The rampaging wildfire put Sarah Hamilton on the run. As the Ham Lake fire bore down on the Trail Center Bar and Restaurant 30 miles up the Gunflint Trail toward the Boundary Waters, she abandoned ship.
Hamilton and co-workers hurriedly loaded furniture, food, books, videos and everything else she sells into vehicles and fled to town, while flames the size of Chicago skyscrapers were chasing her.
“The smoke was following me into town,” she said, still looking over her shoulder after a two-day exile in a hotel. The Trail Center is almost exactly in the middle of the 57-mile trail and is a sort of multipurpose oasis for tourists and residents alike.
75,000 acres scorched
Monday night, Hamilton served free dinners to 45 firefighters engaged in the sweaty battle to halt the advance of a blaze that already had consumed about 75,000 acres of dry birch, spruce, aspen and pine.
The charred trees in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, the Superior National Forest and on private land straddle the northeast corner of Minnesota and portions of Ontario just over the Canadian border, 40 miles from this community of about 1,400 people.
The land is favored by outdoor enthusiasts, tourists, resort and lodge owners and residents who invested their money in getaway cabins and second homes — and their hearts in what they see as a slice of paradise far removed from hectic big-city life.
The 1.3 million-acre Boundary Waters — and the entire surrounding area — is a place with a special allure for many Chicagoans.
Nate Walton, 74, a retired Chicago school administrator, has owned a home on the Gunflint Trail for nearly 30 years. He raced to Minnesota to check on its condition after about 300 people were evacuated and a large segment of the trail was closed by authorities.
“It was on the good side,” Walton said as he attended one of the three-a-day fire-status briefings provided by the U.S. Forest Service, Gunflint Trail volunteer firefighters and the Cook County (Minn.) Sheriff’s Department. “It was definitely a relief.”
The “good side” means his home was not damaged and is outside the protective zone created by officials who have closed the state scenic highway for safety reasons about 35 miles from town.
Since the Ham Lake fire ignited May 5, officials say the blaze has burned 133 structures and left $3.7 million in damage. The cost of fighting the fire has soared to $6 million and the blaze remains just 20 percent contained overall, although 50 percent contained on the U.S. side of the border.
Leif Lunde, chief deputy of the Cook County Sheriff’s Department, said that property owners who have homes farther down the trail will be allowed into some areas on Thursday to see their grounds for the first time since the fire began.
Initial reports suggest the cause of the fire was a spark from an early-season campfire that was legal but perhaps shouldn’t have been allowed, given the dry timber and prevailing drought conditions. But officials are reassessing.
No deaths, minor injuries
“Officially it is listed as being of unknown origin and being under investigation,” said Jean Scheappi of the National Park Service. “Initial word that was spread around was it was [from a campfire], but it has not been confirmed.”
The fire has caused no deaths and only the mildest of injuries to some of the 1,100 firefighters in the way of mild burns, cuts and scrapes. About 300 people registered as evacuees at the Cook County Community Center, and some residents were able to return already to intact houses.
There is great concern about the wildfire’s effect on the wilderness aficionados who vacation here. Illinois is such a big part of the market that Diane Brostrom, director of the Grand Marais Area Tourism Association, features driving directions from Chicago as one of only three highlighted departure points on the group’s Web site. She also notes in the Chicago paragraph, “This is the other Cook County.”
Scott McPherson, a Chicago lobbyist, has made 24 trips to the Boundary Waters for canoe paddling. He was upset when he learned of the wildfire.
“It’s really what I would call the closest real wilderness to where I live,” McPherson said. “You can really feel like you’re out there on your own.” Fire or no fire, McPherson plans to be paddling in the Boundary Waters again in September.
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lfreedman@tribune.com
