Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Up North at the lake in Minnesota July 26, 2023

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Horseshoe Lake, south of Crosslake in central Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

WE LOVE OUR LAKES in Minnesota, dubbed “The Land of 10,000 Lakes.” In reality, our state has more than 10K, but that’s a nice, round, marketable number.

Recreational boating. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

And because we love our lakes so much, we spend endless hours enjoying them year-round, especially during the summer. I was well into my sixties before I experienced cabin lake life.

A blue heron walks the dock. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Recently, Randy and I headed to a family member’s lake property south of Crosslake in central Minnesota, to us Up North since we’re from southern Minnesota. Randy’s youngest sister and her husband have graciously invited extended family to stay in their guest lake cabin. And each summer for the past several, we’ve made the four-hour drive north to relax at the lake.

The lake experience is new for Randy also, relaxing on the patio on a cool day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

As someone who grew up on a dairy and crop farm with only two childhood vacations in her history, none of them at a lake, these cabin stays have proven tranquil, relaxing and lovely in every way. There among the tall pines with a clear view of Horseshoe Lake, I feel such peace. Isolated. Disconnected from the world unless I opt to connect via my smartphone.

Lounge chairs line the beach. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Time has no clock here. No schedule.

A loon on Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)

Awaken with the sun or sleep in. While away hours fishing from the dock, lounging on the beach or reading lakeside. Pull a kayak into the lake if you’re a water lover, which I am not. I like water, just not being on water. Watch the loons while listening to their haunting call.

Randy took a kayak out to retrieve a kite he lost in the lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

Delight in the imaginative play of the grandchildren, this year forming the Shovel Team with their over-sized beach toys. For me, this is part of the joy of lake life, this time together with Izzy, 7, and Isaac, 4, who always anticipate their family vacation to the “brown house.” They look forward to helping Grandma assemble s’mores, to swimming and playing on the beach, to ice cream at Lake Country Crafts & Cones and to pizza from Rafferty’s. We are building life-long memories.

The lake can be busy with boaters at times, especially weekends. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

This is perhaps what I love most, this being with family. Mornings and afternoons and evenings spent together, then sleeping under the same roof. Meals mostly charcoal-grilled and shared. Walking hand in hand with the grandchildren down the long pine-lined driveway. Collecting shells. Washing sand from little feet. Cuddles and hugs and sitting on the bed playing a card game with made up rules.

And this year, solar system artwork created by artist-in-residence Isaac taped to the log walls in our bedrooms.

Water skiing behind a jet ski. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2023)

This is the stuff of Up North at the cabin. Generational connections defined by love-filled, joyous moments at the lake.

© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The Minnesota experience: Going Up North to the cabin August 29, 2022

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Homemade roadside signs identify lakeshore property owners along Horseshoe Lake. These signs are posted all over lake cabin country. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

FOR MANY MINNESOTANS, summer means going Up North. That escape to lake and cabin country has been, for me, elusive, not part of my personal history, until recently. Now, thanks to the generosity of a sister-in-law and brother-in-law, who own lake shore property in the central Minnesota lakes region, going Up North is part of my summertime, and sometimes autumn, experience.

Randy and our granddaughter, Isabelle, 6, head onto the dock in Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

Now I understand what I’ve missed—the peacefulness of simply getting away from it all, the beauty of immersing one’s self in nature, the quieting of the spirit beside the water, in the woods, on the beach.

A northwoods style cabin across the lake from where we stay. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

In this land of 10,000-plus lakes, I’ve discovered the draw of lake life. I grew up on a crop and dairy farm in southwestern Minnesota, where lakes are few. I can count on three fingers the number of vacations during my youth—one to Duluth at age four, one to the Black Hills of South Dakota as a pre-teen and then camping once with an aunt and uncle at Potato River Falls in Wisconsin. That’s it. Cows have a way of keeping farm families home. My kids will tell you that our family vacations were mostly to visit grandparents with a few camping trips and other close by trips tossed in. No going Up North to a cabin.

I love the kitschy roadside signs pointing to lake properties. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

But now, oh, now, several summers into going Up North to the lake cabin, I fully embrace what so many Minnesotans hold in their family histories.

Sailing on Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

Waterskiing is part of the lake experience for some. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Sunset on Horseshoe Lake. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

The appeal of a lake comes for me not in boats or jet skis or sailboats or kayaks or paddleboards, but rather in the natural aspect. The sun rising over the lake, painting pink across the sky. The sun lowering, bathing the far shore treeline in dusk’s light. The moon rising.

Loons glide across Horseshoe Lake near the dock. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

And then in the water, the watching of loons as they glide, duck, emerge, their haunting voices breaking the silence of early morning. I never tire of seeing them, of hearing their call, of observing babies swim near their protective parents.

A loon family seemingly unbothered by a nearby pontoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

For a few summers, eagles lived in a nest on the family lake property. To see those massive birds on-site, flying into the treetop nest, perched there, proved fascinating. They’ve moved on to another location and eagle sightings are infrequent.

A bluegill caught from the dock. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

The clarity of Horseshoe Lake continues to impress me. I can see fish swimming in schools and some singularly. That’s vastly different from southern Minnesota lakes, most murky and green. Unappealing. But here fish bite by the dock, exciting the grandchildren and Grandma, too.

Typically the adults make a brewery stop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

Our eldest daughter and her family are part of this Up North experience and it is perhaps that which most pleases me. To have this time together—eating meals lakeside, swimming, fishing, taking nature walks, sitting around a campfire and making s’mores, going into Crosslake for ice cream or craft beer—all of these moments I treasure. We are connecting, making memories, delighting in one another in a beautiful and peaceful setting. If only our other daughter and her husband and our son could join us, then my joy would be complete. But given the distance they live from Minnesota and their job and school obligations, I don’t expect a full house at the cabin.

Randy fishes with both the grandchildren, here Isaac, age three. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)

So I celebrate the Up North time we have, whether just Randy and me at the cabin or six of us. I love walking the long drive buffeted by towering pines. I love the stillness of the lake in the early morning. I love the crackle of burning wood and the taste of gooey s’mores. I love the lack of obligations and schedule and plenty of time to read a book or lounge on the beach, the sun warming the sand and my skin. I love every minute with those I love. I love that going Up North is now part of my life story, even if it took well into my sixties to write that chapter.

TELL ME: If you’re from Minnesota, do you go Up North? If you’re from elsewhere, do you have a similar escape? Please share. I’d love to hear your stories.

Please check back for more posts about going Up North.

© Copyright 2022 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Up North at the lake cabin, Part III: Eagle watching July 18, 2020

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This scene is familiar to those who spend weekends or vacation along lakes in central and northern Minnesota. “Up North,” as we say.

 

UP NORTH AT THE LAKE CABIN evokes, for many Minnesotans, memories of lazy summer days on the water, on the beach, on the dock. Fishing. Swimming. Boating.

 

Nearly in the top center of this photo, high in the treetop, sits one of the young eagles.

 

A sign posted on a pine identifies this as an eagle zone.

 

This juvenile perched here for the longest time.

 

But, for my family, which is just now making such memories thanks to a generous sister-in-law and brother-in-law who recently purchased lake land with a guest cabin and are welcoming extended family, Up North also means eagle watching. The lakeside property south of Cross Lake, came with resident bald eagles.

 

An eagle (s) flies along the lake.

 

And last week, while staying at the cabin, I spent plenty of time watching eagles. As did the husband, eldest daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter and, occasionally, the son. One evening, just as we sat down to our lakeside dinner, an eagle flew directly over us. Other times, we watched it from afar, circling around the lake, along the treeline.

 

One of the eagles spreads its wings in the treetop nesting area.

 

Sure, I’ve previously seen bald eagles. Soaring. Perched over roadkill. Flying just inches from the windshield of our van. In captivity at the National Eagle Center in Wabasha. Huddled among tree branches. But this was different. This time I was in their habitat with the eagles’ nest high in a pine just outside the guest cabin.

 

The eagles’ nest is well-hidden in the tall pine tree.

 

It amazes me that these majestic and massive birds can stay so well hidden. If my brother-in-law, Jon, had not pointed out the nest in the top of the pine in the fork of the driveway, I doubt I would have spotted it, home to two adult and two juvenile eagles.

 

A view of the less visible young eagle.

 

I certainly heard them, though. At feeding time. Jon occasionally needs to clean up fish remains under the pine.

 

The only photo I got of a parent eagle. This one was sitting in a tree next to the lake, a favorite perch, Jon said.

 

It became somewhat of a joke during our cabin stay that, every time I wasn’t carrying my camera or had my short lens (rather than my telephoto) attached, the eagles would show up or fly away. I don’t possess the instincts or patience of a wildlife photographer, something I’ve long known.

 

The massive nest, spacious enough for four eagles.

 

But I’m learning. And it was a joy to take my four-year-old granddaughter by the hand and race to the pine tree when we heard the screeching of eagles. I would point and Izzy would follow my finger to the nest. Sometimes we would see an eagle. Mostly not.

 

The two juvenile bald eagles, one born last year, the other this year. One is clearly visible to the left. The other is higher in the tree to the right.

 

Days after our departure, my sister-in-law texted with the news that one of the juvenile eagles had either fallen or been shoved from the nest, landing on bottom boughs of the pine tree. The young eagle freed itself, seemingly unscathed.

 

The statue still juvenile eagle.

 

These eagles are part of the story of this land, of this place by the lake, of our memories of Up North at the lake cabin.

 

This concludes my three-part series on my northwoods cabin stay. Please feel free to share your cabin memories.

© Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Up North at the Lake Cabin, Part II: Water, land & sky July 17, 2020

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The picture of a perfect summer day at Horseshoe Lake in the Brainerd lakes area.

 

UP NORTH AT THE LAKE CABIN in Minnesota writes poetry into summer days.

 

 

In water and land and sky.

 

 

Each sings with the relaxing rhythm of days that roll one into the other until dates are forgotten and the world seems to exist only among the towering pines.

 

 

 

Day fades into evening at the lake.

 

Poetry writes verses on the lake and in cloudless skies and skies heavy with clouds and skies tinged with the fiery and golden hues of day’s beginning and day’s end.

 

This family of loons swam and dove within view every day of our lake stay, of great interest to me since we don’t have loons in southern Minnesota.

 

A loon family and boat share the lake.

 

Loons call.

 

 

 

 

Boats cruise and buzz.

 

 

Water skiers fly across water’s surface.

 

 

Families laugh and talk. Reconnect. Make memories.

 

My 18-month-old grandson loved everything about lake life.

 

This is the poetry of Up North at the lake cabin. Sand between toes.

 

Grandpa (Randy) and granddaughter (Isabelle) check out the dock and lake.

 

Generations bonding.

 

 

Randy kayaking.

 

 

Solitary moments of gliding across the lake on a kayak or paddleboard.

 

The most memorable and creative watercraft I spotted.

 

Each experience, moment, scene writes poetry into summer days at the lake cabin. S’mores around the campfire. Dining lakeside. Spending every waking minute outdoors. Embraced by nature.

 

 

Water. Land. Sky.

 

Pine trees stretch tall and lean in the woods surrounding the lake.

 

Up North at the lake cabin.

 

© Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
These photos were taken during a recent family stay at a Minnesota lake cabin. This is the second post in a 3-part series.

 

Up North at the Lake Cabin, Part I July 15, 2020

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A view of Horseshoe Lake on a weather-perfect July day in Minnesota.

 

FOR MANY MINNESOTANS, summers at an Up North family lake cabin span generations. Not so for me.

 

The guest cabin sits just around the corner from this, the main year-round house. Both are northwoods Minnesota style.

 

But now, into my sixties, I am finally enjoying that quintessential summer experience thanks to the generosity of extended family who recently purchased lake property with a roomy guest cabin. They intentionally chose a place they could share with family. And I am grateful.

 

Isaac loved splashing in the lake. The water was clear, vastly different from the murky lakes of southern Minnesota.

 

For five days last week into this, Randy and I were joined by our eldest daughter and her family and our son at the cabin near Cross Lake in central Minnesota. To have that family time together in such an incredibly beautiful natural setting was a gift. A joy. A much-needed respite from reality.

 

The neighbors’ dock, a visual of relaxation.

 

Randy and I never left the lake place together until we left. No trips into town, mostly because of COVID-19 concerns. But Randy did surprise us with an unexpected Monday morning run to Valeri Ann’s Family Foods in Ossipee for her heavenly homemade caramel rolls. He got the last two.

 

We saw loons every single day of our stay.

 

Relaxing in the hammock strung lakeside in the pine trees.

 

Randy and Isabelle watch as the sun set reflects on the treeline across the lake.

 

We found plenty to do at the lake cabin. Time in and on the water. Time watching eagles and loons. Time fishing. Time dining lakeside. Time in the hammock. Time around the campfire. Time with the grandkids, ages four and 18 months.

 

A beached kayak awaits its passenger.

 

Our son, back in Minnesota for our family vacation, paddles into the lake.

 

The grandkids (and adults) loved the inflatable floaties.

 

There is nothing quite like immersing one’s self in the northwoods lake experience.

 

Grandpa and grandson lakeside.

 

I will always treasure hearing Isaac giggle at the fish wiggling on the end of Grandpa’s fishing line. I will always delight in watching Isabelle wiggle to her made-up “I Got the Wiggles” song on the lakeside deck. I will always cherish memories of walking outside at night with Randy and Izzy to show our granddaughter the stars. I will always remember seeing my eldest glide across the water on a paddleboard, her daughter sitting on the front.

 

One of the adult resident eagles in a lakeside treetop.

 

I will remember, too, walks down the long evergreen-lined driveway, the many minutes standing at the fork in the drive, neck craned to watch the resident eagles.

 

Grandpa and grandchildren follow the pine-edged driveway.

 

So many memories. So much happiness. So much peace.

 

Kid-sized chairs used by the grandkids.

 

And, for my grandchildren, the beginning of summers Up North at the lake cabin.

 

Please check back for more posts in this “Up North at the Cabin” series.

© Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

My first stay at an Up North Minnesota lake cabin September 22, 2017

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THROUGH THE PLEATED SHADES, lightning flashed like a strobe light outside the cabin. Soon thunder rumbled, not loud and crashing, but slow and ramping in volume. I willed myself to shut out the light, the sound, to fall asleep here in this place nestled in jackpines along the shore of a lengthy lake four hours from my southeastern Minnesota home.

 

Downtown Park Rapids features two rows of parallel parking down the middle of the street and diagonal parking curbside on both sides.

 

Randy and I arrived in a flush of rain after an afternoon in Park Rapids, a resort town abundant in shops and quirky in its center of the street parking. Already I loved this place, despite the grey skies and near constant rain.

Yet, this was not my vision of our first-ever stay at a Minnesota northwoods cabin. But when you can’t control the weather, you can either choose disappointment or embrace the situation. And I was determined to make the best of our visit with friends Jackie and Rick.

 

Jackie, right, took this selfie of the two of us. Photo courtesy of Jackie Hemmer.

 

When Jackie invited us to their cabin, I accepted with the enthusiasm of someone who has always wanted to experience this quintessential Minnesota activity of “going Up North to the cabin.” Our friends made us feel as comfortable as if we were family and long-time friends. We are neither. I met Jackie several years ago after connecting with her via blogging. She and Rick live some 40 miles from us in Rochester. Jackie is a nurse by profession and a blogger with strong photography skills.

 

Randy and I, left, with Jackie and Rick. Photo courtesy of Jackie Hemmer.

 

We joke that we could be sisters given our shared interests in photography, barns, cemeteries, country churches, small towns, gravel roads and much more. We are women of faith, mothers of three, grandmothers and wives who are grateful for loving and supportive husbands of 35 years. We each birthed sons who weighed nearly 11 pounds. Jackie beat me by two ounces.

Mostly, though, we have that natural connection of conversing with ease, of laughing and enjoying each others’ company in a developing friendship. Previously, the four of us had gotten together briefly several times. This weekend at the cabin would forge our evolving friendship.

 

With Rick at the wheel, we head across the lake. Photo courtesy of Jackie Hemmer.

 

Given the weather, we mostly sheltered inside the cabin peering through spacious windows toward the grey lake and rainy skies. We laughed and talked with barely a lull in the conversation. When the weather broke for a bit Saturday morning, I suggested a boat ride. I surprised all of them. I had to overcome a general uncomfortableness on water to board a boat.

 

As the boat picks up speed, waves trail behind.

 

I appreciate that Jackie and Rick honored my request that we not venture too far from shore. Eventually I felt comfortable enough to ask Rick to increase the boat speed. The distractions of my camera and Rick’s history tour of the lake along with Jackie’s encouragement made for a pleasant ride. There’s something to be said for friends who are supportive and loving.

 

Watching Randy relax and unwind from work gave me much joy. We needed this vacation.

 

That evening, after dining on grilled steak, we clustered around the dining room table for a game of Outburst. Boys against girls. We laughed and talked and laughed some more between munching on caramel corn from Molly Poppin’s Gourmet Snacks in Park Rapids. Before 11, we were off to bed and I slept well without rumbling thunderstorms.

 

Only a few boats were on the lake Saturday morning.

 

As wonderful as the cabin experience was, I had hoped to spot a loon. Sunday morning while looking across the lake, I noticed a black floating shape with the seeming distinctive curve of a loon. Jackie handed me binoculars while she fetched her glasses. Through the lenses, we confirmed a loon sighting. It would have to do—this lone loon in the distance. I was thrilled.

 

A grouping of loons. Photo by Jackie Hemmer.

 

That evening, hours after our mid-morning departure, Jackie texted a photo of seven loons with this message: Saw about 15 loons on the lake tonight just beautiful!

 

 

Just beautiful. That summarizes, too, our weekend stay with friends who blessed us with a delightful time at their Up North cabin.

 

FYI: Click here to read Jackie’s blog, “Who Will Make Me Laugh.”

© Copyright 2017 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Photos by Jackie Hemmer are also copyrighted and used with her permission as noted.