By now most readers will have heard that Saturday night brought not only thunder with snow, as Mr. Erickson and I had forecast, but lightning as well. Unfortunately, the weather did object to being observed.

A bolt struck the weather tower while Mr. Erickson was outside making observations. He reports that the strike knocked him unconscious. Several people in the village saw the tower struck and, after the fire became apparent, came to The Wigwam to find me. Miss Fjell’s automobile was nearby, and we made considerably better time toward the tower than I would generally recommend upon a wet October road.

By the time Mr. Erickson recovered his senses, his ears were ringing and the tower was burning. Rather than make his way down the hill, as any sensible man would have been justified in doing, he went back inside.

He carried out what equipment he could before the fire drove him away. Among the things he saved were my grandfather’s moose antlers.

When the Trading Post burned earlier this autumn, Mr. C. J. Johnson remarked afterward that he felt like a shoemaker without shoes. I understand the sentiment better now. At present I am a weatherman without a weather tower, a barometer, a thermometer, a radio station, or much clothing beyond what I had on Saturday night and what generous neighbors have since provided. Those things can be replaced.

My grandfather’s antlers cannot. They belonged to his grandfather before him, and I had expected them to outlast me as well. Thanks to Mr. Erickson, they still may.

I have told him that should lightning ever knock him unconscious again, he is under strict instructions to remain outside the burning building. He has promised to consider it.

We shall nevertheless persevere with the forecasts. Halloween Eve arrives Saturday with a dance and fancy-dress affair given by the Royal Neighbors, while the weather will provide a costume of its own. Temperatures will fall sharply, with daytime readings in the 30s and nighttime lows in the 20s. Before the tower burned, Mr. Erickson and I had also been studying the signs for November. We agreed that unusual cold and snow are on the way.

The tower may be gone, but there are still two forecasters in Grand Marais.

Editor's note: a modern photo of a sea of moose antlers found on Isle Royale.