ALMANAC RETROSPECTIVE: THE LAKE IS BOSS

LITTLE SPIRIT MOON

RED SKY AT NIGHT, SAILOR'S DELIGHT

A NOR'EASTER LASTS THREE DAYS

A "THOUSAND FOOTER"

Monday, 9:00 AM.  22 degrees F at the ferry dock, 20 on the back porch.  Wind WSW, calm at present.  The sky is cloudy and overcast, the humidity 92% and it is snowing lightly.  High today will be in the upper 20's, becoming colder with wind and snow tomorrow, followed by temperatures in the upper teens to mid-20s with snow showers for the rest of the week.  We are living in the Bayfield snow globe once again.
   The next week or so of posts will be retrospective topics concerning Bayfield, beginning with today's post about weather and the Big Lake.
   Lake Superior is the largest body of fresh water in the world, 31,000 square miles.  It creates its own weather systems and influences wind, temperatures, rainfall and snow depth, considerably altering the continental climate of the land masses surrounding it.  It has influenced the endemic Native American cultures which lived on its shores, and every aspect of immigrant life, from logging and mining and farming to trading and manufacturing, and continues to dominate life today on its shores and its waters.

   A few of my observation of the lake at Duluth several years ago:

• The fog drifts in and out, alternately dense in early morning and then disappearing, to reveal all it had hidden: "Things seen and unseen, known and unknown," a metaphor for the mysteries of life.
• The spruce trees sway and dance in the north wind, while the white caps toss smaller boats to and fro like flotsam on the water.
• Wraith-like, the shape-shifting fog billows over and about the waters, revealing or hiding all at its  pleasure.
• Nine small white power boats, possibly a fishing fleet, head out from the harbor entrance, fanning out at last in groups of three.  One lone, spire-like sail boat remains behind.  The boats appear to be no more than white caps as they recede in the vastness of the lake.
• What looks like a very small boat sits a half mile off shore, its wind screen glinting on and off in the sun like a beacon, as it bounces about on the choppy water.
• Threading the needle: A laker the length of several football fields steams at ten knots towards the harbor entrance, a concrete channel perhaps three times the length of the ship, and scarcely wider. The ship is deftly piloted into the narrow opening and it quickly passes through this "eye of the needle"into the  safety of the capacious harbor to load or unload its cargo.
• Evening: The waters are becalmed, reflecting the the blue sky and gray-mauve clouds.  The sky is akin to a painter's canvas, the colors applied with broad, sweeping strokes.  The raven sits on its perch, and a few gulls coast by, deftly riding the occasional updrafts.
• The ancient spruces, still visible in the twilight, sway to and fro in the increasing night wind, stately performers in an ancient tribal dance.  Now they are increasingly animated, encouraged in their gyrations by the  strong breeze.  They need chants and drums, and a fire to dance around, to reflect their wild images into the burgeoning dark.

 ""By the shoresof Gitche Gumee, by the big se Shining Water, Stands the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon Nokomis" thus begins Hawthorne's epic poem Hiawatha, a collection of tales gleaned from Ojibwe stories about their demi-god Winneboojo.  Read it to gain insight into the great lake and its original people.

NOR'EASTERS
Art Ode

When I was a kid
My father, of Lake Michigan
said:
A Nor'easter will last three days

Here on the  Lake called Superior
The Ojibwe's  Gitche Gume
Hawthorne's Big Sea Shining Water
The winds blow fierce,  dangerous, forever
and a Nor'easter lasts three days

'Twas a wild, November
Nor'easter
that doomed the Edmond Fitzgerald
that sank it with all of its hands
deep  in the belly of the monster

The lake, it is told
has a heart that's too cold
to ever give up its dead
As old lake captains say
'bout the storm that sad day
'twas a Nor'easter that lasted three days

November 11, 2017 was the 42nd anniversary of the tragic sinking of the Edmond Fitzgerald with  all its crew of twenty-nine.  As the old lake captains say, "The lake is boss."