You Can Have Your Tall and Mighty, I’ll Take My Small and Plenty

Waterfall hunting along Lake Superior

If you have it out for waterfalls in the United States, the West Coast is where it’s at. The top contenders are arguably in California, Washington, Oregon, Alaska and Hawaii. Pictured above is Snoqualmie Falls in Washington.

But I’m not here to talk about size, I’m here to talk about number, variety, perhaps diversity. And if you stick around, we’ll talk about what was for a long time a scientific marvel — maybe still is.

Highway 61 stretches along the shore of Lake Superior from Duluth, Minnesota to the edge of Ontario, Canada for 145 miles. In Minnesota, we call this the North Shore.

All of the five Great Lakes are great, but Lake Superior is the greatest, measuring as the largest freshwater lake in the world.

It’s quite humbling — Lake Superior. Cold too, always frigid.

In May of 2020, I began exploring the North Shore. Before this, I wasn’t too interested in lakes. I’d rather fly out to one of the coasts and spend time on the beach. I was convinced that oceans are better.

But as Covid-19 turned our world sideways, my love of the road trip emerged. Mainly because I didn’t have a choice.

Travel or die.

Duluth is a few hours north of the Twin Cities Metro of Minnesota. Not far past Duluth is Gooseberry Falls, one of the more popular of the 150-ish waterfalls in Minnesota.

I’ve been to Gooseberry a couple of times and despite it being a favorite and therefore tourist destination, it’s not somewhere I frequent while up North. Maybe if there were fewer people present at the falls I would have the opportunity to soak in its magic.

Museums, plazas, bridges, waterfalls too — lose some of their splendor as the humans come sweeping in.

Note: I want to acknowledge that however I feel about crowds is minimal compared to the centuries-old trauma the indigenous people of Minnesota have endured. As I observe the tourism industry set up around Gooseberry Falls, I can only picture the former state of this sacred land taken from the Dakota and Cree people.

Gooseberry has multiple waterfalls and below you’ll see my friend Molly and I at the high falls. If you hike further, you’ll come to the lower falls which are noticeably brown due to the tannins from the pine trees and vegetation.

Brown waterfalls are not everyone's cup of tea, but I don’t mind them.

I know we’re talking about waterfalls but get a load of these trees. They’re Cedar, I think? My houseplants struggle despite my pampering so it’s always fascinating to observe natural flora and fauna thriving amidst challenging conditions.

The picture on the left is at the lower falls in Gooseberry and the trees pictured on the right are at Tettegouche State Park. The tree appears to be mimicking an anaconda, what do they call this? The big squeeze!

When I visited Gooseberry I was told the water flow was low — nowhere near its normal. Minnesota has experienced consecutive summers of drought, therefore water flow is less than we’re used to.

If you want to see roaring waterfalls, come in spring. This is when the snow and ice are melting into the lakes and rivers — rip-roaring their way toward Lake Superior.

I can’t name some of the waterfalls I have pictures of. Once I’m past Duluth and Gooseberry, I want to stop at every wayside that whispers to me via gushing water. You can see the bottom of the falls where they empty into the lake below Highway 61, tempting you to stop again and again.

We came to Tettegouche State Park in mid-April, which was right in time to see its full-powered majesty. I have zero photos of the falls itself, just the aftermath. This is the view from the road above.

Try to drive by this and not stop.

What I remember is the sound. A literal roar — even from the highway. This rock in the center was a peninsula. I’d love to walk across it but there wasn’t a developed path.

If you make it to the North Shore do not skip over Tettegouche. That’s my advice.

Ok, here we are—my favorite falls on the North Shore.

From the photos above and below, you can see that the waterfalls seem the same but they’re not. What I love about Cascade River State Park is that there is no destination waterfall, waterfalls exist along the way.

What is it we say? It’s all about the journey!

Some you can stand above, right in the thick of it, observing the circular path gradually etched by water flow throughout the years, and some you observe from a distance. Even if you can’t see a waterfall, odds are you can hear it.

Cascade Lodge is a short walk from these falls. I stay here often when I’ve visited the North Shore — it’s everything I love as far as lodging goes. It’s located on the Superior National Hiking trail, family-owned, the shore is across the street, and their restaurant serves free breakfast sandwiches. Heck yeah.

This past year my mom came with us. She is not a fan of hiking but found the trail along the waterfalls doable. “I’d do this again,” she said. That means a lot, coming from my homebody, non-hiking mom.

The photo below gives you a viewpoint of Highway 61, running above the tunnel, and you can probably tell it’s not a typical highway view.

As we make our way north past Grand Marais, the most populated city on the North Shore (and worth a stop), there’s Judge C.R. Magney State Park.

Devil’s Kettle is a twin waterfall located on the Knife River which runs through the Park. You’ll walk down, and then up, maybe 100 stairs to check out Devil’s Kettle. As you can see — there is no obvious exit for one of the waterfalls.

After years of studies and investigations, it’s unknown where the second waterfall ends. According to MPR (Minnesota Public Radio), scientists have decided that the water flows underground, resurfacing as it empties into Lake Superior.

I’ve read that there was a plan to use dye tracing to find where the emptying happens. But I’m uncertain what they found out.

I like not knowing.

These last waterfalls are taken in Pattison State Park — across the bridge from Duluth in Superior, Wisconsin. They’re not technically on the North Shore but in true Melissa fashion, I tend to stray a bit and then ask for forgiveness.

After hiking, I’d love to cool off by jumping into water beneath a waterfall. I see pictures of people doing this ALL the time, including in the story I link below. This isn’t a thing for the Minnesota waterfalls (as far as I know).

I attempted to swim in the pool below the waterfalls above but it wasn’t great. There were boulders beneath the surface which were too slippery to even stand on.

If you truly want to go waterfall hunting while seeing some impressive overlooks and possibly, if you choose to, hike your butt off — the North Shore is calling. My recommendation is to go sometime between mid-October and early May.

I adore my trips to the ocean, but Lake Superior and its waterfalls are equally bewildering.

Both/And is my motto.

Thanks to the Globetrotters editors for March’s Monthly Challenge — Waterfalls. And hey, thanks for reading too!

If you want to see the kind of waterfalls I dream of jumping into, read Adrienne Beaumont’s entertaining story:

Another favorite is by Michelle Lawson. I read Ars as arse :) and I’d love to see a bear (from afar), along with a waterfall in the Great Pyrenees: