Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson
It was 3 am and I was rushing to get ready when I caught my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing the same green merino hoodie I always wore for these trips, now darned where my hip belt had rubbed holes in it. My hair was a little grayer, but I recognized the crooked smile, the eagerness radiating from behind dark eyes. I nodded a greeting. “Hello, old friend. It’s been a while.”
My joints had seemingly hit their expiration date earlier this year. Within the span of a month, I had developed injuries to both wrists and my right shoulder. I was not yet sure what was wrong or what it would mean for my adventuring future. I lay low for a couple months following doctor’s orders, growing progressively more depressed. Eventually, I knew I had to reclaim myself. I was long overdue for a winter trip to Pictured Rocks.
The access road to the trailhead was completely snowed in. This would add miles to my route. As I sat, pondering what to do with my car, a pickup with a large plow emerged from one of the side roads and I quickly waved to get his attention. “Give you $20 to carve me out a parking spot?” “Absolutely”, he smiled. He eyed my pack. “You gonna be ok out here? It’s pretty isolated.” I promised that I would.
Car safely stowed, I donned my snowshoes and started the long trek in. Not much to describe about this day. Hours passed with nothing but the crunch of snow beneath my feet. The highlight of this portion of the trek was lunch, a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel hastily eaten while perched on a snowy log in the woods. It was too cold to sit still for long.
When I made it to the lakeshore, I was delighted to see an expansive ice shelf. Pictured Rocks was alway beautiful in winter, but especially so when visualized from the surface of Lake Superior. Unhesitatingly, I stepped out onto the ice, exploring the textured terrain and the ice volcanos that had formed there.
It is rare for a photograph to truly capture a feeling, but as the sun began to set, I snapped a picture of my camp on a bluff overlooking the shelf. Months later, when I look at it, I can still remember the desolate beauty, the sense of purpose, and the chorus of coyotes echoing across the ice.
In the many years that I’ve written about my treks over the ice shelf, I’ve always included a disclaimer. The ice shelf is dangerous. It may be unstable. You could fall through into Lake Superior and die. Etcetera, etcetera.
In reality though, the trips I’ve taken on the ice have been amongst the most memorable of any that I’ve taken in the backcountry. Now I offer these photos without qualification. The ice shelf is dangerous. You could die. But if given the chance, you should hike the ice shelf. Take some risks. Live life fully. No regrets. You never know what tomorrow will bring.
I paused here for a lunch of salami and Red Dragon cheese on a bagel
This day had been incredible, and as it came to a close, I made my way inland to a small cave for the night. There is something primordial about a cave that speaks to the human soul. Tucked safely out of the snow, with a small cook fire for company, my spirit couldn’t help but be buoyant.
I woke on the third day to the sounds of creaking and cracking, and packed up quickly. As I walked, icicles plummeted from the cliff faces, smashing on or through the ice shelf. The ice fortress was crumbling around me. Looking out toward the lake, I could see open water where none had been before. It was time to be off the ice.
I made my way back to the car, noticing that the snow was becoming progressively wetter. It was sticking to my snowshoes like cement, and my legs began to burn with effort. It felt like I was walking with cinderblocks strapped to my feet. I stopped time and again to scrape away at the mess, only to have it build up moments later. It was misery.
It didn’t matter though. I had found something within me. I may not have been the person I was a year ago, but I knew now that I still had another adventure in me. And then another. On and on until there was nothing left. And that would have to be enough.
Pictured Rocks ice shelf
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Pictured Rocks ice shelf