The Annual Rossland, B.C., Canada Winter Carnival is a jolly great time.  I’m here with fellow members of the North American Snowsport Journalist Association, our annual western chapter meeting. These photos were shot this last weekend.  The sled races–with all kinds of homemade versions–was a rip-roarin’ event to watch.  Evenings were delightful with wine tastings, fire dancers and merriment of all sorts.  Nearby Red Mountain (www.redmountain.com), the home mountain of Nancy Green (Rossland’s most famous daughter, winner of Canada’s first winter olympic gold medal in downhill skiing; she was named Canada’s Female Athlete of this last Century; I skied with her years ago at Sun Peaks), was a hoot to ski.  We were blessed with fresh pow.  This charming, quaint mountain town is a must visit sometime (www.tourismrossland.com).

The first big snow of the new year has come.  I’m holed up in the cabin with a roaring fire, books to read and a travel story to write.  I have my snowshoes and crosscountry skis…the only access into the cabin as the snow is too deep for a vehicle.  This photo I just took using the panoramic mode of my small pocket Sony cybershot. ‘Time to place another log on the fire!

The idea of a ski resort in Lutsen, Minnesota, incubated with the 10th Mountain Division in the trenches and hillsides of Italy. It was World War 11, 1945.

George Nelson, after 18 months of rigorous training (most infantry training during that period was 90 days) with the elite 10th Mountain Division, was trapped in a foxhole, the enemy but 50 yards away, when the idea came.

“I didn’t know if I would make it back home—we had 70 percent casualties in our outfit—but I decided that if I did make it, I’d pitch the ski resort idea to the Old Man.”

Nelson returned, the Old Man (George’s dad George) agreed, and Lutsen Ski Resort came to life, Minnesota’s first. It is now the largest downhill ski and snowboard area in the mid-west, spread along the hauntingly beautiful banks of Lake Superior in the far northeast corner of the state.

I had the pleasure of skiing and exploring this unique area two years ago. It encompasses four mountains, 92 runs and 1000 vertical feet—not monumental compared to many western resorts but rest assured, you’ll have tired and happy legs by day’s end skiing and riding Lutsen…and the scenery will have you singing tunes that will never leave your memory bank.

LUTSEN HISTORY

Nelson’s Swedish grandfather, C.A.A. Nelson, and grandmother, Anna, homesteaded the Lutsen area in 1885, and established Minnesota’s first resort, then accessed only by boat and rough trails. In 1918, a hydroelectric generating plant was built in Lutsen, the North Shore’s first. “That would make all the difference in the world, eventually leading to the ski resort,” says Nelson, who was born in Lutsen in 1925. “Moose hunting, other hunting and fishing were big in those days, allowing our family to establish a resort for the milder seasons. We would also get a lot of visitors fleeing the cities and rural areas during the height of the hay fever season.”

“My granddad was a tough old bird. In November, the last freighter boat would visit Lutsen so all the winter supplies had to be gotten at that time. One winter though, supplies ran low and my granddad and a friend rowed all the way to Duluth and back for necessities, 70 miles each way,” recalls Nelson.

Eventually Highway 61 (made famous by native son Bob Dylan’s song) was built. Some of Nelson’s first skiing (he’s skied 67 years straight) took place on the highway. “We’d tie a rope onto a car and ski old Highway 61. Occasionally we’d hit a hazard along the way, such as a mailbox or the ditch,” he laughs. 10th MOUNTAIN DIVISION

It was Nelson’s service in the 10th Mountain Division during the war that gave him the inspiration for a ski resort. “Our training was rigorous and I got to ski terrain which I only had dreamed of. The war took its toll on the 10th Mountain because we were always in the heat of things. But not one time did we give up ground which we had taken. I was fortunate, one of 30 percent not injured in 110 days of straight combat. In the rare moments of down time which I had, my thoughts would always drift back to my family, Lutsen, skiing and Lake Superior country. I was determined to make it back home and start the ski resort.”

When the war ended, Nelson came home, went to Michigan State on the GI Bill and a few years later, Minnesota’s first ski resort was born. With the best ski terrain in the mid-west, Lutsen has four different facing mountains: Mystery, Ullr, Eagle and Moose.

“I laid out most of the trails on the mountain. We developed a portable snow fence and we made sure that the base was as high as our birch stumps before we’d open for the season,” says Nelson. “We started with one lift and two runs. In the 60s, chairlifts, snow-making and a new lodge, we built.” A gondola would later be added, the only one in mid-America.

It was the 70s though, that brought a higher profile and more skiers to Lutsen, thanks to George and his wife Patti’s daughter: Olympian Cindy Nelson.

OLYMPIC MEDALIST CINDY NELSON

All of George and Patti’s five children are great skiers and at one time all were members of the US National Junior Ski Team. But Cindy would shine the most light on Lutsen as she was an Olympic Bronze Medalist in Innsbruck (1976) and a multi-winner in World Cup and World Championship downhill events. She retired from competitive skiing in 1985. The Nelson’s sold Lutsen Mountain Ski Resort in 1988 to Charlie Skinner and his family, but still maintain a part-time residence at Lutsen Mountain. Lutsen Resort on Lake Superior, the Nelson’s Scandinavian-style lodge, is owned by Nancy Burns.

SKIING LUTSEN

Other than crossing America by Amtrak years ago, this was my first experience with upper Middle America in winter. I was pleaantly surprised…actually hooked, and can’t wait to go back. The skiing was superb, the hospitality wonderful; I was able to ice climb for the first time in my life and I fell in love with the nearby town of Grand Marais.

One bright day, after some hale and hardy skiing, I stopped at the Summit House for a break and took my beer to the deck, overlooking Lake Superior. I felt like that I was in the tropics for a moment with the multi-tiered deck framing the deep blue waters of Lake Superior—the world’s largest body of fresh water (it holds one-tenth of the world’s fresh water). The warmth of the late winter day, with a high slope view, gave me momentary pause as parts of Mexico’s rugged Pacific coastal zone came to mind.

The view from the condo across the creek and near the venerable Lutsen Lodge, was wild and immense—Lake Superior framed by evergreen and birch, much like the view of a frozen ocean. Along the shoreline, the ice breaks and formations were fascinating: puzzles, abstracts, mirrors within mirrors.

Wolf Kill and Sigurd Olsen

One morning I skied past a deer carcass, remnants of a fresh wolf kill the evening before.

I was happy to be in this North Country for the first time. I’d known it for years through the writings of Sigurd F. Olson, author of such books as Reflections from the North Country, Singing Waters, Listening Point and The Lonely Land—permanent books in my collection. Of Swedish descent, Olson’s tireless work for wilderness resulted in permanent wilderness status for the Boundary Waters Canoe Wilderness Waters north of Lutsen.

In looking back at my notes in writing this story, I see my own notation: “Wilderness is ultimately what I am, what I value more than anything else—with the exception of my loved ones, what I will be when my mortal bones exceed the union of my body. My soul will always soar in wilderness.” And another notation: “Listening to the wind outside was like being inside one’s body listening to one’s skin, haunting but impenetrable to the wind.” The winter elements in the North Country are very real so you have to be well prepared when slipping out into its realm. It is worth it for the wildness that you experience. As the old Minnesota proverb says: “There is no bad weather, only the wrong clothing.”

ICE CLIMBING AND GRAND MARAIS

My most enjoyable and complete day at Lutsen was spent skiing the mountain in the morning, hiking along the Onion River and ice climbing a 100-foot frozen waterfall in the afternoon, and a forever-to-be-cherished evening in the charming hamlet of Grand Marias. We strolled through the picturesque Harbor Village, along Artist Point and visited the Art Colony, Playhouse and the North House Folk School. The school has 225 courses, 120 instructors, attracts students from around the world and offers an array of practical classes from canoe building to coffin making; a few of my North American Snowsport Journalist (www.nasja.org) friends took an afternoon class on building their own skis.

Grand Marais has been recognized by National Geographic as one of the Best Places to Live and Play. Coastal Living Magazine recognized it as one of America’s Top Ten Artist Colonies. No argument from me on these accolades!

Our evening culminated with a sumptuous trail stew (I had two bowls, resulting from the arduous ice climbing) and chili dinner, accompanied by fresh organic bread and greens, catered by Chez Jude (owned by Chef Jude Barsness), a nearby eatery. It was held in the North House Folk School, a high ceiling building of large windows looking out at Lake Superior with walls adorned by crafts made by this famous school. It was like a scene out of the Hobbit’s ‘Unexpected Party’ with the warm indoor light, the blue evening alpenglow, lively conversations (I spoke about opera with Grand Marais diva opera queen Diane Bostrom), presentations by folk school directors Greg Wright and Scot Pollock and superb local brews. We finished the evening off with live music and cocktail conversations at the GunFlint Tavern. Our ice climbing guide and I slipped into a cozy corner in the GunFlint and talked about the local steelhead fishery. I made silent plans to come back during a fairer season when the runs will be on. While in the GunFlint, I met a fellow photographer and artist Stephan Hoglund who had taken the photos of me ice climbing. We went to his studio (www.stephanhoglund.com) next door which features his photo and jewelry design work. When you’re in his Grand Marais neighborhood, make sure that you stop in to see his amazing work.

OTHER WINTER ACTIVITIES

If you go to Lutsen, make plans to spend a week. You’ll get plenty of skiing and riding in, but as Lutsen’s Marketing Director Jim Vick says, “There are a variety of other activities that will captivate you here, including cross country skiing, snowshoeing, snowmobiling, ice climbing, exploring the Gunflint Trail, sledding, dog sledding, horse drawn sleigh rides, ice fishing, wildlife-watching along with a variety of shopping and art galleries.”

Vick is an enthusiastic ambassador for Lutsen and he packs a sense of humor characteristic of many in the North Country. “People will often call me and ask about the wind conditions here. I always reply: ‘It depends on how fast you ski.’”

Vick, who looks more like a rock star with his long hair and his lively demeanor, also books all the acts (many national and international, including guitarist Richard Thompson and the band Little Feat) for Lutsen Mountain’s popular night club and restaurant Papa Charlie’s. After a great meal one evening, fellow NASJA members and I joined Vick for a rousing night of live music and dancing. And we still had enough energy for skiing the following day. The West gets most of the press for skiing in America because of the big mountains with plenty of vertical (Lutsen, by the way, does have one two-mile run) but don’t overlook this gem in the Mid-West. Once you go, you’ll be hooked forever.

Sedona, Arizona is a fascinating small city (or large town) in the Red Rock Country between Phoenix and Flagstaff.  It has a world-wide reputation for topographical beauty, along with many amenities for tourists and residents.  It is a center for vortexes (the most on the planet).  It is a great place for hiking and explorations, including Oak Creek Canyon (and the tributaries that empty into it), and a vast variety of the red rock formations with notables such as Cathedral Rock, Castle Rock, Munds Mountain, Sphinx, Camel Head and Chimney Rock.  Make sure you take the Sedona Trolley (www.sedonatrolley.com) for beginning orientations to Sedona.  The Festival of Lights is going on now with thousands of luminaries at Tlaquepaque Arts and Crafts Village (www.tlaq.com) and other locations (www.sedonamainstreet.com; www.redrockfantasy.com ).  The art scene is vibrant in Sedona (www.sedonaartsfestival.org , www.sedonaartscenter.com , www.sedonafilmfestival.com , www.sedonachamber.com , and www.visitsedona.com.  Don’t leave town without seeing the Chapel of the Holy Cross.  A perfect place to stay is the Best Western Roble Hotel and Creek-side Villas (www.bestwesternsedona.com).

And so i come back to the garden…to the November leaves. It has been two months since I’ve slept in my bed. The autumn sojourn beautiful, long, perfect. I’ll take a seat on the Pable Nerudo bench (all of my garden benches are named after poets, composers, writers; no politicians!). I do not sweep the dry le…aves off. They are my cushion…the sweet leavenings of spring, summer and autumn combined…dry and brittle and nondescript, waiting for the first brush of winter snow. It is good to be back home. And my boy is here, though he’ll head back to Montana after Thanksgiving. And my family. This morning, I had coffee and popcorn with three sisters–one had just flown in from her Hawaii home a week ago–Mom, Don and my Aunt Evelyn ( a rare treat). Every Monday through Friday from 8-9am, family and friends come to Mom and Dad’s place. There may be as few as three, as many as 20. It is a rare thing that such happens anywhere in modern day America…an unusual treat. We visit, we talk. They often play cards. On a rare occasion, I’ll play. I’m the least card player in the family but I enjoy it, none the less. It is a communal time honoring family, friends. There is always lots of laughter and good ribbing that goes on. I miss my garden. No matter when or where, gardens nourish my soul…especially my own with all of the memories of planting, nourishing, harvesting, building and designing….and the sweet memories of all of the people that have helped care for the garden. It is a mid-November day and my heart sings in the repose of a journey’s ending. I will exhale, take a deep breath and begin to swell again in the thought of the next sojourn. So be it as a traveler, mainly on the fringes of life…the least traveled and quieter zones, more suited to my spirit. My heart rejoices in the moment. November is my opera month. Puccini awaits, to be savored with the crunch of brittle leaves, falling leaves, gentle winds before the big storm…and in the distance, I hear the train traveling along life’s railroad track on the edge of our little town–the sounds of the track vibrating and the whistle, loud at first, then fading…fading into the afternoon, like a day nightinggale, bursting with song, then disappearing into the afternoon and the unknown night.

Two Medicine would be good medicine. We left Whitefish in the late afternoon, driving two hours to Two Medicine primitive campground in Glacier National Park’s east side. The last light was dancing in the angry sky when we arrived. It was wild and windy as we hurridly set up camp. We moved our original camp selection when my son found fresh bear scat where he was going to place his mountaineer…ing tent. We were the only ones in the entire campground so it gave us a measure of apprehension but not so much that it deterred us from camping. We kept our bear pepper spray handy and ready to go on our persons, just in case though. We prepared no food in our camp until the following morning. The wind was so strong that our tents were nearly flattened at times. We had them well secured but the howling night was beautifully disquietening. Wildness! And we had it all to ourselves and the winged and four-legged natives. I went to bed with all my clothes on, minus my shoes. Splashing in the nearby lake suddenly awoke me. Bear? Moose? My imagination? Quickly I put on my boots and uncocked the bear spray…just in case. For some reason I thought about Robert Service and his poetry about the North Country. The early morning evening sky was pulsating with stars and a half moon. I photographed. Eventually, I built a fire and made coffee. I witnessed the night turn into day. I had the best medicine in the world.
Notes on the evening photos: all of these were photographed with a 24-105 Canon L lense. Settings: 30 seconds, f4, ISO rating of 2000 to 4000, tripod, 10 second delay, spot metering using the light source of a star or the campfire.
Prints available by contacting skiturn789@yahoo.com or www.larryturnerphotography.com.

Some autumn days sing so deeply and beautifully that you feel your heart and eyes will jump out of your body and that you will free fall forever in the goodness that surrounds you, never tethered to anything that will weigh you down and end your mortality. Today was such a day…and a day that I wish that could go on forever…and in a sense it will via the photographic process. I love being in wild landscapes. They help define me. Such landscapes help define all of us…in a good way. The embrace of autumn makes the soul sing…especially on the cusp of winter. It is a song worthy of mortality.

I went to Montana’s Glacier National Park in the late light. Most had already left. It felt good to enter the park, especially after seeing all of the commercial offerings en route…a bit overdone for my tastes. I wanted quiet and less traffic, and I found both. I was the last tourist to leave Lake McDonald. The blue light of dusk and evening was upon the landscape when I departed…and the lake placcid except for… the occassional water dimples from rising trout. There was a peace and quietness in my heart. I thought about an old friend who had recently passed…and memories from years ago…but mainly I was in the present and embraced by the goodness of it. A week with my son is coming to a close (tho’ I will see him again soon)…and I am thankful for the blessings of time spent with him and his friends…and I am thankful for grand landscapes where the heart and soul can more readily soar, and there is an escape from the necessary everyday chores. Glacier is vast. Beckoning. A grand landscape, nearly incomphrehensible to the imagination…but still within the grasp of our solitary seekings.

Whitefish Montana’s Annual Octoberfest was last weekend and is this weekend.  It is a great time with excellent food, beer, desserts, events (beer stein holding, keg tossing, men and women’s log sawing, waitress beer stein races), conversations with old and new friends, live music (Europa, a band from Florida) and dancing…including polkas and waltzes.  It takes place at the Depot Park (across from the Amtrak Station) with events both inside the large circus-like tent and outside on the grass.  Octoberfest celebrates the end of summer’s harvest.  Photo notes: use kelvin temperature settings for inside shooting to approximate the light that exists.  Use slow shutter speeds to catch motion in dancing or fast shutter speeds to stop motion.  One technique which I love using is: using a slow shutter speed (say 8 or 15), I’ll quickly zoom the lens that I’m shooting either from its highest focal length to the smallest, or vice versa.

Recently, a pass to the Reno Air Races had been offered to me. I mulled it over, but passed on the pass and accomodations. I wanted to be on a mountain somewhere that weekend. I’m glad that I passed on photographing the event. I’m saddened deeply by what happened on that day. My healing thoughts I extend to my friends that were there…and to their friends, and to all that witnessed and were affected by the tragedy, one way, many ways, or the other. All summer I’ve desired to make it to this obscure snow field on Bidwell Mountain. We tried it by horseback but the steepness of the slope pushed us back. So Lynette and I drove a labrinith of backroads to access our departure point. We were our only company the entire day…my birthday. No one else did we see. I’ve had a variety of birthday celebrations throughout my life from a crowd of two to 200. This one was unique and cake was not envolved. It was a day of solitude and see forever earthly and sky beauty. Light has followed me and I have followed light throughout my life. We tend to each other. The day started with whispy, feathery high clouds and sunshine. When we made it to Snow Lake, clouds had taken over the sky and rain looked imminent. Lynette was a good sport and we did some nude shots where the snow field feeds the lake. I did make her a stiff drink which accompanied our lunch afterwards!–a margarita with great agave nectar and daminana. We then made our way to the mountain top and the 360 degree view. I’ve always known why mountaineers climb and why skiers ski the high perches. You are in solitary company with the mountain and sky gods and goddesses–the see forever views that makes you wish you had wings. From this perch, I could see the Steens Mts (my son’s namesake), the Pueblos Mts., Hart Mt., Drake Mt., Mount Shasta, Mt. McLouglin, Pine Forest Range, Hays Range, Sheldon Nat. Antelope Refuge, Surprise Valley, the South and North Warners and much, much more…a view that humbles you and makes you underscore the potential and the value of each precious day of this human life. I saw the opening coming in the sky, looking westward…and I knew the sun would be with us the remainder of the day. We were witness, as we hiked to the snow field, to a long, elongated cloud the length of Surprise Valley that built itself into the shape of a variety of birds, and at times, an angel. You pinch yourself and say: ‘how can I be so lucky on my birthday?’ We made it to the snow field and glissaded down it as tho’ we were 10-year-olds. I did it twice; it felt so nice! The high elevation wildflowers (asters and such) were still singing at this altitude. It was a good day. It was also dark when we made it back to Bidwell.