Christmas in the Forest

"It is the time of the snowshoes in the year 2021

Now the cycling is over and the skiing's begun." (Apologies to Willie Nelson)

I am going to re-post in its entirety a fictional story from my old blog, starting the tales of Mill Forge District Ranger John Farmer and "Christmas in the Forest". I am working on two more Old Ranger short stories. Hopefully, one of them will be done before Christmas.

(Note: This was my first fiction story, before Connor, Iolena, Menta Kai, and yes, John Farmer ever set foot in the Gewellyn Chronicles. It is loosely based on a story from the Adirondacks by William Chapman White and another from the Bitteroot Mountains of Montana by Norman MacLean. It takes place in neither, although the atmosphere of the story suggests the northeast more than the Rockies. It takes us back to a time where the forest ranger was more part of the community, and the ranger could resolve a violation by an agreement called a "stipulation". It is fiction, and John Farmer, Peter Quinn, and Taylor Clark were the main characters in my attempts at fiction for many years.)

The gently falling snow muffled the sound of the horse's hooves as District Forest Ranger John Farmer rode down the main street of Mill Forge that evening, a few days before Christmas. The village was quiet, most of the folks were in their houses, busy with preparations for Christmas, as was John's own family. He had stopped by the house to drop off a surprise for his grandson, then headed into town to finish the paperwork on a timber theft case. The township constable, Lew Breck, rumbled by in his 4-door Ford Model T and waved at the ranger, as he went by, but if he said anything, it was lost in the clatter from the car. John returned the wave and rode on down Main Street to where the State Police barracks sat, it's windows dark. He climbed down off of Hanna and led her back to the trooper's stable behind the station. took the saddle and bridle off the horse and let her into the corral.
He looked back at the "barracks", really a converted house, threw his saddlebags over his shoulder and headed down the alley to the Tall Pine Tavern for some dinner. He'd be back when the troopers got back from their rounds and turn in the stipulation form to them.

The Tall Pine was warm and smelled vaguely of woodsmoke, Woody, the owner's pipe tobacco and beer. A fire was going in the fireplace, and John stopped to warm his hands for a few minutes. Woody sidled over to the ranger, a mug in his hand. "Usual, John?" he asked, as he offered the steaming cup of coffee to John. "You're keeping late hours tonight, ranger."
John nodded his thanks, and took the hot cup in both hands. "Yeah, I am. Got to finish up the paperwork on a tree theft before I can call it a day. What do you have that's good and hot?"
"Well, we have some Irish stew, the usual pot roast and I may have some hot turkey with gravy left if you're interested."
"Any cranberry sauce with that turkey?"
"I think we can find some around someplace, just because it's for you." Woody grinned.
"That sounds really good, then." John threw another log on the fire, and sat down at a table nearby, as the smell of the rich, black coffee obscured the other scents in the room. After a few minutes, Woody returned with a plate piled high with turkey, gravy and potatoes and a serving of real cranberry sauce. John ate quietly, alternately looking out the window, then at the fire in the fireplace. As he finished the last cranberry, John saw the two gray riders on their big black horses, float past the window. He wiped his mouth, stood, and pulled on his red wool coat, then put his Stetson on his head, and walked over to the bar. "What do I owe you?" he queried.
"On the house, John. Merry Christmas!" Woody answered.
Farmer looked at the proprietor with a mixture of amusement and admonition and pushed two bills across the bar. "Okay, keep the change, and..." John paused. "Hey Woody, how old is that oldest son of yours now?"
"Almost seven. Why?" Woody was curious.
"I remembered you saying it was about time to get him a dog of his own. I wondered if you'd gotten one for him.
Woody shook his head. "Haven't had the time to even look. Would be a good Christmas present, though."
"You know Alex Ivanavich over on the Moose Lake Road?"
Woody nodded. "Sure. Russian Alexi. He sometimes stops in when he has money for a beer or some vodka. I get the feeling things are pretty tight for him a lot of the time. Never has more than one drink. Always pays cash. Never asks for a tab. Nice guy from what I know."
John nodded. "Well, this is one of those tight times for him and his family, what being Christmas and all. He has some really nice lab puppies. Ought to make good hunting dogs. He said he would sell most of them if he could. I bought one for my daughter's son. If you're interested, I'd get out there. I think they'll likely sell really fast. He's only asking ten bucks each."
"Hey, that sounds really good John. I'll try and get out there in the morning. My kids would love that!" Woody picked up the two dollars and walked down the bar.


Out in the street, Constable Breck was driving by again, and John flagged him down. "What's up, ranger?"
"Hi Lew. Hey, I was out at Russian Alexi's place on the Moose Lake Road, and he has some nice lab puppies for sale for ten bucks each, if you know anybody looking for a good hunting dog for a Christmas present. I'd appreciate if you would tell them about it. He's a bit short for the holidays and selling the puppies would really help his family out. I bought one for our Tricia's boy." he affirmed.
Lew rolled his eyes. "I will keep it in mind. My wife would never let me have another dog right now, but if I hear of anyone looking, I'll send them his way." He looked at the ranger, "They should be good dogs...he always seems to do well during bird season."
"Yep, that's what I was thinking. How's the car doing?" John asked as he pulled his head back from the vehicle.
"Way of the future, ranger. Way of the future. I can get from one end of the township to the other in less than a half hour!" The constable was beaming.
"I suppose, but I can still get a lot more places with Hanna than I can with one of those," John grinned. The other officer grinned back, waved, and pulled away from the tavern, spraying gravel and snow as he left.

Light was showing through the windows of the state troopers’ billet as he walked down the street. Farmer climbed the steps and entered the warm police station. "Well, well. What brings the district ranger of the state forestry commission to the office of the state police so late on a December evening?" Staff Sergeant Jerry Doerghty actually had a bit of an Irish lilt to his voice, despite being the second generation of his family in the U.S. "I thought I recognized your nag out in the back. I put her in the barn with our mounts, to keep warm"


John pulled the Stipulation Agreement and ten dollar fine out of his saddlebag. "I have a timber theft stipulation here for you to give to the judge on Friday. "Hey, Jerry. Know anybody in the market for a nice lab pup? They might be a great present for someone's kid, or grandkid," he added with emphasis.
"We're looking to get a dog." Doerghty's partner, 'Chik' Serenza said, as he came in from the rear of the station. Serenza and his wife had moved to Mills Forge the previous summer, after he finished the new academy the troopers had opened. They were city folk, and it had not been an easy adjustment for the young, recently married couple, particularly Johanna who had only passed through Ellis Island from Poland a half-dozen years earlier. "Hopefully, it will help my wife feel more at ease while I'm on post." Doerghty started to say something, but evidently thought the better of it, and went back to his desk work.
"Well, they are only pups, about ten weeks old." Farmer responded. "Alex Ivanavich over on the Moose Lake Road has some really nice lab puppies. Been pretty tight times for him and his family, what being Christmas and all. He said he would sell most of them if he could. I bought one for my grandson. He's only asking ten bucks each."
"Thanks, ranger." Chik nodded at John. "I'll head out there later in the week."
"You never know," Doerghty put in. "We might head by there on patrol in the next day or so," he said with a smile. He reached for the paperwork the ranger had placed on his desk. "What do we have here...Hmm, took a fir for a Christmas tree. Settled by District Ranger Farmer, for ten dollars and admission of guilt. Subject's name...." The trooper paused and looked at the forest ranger. "...Alexsander Nikoliavich Ivanavich." He looked up at John, who was buttoning his coat back up. "I don't suppose you took the fir tree in for evidence?"
"Didn't see much point in it really." John smiled. "Too many puppies in the way." He opened the door, and over his shoulder, said, "Merry Christmas, guys."
"Merry Christmas, Ranger," Sergeant Doerghty replied. He and Trooper Serenza watched out the window a few minutes later, as the Ranger on his brown mountain horse, rode down the main street of town, back towards his cabin in the forest.

Epilogue: A few days later the forest ranger ran into Russian Alexi at the local store. The stocky woodsman looked at the ranger, and in broken English told him, "All the puppies are sold. Two big policemen came, and Mister Woody and other people came." He smiled a big smile, "We had very good Christmas! Very good! Thank you, Mr. Ranger!"
"Well, sir," John replied, "I know my grandson really loves his puppy. Happy New Year to you and your family, Alexi." He tipped his Stetson and headed back out into the forest.

 

Who I Am

I have other blogs on other topics in other places, but I wanted a separate blog on a separate account, separate from my volunteerism and advocacy blogs for the things that affect me as a retired park ranger; as a winter enthusiast, and a guy who wants to see his grandchildren grow up with the love and appreciation of the backcountry and the winter that my wife and I have. At my age, I have lots of friends from the Class of 1972 who have already started heading south for the winter, Winter is truly "the undiscovered season." And it is out there to discover. I fondly remember the last "Calvin and Hobbes" comic strip, where the boy and the tiger come out carrying a sled, into the new-fallen snow on the first day of the new year; "It's like having a big sheet of white paper to draw on." "A day full of possibilities...It's a magical world, Hobbes ol' buddy...Let's go exploring!" Or the last scene of one of my all-time my favorite TV shows, "Due South", where Constable Fraser and Ray, also on a sled, "Led by Dieffenbaker, we set off on an adventure, Ray and I...to find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea. And if we do find his hand, the reaching out one...we'll let you know."

The snowshoes, the skis and the sleds are ready...Let's go exploring!

Trailpatrol

The Importance of Being Prepared

(Note: This was originally written in 2005 for Snowshoe Magazine. Given the tremendous increase in outdoor recreation and corresponding increase in backcountry rescue calls since the COVID-19 pandemic I have rewritten it for the today's outdoor enthusiast.)

I woke up to the unexpected sound of a snowplow going by the motel room, got up and looked out the window to find about four inches of new powder on my van. (By agreement with my wife, now that I am over 50, when I am solo I either stay in a motel, hostel or campground and carry a SPOT Tracker device with me in the backcountry.)

I switched on the TV, although the only station I would find was a translator for the Twin Cities CBS affiliate, 200 miles away. The morning weather guy went on and on about some fundraiser he and the traffic gal were involved in, but when he finally got to the state-wide radar, I could see that the bulk of the storm was past the area I was in. I got dressed and headed across the parking lot to the Gosh Dam Place (a restaurant, bar and motel/hostel on the road to the dam on Lake Winnebigoshish) for a hearty breakfast.

After breakfast, I cleared the snow off my AWD mini-van and headed six miles up the road to the Simpson Creek Primitive Area for the second day of a two day visit. I have only been up to Simpson once other time in the winter, the previous year for a Candlelight Ski Event, and was anxious to experience more of it. During the summer, I have been a trail patrol volunteer at Simpson Creek for over five years.

Our volunteer group, the Backcountry Trail Patrol, was initially formed to help the U.S. Forest Service maintain the mountain bike trails in the Cutfoot Sioux Lake area, where the Simpson trails are located, and we expanded to do ski and snowshoe patrols in other venues over the past couple years. The trails at Simpson are not groomed, and are open to both cross-country/backcountry skiing and snowshoeing, as well as winter hiking. The day before I had been in the Primitive Area for a couple of hours, and found that the trails were icy, crusty and definitely not very good skiing. Unfortunately, conditions were so crusty that they even made for poor snowshoeing, and caused my wood framed shoes to slip without crampons bolted on. The night’s snow would make travel a lot more enjoyable.

Selfie taken that day at Simpson Creek

Back in the early 1900s, Sam Simpson had the logging contract for the Cutfoot Sioux area. His main camp was located near what we now call “Simpson Creek”. Today, the US Forest Service manages the same area as one accessible by human-powered transportation only. No ATVs, snowmobiles, dirt bikes or even horses are allowed in the Primitive Area. Hikers, mountain bikers, skiers and snowshoers are all welcome on the 13 miles (20 Km) of trails at Simpson Creek. The trails wind though tall pines, white birch and old oak trees, often overlooking Cutfoot Sioux Lake. In addition to the Simpson trails, winter visitors can also enjoy the 18-mile long Cutfoot Sioux National Recreational Trail, which is primarily an equestrian trail during the summer, but seems to have seen little or no use over the course of the winter. The Cutfoot trail passes through the center of the Simpson Creek trail system, then makes a loop around the Cutfoot Sioux Experimental Forest, starting and ending at the visitor center on MN Hwy. 46. You can also access the Simpson Creek trails from the either end of the visitor center parking lot, but my favorite access point is the “A” trailhead and parking area, just west of Simpson Creek on Eagles Nest Road.

2005 had been a very good year for snow in the Chippewa National Forest, and I found many areas with two feet or more of snow on them. As I had surmised, the trails were now perfect for snowshoeing, with three to four inches of new snow on top of six inches to almost three feet of old, corn snow with a crust. With temperatures hanging just below freezing, and the sun peeking through the clouds, I strapped on my snowshoes, put my pack on my back, Stetson on my head and was off for a nice solo hike.

The last time I was snowshoeing that year, it was with my wife in the Superior National Forest, between the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA) Wilderness and Lake Superior’s north shore, about 200 miles east of where I was now. We were carrying two pair of snowshoes and three pair of skis, and had initially planned to ski the loop around Flathorn Lake. The snow in that part of Minnesota was even deeper than that which I was traversing today, and my wife was having trouble controlling my Trak Bushwacker skis, along with balancing her camera and tripod, so I suggested that she change to snowshoes. However, since the bindings on her old pair were broken, she would have to use mine. We swapped, and were on our way. All of a sudden, Ellen discovered that she could stop to set up and take pictures without having to worry about her feet sliding out from under her. Hills were no longer daunting, and when she wasn’t taking photos, she could pretty much keep up with the pace I set on my skis. For me, the switch was also ideal; since this was a trail system almost designed for the Bushwackers, and I had a blast. When we were done, she looked across the van at me and said, “I think I like snowshoeing a lot more than skiing.” I figured, okay…we’ll upgrade your gear.

Simpson Creek "A" Trail

But that was last month, and my wife was 200 miles to the south, in our Twin Cities home. Cell phones barely worked out here, if at all. The visitor center was closed. Any pictures of me had to be taken with a timer, because I was on my own. Understand, that is not a problem to me. I was carrying the entire “10 Essentials” in my pack, was very familiar with the trails, and have been snowshoeing for 35 years or more. I was just reveling in the day. Then I tripped.

Probably the only thing worse than falling with your snowshoes and feet folded up behind you would be being stuck in that position and getting a “Charlie horse” in your thigh. Of course that was exactly what happened. Here I am in three feet of snow, my legs folded behind me and intense pain growing in my left thigh. I sat there for a sec, and thought “Well, isn’t this a fine predicament?”

The only time I could remember being in a similar spot, was years back when we lived in the east. I was training a new search and rescue dog with a friend of mine in Vermont, and I got stuck in the snow well under a spruce tree. The big difference that time was that I had my legs to propel me up onto the snow, and here my legs were folded and cramping. But the concept was a good one. I figured if I could get my body horizontal, I could get my legs in a position to push out on the snowshoes, roll onto my back, and then get up. It worked, but message to self…next time take off the daypack first! Once I got my leg straightened out, the cramp eased, and I was able to get back on my feet. I proceeded on. (I love that line! It’s from the journals of Lewis and Clark.)

Was I ever in any real danger? Given my level of experience and the conditions, probably not, but I also am (hopefully) smart enough to realize it could have been different. Thankfully, I enjoyed the rest of my hike, made it back to the car where I had left my lunch, and headed back home, none the worse for wear.

Moral of the story: Always carry the 10 Essentials when you hike, ski or snowshoe in the backcountry. You never know when your life may depend on them. They are: 1) Navigation (map and analog -magnetic- compass, and know how to use them!) 2) Sun protection (sunglasses and sunscreen) 3) Insulation (extra clothing) 4) Illumination (headlamp, flashlight, bulb and batteries) 5) First-aid kit (with warming packs) 6) Fire (fire starters and matches/lighter) 7) Repair kit and tools (including knife or multi-tool) 8) Nutrition (extra food) 9) Hydration (extra water) and 10) Emergency shelter.

Of Snowshoes, Winter and Eagles

Winter is this fascinating time of year, particularly here in Minnesota. Last week it was sunny and in the 60s. Tomorrow it may pouring rain and in the mid-30s. later in the week the temperature will drop, and we’ll get two or three inches of snow, and next week highs might be back in the 50s. That’s pre-winter here in Minnesota.

I have always liked winter, even before moving to Minnesota 35 years ago. I was given my first pair of snowshoes when I was about 14, and only finally retired them a few years ago. Similarly, my folks bought cross-country skis when I was a senior in high school. I don’t think they ever used them beyond maybe the backyard, but my younger sister and I did. But snowshoes have always held a greater fascination for me, as a tool and as a sport. As my family gave up on winter recreation, three of our five pairs of snowshoes found their way into my garage.  A few years after we were married, my wife bought me a pair of hand-made snowshoes during one of our many trips to the Adirondacks. The neoprene webbing was a compromise between the babiche  (leather) webbing on my old shoes, and the neoprene decking of the more expensive, “new-fangled” aluminum framed snowshoes that had recently come on the market. Ultimately, it was a good choice, as I have stayed with traditional wood-framed snowshoes ever since.

To me, snowshoes are second only to dogsledding as a vehicle for winter adventures great and small. And since I don’t have my own dogsled and team, my three pair of snowshoes (Personal. My wife has a couple pair and we have several more for visitors.) are my principal way to get out and explore the “undiscovered season.” Don’t get me wrong; I love Nordic skiing and used to get out on groomed trails on skis several times a week, and I  have true “backcountry” skis that I use, as well, (Trak Bushwackers) but it just seems so much easier to throw on a warm coat, pull on mukluks or pac boots, strap on my snowshoes and head off into the forest, be it for an hour, an afternoon or a day.

There are many, many people who have never seen a Bald Eagle in the wild, soaring over the countryside. I know this because, until we moved to Minnesota in 1988, I was one of them. Despite years of tromping over the hills of the Finger Lakes Region and the Adirondack Mountains in my native New York, the only place I had ever seen a live eagle was at Sportsmen’s shows and the zoo. Here in Minnesota, and neighboring Wisconsin, the Bald Eagle can be found in the backcountry, all year-round. For me, every year I can plan on seeing  well over a hundred bald eagles, sometimes as often as two or three a day. My eagle watching started with nine of them circling over our house in early 2009, as they made their way back up the Rum River for the summer, and ended for that year while I was on a winter hike on snowshoes that became one of my favorite eagle stories.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky, when I went for a snowshoe hike at Becklin Homestead County Park and Wildlife Management Area on the Rum River, near Cambridge, MN, the newest park in the Isanti County system. I wanted to get some pictures of the setting sun over the deep snow that had fallen on Christmas Day. It was nearly a perfect setting for catching what would be one of the last sunsets of not only the month, but the year and the decade as well. The moon was almost full, and had already risen in the east. I buckled on my snowshoes and headed up a small rise, through the small pine plantation on the south edge of the park for a better vantage point.

As I came out of the woods, a Bald Eagle few past me, just above the tree level, and then out of my line of sight. I let out my very best eagle call, and then actually yelled, “Please, come back!” Then completely to my amazement, the eagle sailed out from behind the trees. It circled by me once more, and then soared south, back behind the trees. I don’t know how long I stood there, hoping that the bird would return, but the sun had dropped below the horizon, and the sky was getting darker. I headed back through the deep snow to my van and the prospect of many more snowshoe adventures in the months to come. It was so awesome and I was truly blessed.

There are many more stories to be told. Check back often!