In the midst of the woods: The Forest History Center

I think my spring fever is still growing and I keep pondering summer time fun. One place I have been thinking about is the Forest History Center, located in Grand Rapids—North Central Minnesota. It is a living history museum operated seasonally by the Minnesota Historical Society. With so much to do, we have managed to miss this wonderful place several times on camping trips in the area either because we were just too busy or we were around during the off season. We finally made it last year. I had always wanted to bring my mom up there, but after visiting, I am not sure she could handle the walking—I will have to see if there is a way around it. Located in the woods, it is a wonderful site to learn about how the loggers worked.



Logging was a convenient occupation for farmers who wanted to supplement their income because the majority of work can only take place during the winter months when the ground is frozen. The loggers would fell the trees and bring them to the river to be floated to the sawmills to the south during the heightened water levels of the spring thaw. Floating the logs was a dangerous job; men died getting the logs clear when the inevitable jams would occur.


The history center does a great job of interpreting camp life—the loggers’ quarters, the store and the dining hall. The
boys even had a chance to saw some logs—now if only I had such an effective way to harness that at home! They also got to see an example of a boat that would have been used to cook the meals for the men floating the logs down the rivers. They also saw a fire tower that would have been used in later years after the Civilian Conservation Corps had replanted the forests. Though the tower was closed on our visit, we have climbed similar towers. What a climb the towers bring, but—man, what a view! They also had these cute little sheds that would have been placed throughout the area to help firefighters when fires broke out. I know, cute probably isn’t the word people want used with fire equipment—but cute they are. The entire area is nestled into a beautiful area and is criss-crossed with scenic hiking trails.


The inside exhibits have fine displays for people to see vehicles used in the logging industry. My daughter loved the truck cab from the 60's. They also have ones used currently--a John Deere vehicle that has been developed to help loggers prevent damage to the forest and the trees not being harvested. Very cool! I would like to go back there, but with so many things—how do we choose? As many times that we have driven through Duluth to the north shore, we haven’t done a great deal in the city itself. Between issues with my mom’s mobility and my kids’ desire to see stuff within the city—maybe we should go that route. With the history center only an hour from my mom, maybe it is worth the attempt anyway. We’ll see.

Finding Camp Rabideau: a gem in the forest

It is early spring here in Southern Minnesota—with little snow remaining, there remains a possibility of more snow despite the chirping birds that are preparing their nests. This is the time of year I most want to go camping—I enjoy winter, but when it’s over, I want to dig out the tents. The best I can do is think of past trips and plan future ones. I have been reminiscing of a trip we took to northern Minnesota when lessons of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) became an indelible part of our memory. There are many examples of the work of the CCC throughout Minnesota—and the United States. However, there are only three camps that have substantial character remnants of the entire camp. Only one’s character has remained unaffected enough to qualify to be included on the National Register of Historical Places: CCC Camp Rabideau. This gem is tucked into the background of the surrounding countryside of a remote part of north central Minnesota. We discovered this completely by accident on a camping trip to Red Lake.



My mom had repeatedly expressed a desire to be included on our camping trips. We had gone “up north” with her so she could enjoy spending time with us on “those camping trips of [ours].” As we drove to Red Lake, we passed a small sign announcing the presence of the camp. Having pitched many tents in the dark, we wanted to ensure we didn’t do that with Grandma; we waited to drive in on our return trip. I had worried that perhaps, I had made the wrong decision when it took so long to find it on our way back, but we did indeed find it and it was worth the wait. The camp remains under the control of the US Forestry Service in the Chippewa National Forest in Northern Minnesota—though I suspect someday it will be transferred to the National Park Service like Camp Coldwater in St. Paul.



It was amazing to see the site returning to a condition that is more reminiscent of its natural state. The 112 acres was purchased in 1934 and had been stripped of the forest covering by the lumber barons. The “boys” of the camp arrived to a bare ground that they were able to set up a baseball field on. This is a hard fact to digest given that the millions of trees that the CCC had planted have now grown to a rich forest—though certainly not to the massive sizes that existed prior to the invasion of the lumber companies. When we were there two years ago, the camp was staffed by volunteers—some who where there as boys.


The stories were wonderful. One of my favorite was about a couple of boys that snuck out after lights out to go fishing. Caught by the Commanding Officer, they were worried they were going to be sent home—a terrifying prospect for boys who knew that their families needed the money that was sent home during such desperate times of the Great Depression. The commanding officer insisted that the boys “do what needed to be done” and fry the fish and share the meal with him. Two years later—and the story still gets to a soft spot in me. I hope the stories are documented for the inevitable time when the boys are no longer around.


Though no admission is charged or even asked for—a donation bucket at the end will accept any free will offering—no gift is ever too small. The monies collected are accepted very gratefully and are used for future restorations. A site definitely worth seeing—I hope you can enjoy the trip and benefit from the “boys” who are still there sharing their time, energy and wonderful experiences of a bygone era.

Garden reviews and March planning...

When my family returned home to Minnesota five years ago, our sewer line collapsed three months after moving into our home. We spent thousands digging it up and seeing our yard completely destroyed. We were required to move the natural gas line when it was repaired. We spent hundreds more on replacing black soil and planting grass seed. I put hours of sweat in trying to establish a relatively decent looking backyard. It finally worked—and we had grass by the time my husband left active duty and joined us at home.

The following year, my daughter expressed an interest in agriculture and establishing healthier eating patterns. She argued that a garden was the perfect thing—we would save money and it was a great hobby. I wasn’t too sure about the whole idea. I had grown up “gardening” and my memories were not fond ones. “Gardening” meant weeding hip high weeds that had grown in a hay field on the hottest day of the summer when we were in the doghouse. I wanted no part of it.


My daughter, determined to have a vegetable plot, kept researching…and researching…and researching. Of all the things she could have been interested in or pestering me about, this surely was a good thing. Right? It wasn’t something that remotely qualified as a thing to stress about. When she knew she had me, she excitedly shared her plans. I calmly accepted that she had known I would permit it all along. She didn’t know how unprepared I was to hear her detailed directions. “We need to do what?” I asked.

Step one: Remove sod. I asked her why couldn’t she have said she wanted a garden the spring before when I was working so hard to establish new grass? Innocently shrugging, she continued to tell me all about the seeds we needed and which catalogs we needed to order. The only thing I really got out of the rest of the conversation was the realization of why our attempts at gardening always failed when we were kids; we had never removed the deeply established grasses of our land in the country. Weeks later, I found myself removing sod, though in their defense, they had already made a valiant attempt to do so themselves.



This will be the fourth year of our gardening and it has gotten better. Weeding hasn’t been the complete nightmare that I had expected and dreaded. We haven’t had bumper crops, but I would say we have come close to breaking even. We even managed to can some stuff last year. I think our major issue this year was that we did not water the garden enough--the poor thing suffered because of it. Each year we learn something new and accomplish more: water your plants—simple and obvious, but often neglected; water early in the day; put up a small bordering fence to keep the Peter Cottontail from robbing you of carrots and lettuce; and harvest zucchini and cucumbers when the fruit is still small. I would encourage anyone who wants to garden to do so. Even people living in apartments can have some plants in a bucket and it is a great botany and life lesson for children. You’ll be amazed how good veggies are to them when they had a hand in growing them! It is never too early to start planning a garden—we are currently planning ours, and never too late to learn how.