We all know the drill. We’re knee-deep in a Minnesota winter and the daytime highs aren’t even pretending to attempt to reach the zero mark for another week or so. To some, this means venturing outside only for the most pressing issues, like going to work or stocking the fridge. When opening the front door and stepping outside means starting the countdown on your survival clock, we weigh our leisure time options carefully. The natural instinct is to stay inside and catch up on Netflix shows, but during a recent cold spell, my wife, Jen, and I decided to do what we know is best for us: spending time outside to recharge our batteries.
Rainbow Resort near Waubun, MN sits squarely in northwestern Minnesota, within the White Earth Reservation, just 20 miles east of Fargo. We arrived just before dark on a stinging cold Friday night, having left behind the last town along a frosty highway nearly 30 minutes ago.
The lodge building on the northwestern shore of Little Bemidji Lake was glowing with lights in the north woods dusk, and the neon OPEN sign invited us in. It was a quintessential lodge: reddish wood siding, a huge porch, a Grain Belt beer sign on the roof. When we opened the car door to step outside, the air nipped our faces immediately, and we hurried toward safety through the squeaky snow.
The main room of the lodge was the nerve center of the resort, with diner seating, some comfy chairs by the fireplace, a merchandise corner, and a little store of miscellaneous items. A menu board behind the counter said the soup of the day was chicken wild rice. Through the bank of huge windows, we could see the far side of the frozen lake in the distance, ringed by woods that melted into the darkening skies. Close to the resort, a cluster of fish houses broke up the white expanse.
Doug Schumann and his daughter, Leah Sand, were waiting for us, and we received a welcome like we had been there a million times and just popped in for another visit. Doug quickly rose from his chair in the makeshift office tucked into a corner behind the hot cocoa bar to offer a handshake. While Jen checked in with Leah, Doug had a phone call from someone in the resort’s rental fish house, and things got serious. A sizeable walleye had just been caught, and photos were on their way. Suddenly, we were in the middle of a fishing conversation and forgot about checking in for a while. And when a guy in a Paul Bunyan plaid shirt tells you a 39” Northern was caught in the same spot just the other day, you tend to listen. We decided on the spot to make Saturday a fishing day.
Our chalet, a homey, wood-sided three-bedroom cabin with a porch and a bank of windows overlooking the lake, was ready. We spent the rest of the evening making plans for the next couple of days by the glow of the fireplace, but eventually, the long day caught up with us, and the beds were calling. We drifted off to sleep imagining the view from the couch in the morning.
We were up early and spent a couple of hours reading, talking, and sipping coffee while the skies gradually turned brighter. A glance at my weather app confirmed that it was cold as advertised, too many degrees below zero to convince anyone that living here is a good idea. We bundled up and shuffled over to the lodge, where we had breakfast sandwiches, and I splurged on a steaming hot cup of cocoa with a huge marshmallow. Even with overcast skies, Little Bemidji Lake was a blindingly bright spread of white. “It’s gonna be windy today,” Doug said from behind the hot cocoa bar. A look across the lake confirmed his forecast. The far shore was shrouded in great clouds of snow drifting across the ice.
Everything was ready to go in the fish house. The heat was on, the minnows were lively, and there was even a bottle of Old Spice on a shelf. Doug introduced us to the Auto Jigger, a marvel of sports engineering that tugs on the line in preset intervals to let the fish know dinner is ready. What’s left to do when even the jigging is done automatically? Play Yahtzee, of course!
Very unlike us, we had nothing on the agenda besides fishing and a sauna at the end of the day, and that was the real point of this whole weekend. We played many rounds, heard the ice crack and moan, and listened for the sound of the rattle wheel. I scraped the frost off a corner of one of the fish house windows, but there wasn’t much to see outside. The temperatures dropped and the wind howled, and as usual, the fish had other plans. We did manage to catch and release a small walleye. The evening sauna was the cherry on top of this relaxing day.
Sunday morning, the trees across the lake were grayed out by a light but steady snow, and the rising sun did its best to pierce that veil. It was calm early on, but there was more high wind in the forecast, with a few inches of snow. Coupled with below-zero temperatures, it promised to be one of those days that called for a good book and a fireplace. We opted to give skiing a shot before the winds picked up. Why else did we own all of this winter gear? We stopped at the lodge for another hot cocoa, got the scoop on the trails, and were off.
Rainbow Resort has its own system of ski trails, which add up to around 18 km. We started our trek on the other side of County Highway 35 at a new, but unfinished building. We later learned it will be the new trail center, with warming facilities and a waxing room. On that side of the resort, there’s a 6 km easy loop and a 9 km advanced loop, both with classic tracks and a skate lane, and both marked well.
They both travel up and down rolling hills, with varying degrees of spiciness, through a mixed forest of birch, spruce, and deciduous trees. We passed a couple of viewing decks overlooking some tamarack bogs, but we didn’t stop for long. The wind was ridiculous, but for the most part, we were sheltered in the woods. The tracks were almost completely drifted over, but once we found them under the snow, our skis clicked into place, and we glided effortlessly on fresh powder. We were surprisingly comfortable, even in those brutal conditions, but after a two-hour cruise through the woods, we were happy to be back at the lodge, warming up with a wonderful bowl of soup and a brat.
The rest of the day was a repeat of Saturday: Fish and sauna. The prize Northern I had on the line broke free and got away, but it didn’t matter. A souvenir stringer of fish would have been nice, but just being out on the ice in a near blizzard was an experience in itself. The gale-force winds tried their best to dislodge our little shanty and send us sailing to the other side of the lake, but we stayed put. Maybe it was the magic of the Old Spice bottle.
Monday morning, we turned the fireplace on first, then the coffee maker. It was still dark outside, and the world was silent. The wind had been such a constant companion over the last couple of days, it took us a moment to realize it had died down. Coffee in hand, we indulged in the little pleasure of watching the sun rise in silence. It finally made an appearance and brought with it a huge sun dog, amplified by the sparkling ice crystals floating in the still air. It was minus 15 degrees, yet, undeterred, a flock of pine grosbeaks descended on the branches of the conifer outside our window. Before the sun was fully up, the Open sign at the lodge flickered on, and that was our cue to get going and have one last breakfast sandwich.
Over yet another hot cocoa, we learned a little of the backstory of the resort. It was founded in 1958 by Al and Gladys Schumann as a rustic hunting retreat. The 1970s saw a change in ownership, but the much expanded resort went back to being family-owned in the 1990s. While we only met Doug and Leah, running the place is a real family affair. It’s an increasingly rare sight in an industry that’s seen small outfits gobbled up by international conglomerates or their cabins razed and the land sold to eager real estate companies. Rainbow Resort is not a place where you find champagne on ice in your room or a towel swan on your bed. You will find people who care, a lodge to come home to and swap fish stories, a hot sauna, and a good bowl of homemade soup. You will find Minnesota, and that makes a cold winter bearable.
