MidwestWeekends.com — Your Travel Guide to the Upper Midwest

Ice capers

Along rivers and lakes, it's fun to play with Jack Frost.

In winter, ice comes with the territory. You can curse it — or you can play with it.

Kids know how. Climbers and skaters know how. And skiers know how — to stay away from it, that is, at least when they have waxed planks on their feet.

One New Year's Day, after an ice storm turned northern Wisconsin ski trails into screaming luge runs, I cut short a ski weekend and headed home through glazed forest. But Amnicon Falls State Park was on the way, so I stopped to explore.

In the summer, the Amnicon River is a jolly little stream that tumbles over a series of waterfalls as it splits around a wooded island. In winter, the river is frozen in place and the park is silent, but there's a palpable sense of suppressed energy, straining under the opaque marble pillars that once were rushing torrents.

As I made my way along the shore, admiring ice formations, nothing moved. Then, I noticed what appeared to be a heap of ashes at the base of Snakepit Falls. It was heaving and sighing as if an asthmatic giant were lying just underneath, puffing life into this Mount St. Helens on ice. I was itching to touch it but afraid to get too close, so I fetched a long stick and gave it a poke. Poof — my little volcano turned out to be nothing but frozen foam, quickly scattered to the wind.

Ice is strange. A whisper of wind or droplet of mist is all it needs to shift shapes — and, like snowflakes, it never takes on the same shape twice.

Once, I considered ice the mere byproduct of conditions too poor to produce snow. That was before I really looked at it.

Now, I consider a good icescape to be a main destination. My favorite playground is the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore ice caves near Bayfield; I visit them every year if Lake Superior freezes enough to allow people to walk along its shores. Gooseberry Falls always is worth a stop for its filmy curtains of icicles, which create niches and tunnels children love to explore.

On north woods rivers, ice glazes snow into all kinds of magical shapes. Walking on the shallow Kadunce, I once spied elfin strings of tea lights strung under thick slabs of snow; on the Brule, shiny minarets atop flowing tapestries of ice.

If it's near water, any summer playground is even more fun in winter. For anyone who's a kid at heart, a bunch of ice can be jungle gym, swing set and merry-go-round all rolled into one.

Living art

Late one winter, heading home after skiing on the Gunflint Trail, I went out to Artist's Point in Grand Marais, popular in summer for its piles of cobblestones that can be stacked into cairns and arches. But in winter, there was more to play with.

On the village side of the point, thin slices of ice lay in pointy heaps that mimicked the Sawtooth Mountains rising behind the village; they were so transparent, I lifted one to my camera and used it as a filter.

On the lake side, chunks of ice were strewn like Lucite paperweights. One was in the shape of Minnesota, its southern half a skein of tiny fractures, and its northern half so clear it refracted the sun into dancing rays of purple, yellow and blue.

Like stalactites in a cave, ice is alive. As in caves, water squeezes through cracks and cascades down cliffs and over ledges in multihued organ pipes and bacon strips; on the shore, splashing water coats rocks with fish scales and wide icicles that look like cow's teats.

Usually, wind and snow make surfaces rounded and dull, like jade. But on this day in Grand Marais, the ice was as sharp-edged and clear as art glass, and walking on the beach was like walking through a gallery: I spotted a Picasso hen, a Chihuly chandelier, a Swedish vase.

On the bay, craters of ice rode the waves like jellyfish, bashing each other's edges into tinsel. But in the harbor, the water was unnaturally motionless — only the presence of gulls, sitting just a little too high, gave away the fact that it was frozen.

I could have played there all day, examining each piece as if it were the rarest thing in the world. I wanted to take some home, but there's no such thing as a souvenir from an ice field.

Farther down the shore, west of Knife River on old Minnesota 61, I veered off onto Stony Point Drive and found a different kind of icescape. There was nothing delicate there. Enormous slabs of ice were piled against the shore; from some viewpoints, it could have been the Arctic.

At Stony Point, storm-watchers come to watch waves pound tractor-sized boulders along the shore. As I climbed from one to the other, I heard a crash as a big chunk of ice calved into the lake. In the water, waves had beaten the middles out of the ice craters, turning them into hoops of loose shards.

Rugged beauty

Nothing stays the same for long on the North Shore. And occasionally, a storm can create a wonderland that those lucky enough to see it will remember for the rest of their lives.

In April 2003, a wild storm pounded the North Shore, and giant waves coated the shore with ice. Soon afterward, Gooseberry Falls State Park manager Paul Sundberg took his camera into Tettegouche State Park to record the scene.

"The spray had frozen in the trees, and it was just an enchanted forest," he said. "I was careful I didn't get too close to the edge, but one thing I never thought about was the trees themselves.

"I was shooting Palisade Head, and I'd just picked up my camera and taken five steps back when the top half of a tree broke off, with maybe 1,000 pounds of ice on it. It would've broken every bone in my body, although I never would've survived."

In winter, Sundberg roams up and down the shore, skiing down frozen rivers when he can and snowshoeing up the shallower ones. The first stretches of the Kadunce and Devil's Track rivers, north of Grand Marais, generally are shallow enough to traverse safely, he says, and their sheer red-rock gorges are especially scenic.

"When you go up there, little feeder streams come off the cliffs and form huge icicles coming off the sides of the canyons," he says. "You'll see owls, timber wolf tracks, all kinds of wildlife — once on the Devil's Track, a deer had fallen off the cliff and lodged in the fork of a birch tree; it probably had fallen 100 feet when it hit."

Besides the falls at Gooseberry and Cascade River state parks, he's fond of a little blue waterfall on a tributary of the Split Rock River, "just a fantastic place to play, a really fun spot," he says.

And along the lake, he likes to visit the beaches between Split Rock Lighthouse State Park and the mouth of the Split Rock River, especially when the winter has been cold.

"You get ice shards piling up on the shore, and the sound of cracking ice is pretty awesome," he says. "Last year, the bay of Split Rock froze so cleanly you could go on the beach and skip rocks, and the rocks would not stop, they'd go all the way out to the island and fall into open water. The sound of them skipping across the ice was just incredible."

All you have to do is look: "There are always neat little things you can find along little beaches and along the trails," Sundberg says.

You can't take any of them home as souvenirs. But the memories will last for a long time.

Trip Tips: Ice playgrounds

Anywhere there's water and rock, there will be ice formations. Always be careful when walking on rivers and lakes; to be safe, ask a local naturalist for advice, bring a buddy and carry a stick that you can tuck under your arms horizontally if you fall in. Thick snow is no guarantee of safety; it's an insulator and may be keeping water from freezing.

For extra traction, wear a pair of Yaktrax or other boot crampons, available at sports stores.

Formations are most delicate when the air is very cold, but the sunnier days of late winter, until the ice breaks up in late March or early April, are a perfect time to play. Below are some of the best places:

Amnicon Falls State Park in northwest Wisconsin: The falls in this state park, 10 miles east of Superior on U.S. 2, are very easy to explore. A covered bridge allows access to the island. 1-715-398-3000, www.wiparks.net.

Artist's Point in Grand Marais: This wooded spit of land on the east side of the harbor, beyond the U.S. Coast Guard station, is fun to explore in any season. 1-888-922-5000, www.grandmarais.com.

Stony Point near Knife River: Past the New Scenic Cafe on Old 61, just past the Sucker River, Stony Point Drive hugs the lake and is a good place to jump on the rocks and watch waves and boat traffic.

Brighton Beach/Kitchi-Gammi Park in Duluth: On the eastern edge of town, at the start of Old Highway 61, this rocky beach is a good place to watch surfers when the waves kick up in late winter and early spring. Nearby Lester Park, where Amity Creek and the Lester River converge, also is a good place to play as well as ski. 1-800-438-5884, www.visitduluth.com.

North Shore rivers: Gooseberry Falls State Park is a favorite place to clamber around, with dramatic, varied ice terrain. The water around Lower and Middle Falls isn't too deep, but be careful around Upper Falls, which has a 20-foot pool at its base. Ask naturalist Retta James-Gasser for tips on what to look for. 218-834-3855, www.dnr.state.mn.us.

Four miles east of Gooseberry at the mouth of the Split Rock River, a five-mile hiking trail goes up the west side of the river and crosses a bridge to return on the east side. Not far from the start, there's a 20-foot waterfall around the corner from the first bridge.

In Tettegouche State Park, the arch at Shovel Point is covered with beautiful ice formations. Past Lutsen, there are many formations on the rapids and falls of the Cascade River. Past Grand Marais, the first sections of the Devil's Track and Kadunce generally can be traversed in winter, through picturesque red gorges dripping with icicles.

Black River waterfalls on Michigan's Upper Peninsula: This is the top destination of Patrick Lisi, a Wisconsin game warden whose book "Wisconsin Waterfalls" is the bible for waterfall watchers. From Bessemer, eight waterfalls tumble down the Black River as it heads toward Lake Superior. They're all along County Road 513; Lisi recommends touring them by snowshoe for a fun adventure. 1-906-932-4850, www.westernup.com.

Northern Wisconsin waterfalls: Thirteen miles south of Superior, Pattison State Park has the fourth-highest waterfall east of the Rockies and is easily reached. Other falls are hidden in the forest; for tips, buy Lisi's "Wisconsin Waterfalls" ($19.95) at the Northern Great Lakes Center near Ashland, Wis.; 1-715-685-9983, www.northerngreatlakescenter.org.

Apostle Islands National Lakeshore ice caves: The mainland ice caves, four miles east of Cornucopia, off Meyers Beach Road, are magnificent — like an underground cave turned inside out, except that many of the formations are in delicate hues of blue and green. However, Lake Superior doesn't always freeze hard enough to allow safe access to the caves, a one-mile walk from the Meyers Beach parking lot. Usually, the end of February or early March is the time to go; call the park service hot line at 1-715-779-3398, Ext. 499, www.nps.gov/apis/icecaves.htm.

An option would be to walk or snowshoe the trail along the cliff top, which goes to the caves from Meyers Beach; however, be sure to keep a good grip on kids.

Last updated on January 7, 2009

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