Lake Superior Journal: A Moose in the Rearview Mirror

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Our family loves to travel to Minnesota’s North Shore every summer for vacation. We rent a big house for several days and look forward to rest, relaxation, bonding and enjoying all the magnificent natural beauty that northern Minnesota offers.

It’s an unofficial family reunion with siblings, nephews, cousins and other assorted relatives, as many as a dozen or so in all.

On this sunny day of adventure, we loaded the vehicle with fishing gear, maps, snacks and beverages and set off driving up the Gunflint Trail, just north of Grand Marais, in search of a fishing pier that I’d heard about on one of the area’s lakes.

We anticipated a fun afternoon watching my nephews catch fish or expound on “the one that got away.” After studying the map, it was determined that we needed to turn right onto a gravel road somewhere out in the middle of Timbuktu (also north of Grand Marais, apparently).

My car rumbled down the hilly, winding road kicking up a wake of dust as we drove miles and miles, eventually coming to an intersection with no road signs whatsoever. Our choices were 1) the unnamed gravel road to the right, 2) the unnamed gravel road to the left, or 3) continue traveling straight ahead. We opted to go straight, but had lost track of exactly where we were on my map.

We had traveled a little more than a quarter mile from the intersection when I happened to look in my rearview mirror. A large dark animal stood in the middle of the road a good distance behind us. I let out a squeal and hit the brakes. Excitedly, I shouted for everyone to look back at what I was seeing in my mirror.

My sister, Jan, her two college-age sons, Bryan and Scott, and our cousin, Donna, immediately turned. Out the back window, they spied what I suspected – a moose in the middle of the road.

Slowly I put the car into drive and cranked around so we faced the sizable beast. We could not believe that we were actually staring at a moose. Sure, it was quite far away, but nonetheless, a real, honest-to-goodness moose – the holy-moly grail for Up North visitors.

All our years of traveling the roads of northern Minnesota, we’ve kept a lookout for wildlife of any sort. Occasionally we’ve spotted fox, deer, raccoons or other common critters, but never the elusive moose so much touted by local people. Now, much to our delight, one stood planted in the road, staring at us as we stared at him, as if to say, “What are you looking at?”

We quickly snapped a picture outside the car window – tangible proof of our sighting.

I drove slowly toward the moose, trying not to stir too much gravel crunching beneath the tires. The moose stood its ground, still staring intently at us. (Perhaps it was more of a DeNiro moose: “Are you looking at me?”)

As we got closer, he did a double-take, looking over his shoulder and then back at us. Finally he chose to head in the opposite direction, trotting leisurely at first with his gangly legs and picking up speed as he galloped directly down the center of the road. He didn’t bother to take refuge in the heavily wooded areas on either side.

I sped up a little to keep pace, although we followed from a safe distance, trying not to be a threat or a target. As he approached the famous unmarked intersection, his lanky body lumbered to the left without hesitation (and without signaling, I might add), and hit a dead run down the center of that road. We turned left (with signal) and continued following this Pied Piper of a moose.

We caught a glimpse of him at the next intersection as he made his way left once again, and we, in turn, followed him. Suddenly we found ourselves in a parking lot, adjacent to some campgrounds, a lake and a prominent sign inscribed: “FISHING PIER.” It was none other than the one we’d been searching for all along.

What a coincidence … or was it? We looked for the moose, but he must have plunged into the woods.

As we piled out of the car and grabbed our fishing gear, cooler and snacks, we were still on a high from seeing a real live moose in the wild.

On the way to the fishing pier, we ran into some veteran fishermen at a campsite and asked if they’d seen a moose. We’d been following one, we explained, until we arrived at this parking lot.

They nodded. Yes, that young moose, or yearling, as they called it, had come waltzing through their campsite just moments before, scaring the be-jeebies out of them. They’ve seen moose here before, they said. They come to this lake every year for the phenomenal walleye fishing.

We told them we were headed to the fishing pier, and they wished us luck.

At the pier, the boys cast out their lines, and we settled into the relaxation of watching them fish. We admired the beautiful view of the serene lake and evergreen trees and absorbed the peace and quiet of this lovely northern oasis.

A short time later, two of the fishermen motored by in their boat. They waved as they headed out to the middle of the lake.

What seemed a short time later, the fishermen returned. As they again passed by the pier, they held up a stringer of walleyes. “We couldn’t catch any more because we’ve reached our limit!”

Wow, we admired their luck and told them so. My nephews weren’t as fortunate to catch a walleye from this pier, but they’d had fun catching and releasing several other types of fish.

The fishermen floated away. Soon, though, they walked back to the pier and handed us a couple of plastic zip-bags brimming with fresh walleye filets, ready to be cooked.

We couldn’t believe our good fortune! How generous of these strangers to give us freshly caught fish. They asked us to join them to sample their favorite fish fry. We gladly accompanied them to their campsite and were introduced to two other fishermen friends.

We noticed a large black cauldron of boiling oil suspended over a fire. One guy was dropping petite, lightly breaded walleye filets, or “walleye bites” as they called them, into the bubbling oil. They floated to the top and quickly became golden brown.

The fish was gently scooped out, and this delicacy served on a platter passed for everyone to taste. It was ummm-ummm good.

We never before tasted walleye this good.

After sampling the fish and enjoying the company of these fine fishermen, we headed back to our rental home at dusk. We had to maneuver these gravel roads before it got dark. We thanked our new friends for their hospitality and left with our baggies of fresh filets.

As we began driving away, I noticed the mirrored waters and lovely crimson sunset outlining the tree edges surrounding the lake as the sun sank unhurriedly below the horizon and how it all reflected again in my rearview mirror.

That evening we fried up the filets and had another delicious supper of incomparable northern Minnesota walleye.

We all agreed that the moose in the rearview mirror had caused a chain of events that resulted in us finding the long-lost fishing pier, meeting some friendly fishermen and providing us with the best fish we ever ate.

Perhaps, after all, the moose was a gangly guardian angel – less “What are you looking at?” and more “I’m looking out for you.”

Or maybe it was just a moose that’s now a family memory.

After 35+ years working as a librarian, secretary and office manager, Diane Larson retired from civil service and is becoming a fledgling freelance writer (writing has always been her hobby). Diane lives in Eagan, Minnesota, with her husband, Rick, her son, Aaron, and their adorable – and adored – black kitty, Honeybear. She divides her time with family life, cooking, the company of friends, vacationing Up North and savoring all the leisure time you have in retirement (not meaning to rub it in for those still working).