The sky is cryin….
Can’t you see the tears roll down the street
The sky is cryin….
Can’t you see the tears roll down the street
I’ve been looking for my baby
And I wonder where can she be
(Elmore James as channeled by Stevie Ray Vaughan)
Duluth, MN Target Store under water due to Miller Creek Flooding (Photo by Matt Munger)
Wow. So far, we’ve been lucky out here in Fredenberg Township. We’ve had a lot of rain (duh!) and the Cloquet River is as high as it’s been in the 25 years we’ve lived here. But we’re not affected to the degree that the citizens of Duluth are. Take a look at the photo above that my son Matt took earlier today. That’s the intersection to the west of Target on the Maple Grove Road. It’s under four feet of water! Though Rene’ and I can’t leave the house due to the river being backed up into Knudsen Creek, which in turn, has flooded the road into our home, we’re safe and (cross your fingers and say a prayer for us and all the other folks living on the river) the rising water is not yet near the house.
Daisey and Our Access Road
This is a view of our driveway. When I stopped to take the photo there was a blue heron standing knee deep in the water. The bird was apparently camera shy and flew off before I could react. Still, this picture gives you a sense of why my wife and I didn’t make it in to work today. I’ve been around nearly seven decades (closing in on sixty, folks) and I’ve never, I repeat, never, been in the middle of a sustained downpour like the one we experienced yesterday and today. There was thunder that nearly knocked me off my tush and lightening that seared the sky from horizon to horizon. There was rain so hard and so constant, our downspouts shook like a drunk in need of a nip. Now, I’ve been in the Yucatan during a tropical rainstorm in an open Jeep. I’ve been in Florida during a six inch cloud burst that came and went during a four hour time span. But I’ve never been in such a sustained, violent deluge. As I type this, there’s a lull in the storm and blue sky is trying to overcome the gray.
The Cloquet in Full Flood Stage (6/20/2012)
There are a couple of seasonal cabins beyond our place that are accessed from our driveway. One of them was recently remodeled. A sauna building has been added to the property and the place was shaping up quite nicely. But no one asked me if I thought the old cabin should be rebuilt. Had the new owner asked, I would have counseled against it. The last time the river was this high, June of 1999, Lakehead Trucking was digging the basement for the house we live in. The Cloquet rose so high and so fast, Greg Kaneski from Lakehead had to leave his backhoe here until the flood subsided. The condition of the little cabin at the end of the road during that flood? The water reached the cabin’s eaves. I think we’re headed in that direction again.
Cabin and Sauna on the Cloquet Under Water (6/20/2012)
Cabin and Sauna: Another View (6/20/2012)
That’s my crazy Labrador mix, Daisey in the water around the cabin and the sauna. What you don’t see in the shot is that I had to wade in water up to my knees to take the pictures. Also missing are the clouds of hungry mosquitoes that the flood waters have unleashed. Then too, I’ve left out the capsized portable john that was floating nearby. Let’s hope it doesn’t sail on down the Cloquet and end up going over the Thompson dam!
Now, I’m no climatologist. And I know that the next time I tune into “Garage Logic”, the callers and Joe will poo-poo the idea that these violent storms we’ve been having have anything to do with man. Joe will argue that these storms are simply the result of a natural weather cycle. Fair enough. But let’s suppose, just for a second, that a portion of what’s happening, climate-wise, has something to do with man’s influence on Earth. See, here’s the rub: If 90% of what’s happening is God-made and 10% is man-made, well, I’d sure like to see that 10% addressed. Why? Well, take a look at the margin of safety my family has against the rising waters.
The House as Seen from the South
Looks pretty high and dry, doesn’t it? Well, let’s take a look from the north, where the Cloquet River flows next our property.
The Edge of the Bank (6/20/2012)
On the right of the photo, is the Cloquet River. On the left, a puddle of rainwater that formed in our field. Between the two, there’s about sixteen inches of elevation and less than a foot of separation. Now if we could just eliminate that hypothetical 10% man-made climate factor, I’d rest a bit easier because another 10% in my favor would keep the water from breaching the bank. Here’s the thing: In the end, I think we’ll be fine out here in the country. The rain has stopped and the water is flowing swiftly to the west, where the Cloquet will join the St. Louis, dumping all the excess water into Lake Superior. Of course, there’s a price to be paid downstream: I understand the western reaches of Duluth, where the St. Louis carves its way to the Bay, are under water. That’s not a good thing and I’m praying that everyone downstream comes out of this OK. Join me in that prayer, would you?
Car Abandoned Alongside Miller Creek (Decker Road and Mall Entrance: Photo by Matt Munger)
Whether you agree or disagree with my thoughts about man’s influence on our climate, here’s something else to ponder. Forty years ago, my dad, Harry Munger, fought tooth and nail to stop the paving over and filling in of wetlands surrounding the Miller Mall. During the 1960s, Miller Creek had been restored to a functioning, productive, urban trout stream that sustained a native population of brook trout without the need for planting hatchery raised fish. But when Target was built, followed in close succession by the Mall, and many other retail stores in the floodplain of the creek, my father sounded the alarm. The warming of the water caused by the added parking lots alongside the creek pretty much killed off the restored fishery. Then, in the mid-1970s, a horrific rainstorm caused millions of dollars of damage in Duluth because, with all the marshes and swamps paved over at the top of the hill, there was no where for the rain to go but downhill. Piles of sand that were stockpiled along Piedmont Avenue for the construction of I-35 ended up crashing through the storefronts along Superior Street in the West End. Roads were ruined. Homes were flooded. But no one really listened to my dad. Think about what a remarkable place the Mall area could have been had folks listened to my old man and used just a bit of vision to preserve the creek’s floodplain: building around the trout stream in a way to enhance both the esthetics of the shopping experience and the fishing opportunities for kids. Sure, efforts were later made to resurrect what was lost. Trees were planted and retention ponds were built along Miller Creek. But, if you look at the photo above, it’s pretty clear this change in Duluth’s collective philosophy regarding development was too little and too late. And that’s a shame.
Stay dry and say a prayer for those who were affected by the cryin’ sky.
Peace.
Mark
