Eight Stops We Never Skip on the Way to the Gunflint Trail

The drive to the Gunflint Trail starts feeling like a trip long before you reach Grand Marais. It usually happens somewhere north of Duluth, when Lake Superior comes into view, the road settles in beside the shoreline, and everybody in the car starts paying attention again. Somebody watches for ships. Somebody else asks how much farther it is, even though they asked the same thing twenty minutes ago.

We don't stop at all eight of these places every time. If we did, we might not reach the cabin until midnight. These are simply the stops that keep finding their way into the drive. Some are good for stretching your legs, some are good for filling the cooler, and a couple are mostly an excuse to stay near the lake a little longer.

"The best discoveries usually have a hand-painted sign out front."

This list assumes you're heading north from the Twin Cities through Hinckley and Duluth before following Highway 61 toward Grand Marais. Your own route may start somewhere else, but once you reach the North Shore, these places are easy enough to work into the day.

Eight Stops on the Way to the Gunflint Trail

1. Tobies Restaurant and Bakery in Hinckley

Tobies is one of those places people use as both a bakery and a mile marker. Once the caramel roll is on the table, it feels like the trip has actually started. Some folks sit down for a full breakfast. We usually head toward the bakery case and see what looks good. A caramel roll is the usual choice, though we've left with bread, donuts, cookies, and enough baked goods to make the car smell like cinnamon for the next hour.

Eat one there and save another for later. The saved one may not make it past Duluth, but it's nice to pretend there's a plan.

2. Russ Kendall's Smoke House in Knife River

Russ Kendall's Smoke House doesn't require much of a detour. The building looks like the kind of place you might pass if nobody in the car knew to watch for it, which is probably part of why stopping still feels like finding something. We go in for smoked fish and usually leave with more than we meant to buy. It gets wrapped up, placed carefully in the cooler, and guarded from anybody who thinks opening it in the car is a good idea.

Smoked fish, crackers, and cheese can cover dinner when everybody reaches the cabin tired and nobody feels like cooking. It can also disappear beside the lake before the bags are unpacked.

3. Gooseberry Falls State Park

Gooseberry Falls is an easy place to stop when the car has started feeling small. You can walk down toward the falls, move around for a bit, and come back with everyone in a better mood. The amount of water changes with the weather and season. Sometimes the falls are loud enough that everybody has to speak up. Other times there's more exposed rock and room to notice the smaller parts of the river. Either way, it's worth getting out of the car.

Wear shoes that can handle wet ground. Somebody always steps where they shouldn't and spends the next hour pretending their sock isn't soaked.

4. Split Rock Lighthouse

Split Rock Lighthouse is one of those places you've seen in pictures so many times that you think you know it already. Then you get there, look out over Lake Superior, and stay longer than planned. You can visit the historic site or stop nearby for the shoreline view, depending on how much time you've got. On a clear day, the lake looks like it keeps going forever. When the weather turns, it feels like an entirely different place.

We usually take one picture, stand around for a few minutes, and say we should get going. Then nobody moves.

5. North Shore Commercial Fishing Museum in Tofte

The North Shore Commercial Fishing Museum is small enough that it doesn't take over the day. It's the kind of stop where you go in knowing almost nothing and come back out paying closer attention to the old boats, fish houses, and family names along the shore. The exhibits tell the story of the people who made a living fishing Lake Superior and built communities around work that was cold, physical, and rarely easy. It's a good reminder that the North Shore wasn't built as scenery for the rest of us to drive through.

The museum operates seasonally, so check the schedule before counting on it. When it's open, it's worth the stop.

6. Coho Café and Bakery in Tofte

By the time we reach Tofte, somebody is usually hungry again. Coho Café and Bakery works for coffee, soup, sandwiches, pizza, or something from the bakery case, depending on what time the car rolls in. We like picking up a loaf of bread for the cabin. If it survives the drive, it becomes toast the next morning with butter and Rhubarb Jam. If it doesn't survive, there'll be a torn paper bag and a few crumbs in the back seat.

Nobody needs to admit who started it.

7. World's Best Donuts in Grand Marais

The name makes a fairly large promise, but World's Best Donuts has been part of Grand Marais since 1969. The little red-and-white shop near the harbor has become one of those places where the line outside is often part of the experience. Everyone has their own order. Raised donuts, cake donuts, twists, long johns, or whatever was still warm when you walked in. We usually buy a few extra for the cabin and then act surprised when the box is lighter before we leave town.

Hours can change with the season, and arriving earlier gives you a better shot at the full case. If the door is locked, take the walk by the harbor anyway. Grand Marais is still a pretty good place to stand around with coffee.

8. Drury Lane Books in Grand Marais

Drury Lane Books sits in a small cottage near the water, close enough to the donut shop that the two stops tend to become one. We go in without needing anything and leave with a book for the cabin, a local story we hadn't heard, or something one of the kids chose from the shelf. A cabin book doesn't have to be ambitious. It just needs to be good enough to pick up when it rains or when everybody else has gone down to the dock. Half the time, it comes home with a receipt still tucked somewhere in the middle.

Before leaving Grand Marais, we fill the gas tank, grab the last groceries, and make sure the coffee is actually in the car. A loaf of bread, eggs, butter, and a jar of Triple Berry Jam can take care of the first morning if nobody feels like planning much beyond that.

Before Turning Up the Gunflint Trail

Grand Marais is the last place where everything is close together. Once you turn inland, stores, restaurants, and gas stations become fewer and farther apart. We usually take a few minutes to check the cooler, fill the tank, download directions, and ask one last time whether anybody needs anything. Somebody always says no, and ten miles later, they remember.

By then, the donuts are open, the smoked fish is buried under the ice, and there are at least three new books sliding around in the back seat. The car smells a little like coffee, lake air, and whatever came out of the bakery bag. That's usually when the road starts feeling quieter.

The Stops Change, but the Drive Stays Familiar

A place closes for the season. The weather turns. The line is too long. Somebody is asleep when you pass the turn. No drive north goes exactly the same way twice.

There are other good places along Highway 61, and every family seems to keep its own list. One person always needs the same coffee. Somebody remembers a roadside stand from years ago but can't quite remember where it was. A kid spots a hand-painted sign and asks if you can stop, even though nobody knows what's there. Sometimes you pull over, and those are usually the places that get added to the list.

Leave a little room in the drive. You never know what somebody will spot from the back seat.