A Collection of Lake Fx Columns




Another Year , Another Winter, The Blue Still Shines




In October, as I realized that 2018 soon would  be coming to a close , I decided to pull together a collection of my winter columns. I scanned over 10 years of writings and compiled 45 of my selections, along with 12 photos, into one volume that  I call Lake Fx The Winter Collection. If you would like to obtain a copy, please contact me at lakefx8@gmail.com. Cost is $15.00 plus shipping if applicable

                                                      Thank you. Happy Wintering!





December 13, 2016





January 22, 2015



November 14, 2014

17 for 17










I begin to write this on New Year’s Eve. Frigid arctic air blankets most of Canada. Ottawa’s New Year’s celebrations are frozen in storage. But before I thaw out and embrace 2018 I need to think about and thank 2017 for all it gave me.





Outside my window, a line of cloud mountains has dominated the watery, Lake Superior horizon for several days. I never have seen a mass of sea smoke sit so still for so long. Yesterday morning we spotted a lake freighter several kilometres away; its white bow and stern were pin prick dots against that blue/ grey winter fog wall. Brrrr. Hurray for cabin warmth and fireside musings! So here are 17 things that resonated with me during 2017.

The abundance of wet weather brightened up a special aspect of the forest. Usually by midsummer the mosses are dry and crackly, perking up for a brief time between the rains. But this year the mosses were the stars of the show. Brilliant greens thickened boulders and hung from trees adding a unique softness and radiance to the bush.







The extra amounts of moisture also heightened water levels. Fall storms have deposited new driftwood onto the shore. Some of the pieces are lake washed, twisted roots from eroded trees. I do wonder how long before the water recedes once more.






Hiking is inspirational itself, but this fall was a true treat. Kathleen Cote, a staff member from Lake Superior Provincial Park, read Mary Oliver’s poem, Wild Geese, at the first lookout on the Awausee Trail. Now that was real poetry.

The closest community to the north of Montreal River is Wawa, a great little town with a big heart. How wonderful to see the 2017 resurrection of the Wawa Goose.

The closest community to the south of Montreal River is Batchawana Bay. This summer some friends there shared with us some terrific tasting, homemade, St. Mary’s River smoked salmon.

Also this summer the Friends of Lake Superior Provincial Park began plans for the construction of a 2018 handicapped platform on Agawa beach. Congrats Friends!

Closer to home, for our own projects, we discovered the Boreal 21 Agawa Canyon Saw. Designers of the cool tool describe it as a revolutionary 53.3 cm folding bow saw that unfolds in seconds for easy high performance cuts. We can attest to that fact as Ward has used the saw many times on our trail clearing expeditions.

As well as giving us many trail building days, the amazing 2017 warm autumn gave me opportunities to swim in October! Thank you Lake Superior.

2017 was a good year for artistic expression. Linda Nanchin’s hand painted cards have inspired me to draw and sketch. Nanchin is a self taught artist whose fine work illustrates the beauty of nature and the rewards of “just doing it”.

So in the late fall I kick-started my desire to draw and took a sketching lesson with Taimi Poldmaa’s at her art studio in The Tech on Wellington Street in Sault Ste Marie. Poldmaa taught me how to see the world from a different perspective.

This different awareness of light made it possible to further appreciate the constant changes of the shoreline. In December, winds had pushed waves to the very back of the beach. After one of those storms we saw pebble arrangements like no other. A huge section of same plum sized cobble froze together to create a wide knobbly “boardwalk”. What fun!

Earlier in the fall, while trekking that same beach, I had the luck to notice over two dozen loons. The day was calm and their lonesome calls alerted me to their presence. They swam towards each other, all the while making soft blip noises. The loons were gathering, about to have a chat before the flight south. 



No Lake Superior look back on 2017 could be complete without mentioning the paddling. Our canoe days floating over underwater gardens of gigantic boulders are wonderful memories that never fail to fuel up the winter dream time.

At this same time I am thinking about the caribou and the wolves on Michipicoten Island and how their interlinked lives will emerge.  2018 will see more of that story.




Another animal, this time a little one, has shown itself. A pine martin , an house cat sized animal with a bushy tail,  a beautiful russet coloured coat, large paws and a very cute face visits our bird feeders. Somehow he and the birds and squirrels have worked it all out, cohabiting amongst the snowy nooks and crannies.

My almost last entry of 2017 memorables is something I observed in the night sky. These freezing cold nights have been so clear you feel like you could almost touch the stars. On December 28, 2017 as I was looking up I noticed a very large  moondog,( a perfect circle of light around the moon), which reminded me of how connected we all are - even to the moon! Moondogs often signal a change in weather and as I finish writing this on January 2, 2018, 70 km winds and -3 temperatures are at the doorstep.

Now for the most important part of 2017. That is you, dear readers. Big thanks for all the support and encouragement. You make lake fx happen as much as I do.



All the best for 2018 and may this year bring you many fine memories.











The Wolf and Caribou Dance


Jill Legault came face to face with a caribou calf on Michipicoten Island in June of 2011 while volunteering to do research with Braun McLaren of Lakehead University





Some challenges present a pack of problems. Even more so when they concern a relatively unknown, remote island where animals are moving pieces on nature’s chessboard. On Lake Superior’s Michipicoten Island, a large, healthy wolf pack is moving in on the territory of the most southern herd of caribou in the world. And without help there soon could be a checkmate in store for all of them.



Michipicoten Island is the third largest Island in Lake Superior


However, just as two radiating lighthouse beacons on the island shine through the fog, hope still thrives in some of the folks who know and love the island. They are very aware of the impending difficulties and are raising ideas that aren’t going away anytime soon. In phone interviews and emails with the Sault Star, they shared expertise on this very dangerous predator-prey game. Requested comments from MNRF, Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry, are not available.
Brian McLaren, Associate Professor in the Faculty of Natural Resources Management at Lakehead University, wrote “We need to opt for a non-lethal wolf response program. Wolf kills and landfast ice are not routine things but they matter in the long run when the dice get rolled the wrong way.”
Gord Eason, Wawa resident and retired MNR biologist, said, “We need to get a few of the caribou off Michipicoten Island before they are all gone. They are very valuable animals. We have to step in and be the immigrators.”
Leo LaPiano, Michipicoten First Nation Lands and Resources Conservation Officer, added, “Something has to be done immediately. The first step in a longer term goal is getting the caribou protected.”
Christian Schroeder, who has owned a camp on Michipicoten Island since 2013, is very worried. “It seems to be the thing that is occupying my mind most of the time now,” he said. “It is my dream that Canadians would have a discussion about caribou as Americans did about moose.”
Michipicoten Island, the third largest island in Lake Superior, is its own Provincial Park, under the umbrella of Lake Superior Provincial Park, with Bob Elliott as Park Superintendent. The fertile island has volcanic based soil with an abundance of luxurious vegetation. Thick growth of ground hemlock, moose maple and tag alder make inland summer travel almost impossible. However, the forest does eventually open up onto a large sugar maple forest. Several lakes dot the interior.
The closest stretch of shoreline to this 184 square kilometre wilderness beauty is about 15 km away. In the winter, ice formation on the lake seldom creates solid enough footing to walk to the island from the mainland. The usual mammals on the island are snowshoe hares, muskrats, weasels, foxes and a lot of beaver. In fact, numbers of beaver have been historically astronomical. In the fall of 1961 there were 730 active lodges, with an estimated 5800 beaver. By October of 2015, 1300 active lodges peppered the island. All the luxuriant shrubbery provided them with a bountiful good life. Before the arrival of the wolves, beavers had free run of the island which they also shared with the influx of an introduced caribou population. Caribou, or reindeer, which some peoples call them, have some neat survival tricks. They have large rounded hooves which makes it easier for them to dig for food and walk on snow. Caribou are excellent swimmers because their hollow hair makes them buoyant. Plus both male and females carry antlers. The male drops his rack in late fall after mating season. The males drop theirs in late fall; a pregnant female carries hers for protection, sometimes until June.



A Caribou cow protects her calf

Caribou were a natural presence on the island until the 1880s when mining activity and miners depleted their numbers. But in 1981, someone spotted a mature male caribou on the island. That’s when the MNR decided to help out that lonely bull. The next year, in 1982, the Ministry of Natural Resources, under the guidance of MNR biologist Gord Eason, boarded eight caribou - one bull, four cows, and three female calves - onto a Twin Otter bush plane and flew them to Michipicoten Island. With no natural predators and tons of great greenery to eat, the herd survived and thrived.
 But there is trouble in Michipicoten Island’s tough paradise. Today, beaver and caribou are the meat market for the ancestor of man’s best friend. The problem started almost four years ago. In 2014, during the Polar Vortex winter, Lake Superior froze over and an ice bridge formed between the island and the 15 km stretch of water to the closest shore. While we were hunkering down under duvets and wondering how to pay the next heating bill, three hungry wolves, two females and one male, caught a whiff of the caribou and crossed the ice to the island on a unique ice bridge. Thus the Russian proverb proved to be true. As it states, “The wolf is fed by his feet.”
The crossing of Lake Superior ice to find food brought an abrupt change to Michipicoten Island. The wolves have made it their home, a healthy food-rich place to grow their family connections. Family is everything to wolves. While only the alpha pair breeds, the rest of the clan works overtime to help raise the litters of four to seven pups. Even other females will lactate to help with the feeding. And of course their vocal communications are our beautiful, deep, bone-chilling mystery.   Unless a safe ice bridge forms again, the wolves, who do not swim in Superior, will be forced to stay on the island. However, since caribou are so plentiful there, Michipicoten Island will be a great place to be stranded - for now. But The Audets know better. They have witnessed the change.
Roger and Mary Audet have been summer visitors to the Island for over 50 years. “In 1963 we bought a boat and that was the first time I saw the island,” said Roger in a phone interview from his home in Wawa. “As soon as I discovered Wawa I discovered Lake Superior and that was it.”
Today, the Audets own a piece of their beloved island. They have a cabin in Quebec Harbour, one of the few sheltered anchorages there. Roger and Mary have watched the caribou population grow over the years and there is recent written proof of the herd’s expansion. In his 2012 graduate thesis for Lakehead University, Benjamin Kuchta wrote that in 1982 there were seven caribou; in 2001 there were 200 and in 2011 there were 680. But Kuchta had written his study before the wolves found their way over to the Island. The Audets fear that the caribou herd soon will disappear. At one time caribou were regular visitors to their camp.
“They were plentiful,” said Roger. “But there is a big, big difference now. Only the big, big bulls will be left at the end.”


A boat docked in Quebec Harbour 

Eason is worried too. He wants to see some of the caribou moved to Leach Island in Lake Superior Provincial Park. In the fall of 1984, a total of seven caribou were moved from the Slate Islands to Montreal Island - one bull, three cows, two male calves and one female calf. One of the cows moved over to Leach Island. The caribou lasted until 1994 when the lake froze and a pack of wolves crossed over on the ice.
In a prophetic 2011 report Eason wrote, “Don’t wait for the original animals to disappear. Take advantage of their experience and genetics.”
He added, “Leach and Montreal Islands should be tried again. Caribou could then move or be moved from these islands to the mainland.”
Another suggested plan is to move the wolves to Isle Royale on the U.S. side of the border. Isle Royale, the largest island in Lake Superior, needs wolves to help control Royale’s moose population.
LaPiano encourages the idea of transporting wolves to Royale.
“What an opportunity for cross border cooperation,” he said in a phone interview. “I’ve been in touch with the scientists on Isle Royale. They have expressed interest in receiving the wolves.”
But LaPiano also has deeper concerns. He believes that the caribou/moose predator situation is part of a bigger problem. “It is representative of a much larger struggle,” he said. “It is about our relationship to the planet. We are living in an age of mass extinction. In order to respond we must open up a much broader conversation. It becomes pretty depressing if we think of a planet for our children that is hollowed out and homogeneous.”


An elusive submissive wolf on Michipicoten Island

LaPiano credits Schroeder’s steady research and letter writing campaign for bringing the whole situation to light. “If it wasn’t for the determination of Christian much of this wouldn’t be happening,” he said.
Schroeder describes himself as a citizen deeply concerned about the persistence of Lake Superior caribou. He has been doing the tough work of dealing with bureaucracy. He is very persistent himself.
On March 30 of 2017, using the power of the Environmental Bill of Rights, he submitted an application to the MNRF asking them to review the Management Plan for the island. On May 30, 2017, MNRF responded denying Schroeder’s application. The MNRF letter stated, “The MNRF …has determined that the public interest does not warrant a review within MNRF ..or the need for a new policy… creating the Lake Superior Island Caribou Reservation.”

Caribou graze on Michipicoten Island.

Undaunted by the rejection, Schroeder then approached Algoma-Manitoulin-Kapuskasing Member of Parliament Carol Hughes with Michipicoten Island’s wolf/caribou conundrum. On June 28 Hughes wrote to MNRF Minister Kathryn McGrarry and Catherine McKenna, Federal Minister of Environment and Climate Change, asking that both levels of government “ work with U.S. counterparts to look at the feasibility of having a number of wolves relocated from Michipicoten & Slate Islands to Isle Royale ”.
On September 7, 2017, McKenna responded. Her letter stated, “ ..since boreal caribou is a federally-listed species under the Species at Risk Act, the Government of Canada plays a national leadership role in co-ordinating recovery actions..”.
However McKenna was quick to add, “I understand the provincial MNRF is developing a range-specific approach to manage that area.”
 She went on to say, “Environment and Climate Change Canada will examine the approach being taken. In that regard, the federal government will offer support to the Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry, where appropriate, in making sound management decisions involving boreal caribou in areas of provincial jurisdiction in the coastal range. ”
Studies are in the works and more MNRF observations are planned.
McLaren is disturbed with the lack of real action.
“It breaks my heart really,” he wrote, “that caribou conservation is such a national issue and yet, in one of the few cases where we have a simple management response to help rescue them, we hide behind the idea that we need to do more research. Or if we cannot pull the scientists together on the same page, then we need to educate ourselves as a whole.”
LaPiano would most definitely agree with that one.
“It might be pretty idealistic and naïve,” he said, “but if you’re going to dream about alternative realities why not chose one that makes sense?”



A male caribou on Michipicoten Island carries a distinctive set of antlers.





Note : A website courtesy of Johanna Rowe 

  http://www.wawahistory.com/northern-chronicles-et-alfebruary-26-2011-sault-star-wawa-vs-wolves-call-it-the-nature-of-the-beast 


gives an historic perspective on caribou during the last century in the Wawa area.


Madeline  and Laura Bazelot and Hilda Morrison  at the Morrison cabin near Lake Superior during the mid 1900s. Note the caribou antlers above the door.






The Indie Summer

I like books. I like the way they sit on the shelf and hold promise. I like the little and sometimes big insights they offer up.
And I’m not alone. A lot of folks love their reads too. They treasure the cloth bag full of paperbacks with Heather’s Pick or Canada Reads stickers on the front. Off to the campground or the camp and for a couple of weeks it’s called read and relax.


While summer might be an optimum time to read, I always find the warmer months so busy, so full of swimming, gardening and long hazy sunsets that I have little time to delve into a book. But now that the season is changing and the light is leaving quicker than the leaves, I am more drawn to the lure of turning pages and drifting off with a tome in my lap.
That being said I must confess that a particular library book did keep me spellbound all through this particular summer. “The Story of the Irish Race”, by Seumus MacManus, is more like a bookend than a book. MacManus wrote the 724 pages soon after World War One because his encounters during the great conflict made him realize that very few people in North America knew anything about the history of Ireland. True, his accounts are biased. However, the amount of knowledge in the footnotes and author notes is so interesting, so intense and so varied that I often had to re-read certain passages to grasp the impact of them all.


It was when I started Chapter 68, The End of O’Connell, that I found a curious thing that sparked my attention. The first sentence of the chapter made no sense. It began, “But the movement and the man had an Indian summer.” Say what! What does the author mean “an Indian summer”! This was no reference to glorious fall days in Algoma. Instead the terminology meant that Dan O’Connell, a tired defeated Irishman, returned from a prison term and found some residual energy to lead a movement towards Ireland’s independence from Britain one last time. I learned that O’Connell was not successful in changing the political climate but he did leave an important impression on the people.
The text altered my understandings. Until reading MacManus I was bound to the thinking that Indian summer meant warm sunny autumn days - like what’s happening right now.


Yes it is fall. In fact, we even had a thunderstorm to announce this year’s autumnal equinox. I recall thunder vibrating the house and an accompanying crack of sheet lightning turning on this desktop computer. Fall arrived with the traditional bang.
Yes the warm temperatures continue. Some days it was so hot that trying to work tested all possible parameters. Even the trees didn’t have the energy to paint their leaves red, gold and orange. Everything, including the forest, was all washed out.
But the words Indian summer do have another root. Since MacManus’ book opened curiosity’s door, off I went to pull another source off the shelf. Time for  the Canadian Oxford dictionary, the heavy one, the one that doubles as a doorstop, the  one with over 1700 pages and a three inch wide spine to come to the rescue. In it I found the other meaning for Indian summer. Besides being “a period of unusually dry warm weather sometimes occurring in late autumn” the dictionary states that it is, “a late period (of life, of an epoch etc.) characterized by comparative calm.”


This was the AHA moment I was looking for. Yes, we are in the middle of a quiet period. We are getting a lull in the action. If Indian summer means a respite, a chance to regroup and enjoy the accomplishments, the fruit of what has grown, then we can see this season with less harried eyes.
Mmmm. I think I will head down to the beach once more and take advantage of this comparative calm. A few days ago there had been a major blow. After it was over I noticed that the huge rolling waves had deposited sand onto the pebbles. I’m going to clear a space in that fresh shore and dig my toes into the last bits of my indie summer to prepare for the season ahead.












And after next weekend I will be thankful for more than food and family and good friends. I also will look forward to what Winter has to write in his new book.








Hide and Peek



Whew folks! The last time I saw this column was August 14th but today I found it again. Thanks for reading my lost and found post.




Oh the joys. Oh the agonies. Oh the ups and downs. Wouldn’t it be great if day-to-day was as easy as playing hide and seek?
I remember playing that child’s game. Someone, usually the youngest, usually me, would have to be IT. You’d lean against the rough bark of the hide and seek tree, the designated “home”, and count to 100 (by ones, if you didn’t cheat). Then everyone laughed and took off to hide or maybe tag “home” while IT was off on the search. We’d play until dark or until parents called us in. I think that this simple game was a great preparatory for life. For aren’t we always dealing with some version of lost and found?





A great place to find things and then decide to keep them or… maybe not… is the shore of Lake Superior. The other day we paddled to one of our favourite beaches. The water was calm and we took our time looking at the landscape, the waterscape, always on the watch for some hidden “treasure” - be it a beautiful boulder under the water or perhaps a mother duck skimming along to find fish with her small charges in tow. We pulled up to the pebbly beach and took in the solitude and the beauty of a Superior morning. After a sit with a cup of tea on a huge white pine log, we wandered around. Such fun picking up this and that. A large bright orange fishing buoy. An odd piece of plywood with a perfect square cut out of it. A dotted conglomerate rock. Small blue and yellow plastic beach shovels and a bright yellow smiley turtle for sand castling. The sojourn started me thinking about the dozens and dozens of “things” that folks find at this time of year.
































Then, when I heard about an elaborate plan to conduct a special underwater search in Superior’s sister, Lake Ontario, I realized that this lost and found game has real effects on people in real time. Whether the consequences last a lifetime or a single morning, the intensity, the adrenalin charge of recovering a lost item or finding a new one is quite profound.
The Lake Ontario search is of a particular social/historical significance. In the 1950s, Canada’s CF 105 delta winged supersonic Avro Arrows were eons ahead of their time. But, for secret reasons, the then Prime Minister John Diefenbaker ordered the destruction of all 5 prototypes and their blueprint plans. However, humanity being the curious race that it is, could not let the mystery of the amazing plane stay down in the drink, especially when model-sized Avro Arrows are sitting on the bottom of Lake Ontario. “Raise The Arrow” is the attempt to find one or more of these small prototypes using the “Thunder Fish”, a sonar equipped, remote underwater vehicle that will map the bottom of Lake Ontario. Imagine the Facebook hoopla if Thunder Fish finds one of the models!




But thrills also belong to smaller finds. Check out this cool story.

In July of this year some folks were spending the night at the Twilight Resort. While landing a rental canoe after a quick paddle, one of them lost his ring in the lake. Since the traveller had to leave right away, he offered “a G note” to anyone who could find his precious ring. Well that spurred on one particular searcher! Cut out the bottom of a plastic pail. Inset Plexiglas. Take said impromptu underwater viewer and earn 1000 bucks! Voila. The half pound, solid gold, 1” square, diamond and ruby encrusted and inscribed ring glistened amongst the underwater pebbles and a guy became $1000 richer.




But not all 2017 Montreal River lost and found stories are so marvellous. Last month a seasonal resident found what most of us dread to encounter while walking in the bush - the remains of a human body. Although OPP have not released any identification or cause of death, the person who died on that cliff at the far end of a beautiful beach can now rest in peace. And I would think that the OPP beach fire that helped warm officers who had to maintain 24 hour protection of the scene, also helped send that poor person’s soul on to the otherworld.

Sharing stories about lost and found experiences has got to be a vital part of our human condition, a crucial link to a common existence. Whether it be a 20 dollar bill waving on the sand rippled bottom of Lake Superior by Bathtub Island, a family ring that slipped off the finger of an unwary swimmer, a rusted old rifle jammed under a boulder near the mouth of the Montreal River or even a child’s pink running shoe buried in the Agawa sand and dug up a year later by someone else, the retrieval of a lost item, pet or person has got to be one of the greatest joys of all.





So good luck to Thunder Fish and all the other searchers. We all can use a hand up once in a while.