Loving Lutsen

Loving Lutsen

On a bluebird morning last March, I slid off the chairlift for my family’s first run of the day at Lutsen, and surveyed the wintery scene. To the south, the Midwest’s only mountain tram was already running at full speed, disgorging black diamond types from bright red gondola cars. To the east, sunlight glazed the granite surface of Lake Superior, as glacial chunks of ice bobbed and rippled at the shoreline. In the sky overhead, a hawk drew circles around the frozen pines. And at the top of the aptly named “Big Bunny” run, my kindergartener was screaming his head off, begging to go back to the car.