On April 14th of 1973, Mark, Jeff, and I take a bus from Minneapolis to Grand Marais, where we meet Eric and Paul (who make the trip by hitch hiking). Grand Marais made it onto Outside Magazine's list of top 10 beach getaways along with Sanibel and Captiva Islands in Florida, and Poipu, Hawaii! Grand Marais is located on the North Shore of Lake Superior, and although it may not have the sand of Florida or Hawaii, it is beautiful.
With a water temperature of 32.4 degrees Fahrenheit during the winter, however, you might want to pack a dry suit for frolicking in the waves. I think it's interesting that the tourist information lists attractions like snowmobiling and snowshoeing in equal number with activities like biking and hiking. We're not burly enough to do a "Polar Bear Plunge" , so we opt for hiking.
After meeting up, we walk to the El Rey Cafe and eat dinner. Then we walk west a couple blocks to a park and campground to sleep for the night. All cities should have camping options "...just a rock skip away from downtown..."! It rains during the night and our stuff get a little wet. Since we're just a couple of blocks away anyways, we head back to the El Rey for breakfast.
Thu fortified, we start walking up the Gunflint Trail.
According to Justine Kerfoot in an article published in the Cook County News-Herald, "The Gunflint Trail was originally a winter trail for trappers and Indians, from Gunflint Lake to Grand Marais..." Now it is a paved road providing access to restaurants and camp resorts.
We catch a ride in a pickup to the turnoff for Devils Track Lake. Despite a backpacking trip where we have so far slept in a city park and eaten at a restaurant, we decide there are too many houses here. So we turn back to explore around the Little Devils Track River. At this point, everyone wants to go back to Grand Marais except Jeff. Outvoted, we start back and pause to take in the sights at a scenic overlook.
Unfortunately, fog obscures the view
We end back up at the same campground, camping under picnic tables. More rain and Eric freaks out and tries to karate kick in the door of the park building.
The next morning all of us except Mark go to the laundromat to dry our stuff. Mark, being a little more seasoned camper than us, has stayed dry and cozy and is still asleep. Once again to the El Rey for breakfast, and then one of many trips to the Standard Oil Station to use the bathroom.
At this point, the trip has become a delinquent's tour of the City, so we spend the day prowling for places to sleep indoors that night. We're not about to pay for a motel room, so first we walk up to the high school, then stop at a church, and then to the playground at a closed school, where at least we find suitable entertainment.
We then wander back to the laundromat (hobo hint: they're open long hours with lax supervision of loitering). Eric buys some moccasins, and we walk east out of town. We find a spot a little off the highway in the woods where we camp. No rain and a beautiful moon.
The next morning, the weather is nice and we walk back to town singing Hot Tuna songs. El Rey again, Standard Gas Station bathroom again (I wonder why we don't get preferred customer status at the El Rey by now), then out on to the peninsula for most of the day.
Local girls show up! Eric and Paul play air guitar and sing for them.
I don't know how to play air guitar, so I play a mixing board. Then Eric asks them about indoor places to stay. I suspect that he's hoping for a personal invitation, but they suggest a ski chalet way up on the hill, so off we go. Note to self: learn to play air guitar.
We end back up at the same campground, camping under picnic tables. More rain and Eric freaks out and tries to karate kick in the door of the park building.
The next morning all of us except Mark go to the laundromat to dry our stuff. Mark, being a little more seasoned camper than us, has stayed dry and cozy and is still asleep. Once again to the El Rey for breakfast, and then one of many trips to the Standard Oil Station to use the bathroom.
At this point, the trip has become a delinquent's tour of the City, so we spend the day prowling for places to sleep indoors that night. We're not about to pay for a motel room, so first we walk up to the high school, then stop at a church, and then to the playground at a closed school, where at least we find suitable entertainment.
We then wander back to the laundromat (hobo hint: they're open long hours with lax supervision of loitering). Eric buys some moccasins, and we walk east out of town. We find a spot a little off the highway in the woods where we camp. No rain and a beautiful moon.
The next morning, the weather is nice and we walk back to town singing Hot Tuna songs. El Rey again, Standard Gas Station bathroom again (I wonder why we don't get preferred customer status at the El Rey by now), then out on to the peninsula for most of the day.
Local girls show up! Eric and Paul play air guitar and sing for them.
I don't know how to play air guitar, so I play a mixing board. Then Eric asks them about indoor places to stay. I suspect that he's hoping for a personal invitation, but they suggest a ski chalet way up on the hill, so off we go. Note to self: learn to play air guitar.
Our exploits have not gone unnoticed by others, and our trek is interrupted by an intervention from Sherriff Johnny Lyght. He tells us to stay out of trouble but ultimately let us be on our way.
We find the ski chalet, but judge it too ramshackle for our tastes. Then one of the girls remembers a hunting cabin, and we make our way there.
We're all running out of water, and when I hand my bottle to Mark to share a swig, he empties the remaining contents!
We cram ourselves into the little cabin where at least there's a roof. But of course no water! Paul and I are parched, and what comes to mind when you say parched? Corn of course. We open a can of corn and start drinking the juice. We add Tang to make it more palatable! If only we had some space food sticks to go along with the orange drink. Despite our woes, we can't stop laughing and have a great night!
The next morning, JoAnn and her sister Kendall bring us graham crackers. Is that sweet or what? Not enough sustenance evidently, so we head back to the El Rey.
By mid morning, Eric and Paul decide to head out. Jeff, and Mark I don't want to wait all day for the bus, so we start hitching in two groups. Ultimately we all end up in a big Cadillac together. The guy driving has the nods so we keep talking to him to keep him awake! He remains conscious long enough to drive us all the way to Duluth, dropping us off at 25th Av and London. Still in tourist mode, we walk 5 blocks to an A&W, where Paul can only afford a small root beer. Evidently, none of us cretins help him out.
From there we walk down to 10th Av to Leif Erikson park where there (was) a Viking ship. Interesting note: that ship actually did sail from Bergen, Norway to Duluth, arriving in 1927. By 1980, it had rotted so much that it was removed and refurbished, again put on display, but due to vandalism, was removed again in 2013. It remains in storage until it can again be displayed in a more secure setting.
Anyway, we all go down to the lake, except for Paul who stays up by the ship, since all our packs are up there. No sharing at the A&W, and now we leave him on guard duty? Then when when we return, to pour salt on Paul's wounds, Eric regales him with exploits about a cliff he had climbed.
After that we walk to the bus depot, where Mark, and Jeff I get our bus tickets refunded. We ask about places to stay and after taking in our appearance, the guy at the bus depot suggests the Lark Hotel. Not bashful we: as we walk through downtown, we ask people about indoor places to stay. That's when we meet Rick Raino. He tells us he has to check with his friend so we all traipse up to the sixth floor to a business called Interplanetary Descent. Something to do with wireless telephones. (They were ahead of their times!) I notice their telephone wires are connected to the wall socket with alligator clips. hmmm.
At some point, we ask if he has a shower, and he responds that he has a sauna. Innocent though we are, we get an inkling of sketchiness, so we decline their offer of a place to stay and go back to the street. We discover that the Lark is a seedy flophouse unworthy of our patronage. Back on the street, we encounter Rick again who says, "Oh, so the Lark didn't want you. Well here's my pickup if you want to go with me." So Eric accepts and tells the rest of us Rick is probably just a nice guy. Eric and Jeff ride in the cab, the rest of us in the back. We're driving east on London and Paul confirms my thoughts that this is not a good idea. Rick stops at a Superamerica to buy milk. While he's in there, Eric and Jeff get out and Paul calls Eric a dumbass. Thus awakened to reality, Eric suddenly grabs his pack, and then we all follow suit and bolt! Like a dog after a squirrel, or a squirrel reacting to a dog, we run across London Avenue, not even checking to see if any cars are coming! After running about a block, we stop and as the adrenaline fades, we laugh, dubbing it "The Great Escape".
Eric pulls out his gravity knife for protection. Fortunately, we don't encounter Sherriff Lyght's Duluth counterpart. We get back downtown and Jeff has had enough. He leaves us to catch the bus back to Minneapolis.
Looking for shelter, we first try a church, no luck, then we stumble across historic Duluth Central high school. In the gym, there's a karate class going on. Not bashful we: we inquire about indoor places to stay. Unperturbed, the instructor queries his class without success. It has been hours since our last visit to the El Rey, and Paul is especially hungry, so Eric says we should go to Wing's. On the way there, we see a YMCA, but that doesn't pan out either. So we walk to Wing's and since they are open 24 hours, we decide to stay in a booth all night. After two hours, a waitress says we can go upstairs! We are very grateful and lay out our sleeping bags. Paul reads comic books, then we go to sleep.
At 3:40 in the morning a head waitress comes up and and tells us to get out before the police come. This falls under other duties as assigned, under the category of dealing with the outlandish public. Not bashful we: we ask why she called the police and she says they always came in late at night and that this isn't a hotel. So back out on the streets, we walk to the freeway entrance and climb some cliffs so we won't be spotted, hunker down below a bill board, and wait for first light.
At 4:50am, Eric and Paul start hitching. They catch a ride with the second car that comes along: a "ritzy Marquis station wagon", going all the way to Minneapolis! They get dropped off at 694 and University and ten seconds later Paul has a ride to southeast. He was home shortly after 7:00am, just in time for breakfast. If only there was an El Rey in Minneapolis.
Armed with the backpacking skills learned from that successful adventure, we head out again on June 18th. This time our destination is the Kekekabic Trail. Here's a link to a proper trip report.
Eric and Paul hitch hike to Grand Marais in four hours (interestingly, in 2021, Google map directions says the drive takes four hours and seventeen minutes!) Sam, Jeff, Mark, and I have traveled by car. We meet up, and all pile into Jeff's car to drive to the trailhead.
This time, we actually do hike on a trail.
The mosquitoes are fierce and plentiful!
We climb a lookout tower to escape the mosquito's wrath.
But we can't all fit in the lookout cabin, so we retreat to tents for the night. Even in the tents, the mosquitos are unbearable, so we only spend one night in the woods. I believe the frequency of mosquito buzzing may be honed through evolution to drive humans senseless, so that we run out of our tents where they can feast on us.
The next day we hike back out and go to Lutsen, where Sam's uncle has a cabin on the lake and we spent the night there.
The next day we go to the Temperance River.
Content with our wilderness adventures, we all ride together to Duluth. Six guys and six frame backpacks is a lot for even a 60's vintage four door family car, so Paul and I opt to hitchhike the rest of the way home.
We turn down the first six rides we are offered: two not going far enough, and four going over to Superior. We then get picked up by two girls who ask us if we want to go to a party in Garrison. Innocent foolish youth, we decline, wanting instead to stay on I-35. But they drive us to the Carlton exit. Our next ride comes from a really big guy with stringy long blonde hair wearing a Stars and Stripes type tank top. He seems nice enough but also a little bit scary, so after he drops us off at the exit for Willow River, we name him "Tiny". At this point it's quite late at night so we decide to camp next to the freeway and start up again at dawn.
We find the ski chalet, but judge it too ramshackle for our tastes. Then one of the girls remembers a hunting cabin, and we make our way there.
We're all running out of water, and when I hand my bottle to Mark to share a swig, he empties the remaining contents!
We cram ourselves into the little cabin where at least there's a roof. But of course no water! Paul and I are parched, and what comes to mind when you say parched? Corn of course. We open a can of corn and start drinking the juice. We add Tang to make it more palatable! If only we had some space food sticks to go along with the orange drink. Despite our woes, we can't stop laughing and have a great night!
The next morning, JoAnn and her sister Kendall bring us graham crackers. Is that sweet or what? Not enough sustenance evidently, so we head back to the El Rey.
By mid morning, Eric and Paul decide to head out. Jeff, and Mark I don't want to wait all day for the bus, so we start hitching in two groups. Ultimately we all end up in a big Cadillac together. The guy driving has the nods so we keep talking to him to keep him awake! He remains conscious long enough to drive us all the way to Duluth, dropping us off at 25th Av and London. Still in tourist mode, we walk 5 blocks to an A&W, where Paul can only afford a small root beer. Evidently, none of us cretins help him out.
From there we walk down to 10th Av to Leif Erikson park where there (was) a Viking ship. Interesting note: that ship actually did sail from Bergen, Norway to Duluth, arriving in 1927. By 1980, it had rotted so much that it was removed and refurbished, again put on display, but due to vandalism, was removed again in 2013. It remains in storage until it can again be displayed in a more secure setting.
Anyway, we all go down to the lake, except for Paul who stays up by the ship, since all our packs are up there. No sharing at the A&W, and now we leave him on guard duty? Then when when we return, to pour salt on Paul's wounds, Eric regales him with exploits about a cliff he had climbed.
After that we walk to the bus depot, where Mark, and Jeff I get our bus tickets refunded. We ask about places to stay and after taking in our appearance, the guy at the bus depot suggests the Lark Hotel. Not bashful we: as we walk through downtown, we ask people about indoor places to stay. That's when we meet Rick Raino. He tells us he has to check with his friend so we all traipse up to the sixth floor to a business called Interplanetary Descent. Something to do with wireless telephones. (They were ahead of their times!) I notice their telephone wires are connected to the wall socket with alligator clips. hmmm.
At some point, we ask if he has a shower, and he responds that he has a sauna. Innocent though we are, we get an inkling of sketchiness, so we decline their offer of a place to stay and go back to the street. We discover that the Lark is a seedy flophouse unworthy of our patronage. Back on the street, we encounter Rick again who says, "Oh, so the Lark didn't want you. Well here's my pickup if you want to go with me." So Eric accepts and tells the rest of us Rick is probably just a nice guy. Eric and Jeff ride in the cab, the rest of us in the back. We're driving east on London and Paul confirms my thoughts that this is not a good idea. Rick stops at a Superamerica to buy milk. While he's in there, Eric and Jeff get out and Paul calls Eric a dumbass. Thus awakened to reality, Eric suddenly grabs his pack, and then we all follow suit and bolt! Like a dog after a squirrel, or a squirrel reacting to a dog, we run across London Avenue, not even checking to see if any cars are coming! After running about a block, we stop and as the adrenaline fades, we laugh, dubbing it "The Great Escape".
Eric pulls out his gravity knife for protection. Fortunately, we don't encounter Sherriff Lyght's Duluth counterpart. We get back downtown and Jeff has had enough. He leaves us to catch the bus back to Minneapolis.
Looking for shelter, we first try a church, no luck, then we stumble across historic Duluth Central high school. In the gym, there's a karate class going on. Not bashful we: we inquire about indoor places to stay. Unperturbed, the instructor queries his class without success. It has been hours since our last visit to the El Rey, and Paul is especially hungry, so Eric says we should go to Wing's. On the way there, we see a YMCA, but that doesn't pan out either. So we walk to Wing's and since they are open 24 hours, we decide to stay in a booth all night. After two hours, a waitress says we can go upstairs! We are very grateful and lay out our sleeping bags. Paul reads comic books, then we go to sleep.
At 3:40 in the morning a head waitress comes up and and tells us to get out before the police come. This falls under other duties as assigned, under the category of dealing with the outlandish public. Not bashful we: we ask why she called the police and she says they always came in late at night and that this isn't a hotel. So back out on the streets, we walk to the freeway entrance and climb some cliffs so we won't be spotted, hunker down below a bill board, and wait for first light.
At 4:50am, Eric and Paul start hitching. They catch a ride with the second car that comes along: a "ritzy Marquis station wagon", going all the way to Minneapolis! They get dropped off at 694 and University and ten seconds later Paul has a ride to southeast. He was home shortly after 7:00am, just in time for breakfast. If only there was an El Rey in Minneapolis.
Armed with the backpacking skills learned from that successful adventure, we head out again on June 18th. This time our destination is the Kekekabic Trail. Here's a link to a proper trip report.
Eric and Paul hitch hike to Grand Marais in four hours (interestingly, in 2021, Google map directions says the drive takes four hours and seventeen minutes!) Sam, Jeff, Mark, and I have traveled by car. We meet up, and all pile into Jeff's car to drive to the trailhead.
This time, we actually do hike on a trail.
The mosquitoes are fierce and plentiful!
We climb a lookout tower to escape the mosquito's wrath.
But we can't all fit in the lookout cabin, so we retreat to tents for the night. Even in the tents, the mosquitos are unbearable, so we only spend one night in the woods. I believe the frequency of mosquito buzzing may be honed through evolution to drive humans senseless, so that we run out of our tents where they can feast on us.
The next day we hike back out and go to Lutsen, where Sam's uncle has a cabin on the lake and we spent the night there.
The next day we go to the Temperance River.
Content with our wilderness adventures, we all ride together to Duluth. Six guys and six frame backpacks is a lot for even a 60's vintage four door family car, so Paul and I opt to hitchhike the rest of the way home.
We turn down the first six rides we are offered: two not going far enough, and four going over to Superior. We then get picked up by two girls who ask us if we want to go to a party in Garrison. Innocent foolish youth, we decline, wanting instead to stay on I-35. But they drive us to the Carlton exit. Our next ride comes from a really big guy with stringy long blonde hair wearing a Stars and Stripes type tank top. He seems nice enough but also a little bit scary, so after he drops us off at the exit for Willow River, we name him "Tiny". At this point it's quite late at night so we decide to camp next to the freeway and start up again at dawn.
One last urban campsite, on adventures that turn out to be more hitching than hiking.
Thanks so much Paul for keeping and sharing your diary.
Thanks so much Paul for keeping and sharing your diary.
