The Wake

From ice-skating at the Depot in downtown Minneapolis to building anatomically correct snowpeople in the back yard, Minnesotans have always found ways to endure and even celebrate the deep chill that has traditionally descended upon the state for a good portion of each year. Indeed, the earliest Scandinavian immigrants to this state were a stubborn lot who seemed eager to prove that they enjoyed the climate of this winter wasteland and that their settling here wasn’t some sort of tragic mistake.

For the past 121 years, there have been none with grander delusions than the organizers of St. Paul’s Winter Carnival, occurring this year from January 26 through February 4. Their sheer will and bold belief in the beauty of the season has allowed them to forge one of the most successful and historic festivals in all of North America. Their positive attitude and unyielding belief in the spirit of community has convinced thousands of Minnesotans to join in a celebration that the majority of the sun-loving world might consider an excessively personal date with Mother Nature.

“We go after the Minnesotan in them,” explains marketing director Mary Huss, “We tell them not to be afraid of the cold, but to embrace it. Let’s show the country and the world that we enjoy it.”

Huss’s words seem to be a challenge to the most foolhardy among Minnesota’s population: college students. She explains that the Winter Carnival offers convenience and opportunities for those in the 18-25 year age group to get in touch with their inner Minnesotan. A majority of the events will be held on Harriet Island, just an easy route 50 bus ride away from the U’s Minneapolis campus.

For college students looking for an evening of fun, Huss suggests turning no further than a Winter Carnival institution with a name that brings up feelings better linked with church potlucks than hip entertainment: the Hot Dish Tent. This venue’s music stage will play host every night to a wide swath of entertainers. Huss points to Friday, January 26, a Teen Night featuring a showcase of local bands and the Saturday, February 3 margarita party as the most attractive of these events for a college crowd.

Organizers of the Winter Carnival also call upon those children of the 1980s who fell in love with dog sleds either through following the Iditarod in their third grade classrooms or, more likely, through watching Paul Walker’s legendary performance in the modern cinematic masterpiece ‘Eight Below.’ A dog sled rally featuring teams from as far as Jamaica and Korea will be held on February 3 and 4 as part of the festival“That should really cool,” Huss coyly declares.

For those college students most interested in making mittens and scarves a worthwhile investment, one of the festival’s crowning achievements this year is an ice maze. Huss admits that the long warm spell this winter has required some creativity on part of event organizers. More ice-intensive palaces of the past have given way to this year’s ice maze that requires (only) 2500 blocks of ice. Snow, Huss explains, can be made and hauled in, but ice is harvested from local lakes. This is a process that can only begin when temperatures dip below 20 degrees and ice is at least fourteen inches thick enough on these lakes, something that did not occur until much later this year. Despite this year’s challenges, organizers remain optimistic. “The ice maze should be a beautiful sight,” Huss smiles.

Perhaps most important to organizers of the Winter Carnival is the tradition of the century-old event. Even to this day, the festival pays homage to King Boreas, he who reigns over all the wintery festivities. For those in the 19th century, this stubborn celebration of winter built a sense of community among locals who might have been the laughingstock of family and friends in more habitable parts of the nation. For attendees today, the festival offers an opportunity to connect with the land, the climate, and the community in a way that ordering NetFlix and sipping some hot cocoa in one’s apartment might not allow. Even as winters grow increasingly milder, organizers of the Winter Carnival are not ready to give up the legend of King Boreas and the frosty temperatures that makes the Twin Cities distinct.

“The cold weather, that’s who we are,” Huss explains, “We’re people who enjoy our climate.” After all, thousands of stubborn Minnesotans couldn’t be wrong. Could they?