Most full-time locals are tired of it by now — they’ve been dealing with it since November. But I’m a “seasonal resident” (albeit one who visits in all seasons). And a “remigrant” (one who moved away and came back.) My northern winter started at the end of January. And I love it!
Here on the north coast of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, we’re about half-way between the equator and the north pole. Many Canadians live farther north, but not many U.S. residents do. And not many places get more annual snowfall. That’s the influence of Lake Superior and its “lake-effect snow.”
Here, in photos and captions, are some reminders of why I created a 2nd home in the far-north, about 45 miles from my hometown. Here’s why I come in winter. It helps that my genes are rooted in Lapland. It helps that I love the outdoors. And it helps that I don’t have to shovel all winter!
The blue dot is Huron Bay and Camp Many Moons. The peninsula to its northwest is The Keweenaw, where my hometown is located. Wisconsin is to the south. Most of Michigan is, too–below the Straits of Mackinac. The black line is the U.S.-Canada border. Yep, we’re “up there.”
During my 1,000-mile-drive from northern Virginia, I didn’t hit snow-covered roads until I entered the Upper Peninsula. That was due to careful scheduling, since the east has seen plenty of snow this winter also.
As I left Virginia, neighbors were complaining about snowbanks. (They did hang around a very long time, due to a combination of snow and ice and a long cold spell.) But most of my Virginia neighbors have never seen snowbanks this size. This is mid-way up the Keweenaw Peninsula, thanks to that “lake effect” snow.
This life-sized snow gauge in the Keweenaw shows the record snowfall – 390″ in 1978-79. The red arrow shows the current season total – 245″ as of today. Of course it melts and settles over time.
This is my 2nd winter in the Cabin at Many Moons, completed 17 months ago. Here’s the front entrance. A kind neighbor shoveled a path to my door so I didn’t have to dig my way in. My first purchase here was a snow shovel, since I’ve been borrowing until now.
Here’s the waterside, as a full moon rises just after sunset. The moonshadow on the snow…! DiY building is a huge chore which I wouldn’t repeat, but when I see it like this, I’m grateful we stuck with it.
I began feeding the deer last fall. I guess they remembered. This house has been vacant for three months, but they reappeared immediately. She came onto the porch and looked right at me.
I love a winter sunrise on a clear day. The birds keep the suet feeders busy. The frozen bay calls to me–and it didn’t take long to get out there. The dock-on-wheels is closer to the water than usual in winter, due to plans to continue developing in the spring. (I don’t have my waterfront studio yet.)
First excursion on the frozen bay was by snowshoe, to test the ice and snow level.
The surface was perfect for skiing, so that came next. How great is it to be able to ski out your front door?
My first day here, I joined the Sunday hiking/skiing/snowshoe group for a group ski outing nearly two hours away. Yeah, I was tired…but in your late sixties, you’re very aware of not missing opportunities. And a sunny day in winter is one of them. So you rally.
And then we did a snowshoe outing. There are so many trails up here in the Upper Peninsula, and we often drive more than an hour to get to them.
This short snowshoe trek was in the village nearest my camp. That’s Keweenaw Bay in the background.
And then, the dogsled race! Crowds lined the main street in my college town for the start of a 230-mile race that qualifies teams for the Iditarod. I’ve been wanting to see it for years.
Even though there’s been a lot of snowfall this winter, a few days of warmer temps (plus traffic) had melted the snow on the roads. So they hauled in more. Sleds must have snow.
Pink booties don’t diminish the dogs’ hardiness one bit. They’re rarin’ to go!
After watching the start, we bolted for a spectator spot about 20 miles away. It was thrilling to see the teams arrive and fly past. The light is a headlamp worn by the driver. See also video below.
Back at Camp Many Moons, the non-domesticated animals continued their daily appearance. Which turned into twice-daily, then thrice-daily. It’s hard to resist the blatant…um, begging?
Indoors, Boo (approaching 17) remains healthy. And goofy. Why did she have to sit in my puzzle tray? The better to watch the birds, I guess. Notice my skiis standing ready for their next outing.
A snowshoe trek into the nearby woods after new snow delivered one of my favorite sights…snow wrapped around one side of a sturdy hemlock.
As I enjoy my winter retreat, I stay up with national events. Because these are such extraordinary times, I don’t want to sleep through them. Plus, my professional life seems more and more extraordinary by comparison. I can tell my grand-nieces and nephews that I lived through the time when courtesy and respect and honesty were assumed goals, even among politicians and even while disagreeing. A time when qualified women were allowed to do the same military jobs as men. A time when “American” meant the same thing to most of us. But, whew. Does make one a bit crazy to stay informed! So, back onto the bay. Or into the woods. Play in the snow. Commune with the wildlife. Return to humans only when ready.
In case you’re new to this blog and wonder what the author looks like. ( I hate selfies but don’t want to mislead, and I think my profile pic is a decade old.) Age 67 and still getting out there…
For Many Moons 
Thanks, Mary, for the closest I’ll ever come to winter sports/adventures! I love the dear the best!!
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