The North House Folk School schooner, Hjordis, by reflection.

Finland, Two Island River, 6 Hundred, Honeymoon, Murmur Creek, Pike Lake Rd. Grand Marais. Place names that have become synonymous with backroads North Shore bikepacking. I jumped at a chance for an overnighter, this time solo.

I experimented with a new-to-me loading plan for my trusty steel Clockwork. Bringing the bike fully loaded from my deck to the car reminded me of the crazy phenomenon of static bike mass compared to moving mass. Do not ask me, there is no science to this statement. But I remember having the same feeling many times while racing the Tour Divide. Walking my loaded Tour bike to the wall of gas station felt akin to that of a loaded BMW R 1200. No way I can pedal this pig! And then, once aboard, the thing moves almost effortlessly. In fact, there is a noted sensation of momentum. Thank goodness. Overall, the front loaded panniers were something I would do again.

Spinning out the miles to Grand Marais I felt a combination of urgency to arrive (knowing that I did not have many miles in my legs lately,) marvel at the energy I had, and wonder at the yellow and orange light pouring through the trees. Magical, quiet (except for the crunch of gravel,) transportive. This is a familiar stew of emotions that stir up for me when traveling by bicycle. I enjoyed this gift of time, landscape, motion and machinery. Flying the final miles down CR 7 into Grand Marais always makes a person feel like a superhuman, too.

I brought Hank, Red’s understudy, for this local trip. He’s quiet and does a good job of tending to the morning coffee.

Hank and million dollar campsite by Grand Marais harbor.

The municipal campground in Grand Marais is really unlike any campground I have been to in the US. We use it frequently for our events and have for years. For one, it has some of the best real estate in town. Two, it is an eclectic mix of seasonal trailer renters and fly by night adventurers like me. And though there are a few van people that never show their faces, most are friendly older folk, sitting by their fires and saying ‘hello’ as you walk by.

During the pandemic, I took to shopping for vintage camping gear. This particular piece (below) was an Ebay find, a late 60’s era Eddie Bauer down bag, when still made in Seattle. The no-zipper (weight saving?) and aluminum barrel cord lock won my heart. It reminds me of the sleeping bags and coats my mom used to make from Frostline.

Grand Marais and the town campground share a few special quirks. One, either because of the predominant wind direction or unique acoustics of the harbor shore…or maybe just some left over magic hangover from the 70’s, is that local guitar acts playing at the Gunflint Tavern will be your soundtrack for the whole night. And it is always covers of John Denver, Gordan Lightfoot, Neil Diamond or Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (“Mr Bojangles.”) This time, as I was enjoying the warmth of the fire, Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” floated over the shore and mixed with the woodsmoke hanging over the camp. It’s an acquired taste but I still like it.

Timber frame skeleton, North House Folk School.

The calm water at the North House Folk School dock made for fun impressionistic shots of the Hjordis schooner.

The North House Folk School has always had a special power over me. I taught a few fishing rod building classes there years ago. It has kept its mystique with its crafted buildings, amazing light, and welcoming grounds. Adjacent to the campground it always makes me dream of blacksmithing my own coat hooks to hang in my hand built timber frame cabin. Someday.

To mix it up, I decided it would be interesting to try riding as much of the Gitchi Gami State Trail as possible back to Finland. Note to self and others, though the trail itself is quite beautiful, the stretches of Hwy 61 between completed sections of the trail are scary. I won’t be attempting that anytime soon. It was a relief to finally make CR 6 in Little Marais and begin the steady climb toward Finland. What a relief to be off of 61.

Always, a short trip is better than no trip at all. 24 hour trips have a special ability to reset your brain. I plan on keeping my gear close for another foray to a destination by bicycle.