It’s one of the longest drives a city dweller can make and still be in Minnesota. First, four hours up the interstate and along the rugged North Shore, deep into the Arrowhead. At Grand Marais, you abruptly make a jagged, thousand-foot ascent. You hew west onto smooth, straight pavement that tunnels through dense boreal forest and past slivers of glacial lakes.
This is the Gunflint Trail.
Deep in the Superior National Forest, across a continental divide and past a smattering of fishing resorts and boat launches for the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, a right turn onto gravel at about mile 43 takes you to the Gunflint Lodge.
It was started in 1925 by Chicago natives Dora and Russell Blankenburg as a rustic fishing and hunting outpost on the south shore of Gunflint Lake, along a chain of waterways that form an unassuming international border. One mile across the pristine lake, looking wholly undiscovered but close enough to touch: Canada.
One century later, that view is about the same, but Gunflint Lodge is bigger — and one of a shrinking number of classic Minnesota wilderness resorts. Many guests still come to fish and hunt. Many use it as a launching point for multi- or single-day paddling trips into the million-acre BWCA. Some just come to relax.
After checking in at the lodge, my family of three descended an outdoor staircase to Cabin 19, a green-painted A-frame bunker built into the lakeside slope. Inside, the cabin doesn’t take me back to the 1920s so much as the low-frills Minnesota lake resorts of the ’80s: wood-paneled everything, mismatched furniture, and everything my extended family would have needed for days of fishing and swimming and evenings of cooking and dining on the day’s catch, topped off with endless rounds of Uno.
There’s a short footpath to the lakeshore, where a pair of Adirondack chairs sit on a wooden platform and the midsummer sun was just thinking about setting over two countries. Sitting deep in one chair, our 2½-year-old daughter was so enchanted by the scene that we swear she uttered the words: “The whole world’s a sunset.”
Justine’s lodge
In 1925, Gunflint Lodge sat at what was then the very end of the road. Back then the Gunflint Trail itself was rugged and unpaved, with roots in the 1800s as an Ojibwe footpath and as a mining road.