All Play and No Work

After a good night’s sleep and breakfast at the lodge restaurant, I was shuttled down the road to my car by owner Gene Glader (he’s since sold Cascade). Then Susan and I took our bag lunches and set out on the connector trail that runs just up the hill from the lodge. It was cloudy but pleasant, with tons of snow lying deep on the hillside above the lake.

Soon we were making time along the main stem of the trail, which generally follows the contours of the lakeshore. The trail was wide and perfectly groomed with parallel tracks and room enough to skate-ski, though we both stuck to our plodding traditional style. Just as well. To reach Solbakken Resort we had only about ten kilometers to go. Our biggest challenge would be not getting to our destination too soon.

We could hear the occasional car on the highway far below, but mostly felt alone high on the hill. As the sun emerged, the birches turned brilliant and shadows deepened. In the fluffy snow, we studied the numerous prints of deer and indistinct tracks of small carnivores—coyote, bobcat, marten?

By midafternoon light snow began to fall. We figured we should stop for lunch. After all, ham and swiss on rye with potato chips, oranges, and raisin cookies would taste far better on the trail than in the lodge, where we would be on the prowl for hot food.

As the day darkened, we split off from the main trail and bombed down a series of curves through thickets of conifers. We shouldered our skis to cross the highway and walked up to Solbakken’s stately log lodge. This was what I was after—arriving at a place as if we had just stumbled upon it on our way through the woods.

Our cabin was tiny, but as they say, location, location, location. The little house was perched just thirty feet from the rock and ice of the Superior shore.

The next morning, we found Bill Blank in the main lodge. “We lived in the Twin Cities, and this was our favorite vacation,” he recalled. “We’d always hope the big waves would roll in.”

Bill and his wife, Beth, bought Solbakken in 1979. The large log lodge was once Sawbill Lodge, which had been bought out by the government. The Blanks purchased it at an auction, and the logs were disassembled, numbered, and trucked down to Solbakken, where they were reassembled in 1994. “We wanted a central lodge where people could congregate,” Blank said. “Ever since I was a kid, I wanted a log cabin.”

Like Cascade, Solbakken has been instrumental in opening the trail system along the North Shore. The Blanks had a long-term agreement with the U.S. Forest Service and the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources to maintain the trails.

After arranging for our shuttle, Susan and I set out from Solbakken, climbing the hill to the main trail. Soon we found ourselves surrounded by the shadows of the old-growth cedar, spruce, and birch of Lutsen Scientific and Natural Area, created to protect remnants of the forest that once covered the shore.

Susan, I noticed, was skiing really fast. Or maybe I was really slow. Soon we reached Trapper Pass, our halfway point and lunch stop, where we unwrapped our deli sandwiches. From there, it was all downhill. We glissaded along a continuous slope and soon arrived at the doorstep of Mountain Inn at Lutsen Mountains.

It all happened too quickly. We should have been more ambitious. Should we ditch some of our gear and head out again, I wondered? It was a good idea, but the siren call of the sauna and hot tub were simply too strong. 

Greg Breining writes for The New York Times, National Geographic Traveler, Wildlife Conservation and other magazines. His latest book is Minnesota: Yesterday and Today, a nostalgic look at his native state.