A Day in Grand Marais
I woke again at the Cross River Wayside. All night I heard the rush of water and wanted to see where it was coming from. It turned out to be the Cross River, flowing into Lake Superior not far away. I took a few pictures, though they don’t really capture the speed or sheer volume of water.
Today’s plan was a 40-mile drive north to Grand Marais. The road hugged the shoreline, serving up postcard views of rocky coves and the slate-blue expanse of Lake Superior.
The cliffs along Minnesota’s North Shore record the state’s final volcanic chapter, about 1.1 billion years ago, when a massive rift began to split North America from the Lake Superior region toward Kansas. Over 20 million years, repeated lava flows built up nearly 20 km of basalt here. Between eruptions, rivers and streams carved the terrain, leaving behind sandstone and siltstone layers that were later buried by more lava. One cliff face shows it clearly—dark basalt over reddish sedimentary rock, over an even older lava flow. The fractured basalt to one side hints at the drama when molten rock met water.
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The rocks of the North Shore of Lake superior record the last period of volcanic activity in Minnesota. This volcanism occurred 1.1 billion years ago when the North American continent began to rupture along a great rift valley, which extended from the lake superior region Southwest to Kansas. As this Rift Valley opened, basilic lavas erupted into it incrementally for about 20 million years, cumulating to a thickness of up to 20 km in the lake superior region.
With each eruption, red hot lava fountain from kilometer-Long fishers for up to decades at a time, flooding over large areas of a baron landscape. Flood the salt eruptions typically followed one another in geological, rapid succession, but at times there were significant intervals (thousands to millions of years) (without volcanic activity. During such intervals, streams, and rivers flowing over and eroding the volcanic terrain would deposit sediments into lakes in low-lying areas. When volcanic activity resumed, the settlement could intern be buried, heated, and compacted by lava flows and transformed into sedimentary rocks.
An example of such a geological cycle of eruption, sedimentation, and renewed volcanism appears in the cliff face across the highway from this marker. Beneath the dark gray, the salt flow is red Adish, Finley bedded, siltstone, sandstone, and shell formation. Beneath the sedimentary rocks is another lava flow, which is exposed in the creek bed of cut face creek just north and down the hill from this road cut. The full thickness of this sedimentary rock formation is about 40 m. This thickness indicates a prolonged lol in volcanic activity, perhaps lasting several million years. The broken-up and mineralized character of the assault at the left side of the cliff face resembles features observed when lava explosively encounter standing water. This in the fine sediment beneath the lava suggested a shallow lake may have existed in the area at the time of renewed vulcanism.
By midday I reached Grand Marais, stopping often for plaques and views. Known for its art community, strong food scene, and endless summer activities, the town sits on rugged shoreline that’s drawn artists, photographers, and travelers for years. In summer, the streets are alive with visitors; in winter, things slow down for skiing and frozen-lake views.
It’s bigger than most North Shore towns. I parked across from city hall and the police department—a clean, modern building—and enjoyed more free street parking. Just a block away were four small huts, each with an artist selling pottery, paintings, jewelry, and more. One artist, without much prompting, said she was glad it was slow and she didn’t have to talk to too many people not interested in her work. Odd thing to say to a potential customer. I smiled, waved, and moved on.
A closed fish house sat on the corner. A small bookstore tempted me with Night Train to Lisbon, but I remembered the unread stack in the van. Next stop was the Cook County Historical Museum, or the Lightkeeper’s House. The couple I met on the trail yesterday—Bill and Paula—walked in while I was there. I didn’t recognize them without my glasses at first, but we chatted for a few minutes before parting.
The museum, in the 1896 lighthouse keeper’s residence, tells the story of Cook County’s maritime heritage, logging, fur trade, military history, and the CCC. Historic photos show fishermen hauling nets, lumberjacks in towering pines, and early harbor life. One engraving stopped me: “38 men are executed in Mankato, MN in the aftermath of the US-Dakota War.” The 1862 war was a brief but bloody conflict between several Dakota bands and U.S. forces, sparked by broken treaty promises and starvation. Six weeks later, 38 Dakota men were hanged—the largest mass execution in U.S. history.
From there I walked to the Coast Guard station for a few photos under overcast, smoky skies. Bill and Paula passed by again, and this time we talked longer. She took a call from her 100-year-old mother, so Bill and I chatted about his 40 years in environmental inspections and his familiarity with Veeder-Root, a company I once worked for.
The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering shops: artwork, hiking boots, a fudge shop where I overpaid for chocolate-covered fruits and nuts. One store had an artist carving mountain spirits—Bergeist, like I’d seen in Switzerland. I grab photos of the murals, buildings and views.
Java Moose Espresso Café
By 4 p.m., I needed caffeine. Java Moose Espresso Café delivered, and I ended up in a 45-minute conversation with a Minneapolis therapist headed to a Berlin conference. She worried about not speaking German. I assured her she’d be fine—most Berliners speak English. We covered all sorts of topics before parting with a “Gute Reise.”
Around 5 p.m., I stopped at the main campground’s $10 dump station—no lines at this hour—and took care of the least glamorous part of van life. Showers and garbage bins were a bonus.
As the sun dipped, the harbor turned deep blue in the evening light. I grabbed photos from inside the park at the boat launch.
I wasn’t in the mood for a sit down meal. So, I headed to Sydney’s Frozen Custard & Wood-Fired Pizza with low expectations. I ordered the apple Gorgonzola with Andouille sausage, and much to my surprise, this was the best pizza I’ve had in a long time—thin crust, perfectly balanced flavors. The owners, Bruce and Shiri, asked about my van, so I gave them a quick tour before heading back to eat.
I topped off the day with a gas stop. Just as I finished, two big rigs blocked all traffic. Tempers flared until someone backed up, and the line of cars, trucks, and boat trailers finally began to move—a fittingly quirky end to the day.