Sunrise No. 772 of 2,000+
- Sunrise time: 8:00
- Azimuth: 110° ⇡
- Did the sun rise: Yes
- Was the sun visible: Was it ever
- Felt like: -19 ºF
- Air Temp: -7 ºF
- Humidity: 78%
- Wind: 5 mph ⇡
Exposure
- 35mm
- f/10.0
- 1/250 sec
- 250
Little Presque Isle, Marquette, MI
6.8 mile commute
📍 46° 38' 7" N, -87° 27' 45" W
Musings [911 words]
The Day the Harbor Froze
Returning from sunrise this morning, I knew I had just come back from an incredible experience and morning. A brutally cold sunrise with sea smoke and the sun on the horizon is a otherworldly view. What I didn’t know is that it was about to become of the greatest days in Marquette lore, ever.
Yes, I firmly believe February 10, 2021 will be remembered as one of the greatest memories in history for the community of Marquette. What happened on this day will be talked about for a generation, stories that will be told to grandchildren.
After sunrise, I headed to the Eben Ice Caves with a friend. On the way I opened some gifts (yes, it’s also my birthday) and snacked on a mini Chocolove raspberry bar. The day was moving along nicely.
I had seen a photo on Instagram by now, from Steve Farr I believe. And as we drove back into town past the harbor, sure enough, it was frozen over like pure glass. At the time, there was hardly a scratch on the ice.
Immediately, I hustled home and ruffled through my hockey bag to get my mostly unused skates I received a few years earlier. I would proceed to spend 3 to 4 hours skating out there, one afternoon session, nearly all to myself, and one evening session that continued to get busier by the minute as the word spread of the ice conditions.
The Setup
It had not yet been a full year since the COVID-19 pandemic began. Social distancing and masking were still quite prevalent in the Marquette community.
Everything had gone virtual, no in-person meetings, the upcoming U.P. 200 sled dog race had been canceled months beforehand. Coming off the autumn season, there was no Plaidurday photo, there was no Fresh Coast Film Festival. There had not been a community event in nearly a year.
The Deep Freeze
How did it happen? No snow and clear skies making for cold days. Five consecutive mornings of of blue skies in February. I’ve done enough of this to know just how rare that is.
To my recollection the water was open just a few days prior. It certainly was just a small distance south on February 6. And thanks to back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back days and nights of bitter cold, the water seemed to lock up in an instant, several inches thick.
At sunrise, the wind chill for the last four sunrises were as follows…
February 6 was -12º
February 7 was -24º
February 8 was -23º
February 9 was -22º
And waking up this morning was a -19º wind chill. Without question (even as of the completion of 2023), this is the coldest stretch of sunrises to date.
The perfect ice wrapped all around the historic ore dock and all the way to the break wall. By my estimate, it was a perfect ice rink over 50 acres size, or about the size of 130 regulation hockey rinks.
For context, it’s exceedingly rare that the harbor freezes over. The deep freeze is not uncommon, but days on end without snowfall in February is quite uncommon. All it takes is a couple inches for the glass-like conditions to be gone. Unlike the countless frozen inland lakes in Minnesota without snow, we get lots of it. Additionally, we’re talking about the largest freshwater lake in the world, known for its big waves. It can break up quickly with changing conditions and often freezes with layers of ice pressed on top of each other for an uneven surface.
The Perfect Conditions for Joy
By evening, there were hundreds of people on the ice. There were so far out, that many of them looked like little dots. Those not on skates were walking and sliding across the ice or walking through the ore dock.
On everyone’s face, joy.
This was the perfect celebration at the perfect time. A year of distancing without a chance to socialize, and overnight an ice rink the size of several football fields appears under blue skies.
Still in the midst of a pandemic, it was a way for people to congregate outside, while still respecting social distancing. It was the release of a valve that allowed everyone to experience this small moment, whether or not you could ice skate. I saw countless faces I hadn’t seen in months.
There were some old timers I talked to, and in 50 years of living in Marquette they had never had this experience, or recall seeing anything like this.
The entire scene reminded me of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, an entire community enjoying the day. Except it would be titled, A Wednesday Afternoon on the Lower Harbor of Marquette, in Winter.
It was a perfect moment at the perfect time.
There’s not another view like it, with this goliath and iconic structure, stretching a thousand feet into the harbor.
Growing up in the Upper Peninsulas a hockey player with a February birthday meant a lot of ice skating parties for my birthday. Lake Superior was always right there, just a few hundred feet away every day. It was never skateable. I remember trying once in “good” conditions, and it was still near impossible thanks to snow and cracks. I never grew up playing pond hockey, I never knew of a place it was even possible.
But this, this birthday ice skating party, is one I will never forget.
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