The Selway River: Paddling from Paradise to Selway Falls at Low Water

Who:  16 Current and Former Hoofers
What:  Kayaking (+ 1 Oar Rig) the Selway River
When:  7/18/14 - 7/27/14
Where:  Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness in central Idaho (2nd largest wilderness in the lower 48)
Gauge Info:  Ranged from 2400-1800cfs on the USGS Lowell Gauge - more water than usual for this time of year, but a small percentage of the standard spring/early summer flows
Why:  Super-Awesome Boating

Sixteen folks from five different states converged on Missoula, MT toward the end of July.  We had traveled countless hours to come and run one of the most tightly permitted Wild and Scenic Rivers in the states:  the Selway.  Dan Y., our trip leader, had astounding river lottery luck, winning both the Selway and the Grand Canyon in the same year.

Loading up at the put-in

I was in the first car to arrive; as one of two cars coming from Wisconsin, we had driven straight through the night and were desperately hoping to find a site along the Blackfoot River.  No dice.  The weekenders were out in hordes, and we ended up in a KOA in the middle of Missoula's suburbs.  (And I ended up hammocking in someone else's postage-stamp of a tent site - thank you, very nice Ohio people.)

Over the next couple days, our group filtered in (and we relocated to the Blackfoot campsites).  We enjoyed a couple paddles through the Class II run adjacent to our site, some awesome cocktails at Montgomery Distillery in Missoula, tasty pizza, quality beer, and pre-backcountry ice cream.  We had a few days to sift and winnow through our gear.  I knew that I could fit everything in my club creekboat, but it was nice to find that I wouldn't need to bring a bug net for my hammock!  Some folks tried cramming their boats with rocks/water as a trial run, but I waited until the Selway to figure out just how raft-like my kayak had become.

Ladle Rapid

The day we were slotted to put on, we headed south from Missoula, west into the National Forest, and then along windy gravel roads until we hit Paradise (yep, it's actually the proper name of the put-in).  We ran into a hiker who had scored the old ranger cabin - still stocked with everything you could ask for, and reservable for a pretty modest sum.  He seemed pretty jealous of our impending river trip.  We didn't put on til 3 (I forget which time zone), but we had plenty of daylight to get us to the first campsite - 7 miles downstream.

The first day's paddle wasn't too much of a challenge.  The river at the put-in seemed shockingly low-volume, but low water was only an issue twice for our raft (and never for us wee little hard-shells).  There was some continuous I/II boogie water, and a couple of tougher II+ (supposedly III) rapids (think puzzle rather than pummel).  I knew that I would likely be the weak link of our group, and while the first day largely set me at ease, I did manage to pin myself in the middle of a boulder garden called Galloping Gertie by focusing on charging through a little hole instead of what was downstream of said hole.  One of the folks in my group came back, gave me a shove, and I made it through the rest only slightly shaken.

My favorite camp - Day 4

The first night we were camped on a narrow beach next to a trail bridge, across from a trail crew (who had seen 9 rattle snakes in 5 days!), and surrounded by huckleberries and thimbleberries.  Dinner was couscous with mole, which was rich, salty, and generally amazing.  We got to hang out, chat, swim, and munch on berries well into the evening; the sun didn't set til quite late.  I decided to put my tarp up thanks to some beta from one of the current hoofers, and while the stars were great at bedtime, rain did end up chasing others under the bridge and into pre-arranged tents.

Day two was supposed to be a step up in terms of rapid classifications.  There was one supposed IV ("Ham") on the menu, but the low water turned it into a straightforward series of little holes.  I continued happily following a conservative ex-hoofer downstream, and enjoying the easy II/III water.  We all knew that the next day would be the toughest, even though our biggest rapid wouldn't show up until Day 4.  The hills surrounding us were beautiful, but it was really tough to tear my eyes off the crystal clear water.  Though the rapids and boulder gardens were pretty continuous, there were plenty of eddies.  Bigger rapids tended to have emerald green pools after them; I would look down and see house-sized boulders below me.  Several small streams were feeding into the river, bringing the volume up.  We passed a remote air strip and fishing lodge, and surprisingly, ran into another group on the river!  The permits are set up to allow only one launch per day, but the forest service was running a half dozen oar rigs down to deal with invasive species.  The oar men and their passengers were volunteers who received a un-permitted trip down river and a small per diem.  The ranger in charge was great, and they made sure not to take our choice campsites the rest of the week.

Jake

Our second campsite was at the accurately named Rattlesnake Bar.  Within a half hour of landing, some of the former Hoofers had located Jake, our very own Western Diamondback.  We vacated his area, and got our tarps up as some dark clouds started rolling past a mountain just upstream of us.  I wasn't thrilled with my tarp/hammock set-up, and spent much of the evening tweaking things (and retying them as the wind picked up).  Thai coconut shrimp soup was on the menu; without soy sauce, it would have been perfect.  We pulled out a Cosmopolitan that one of the guys had brought along, and tucked underneath our shelters as the rain started to spit.  The wind was howling by this point, and the trees on the fire-ravaged (far) side of the river started toppling over and sliding down to the banks of the river.  The forest service crew (downstream by now) was almost hit by a tree while they were paddling along.  The weather calmed before everyone went to sleep, and we woke rested for the longest, toughest day.

We swapped our groups around for day four.  (To manage such a large group, we split into two groups each day.)  Our day was supposed to contain several class IVs (Double Drop, Ladle, Little Niagra, and Puzzle Creek), but at our water levels, the rapids were manageable IIIs.  While I managed to take some, ahem, interesting lines down several of the rapids, Day 4 was certifiably my favorite river day.  I got confused about what I was going through on Double Drop (we didn't scout, but had people downstream directing us), and dropped into a monster hole without having a clue about what I was headed into.  I flipped, carped (a poor-technique roll where you try to get air and have no chance of getting rightside up), and would have rolled up on a second attempt, except a would-be rescuer knocked me back into the water.  That was my first swim of the trip, and it left me less than certain about my abilities.  (To be fair, my abilities are not that awesome to begin with.)
Ladle and Little Niagra had some meaty holes, but weren't too bad.  Wa-Poots, a class III rapid, had this amazing, giant standing wave in the middle of the current, and it was, by far, my favorite rapid.  I cut the corner at the end of the rapid, went over a pour-over sideways, but managed to brace my way out of any trouble.

Lunch stop

The other two swims of the trip (one for me and one for Dan P.) were at a shouldn't-have-been-that-difficult rapid near the end of the day.  The river curved left, the water pushed right, and the bottom of the rapid held a meaty hole complete with recirculating room-of-doom (a really strong eddy that traps you against an  escarpment).  I stopped to scout, figured I should ferry left, and then watched as several others had tough-looking lines downstream.  Dan P. didn't ferry, and he ended up flipping early and scraping over a ton of rocks.  I couldn't see him clear the bottom of the rapid, and when our safety boaters grabbed their ropes, I was afraid he was getting recirc'ed in the hole.  Like the calm and collected person I am, I told the third safety boater that came down "Dan flipped, swam, hit a bunch of rocks, and I haven't seen him since."  Of course, the safety boater tore off downstream, managed to get his boat into the room of doom where Dan P. was stuck (banged up, but otherwise ok), and rescued Dan & his gear.  After watching all of this and trying to calm another member of our group (who had a great like), I made most of the necessary ferry, tried desperately to avoid the hole, got surfed, and swam the moment I was upside down.  If I hadn't been so tired and so nervous, I would have been able to roll after about 5 seconds.

Top of Wolf Creek

The rapids continued that day, meaty III after technical III, and we were all looking forward to the highly-endorsed campsite at the end of our long day.  When we got there, a bunch of rafts were already parked there, enjoying a zero day.  The next campsite was also occupied (complete with one very drunk Pope offering the sacrament of Crown Royal).  After miles of tough paddling, we collapsed into my favorite camp of the entire week:  the river curved around this stunning white, sandy beach that slowly gave way to a thin band of rocks before transforming into a pine-laden open sort of woods.  Plenty of tent (and hammock!) space with soft beds of needles.  After two long days of paddling, I was ready for my fancy tortellini and Oreo Jello No-Bake (seriously, No-Bakes are the best thing known to campers).  We had an evening fire, and a chilly, crystal clear night.

Tee-Kem Falls

Thanks to our very long paddle the day before, we only had three miles to make on the fifth day.  Just downstream of our campsite was Wolf Creek rapid, the only actual class IV at our water levels.  Following my spectacular performance the day before, I decided to walk the rapid rather than risk getting my boat pinned.  There was a middle sneak I'm 85% sure that I could have made, but I didn't want to run the hole-filled right line, and I didn't want to get blown into a really, really technical rockfest on the left.  There were only minor rapids until our campsite at Tee-Kem Falls (which apparently can also be a IV at some levels).  Tee-Kem was pretty fun to punch through, especially since I had been taking as many sneaks as possible.  The campsite had another nice beach, with a bunch of boulders perfect for spectating along the rapid.

We were in camp by noon, so we had a perfect day of swimming, fishing, cramming 5-8 people in a double duck, cliff jumping, and generally goofing off.  I swam early off of the duck, possibly knocking everyone else out, after my shoulder gave out mid-stroke.  Though I then got run over by the massive inflatable, the duck's carnage run was 100% worth the scrapes.  Dinner was Mango Chicken Curry with Lentils, which claimed the favorite-meal slot.  Desserts, various snacks, and cut-throat trout were passed around as everybody tried to finish off their excess food.  We had another campfire, another chilly night, and the Milky Way was blazingly bright when I woke up around 3am.

Impending Doom

The last day was bittersweet.  I needed a couple more days to really switch into wilderness mode, but the trip had been spectacular.  We drove out of the forest, said our goodbyes to the group in Missoula, and set out on our long drive home.

The view from my hammock the last night

Though I spent a lot of time on this trip trying to figure out if I should continue kayaking (or give up my forever-rookie attempts and switch over to paddle rafting with Ali), I couldn't have asked for a trip along a better stretch of river, and I can't imagine going on a river with better companions.

Our Flotilla

For more pictures and a second opinion, check out 1000daysbetween.com.  That Hoofer has also come out with a book that you can find on Amazon.

Three Days in Porcupine Mountain Wilderness State Park (aka the Porkies)

 

Over the Fourth’s long weekend, three of us headed up to go backpacking through the Porkies.  Since Ali & I are still breaking in new gear and our compatriot was new to the whole backpacking thing, we aimed for ~28 miles over three days.  We were going to head out on the Lake Superior Trail, connect to either the Little Carp River Trail or the Correction Trail (we ended up taking the former for a longer loop), and come out on the North Mirror Lake Trail.

Ali's Version of Indian Paintbrush

 

The weather was spectacular on our first trail day.  The lake was the calmest I’ve ever seen it, and while our buddy was getting eaten alive (probably due to some patchy DEET application and an even greater sensitivity to bites than I exhibit), the mosquitoes generally left Ali & I alone.  There were a ton of other hikers out for the weekend; I think we passed 8+ backpacking groups and dozens of day hikers over the course of the weekend (as opposed to the one solo backpacker/skier that’s been typical of our Porkies trips).  Though we were a little nervous that we wouldn’t get a site on Lake Superior, everything worked out well.  We had plenty of daylight hours left in camp, and plenty of stable flies to pass the time with.  (Thank goodness they weren’t really hungry til the next morning!)

One of several different mystery white flowers

Lunch Spot - Day 1

On the second day, the three of us turned inland.  We had a mix of woods, pseudo bogs, creek crossings, and lakes that kept the scenery varied.  We also, unfortunately, had some gol-darned nasty bitey flies for all of breakfast and the first 40 minutes of the hike.  (And we heard it every last time our buddy was bit.)  

The stable flies do stay pretty close to the lake, so once we were into the woods, bugs were no longer a problem.  Additionally, once we were well into the woods, we got to trek along the Little Carp, which was full of spectacular little cascades.  The temperatures were a bit warmer the second day, so we made sure to take both mid-day and end-of-day dips.  

Lake Superior - Campsite #1

We had several river fords; none got our feet wet

After lunch at the Overlooked Falls, we headed down into a marshier area.  Without the distraction of a creek, Ali & I both started noticing our newly formed blisters a little more; our friend seemed to be flagging as well.  I started racing/slacking in order to gain a bit of solitude, but we pushed on past the surprisingly scenic lake labeled “Lily Pond” on our maps and made it in to Mirror Lake for the evening. 

The Lily Pond

Mirror Lake - Campsite #2

Mirror Lake was swampier than the Lily Pond, and I was nervous about the night’s mosquito flock.  There was no need to worry though; a storm rolled in right around dinnertime, and kept us hemmed up in our tent all night.  The storm also managed to throw a couple centimeters of water into the bottom of our tent (thank you leaking side-of-bathtub-floor).  Thanks to our 2” waterproof sleeping mats and the fact that it was a warm last night out, we didn’t lose too much sleep.

Mini-gorge

Our last day on the trail was a pretty straight shot out to the car.  There was one really cool miniature creek gorge that we hiked along for half a mile or so, but otherwise the scenery was unremarkable until the Lake of the Clouds overlook.  We missed the chance for a cool dip in Lake of the Clouds (too reedy).  However, we did get to see a gazillion really cute baby frogs.  The stable flies kept us from an alternate Lake Superior dip, but our quick escape did get us back to Mad-town for supper.

Baby Frog

Lake of the Clouds (at the end of our hike)

Rafting the Beautiful Wolf River + Wausau

Every summer, I try to make it up to the Wolf to go rafting.  Section IV meanders through Menominee tribal land which means (a) the forest is spectacular and (b) any yahoo can hop in an unguided raft and float through class III-IV rapids.  Said yahoos don't typically understand the importance of PFDs and helmets, and many of the rafters are often 100% fueled by booze.  Needless to say, there have been some pretty major accidents on this stretch of river.

For the past couple of summers, I've tried to turn my annual rafting fun run into a Hoofers How-to-Guide trip.  (This is at least partly inspired by the miserable approach to rafting I see most people take on Wolf IV.)  This year, the stars aligned, and we had a group of eight for the river.  Getting out of Madison turned into quite the debacle, but once we threaded our way through a bunch of delays and a ton of deer, the northwoods were ready for us.

We woke to stunning weather Saturday morning - highs in the mid 70s, sun, and only the occasional light headwind.  The wildflower carpet that was around over Memorial Day had disappeared from the banks of the river, but some more brightly-colored flowers were coming in (including one lady slipper - the first I've seen in Wisconsin).  There weren't too many other patrons down at Shotgun Eddy's (one of two rafting companies that operate on Wolf IV), and nobody was fall-down drunk (yet).  We got on-river pretty quickly, and the other Hoofers picked up the basics of steering in no time.

Wolf IV is a pool-drop run (meaning there are nice calm spots between each of the big rapids), so we were able to scout almost everything.  We had one flip at the bottom of a less-substantial rapid (1/2 of the crew was hiding in the bottom of the boat instead of paddling and none of the crew high-sided when the raft got surfed), but nobody botched any of the big drops on the river.  By the end of the river, we even had a couple people that were starting to look and sound like commercial guides!

Ali guided us through a darned-near perfect line on Big Smokey Falls this year.  I still have yet to guide a good run on that rapid.  In fact, whenever I'm steering, we usually end up running the drop backwards.  (Maybe I just hate being dry at the end of the day.)

Sunday, three of us headed to the Wausau Whitewater Course, a really awesome dam diversion channel turned slalom/freestyle paddling park.  The first time I went to Wausau, I was pretty nervous and couldn't get into any of the surf waves (mind you, I didn't really want to be in any of the surf waves, which tends to make surfing difficult).  This time, I had a giant boat (which I'll be taking to Idaho) and a much, much more trusted roll.  Ali and I ran the course a couple of times and tried surfing in several holes near the bottom of the course (the easier ones).  While neither of us are very good at freestyle kayaking, both of us were improving by leaps and bounds.  (Just to give you an idea, this is surfing/freestyle kayaking at it's best and this is about the best that I can do.)

Just one more month (and one more planned boating trip) before the Selway!

It's Summer!!!

My posts have been pretty sparse during this long, cold spring.  After the Birkie, Ali and I had several more weekends of XC skiing and one local downhill ski trip.  The snow started melting in mid-late March; we had several weeks of rain in April; and the ice cleared off the lakes in early May if I remember correctly.  (Lake Superior is still chock-full of ice, and the Porkies still have patches of thigh-deep snow.)

During the melt and rain, we mostly stayed huddled in the apartment, but every now and then we'd get a good weekend for a hike/bike.  Thankfully, the past couple weeks have been stunningly warm and sunny.  We've been getting our (newly acquired - thanks Mom!) hammocks out, and as of Memorial Day, Lake Mendota is finally warm enough to take Hoofers' gear out (55F water temps).

Over the holiday weekend, we were up on the Pike, Peshtigo, Wolf and Red rivers for the annual Hoofers trip.  I think both Ali & I were feeling a bit rusty, but we both still managed to level up in the Hoofers rating system.  (Our rolls have vastly improved, but we both made some pretty rookie mistakes over the weekend.)

This year's trip included my first kayak descent of Wolf Section IV, and the water level was just about perfect.  There were a few sticky hydraulics, but the rocks were all covered, and the lines through the rapids were clear cut.  Granted, I still managed to swim above the last falls of the run, but I swam to the river bank before getting into any trouble.

Also for the first time in a while, the Hoofers trip ran perfectly.  Everybody got up and ready in a timely fashion; dinner got a head start every evening; and the groups were kept running pretty tightly on-river.

I'll have to try to get a few more good boating trips in before I head to Idaho later this summer; probably another Wolf IV trip, and if my schedule can handle it, maybe even a trip down to the Ocoee.

Pics are here: 
https://www.flickr.com/photos/60732531@N00/sets/72157644470122770/

Octagonia Block

As Ali & I have been tweaking the plans for our picnic quilt (make it smaller, add more little blocks, get rid of some of the non-vibrant colors), we've also been trying to figure out the perfect center block for our quilt.  The Octagonia Block (which we originally found on Craftsy) has been in contention the whole time, and now that I committed to making a 16" version, the Octagonia will definitely be filling the middle of the quilt.

 

Though it does require paper piecing, the block is relatively simple.  There are three different segments to paper piece; once you're done making four copies of each segment, it's just a matter of sewing the segments into 4 rectangles and arranging those rectangles around a center square.  Shockingly, this only took me two sittings to make.  (I'm sure more competent seamstresses could finish a block in an hour or two.)

There are a ton of color variations that look great with the block, too.  I'll have to keep it in mind for later projects.

American Birkebeiner

OO - The halfway point

Many people would not consider 54 kilometers a pleasant weekend ski.  Most folks I know would not want to dedicate 3-9 hours of a Saturday to playing outside on a day where the base temps aren't going past 14F and the winds are hefty.  Few towns cover their main streets in a foot of snow on purpose, and fewer still muster everyone in the surrounding counties to stand in the freezing cold to cheer for a bunch of spandex-clad loonies.  While the Birkie is not the only ski-marathon out there, it is Wisconsin's gold standard for a reason.
Every year, over 10,000 skiers gather (often pre-dawn to catch a shuttle) for the American Birkebeiner.  They're promised an outstanding (and rather hilly) course - 50k for the skate skiers and 54k for the classic skiers, a gazillion spectators, all the Heed/water/bananas/oranges/Nilla Wafers/Gu they can stomach, numerous course-side adult-beverage opportunities, and, generally, one heck of a race.  The best skiers will usually finish in 2-2.5 hours.  And while there are shorter/flatter race options to choose from in the upper-Midwest, everybody focuses on the 30+ miles between Cable and Hayward, WI.
A couple years back (and my second year of skiing), Ali and I launched ourselves into the Birkie.  We were in great shape; the snow was perfect; and it was FREEZING.  We made it past the halfway point (which is where the course supposedly levels out) but had to pull the plug at Mosquito Brook Road since (a) Ali was freezing and (b) my legs were about to collapse.  That being said, the course was fast - our first split had us going 7min/k vs the 8min/k we did this year.
This year, we were far more prepared.  My skiing skills were far, far more honed; my new skis were far superior to my old skis; we'd been tackling longer training skis; the weather allowed us to do more skiing near Madison; and we had brought far more appropriate apparel. 
Getting up to Cable was a harrowing experience in itself, this year.  The Thursday before the Birkie, mid- to northern-Wisconsin experienced a bit of a snowpacolypse.  There was over a foot of fresh snow, and the plows just could not keep up.  When we were driving up on Friday, the roads were covered in about 4-6" of ice.  Traffic plodded along on the interstate and state highways, with the more daring/foolish drivers going 45-50mph.  We managed to swing by registration and still make our cabin just before sunset.  We ate well, slept cold, and roused ourselves around 6 so that we would make the start in time (our wave started at 9:30).
The weather was beastly for the event organizers.  The groomers had a marathon of their own trying to get the snow packed and set for the Saturday race, and while their efforts were noble, many skiers were less than happy with the results. To make matters worse, the hospitality (aka heated) tents at the start and finish both got blown down Friday night.
Thankfully, the tents were back up by the time Ali and I needed them, and they were shockingly warmer than the old resort that used to host skiers at the start.  That didn't keep me from needing a pair of warmers for my giant, downhill ski mitts at the oh-so-windy start.  We timed the walk to the start line just about perfectly, though, and were into the sheltered woods climbing giant hills in no time.
The first 10-15k are really packed for recreational skiers like us.  We get to fight for trail space with everyone doing the (shorter) Kortelopet, and there tend to be silly pile-ups on hills.  Since the Birkie is on constantly-rolling terrain for the first half, this translates to a lot of traffic and a lot of time spent slogging along behind slower folks.  (Considering that Ali and I are pretty slow, it's just bizarre when we get stuck between 30+ other people.)  During this first bit, there are some really lovely twists and turns in the woods and some really fun powerline hills.  Just before the first rest stop (and just after those power-line hills), we stopped and took off the heaviest of our layers.  By the second rest stop, I was down to a small number of base layers.
Once the Korte skiers turned back, our trip became much nicer.  The skate trail was still separated, and we started segregating into small packs of similarly-paced skiers.  Unfortunately, this was also the point that the cold really got to my airway, and my breakfast-energy ran out.  Eventually, I called Ali back to distract me and went into zombie mode.  I couldn't manage much more than putting one foot in front of the other.  I tried to get sufficient Gu and Heed into me at the rest stop, but I really didn't start feeling human until after I had some real food (hooray for bringing brownies) at the halfway point.  I realize I'm not the average Birkie skier (i.e. I'm willing to stop and munch on something), but the aid stations could use more food.
Unfortunately, as soon as I perked up, Ali started getting worse for the wear.  I had abandoned her at the halfway point since I was getting chilled, and after her push to catch back up, she was just out of energy.  We got some more Gu eventually and made it past "Bitch Hill" to the last cut-off with time to spare.  The first third of the race is scenic and hilly; the second third is reasonably wooded and rolling; and the final stretch is flat and exposed but incredibly reassuring.
We wisely layered up at the last rest stop.  The last few kilometers take you over a lake and straight into downtown Hayward.  The lake is bitterly exposed, and the sun was heading toward the horizon just as we finished.  It's pretty traditional for some locals to head out on the lake and hand out shots to skiers as they're coming in.  Though we abstained earlier in the course, the cheap booze was just what we needed to get across the lake to the finish.  From 40km on, I knew that we were going to finish, and I think we were both elated to make the lake.
Even though we were finishing pretty late in the day and pretty low in the standings, there were still tons of people lining Main Street and cheering us home.  This was apparently one of the toughest/slowest Birkies in recent years.  The snow conditions added anywhere from 30 min - 2 hours to peoples' time, and 20% of registered skiers didn't make it to the finish.
We had a great day playing out in the snow.  The woods were gorgeous; the sun kept us reasonably warm; and, best of all, we managed to finish the American Birkebeiner.

Lake Superior (Now Complete with Ice Caves!)

A set of Hoofers headed up to Lake Superior for some excellent pre-thaw adventure this past weekend.  We gathered our gear and started our trek Saturday morning.  That evening, we were going to head out on Lake Superior for the Book Across the Bay 10km snowshoe.  BATB is an annual ski/snowshoe race/meander that starts in Ashland, WI and ends in Washburn.  Though we planned to swing by our cabin on the way in and make our way to the bus shuttle in a rather leisurely manner, we ended up barely making the last shuttle and were literally the last people to start the course.  (Alas, we had forgotten the Ps - Proper Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance.)

 

 Luckily, once we were on the course, things went relatively smoothly.  There was a storm system in the area that dumped snow both before and after the race, but during the race we really only had to deal with wind and occasional fog.  The full moon provided some light, but the course was largely marked by some really pretty ice-luminaries.  There were good-sized bonfires (yes, large fires on the iced-over surface of Lake Superior) every kilometer, and what the rests lacked in cocoa, they made up in oreos and animal crackers.

 Superior has the best ice coverage (94% as of this weekend) in at least 20 years, and since the ice caves along the Apostle Island National Lakeshore were accessible for the first time in 5 years, we took advantage of the conditions on Sunday for another bit of exploration (with 11,000 of our closest friends).  The ice caves are a huge draw for folks in the Midwest.  Last year, the Apostle Islands had ~150,000 visitors over the course of the year.  This month alone, the Apostles have had >50,000 people coming to see the ice caves (and that wasn't even counting this past weekend, which was expected to bring in another 15,000+ people).

 The ice on Superior opened around January 15, and since then, a small army of rangers have been monitoring the ice, keeping an eye out for the visitors, and trying to manage parking near the shore.  Local municipalities have started shuttles with nearly every vehicle they can find, and boy is it worth the trip.  The southern shore of Superior has some amazing rock formations, and when the wind and waves conspire with frigid temperatures, the shore develops some spectacular jewelry.

A Hoofer trying to avoid wet feet

 There are a bunch of nooks, crannies, and tunnels that are just full of different ice formations.  Tons of adults were having their fill of climbing, crawling, and sliding, but the kids were in hog heaven since 90% of the openings were just the right size for those under 13.

Ice Slide!!

 We found one overhanging rock draped in ice that had enough room for 4-6 adults in the chamber behind it, several small rooms that were glazed in the smoothest ice imaginable, a couple of low caverns covered in nubby icicles, and (my favorite) this cool little tunnel that connected two inlets - the far side had spiky icicles where baby icicles were growing sideways off the original piece.

 The trip from the parking lot to the first of the ice caves is a mile long; the ice caves go on for something like 2-3 miles; and though we didn't have time to see the entire span, we still had a good long meander from our parking spot.  There were a couple of guys who had even hiked out to one of the islands for some winter camping.

 The conditions have been perfect this year, and if I'm ever in the area again when the ice caves open, it'll definitely be on my list of places to go for the year.

Heading into the overhanging-rock cave

Behind the ice

The alternate entrance

Spiky & Fuzzy Icicles