“O God, be good to me. Thy sea is so great, And my boat is so small.”

—Breton Fisherman’s Prayer

Lake Superior attracts all kinds of artists— poets, painters, and more. Paradoxically, for those who stay, that massive body of water raises fears and frustrations. The lake looms in the lives and minds of those who live nearby. It’s huge! It’s incomprehensible! We may know a lot about it, but we can’t comprehend it, can’t get it whole! How can something so enormous be elusive? The only approach with a chance of success is to frame one scene and hope it suggests the rest.

Back in my excited and bewildered twenties, I had, for a month or so, the use of a cabin outside the former fishing village of Hovland. Down the slope from mine, another cabin, right beside the lake, was occupied by a recently retired Swedish-American fisherman, his wife, and their grown, mentally-challenged son. I got to know them some. My grandparents had come from Sweden as children, so I loved the Scandinavian lilt to the English this family spoke. I also loved how they called the lake “the sea.” They had a skiff and still rowed out each day, weather permitting, to bring fish to their table. A few years later, I wrote this poem:

1.

He’s a big man with a brogue. Americans who have never seen Sweden, We greet his words with grins.

Never mind, old man. Tell us again How Olsdotter, Sutter, Anderson, Olson, Names of the dead, live on with us.

2.

When the lampreys arrived, the lake trout died, And the town’s fame faded. Now the buildings are all one Washed-up driftwood gray.

The Swede is only local color, Sitting captive in his captain’s chair, Watching the sunset, watching the waves Leap like salmon in the red light. Look. The waves break their backs on the rocks And die in pools of their own making.

3.

He is troubled by his heart. He feels Something wrong with Lake Superior. In the white boat every night now He hauls up his nets and picks from their holes A few slippery eelfish, a few whitefish.

Seasick, he wakes his wife, who All night has been riding a bike From Stockholm down to the Baltic Sea. She has heard all this before, But she listens again as though His dreams were shells, shells which held Sounds of a colder sea.

BY BART SUTTER | WATERCOLOR BY PEG SANDIN

In some ways, a poem can include more than a painting or a photograph—moving back and forth in time, for example. Yet limitations remain. This family haunted me, and I could only hope this glimpse of them would suggest the larger triumph and tragedy of Nordic immigration to the North Shore of Lake Superior.

Fishermen, research scientists, kayakers, and sailors must know the great lake best. The rest of us are mostly stuck on shore and only know the water glancingly— gazing out a bedroom window, say, or looking out while on a hike, or sneaking peeks while driving. As I moved into my later years, I tried to honor such brief perceptions with quick poems like these:

I wake from a dream.

A foreign ship waits offshore, Draped in clouds of steam.

Pilings of the dock

That gave way years ago. Gulls Hang out to fish and talk.

Across the bay, a tug Hauls its disappearing wake.

Another waterbug.

But that’s like trying to fit Lake Superior inside a raindrop!

No artist will ever fully capture Lake Superior. Yet we can’t help but try sometimes. Years ago, I was obsessed with an old Irish hymn to St. Brigid. The melancholy melody seemed a perfect fit for Lake Superior, but the lyrics were in Gaelic. I wanted my own words so I could hear my brother, who has a golden voice, sing this hymn to the lake. Here’s what I came up with:

THE GREAT LAKE

Here’s to Lake Superior, Great interior ocean, Misty as a memory, Deeper than a dream.

Home to trout and salmon, Falcons and mergansers, Wilderness of wild waves, Dark sweetwater sea.

Near to Lake Superior, Sorrows all grow smaller. Water like the mind of God, Wide as all the world.

So here’s to Lake Superior, Great interior ocean, Misty as a memory, Deeper than a dream.

The major lesson that Lake Superior teaches is humility. Still, I take it as a sign of some success that when my brother sings those words, the listeners seem lost in a sea of silence for several seconds before they think to clap.

Bart Sutter, who lives in Duluth, is the author of eleven books, the most recent of which is Cotton Grass: New and Selected Poems of the North, forthcoming from Nodin Press. Follow Bart at bartonsutter.com

“Swede” from Pine Creek Parish Hall and Other Poems is copyright © 1985 by Barton Sutter. Reprinted with the permission of Mark Sanders and Sandhills Press.

SETTING THE TONE

TEXT BY STEPHEN DAHL | PHOTOS BY BECCA DILLEY

My name is Stephen Dahl. I grew up in north central Wisconsin in a small town called New Auburn. Dairy farm country. When I was strong enough to lift hay bales all day, farmers called. It was almost work you were expected to help with.

GRATITUDE

Marcie disengaged the power takeoff to the baler, then shut down the Massey-Ferguson diesel. We finished the 40 acre field. I eased off the hay wagon and crawled under it—shade. A breeze cooled the sweat on my forehead. Marcie slid under the wagon with a small cooler and a jug of lemonade. The diesel clinked to silence.

On the breeze, the song of a meadowlark wove between hay bales.

You might wonder why I tell this story—what does it have to do with Lake Superior. Because it maybe set the tone for me—hard physical work—being out in the open—a tangible product at the end of the day.

For over 30 years, I have commercial fished on Lake Superior. My home port is Knife River on Minnesota’s North Shore. I fish for herring and have a small Lake Trout quota. When I deliver 25 pounds of herring fillets, the joy and appreciation of folks at local restaurants is affirming.

After New Auburn, I wandered some, worked in Norway, a college degree, jobs in human services. But always a draw to Lake Superior and to somehow commercial fish. It took some time and searching before I finally connected with Sivertson’s Fisheries in Duluth.

Sivertson’s was a good place to start as it provided me with various fishing experiences. Probably the most notable was being part of the Isle Royale fishery. That fishery is long since over now. I fished with the last generation.

One of the stories handed down to me from Isle Royale was about the fishermen who caught the first smelt in a net. When they headed back to shore and showed the unknown fish to their families, one of the mothers (her name is lost to me) started to cry. She knew, in her heart, this foreign fish would impact them worse than any relentless Northeast storm ever could. She was right. In every one of the Great Lakes the smelt entered—the herring collapsed.

And there was more. Whenever an exotic species enters a new system, there is often a population explosion. In the case of Lake

Superior, that explosion was more extreme because there were no or few predators to eat smelt. The sea lamprey also entered the Great Lakes—and decimated the Lake Trout population. But good people went to work and figured out a way to control the lamprey. Stocking programs helped the Lake Trout rebound. Once the natural predator was healthy, the smelt population plummeted, and the herring thrived again.

STORM

The wind blows this morning My skiff shall stay in the shelter of the harbor this morning

At the end of the breakwall Herring gulls quiet and motionless face into the wind.

Cold is beautiful. I have had nets out in April when there was a huge storm with 15- to 20- foot seas. But the nets were fine— didn’t drag anchor. The water was cold—uniformly cold—the currents didn’t set up. But another change is occurring now. It troubles me. The waters of Lake Superior are warming. I see it most profoundly in the autumn.

The upper waters of Lake Superior warm every summer, usually by mid-July. By August, the upper 100 feet might be 60 to 65 degrees Fahrenheit. The herring nets fishermen set are most often 24 feet down from the surface. There is a vertical migration every night in Lake Superior. The zooplankton come up to feed— herring follow to feed on them. When the top water warms and water below is still cold, currents happen—sometimes fierce— making it extremely difficult to lift the nets.

What I’m seeing happen is that this warm upper water lasts later and later—extending the challenge of lifting nets almost into early November. Were she still with us, I believe the prescient mother from Isle Royale would shed tears again.

There have been changes since I started fishing on Lake Superior in April 1985. And there were many changes before I set my first nets. But one constant has been the beauty and awesome nature of Lake Superior. It is why I am grateful to make my living from its cold and clear waters.

Stephen Dahl is author of Knife Island: Circling a Year in a Herring Skiff and of the poetry collection to gather a seed. He continues to live and fish on the north shore of Lake Superior.

THE WATERCOLORS OF PEG SANDIN

Music was my focus as a young adult, but then I went to an art exhibition featuring Lee Weiss watercolors and knew instantly that I wanted to learn how to paint. That was in 1972. There is nothing like standing on the shores of Lake Superior. Suspended in time between the sights, smells, and sounds that come from one of nature’s most unique wonders is enough to provide a lifetime of artistic inspiration for me. I am intrigued by patterns in nature, I love to add mood, rhythm, and color to the patterns I see, creating one-of-a-kind watercolors. Art has made me more aware of nature’s great beauty.

Peg Sandin lives on the south shore of Lake Superior, and the Lake continues to amaze and inspire her on a daily basis. You may follow her work at pegsandin.net

WATERCOLORS BY PEG SANDIN

Left: Lake Superior Rock Collection II. Above, left: Bright Sunset over Little Girls Point; Lake Superior Rocks III; Underwater Magic. Above, right: Ripples; Sunset, Waves Vista; Reflections.

Above, left: Splash; Rocks and Water 2; Basalt and Lichen. Above right: Big Wave; Rushing Water; Agate Abstract 1.

SOEI YOUTH PROGRAMS

Integral to

the activities of the Sigurd

Olson Environmental Institute are a number of programs for youth. In the pages that follow, we feature three programs that have given young people opportunities to explore the wonders of Lake Superior.

YOUTH CONNECT TRAILS 2019-2021

Youth Connect Trails offers overnight, full day and half day programs. We work with students in grades 5-12, providing peer leadership and support as part of the program. During YCT programs, participants engage in service-learning projects, gaining outdoor skills and stewardship, while also given opportunities to gain confidence, increase self-esteem, enhance communication skills and reflect on personal and group growth and learning during the day. Service-learning projects are all located outdoors, primarily working with partner organizations in maintaining and establishing trails. Youth Connect Trails ran each Wednesday in the fall of 2019, 2020, and 2021. Service projects took place at Mt. Ashwabay, Valhalla Recreation Area, the Maxwell Property, and Meyer’s Beach in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.

In our assessments for the program, many students reflected on their experience at Meyer’s Beach and what it was like to explore and learn about Lake Superior and the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. These quotes are from their reflections, when asked about something that sparked awe or wonder during their experience.

Prompt: What is something that made you feel wonder, awe, and/or curious in Youth Connect Trails?

• “I felt awe when we looked out at the sea caves and the lake at Meyers Beach”

• “Looking at the sea caves and seeing how small we were compared to the big structures”

• “The Apostle Islands and sunrise””

STEWARDS OF TOMORROW 2021

Connecting through sailing, kayaking, adventure and art! Stewards of Tomorrow in 2021 was designed for youth 13-17 years old interested in exploring the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore and becoming a steward of the park. Our goal was to provide fifty local youth the opportunity to experience the Apostle Islands and Lake TEXT BY CLAIR EMMONS | PHOTOS FROM SOEI YOUTH PROGRAMS ARCHIVES

Superior as part of the 50th anniversary of the park and support them in becoming stewards to protect and preserve the park in the future.

These quotes and photos are reflections from their experience of playing, learning, and exploring along Lake Superior for 4 days.

Prompt: What is something that made you feel wonder, awe, and/or curious during the program?

• “Something that made me feel wonder was that half hour watching the waves on the beach”

• “I thought the sea caves were really awe-inspiring”

• “My favorite memory was entering the first cave while kayaking, it was like another world in there”

• “When looking at the huge rocks underneath the super clear water”

• “The story of the Islands”

LAKE SUPERIOR YOUTH SYMPOSIUM 2023

The purpose of the Lake Superior Youth Symposium is to inspire and motivate teachers and students in grades 8-12 to become stewards of Lake Superior and the Great Lakes.

The Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute hosted the 15th biennial symposium in 2023. Students from across the watershed were invited to join us for a 4-day 3-night experience held in Ashland, Wisconsin. Participants shared knowledge and skills, addressing current issues that challenge the health of the Lake Superior basin, and appreciated the history and culture of the Lake Superior region. Symposium activities included keynote presentations, field trips, artistic expression, team building games, dancing, and a whole lot of fun.

Throughout the symposium there were numerous reflective opportunities where students were given prompts and then filled in the blank with a “gut/heart” response, based on their experiences. Some of these included love notes to Lake Superior, “I Am” poems, “We Are” group poems, and notes and reminders for the lake that were pinned to a large painted Lake Superior board.

All from 2021 program iteration of Stewards of Tomorrow. This was a 3 night, 4 day program

I Am Poem #1:

I am a hard worker

I hear the birds

I see the trees

I feel the dirt

I am having fun

I am an admirer

I know I’m stronger

I wonder who I am

I believe I am independent

I am at peace

I am homesick

I sense the joy

I witness nature’s beauty

I will make it through

I am a steward

I Am Poem #2:

I am nothing compared to this huge planet

I hear birds chirping songs to each other

I see waves rolling over each other, never being the same pattern

I feel calm and peaceful at one with myself

I am amazed

I am important to the wellbeing of this earth

I know we must change our ways as humans

I wonder what will come next

I believe change will save us

I am strong and hopeful

I am unknowing of the importance of everything

I sense cloudiness in people’s minds

I witness hatred towards mother earth

I will play my part

I am grateful for life

I Am Poem #3:

I am amazed

I hear birds singing in the trees

I see crystal blue waves crashing on the beach

I feel every grain of sand beneath my feet

I am alive

I am curious

I know that the elements decide the outcome

I wonder how all came to be and how long it will last

I believe that nature is worth fighting for

I am determined

I am serene

I sense that what we do today affects our future

I witness great beauty everyday

I will fight to protect this gift that I was given

I am grateful

—From youth participants in Stewards of Tomorrow, 2021

KAYAKING SAND AND YORK ISLANDS

Preparing to depart from York Island.

AnApostle Islands

National Lakeshore ranger watches us load our tandem kayak and says, “It’s bumpy out there. I’m glad to see you’re wearing wet suits, life jackets and spray skirts. Be sure to take a compass reading as fog can sweep in at any time. And remember, Lake Superior is the boss.”

On a Sunday afternoon, my husband Lee and I launch from Little Sand Bay, Wisconsin, to Sand Island for a spontaneous four-day getaway. It takes 90 minutes, paddling into a headwind with three-foot waves, to reach the government dock on East Bay. As Lee secures the kayak, I make several trips to reserved site #2 with our gear.

Sand Island is one of twenty-two islands in the Wisconsin archipelago. After our tent is set up under the canopy of an ancient, pine-scented forest, we relish a wok dinner of fresh veggies. The evening’s Perseid meteor shower streaks across the night sky.

In the morning, we walk two miles along a handicap-accessible boardwalk to the Sand Island Lighthouse, one of six named in the National Register of Historic Places.

A date carved into the archway above the lighthouse door indicates that it was built in 1881. In September 1905, a raging superstorm shoved the steamship Sevona onto a shoal. The lighthouse keeper stood by helplessly as the vessel broke apart.

rope, release my spray skirt, quickly jump out and pull the kayak ashore. Because I’m no longer agile, several big waves dump water into my open cockpit before I can pull Lee in. Once ashore, I use the bilge pump to remove the excess water.

Two other parties of kayak paddlers land on York at the same time as we do. We find our respective campsites, which are close together, making it easy to socialize if so inclined. Both groups are friendly and helpful. In fact, we are the beneficiaries of the leftover wild rice-blueberry salad that two guides from Whitecap Kayak have shared.

By evening, the wind switches to the southwest, calming the bay. The sunset, veiled with smoke from Canadian wildfires, spotlights the red cliffs of Bear Island and the lighthouse on Devils Island.

Lake Superior, the largest freshwater lake in the world, can sink ships. Tragically, on that September date, seven of the 24 Sevona passengers perished in the gale.

As I walk back to East Bay, the shimmering water under a sandstone arch catches my eye. I know Lake Superior can be peaceful one moment and treacherous the next.

On our paddle to York Island, another 15-knot, NE crosswind produces three-foot rollers that roil between waves reflecting back from both Sand and York. Over my left shoulder, the Minnesota shoreline in the west looks like a blue-gray pencil line. Ore boats appear seemingly from nowhere and move steadily toward Duluth.

When it’s time to land, we prepare for a wild surf in. As the person in the front seat, my job is to grab the

In the morning, the loud diesel engine of an old tugboat jars me awake. With the first cup of coffee in hand, I stroll the half-mile sugar sand beach and pick juicy raspberries to supplement our breakfast. We paddle around the banjo-shaped York Island before the 20-knot wind kicks up. The evening’s glassy conditions on York’s leeward side make it an ideal overnight anchorage for three sailboats. On our final day, there is a smallcraft advisory. We rise early, eat a granola bar, and paddle directly back to the mainland in the calm before the storm. We are lucky to have enjoyed Gitchi-gami’s islands of Sand (Waabaabikaa-minis) and York (Miskwaabimizhiikaagminis) as the Native Americans did for thousands of years. I worry for the twenty kayakers gathered on the lawn of the ranger station planning their adventure. I hope they listen to the mood of “Lady” Superior. After all, she is boss.

Polly Keith Scotland is an author and outdoor enthusiast who has enjoyed many days of paddling on Lake Superior. Author of The Adventurer & Her Husband: An Array of Hiking and Kayaking Escapades from Around the World and of By Foot, Pedal, or Paddle, you may learn more about Polly and her books at pollyscotland.com .

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY POLLY

KEITH SCOTLAND

1411 Ellis Avenue Ashland, WI 54806-3999

Notes from students who participated in the 2023 Lake Superior Youth Symposium.