Verve, Voice, Visitors

     The quiet time is here. Winter has staked its claim and the lake is trying to sleep. The busyness of summer is just a passage in last year’s journal.

     One of the most noticeable effects of this sleepy time is the lack of traffic on the highway. The scrape from snow plows and the rush of transports is there, but missing are the dozens of canoehead cars and skinny wheeled bicycles. The world loves the north but most people can only venture there in the warmer, safe-to-travel days.

     For folks who live in the north, in small rural communities or in hamlets along the lake, this change in space is a familiar one. However, the absence of people does not diminish the fact that where they live is important. Take, for example, the plight of tired workers who sit in front of a computer all day. To keep their minds fresh, they often flip to photos of their favourite haunts along Lake Superior.

     Lake Superior has pulled in people from all over the world. Over the years we have been lucky enough to meet quite a few. I remember with a smile, and awe, some of the first visitors to our place. Some years ago, Tzanka, a small troop of dancers from Russia on a cross Canada tour stopped here in Montreal River to perform at the local school. They brought an energetic musical part of the planet right to the front door. Some of the more recent visitors have been cyclists. They are the adventurous souls who brave the gravelly shoulders on the Trans Canada to grind their way up, or zip their way down, the Montreal River Hill. They add a unique verve and voice to the shore. Today, in 2014, the love and life in Superior’s eastern shore has an even broader base. Social media has umped the ante. A visit to the lake and Lake Superior Park is on a multitude of sites.

     While summer is the most popular time to see the lake, winter offers unique and often startling views and contemplations. The variety of light, form and colour is unbelievable. Some sunset evenings the light dances off the lake with a pink, red and gold radiance that fills the entire sky. Some sunny days crystals of snow are flakes of silver. One morning ice patterns are swirls and squiggles on a smooth flat surface. The next day rolling plates of pack ice resemble the scales of a dragon. The scene never stops giving and changing.

     Often, insight from the lake can be quite unexpected. One winter, during a year when the winds were calmer, the lake froze smooth and solid enough to ski on in places. We went to Sinclair Cove in Lake Superior Park and skied about a kilometer south to the pictographs on the cliff face of Agawa Rock. There, the ancient ochre coloured paintings that depict lake travels and lake creatures are a draw for thousands.

     It was a gorgeous sunny day and all of us were taken away by the beauty and fun of our icy excursion. We skied to look at the paintings and then went further out onto the lake. At about 50 metres from shore I started to notice how the sounds were different. Laughter from our group echoed off the cliff walls. In a quiet moment I whispered. It was a shock to hear my soft whisper return to me louder than I sent it. And from so far away.

     The lake does have a million voices and faces that influence the world. A global network of people share and enjoy this beauty, a beauty that puts us in the moment, a moment that reminds us to breathe and remember what is important.

     Some travellers might look around and say that the frozen north is in the middle of nowhere. But another look might reveal something else. Instead, they could be now-here. And that’s something to appreciate while the lake takes a rest.

Winter Reflektions

     

I’ve never seen a winter like it. Ward even asks, “What would be different if this was the beginning of the next ice age?” No wonder the mammoth was woolly.

     We have been clinging to our wool sweaters and felt lined boots for a few weeks now. With either a blizzard blinding our way or freezy temps doing things to our eyelashes, stepping outside has been an event. And, what about all the people in Toronto, Newfoundland and the States who face days without electricity? The intensity of the latest round of severe weather is making us feel like we really do live in the frozen north. Although, the outdoor hockey classic game did make snow and cold look like fun.

     A winter like this one brings up some of my childhood memories. I see my mom wrapping a scarf around my mouth, nose and chin, then tucking my mitts into jacket sleeves so I wouldn’t freeze when I “played outside”. I feel my toes turn to ice cubes on the outdoor rink and hear the thud of my skates as I pound on the wooden floor of the rink shack trying to warm up my feet. And I smell the pungence of wet wool as the shack’s woodstove coaxes ice balls off droopy mitts.

     Actually, once the layers have coated our bodies, the winter out of doors is a beautiful place to be. Frost flowers bloom on windows. Clear frigid nights showcase a thick, black velvet sky where millions of brilliant, blinking stars appear to be close enough to pluck like berries on a hot summer day. Then, at sunrise, pink cotton candy steam clouds rise off the rolling shoulders of Lake Superior. Here at Montreal River the lake still is resisting the ice. One day you can see miles of a moving ice sheet. Two days later the wind rules and obliterates any sign of an ice blanket. Watching the lake/ice capades and listening to Arcade Fire’s new CD Reflektor is a fine way to spend an hour on a Sunday afternoon.

     But wait a minute. I thought that we were supposed to be suffering the effects of global warming. Or maybe we are. What is going on this wild winter? Time to check out some science.

     Yes it has been warm—emphasis on has. Scientists from the American based NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) say that the global average temperatures over land and ocean surfaces for November 2013 were the highest for November since record keeping began in 1880. Then December rolled in. Followed by our January 2014!

     NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) has some explanation for the recent freeze out.  They say that a Polar Vortex, a strong west to east jet stream that contains a large scale region of frigid air has been making its counter clockwise rounds. This vortex has a shivery nickname too. Some call it the Polar Night Jet. Oooh! Cancel flights on that one. They might make you nauseous.

     The earth has had periods of very cold winters before. In 1939 Francois Matthes penned the words “Little Ice Age” (LIA) to describe three cold periods between the years 1550 and 1850.  Society embraced the idea and it thrives to this day. The LIA terminology conjures scenes of glacial mountains and a cave with a fire. However, science is just talking about severe winters. Period paintings of skaters on the Thames River in England combined with modern sediment and ice core samples prove that, indeed, there were some very cold years. The coldest winter on record in Europe, where the record keeping predates North American data, was in 1683/1684. And yet two years later Europe had the sixth warmest winter. Nature rides a seesaw trying to find some sort of balance. Remember that March not long ago when we wore shorts and tee shirts in 30 degree weather? Abrupt changes are a part of the plan.

     Global warming and/or extreme climate changes are a fact of life. Whether these intense weather systems are normal or not is a moot debate. Deciding how to control or change them is constant chatter. The fact is we have to live with this weather.

     So what shall we do? What we do best—make the best of it. For when the power goes out, our other power turns on. We go to our reserves. We share stories, legends and songs about the cold. We haul out genetic memories of conserving energy and huddling together to stay warm. We bundle up, go outside and embrace any bit of daylight or starlight that we can. Probably the world has been like this many times before.