The Lake is the Boss

Kayaks and wolves

2012-02-10T06:53:00.006-06:00

I've been a subscriber to the Wisconsin Natural Resources magazine since way back in the '60's when it was the black and white, Stalinist formatted, boring Wisconsin Conversation Bulletin. It's come a long way since those days of posed black and white photos, feel good articles, and DNR party line propaganda, printed on that cheap glossy paper that had actual chunks of wood floating around in it. The February issue of the 'new' magazine features the headline article, A Smart Start to Kayaking. Before I started reading it I decided to try to transport myself back to the 'unconscious incompetent' days of the mid '90's and see what I could glean from the article that might make me decide whether or not venturing out on Lake Superior in a long skinny boat was a good idea. After all, if I went over I might get trapped upside down in the thing for God's sake!

As many of you know, the very first time I sat in a sea kayak was at Trek & Trail beach and I made it about 50 yards before I went over, but that's another story. Reading this article from the perspective of the uninitiated 'thinking about it' kind of guy made me want to give it a try. Our 'chief paddling evangelist', one Mr. D. Bush of Madison, who runs that company named after a tuberous root vegetable, was quoted, as was DNR warden Dave Oginski, a kayaker himself. The article is a good overview of the sport in Wisconsin and the focus on the yin and yang of Lake Superior, the opportunity and danger, is well balanced. Its not so alarmist that it scares people away, not the "place where kayakers to die" as one person that called the WI DNR put it, and it also does not sugar coat what needs to be done in order to paddle the lake safely. There is a great list of Lake Superior tips, a nice page full of hypothermia info, and some useful websites. Probably the most succinct piece of advice was from Warden Oginski, who thinks its all about safe outdoor fun. "I won't ever put myself in a situation where I put my life at risk". Good advice and the article is a good start for helping paddlers decide what is risky and what is safe behavior. I think the 1996 version of me would have sought out a good outfitter to run me through some sea kayaking instructio......oh wait, I guess that's actually what I did do back then.

On the other end of the DNR gamut of responsibility is our old friend the Timber Wolf. The DNR are actually completely responsible for wolf management since 27 January when the Federal government 'delisted' the wolf. I won't go into the debate of the pros vs anti wolf people here. Suffice to say that it's pro choice/pro life in its intensity and the unwillingness of those on either end of the spectrum to see any possible compromise or moderate position. As most readers of this blog know, we have wolves on our hunting land yet seem to persist in shooting nice bucks year after year. Are our wolves just underachievers or are they satiated on calves, toddlers, and defenseless lambs? Which brings me to the central point of this story. My buddy up in Minocqua, SilenceOfTheLambChops, a man who raises lambs as well as serves them up as tasty, melt in your mouth, medium rare chops at various kayaking events, got to do some wolf tracking last week. Since he is also the Loon Ranger,monitor and protector of the loons on Trout Lake, he managed to wangle a ride in the DNR wolf tracking aircraft for a bit of radio telemetry. He sent us some great pictures but confessed that the 45 degree banking turns when the 'beep' was heard was not easy on the old stomach. The GurneyGranny, notorious car/air sickness victim, said she got queasy reading his account of the flight. The fact that a sheep farmer in prime wolf range is interested in having wolves as part of the natural environment is both interesting and instructive to me.

The DNR, an agency often maligned by both sides of any debate about the outdoors, most definitely has its hands full. However trying to keep people safe as they kayak on Lake Superior and tracking and monitoring wolf activity would seem to be two activities that any sane outdoor lover would support. Like dang near anything, looking at the facts (not making up your own, like a Presidential candidate) and weighing the pros and cons before making a decision is a good process whether you're thinking about kayaking, evaluating the wolf's spot in our natural environment, or deciding who to vote for to lead the country. I just wish more people were willing to do it.

(Photo of wolves courtesy of SOLC, zero permission given. I may need to offer a rolling lesson.......)

Ranger down - Reflections on the final check out

2012-02-06T14:01:00.008-06:00

In the past few days I've been confronted with a number of end of life issues. Among them, a close friend that is a grandmother herself, lost her grandma after a long stint in long term care, a couple other friends lost close relatives, and I got to guess about my own demise as I studied the many nuances found in a long term care insurance plan that I pulled the trigger on. On the kayaking front the School of Let's Go For It Paddling lost it's Professor Emeritus when Eric Soares left us last week. Over the weekend the VOR and I attended an annual party near Madison, WI, an event older than many of it's attendees, and the topic of both the route to and the ultimate check out itself were discussed around the bonfire.

The one thing that most everyone agreed upon was that the Thelma & Louise plan was the preferred ideal. No draining nursing home stay, just careening off the cliff yelling 'yeeehaa!' at the top of our lungs. We also determined in our beer fueled wisdom that the route to the edge of the cliff was to stay healthy, active, and avoid 'acting our age'. One of my early deer hunting mentors was found by his son, dead in his tree stand of a heart attack at age 76. Ronnie told me that every one of the old deer camp group came up to him at the funeral and told him they would sign up for his dad's check out method, no questions asked. It would seem, and various studies agree, that when a person quits engaging in activities because they consider themselves to be too old, that's when the long slide to the soft bland food, adult Depends, and drool cup begins. Sadly, friends that have attended Woodyfest, as this party is known, in the past stopped coming because they decided that standing around a bonfire drinking keg beer in the snow and watching illegal fireworks was something more 'appropriate' for college aged people. The Guardian had an article on the biggest regrets of terminal patients. Number one was a failure to be true to oneself and a wish that they hadn't worked so much was a close second. Five years ago I got a call from No 1 Son on a Thursday in mid October. "Dad, Loveland (our favorite CO ski area) got a two foot dump and the Pack plays the Broncos on Monday Night Football. Lets head out tomorrow, ski three days, and then scalp tickets to the game!". I regretfully told him that it sounded great but that I had meetings scheduled at work, a ton of other stuff, short notice, etc., and that we would just have to do it another time. I hung up and called him back five minutes later and told him you get the motel and I'll take care of the air. We had a great time and I was happy that we were able to go for it. I realize now, after reading the Guardian article, that by doing that I had pretty much given regrets No 1 and 2 'the finger'.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Eric Soares, co-founder of the famed Tsunami Rangers, in person but we had exchanged some notes on various blog posts over the years. I like the way he wrote, his philosophy of paddling, and how he wove it into his life in general. One of his last blog posts, the Ten Commandments of Sea Kayaking, was one of his best and spot on. His 4th of July post on the hunt for stars and levels resonated with me as well. I've watched Level XX instructors that could not connect with or communicate worth a damn with their students, and frankly should not be allowed on Lake of the Isles alone in a breeze over 10 knots. I've also personally had a number of instructor/mentors that passed on the star/level routine, yet have developed both excellent skill sets and the ability to pass them on and connect with students. The main thing I sensed with Eric Soares, his writings and actions, was that he had the mindset and attitude to go for it. Take proper precautions, have your 'out' scouted in advance, use the right gear, but push that envelope and give it a shot. Early reports said that a fall skiing at Tahoe exacerbated an aortic condition that he had surgery on before and that he passed unexpectedly in the hospital. My best to friends, family, and those who knew him well, but I have to believe that he went out doing one of the activities that he loved.

I guess the moral of this somewhat disjointed ramble around these end of life issues is to stay active, play smart, and for God's sake be true to yourself and others. Be inquisitive, assess your strengths and weaknesses, and push that envelope just a little bit. If you don't fall on the ski slope, get knocked over by a wave, or make that little extra effort to hang with family or your buddies then you are cheating yourself. In other words, go for it. Something tells me that Eric Soares had no worries about the five regrets in the Guardian article when he finally left us, and I sincerely hope that none of us do either when the time comes.

Mars & Venus: the two edged sword

2012-02-01T06:40:00.006-06:00

This year two events happened to coincide about an hour apart in northern Wisconsin. The Intensive Training weekend for the guys and the Wild Women Gathering for the women. Planning for the two events was very different and most definitely had a gender bias. I happened to see one of the VOR's emails on menu planning, a communication full of 'I'll bring this and you bring that, and we'll have this for supper #2' type of thing. The communication on our event was, well, nonexistent. We all show up with some stuff and there you go. The GurneyGranny stated it perfectly when she commented that, "You guys all show up with the same sack of potatos, a big hunk of meat, and a case of beer and call it good". Not exactly but close. You can imagine my bemusement on Saturday when I heard four women in the warming cabin at the North End Loops and Birkie trailhead planning their ski day in the same detailed fashion.

The four women in their mid 40's, two sking on classical and two on skate skis. They were poring over trail maps and discussing distances, routes, and the expected endurance of their group like a person chews a piece of toast when they have a throbbing hangover. They kept chewing and chewing but the actual swallowing, the decision, kept getting put off. Anyhow, it was finally determined that Chris would go 2k with Patty and that Denise and Jen would take the 3k loop and meet them at intersection 63, where Denise and Jen would then take the 6k, leaving Chris and........you get the drift. They finally left for the trail and we all kind of smiled. Our communication consisted of grunting 'I'm heading this way' and then winging it. The FamousCrimminalDefenseAttorney, attending the Intensive Training event all the way from Austin, TX, had done his 5 or 6k and planned to enjoy a cigar and a beer while we knocked off a few more K. Two vehicles were available and we all took off with the loose plan of meeting back at the cabin 'at some point'. I left my pack containing water, snacks, and my cash with the FCDA. RonO and the ManFromSnowyLegs had a bit more ambition than I did at this point. The cigar and beer supply back at the cabin had piqued my interest and I told the boys I was going to peel off and head back and hang with the FCDA. Somewhere out on the trail our fifth skier, the WoodFondlingBarrister, was also chewing up kilometers in his obsessed, compulsive, and extremely focused manner. Long story short, I missed a cutoff and was off on an additional 6 or 7 kilometer tour. When I got back to the cabin I looked around and saw no sign of any of the guys or my pack. So I walked down to the parking lot to put my skis in one of the vehicles and there were no vehicles. The bastards had left me there and headed to the Evergreen Bar. Not only had they ditched me, but they had absconded with my water, food, and money. I had the forty dollar deposit that had been forfeited by a guy who was ill and could not attend the event, and the plan was to spend it on 'healthful supplements', eg. carbo loading on Leinies. My fear was that I would not get picked up until the forty bucks was gone, not an unfounded fear given this crew, and that I was in for a long wait due to the reasonable price of pitchers in the north woods.

As I sat in the warming cabin our four ladies returned. Actually only three because one of them was missing on the trail. Apparently the well conceived plan had gone a bit awry and they were very concerned and discussing whether they should head back out to find her, when we spotted her skiing down the hill toward the warming cabin. The three were profusely apologetic as was she for losing track of them. They all had a figurative group hug and pulled out their energy drinks and pita and hummus snacks. The reception was not quite the same touchy/feeley lovefest when the boys finally showed up to see what happened to me. "Where the f@*k were you a#*holes, I've been stuck in this shack for a half hour!?" "Kiss my a** Olson, you said you were heading back and when you didn't show we figured you left with the other two guys to drink up that forty bucks before we got there!". Apparently the WFB and FCDA had left first with my pack. They found Podman and KingIronwood holding down bar stools at the Evergreen and left my pack with them. We couldn't even agree to ski on the same trail system and they had finished a couple beer earlier than the rest of us. To RonO and the MFSL's credit, I believe they only had one beer before heading back to Cable to retrieve me. The four ladies had offered me a ride, as well as some hummus, but I passed on both.

So which is better, obsessive planning or zero planning? And how should one react to an incident of that type, with gracious aplomb or a brain explosion? I'm sure the ladies had a great time and headed off to Cable for wine, light appetizers, and a spirited and positive discussion of the days ski and little mixup. Meanwhile we knocked off several beers, a couple Bloody Mary's,
one Brandy Old Fashioned and traded insults like tennis players trade volleys. We also had the deep fried grease platter, an appetizer plate consisting of chicken, curds, rib eye, mushrooms, and assorted veggies, all battered and seared in the same deep fat. I don't think any conclusive statements can be made on either the Intensive Training or the Wild Women weekend or the planning question, but we all had fun at both events in our own unique ways. The two images in the post are from the two events. I'll bet the reader can guess which image goes with which event. I think the bottom line is that a couple of gender specific events over the course of the year makes for healthy fun and underscores the belief that the Mars/Venus analogy is indeed an appropriate one.

The snow was found!

2012-01-30T06:55:00.008-06:00

This weekend was the thirtieth something annual Intensive Training weekend near Lake Namekagan in northern Wisconsin. I've only been in on a dozen or so but have been coming to the area for those same thirty years that the event had been held. When my boys were young we would hit the same ski trails and many of the same drinking and dining establishments that we do now. The main lure for us, both then and now, was the Rock Lake trail complex across the road from the Lakewoods Resort.

The trails, 2k, 4k, 7.5k, 11.5k, and 16k concentric loops, are relatively unchanged over the years. They wind through mixed hardwoods and mature White Pine, and go up, over, and around glaciated hills at the terminal moraine of the last glacier that scoured the area. The trails are intimate, classical single track only, and are what I feel is the perfect cross country mix of 1/3 up, 1/3 down, and 1/3 flat. There are hills on the longer loops that are a bit hairy but they are all very do-able if a person does not lose their nerve on the way down. They are of course, much less intimidating once they have been ridden once successfully. The lack of snow in the city made us a bit conservative in the mileage department. It made me conservative anyway, because I peeled off on the 7.5k before Podman and KingIronwood caught us. RonO and the ManFromSnowyLegs were talked into the 16k and confessed that the sight of the parking lot was very welcome at the end. I felt energized and pumped to be on real snow without high school ski teams streaking by me, and wound up doing the 4k as well for a moderate total of 11.5k, just perfect for the first 'real' ski of the season.

When I was out with the boys back in the mid 80's, mileage was always a question mark. As you can see from the grainy image above, chances were pretty good that at such a young age the 16k would likely not be tackled. Nor was going uphill a painless process. Bribes of a French Canadian hard candy, which we called 'hill pills' were dished out, carrot on a stick fashion, when the hills were summited. Downhills, no matter how steep, never were an issue. It was generally just a good time in the out of doors. Campfires were lit, wiener sticks cut, and we enjoyed the moment. It always amazed me and still does when I hear guys say, "Man, my wife is out of town and I gotta watch the kids this weekend". Huh? You can't figure out something fun to do with your kids, just kick back and enjoy 'em? And what the hell are you 'watching'? In my compassionate, life affirming manner, I generally suggest that they get off their fat ass, use their head just a little bit, and figure out something that they all might enjoy. Our modus operandi was to go full bore with the fun and then about two hours before mom was due home, the fun would cease and frantic cleanup efforts would commence to erase the signs of the 'fun' that had left the house in complete shambles.

The Rock Lake loops bring back wonderful memories, both of when my guys were little as well as the many times the menly men of the Intensive Training weekend skied the trails and then rewarded themselves with a sauna, hot tub (five bucks at the nearby Lakewoods), adult libations, and a friendly card game. The trails are excellent for hiking in the summer and are designated single track mountain bike trails in the CAMBA system, but even though those are admirable activities, they simply can't be beaten as the nicest, narrowest, and most scenic classical cros country trails in the state.

Drive to the Snow

2012-01-25T05:25:00.008-06:00

This no snow thing is getting ridiculous and I'm getting as tired and bored with writing about it as you are of reading about it. The problem is that it has turned many outdoor lovers winter into what I imagine it's like for the people who curl up and cocoon at the first sign of cold or snow. Weather induced SADS. The indoor life stinks and if you do anything to excess, whether it be TV, Netflix, reading books (beer drinking excepted of course) it tends to drain a person mentally and emotionally. Hiking is fine but lets face it folks, the fun part of winter is its unique difference from the other seasons. You can hike on a stinkin' beach for God sakes! Sure, that chance of slipping and falling on your ass on the ice makes winter hiking a bit more interesting but it pales in comparison to the classic ski, skate, and slide. No, I want to glide over snow and skate on the ice, moving much faster and more effortlessly than can be done on plain old dry ground. We have not all curled up in the fetal position with a bottle of Bushmills and Tolstoy's "War and Peace" however.

Last weekend found me strolling out on the ice of Lake Nokomis for the US Pond Hockey Championships. There were a couple dozen rinks with a half dozen divisions competing for the coveted Golden Shovel Award and lots of spectators braving the 15F temps with a rare southeast wind. I had planned on a beer in the tent but the organizers had sold out to Bud as some sort of Gold Level sponsorship deal. Instead I spent my money on a useful container called the Whiskey Puck. It's pictured right with what became it's contents. The outdoor exposure continued when I headed over to the BessemerConvivialists annual Jilleah Loppet, typically a ski event but this year kickball had to substitute for the skiing. It was a great idea and great outdoor fun but it was obvious that only about 15% of the group had any idea of kickball and its similarity to baseball. Once we realized that throwing to the wrong base, ignoring base runners, and other baseball atrocities would be the norm, everyone had fun. Had the whiskey puck been full it would have been quickly emptied by the kickballers.

Sunday I sucked it up, after being encouraged to abort my downhill ski plans due to freezing rain, and headed over to the Elm Creek Hamster Cage. It consists of a couple kilometers of man made snow cross country trails, one of what I think are three such areas in the metro. It was congested like a rush hour freeway with everyone from elite Birkie racers getting in their 'K's' to plodding classical skiers, basically walking on skis along the trail. I resolved that my Elm Creek trail pass would be for two sessions: my first and my last. No more of that, I'm waiting for real snow.

Which apparently we will find this weekend. RonO, the ManFromSnowyLegs, and I are joining a number of the usual suspects on Lake Namekagan for the annual Intensive Training weekend. This is mainly classical skiing on the superb Rock Lake loops east of Cable with a bit of skating on the Birkie trail. There will likely be a beer savored and a card dealt as well after the intensive ski training. The VOR is joining the Wild Women for a weekend of skiing on the private yet tortuously confusing Fauerbach Maze in rural Saxon, WI. Some wine drinking and extensive menu planning and recipe discussion will be featured as well.

There is still no snow in the forecast so I guess a bit of driving is the only solution. The one thing the hamster cage bluntly pointed out to me is that although the brakes and supsension are top notch, the motor on the Olson ski machine is carboned up, out of tune, and missing on several cylinders. There is no hope for a complete tune up before the Vasaloppet on February 11th, if its held, but I will take comfort in the fact that every little bit helps and that I will be enjoying real winter, if only for the weekend.

I want snow!

2012-01-18T05:47:00.010-06:00

Another snow storm tracked south of us yesterday. This was after the one at the end of last week tracked north and east of us. The bottom line is that its nearing the end of January and we have no snow. Zero snow. Not enough to make a decent snowball. Oh sure we can travel for about three hours and find decent, not great,but decent snow, but the joy of getting up early to knock off a few kilometers on the way to work or stopping on the way home to ski is absolutely non existent. This no snow funk was made worse last night when I finally figured out the FaceTime app on my iPad. I was mildly amazed when the face of No1 son showed up on the screen and then as jealous as hell. I asked him why he was still at work at 8pm at night and he told me it was because Mt Hood got two feet of powder and he planned to be at Hood Meadows for first chair in the morning. He then kindly sent me the attached 7 day forecast for the area. 90 to 100% chance of snow for the next week. Avalanche warning, high winds, the classic snow dump. "Wow, that's great Erik....(grumble, fume, stew, bitch, whine)....have fun gliding through two feet of fresh pow-pow tomorrow. Let me know how it goes". Click. Stream of vile obscenities muttered under my breath.

I do plan on getting on the boards this Sunday. I will pack up the tele skis and my skate skis and head down to Welch Village, a local ski venue with lots of fake snow, and combine some gravity skiing with mindless skating back and forth at the base of the hill. Pathetic for January in Minnesota. There are other activities to occupy the time however, lesser activities that should be done in their proper seasons but ones that can be enjoyed in a pinch during this non winter. I actually found myself at a pool session, albeit with no boat last weekend. I sat in a clown shoe whitewater boat for the first time in years but was thinking about how I could have been outside skiing for most of the session.

Last Saturday we attended the Vasaloppet fund raiser dinner. It featured good food, plentiful beer, and a nice percentage of the SKOAC Renegade Relay team, who donated some money and in some cases got lucky. In the case of the BessemerConvivialist pretty damn lucky. The next day found JackiePack headed for some chlorine immersion at an ISK pool session and a few more of at the ski cabin on the north loops of the Vasaloppet trail. Even BjornDaehlieOfMahtomede, who had a half dozen pairs of skis in his car, did not attempt to ski the light dusting that was on the ground. Instead we celebrated that troika sanctioned and lumped together by our own Federal government; alcohol, tobacco, and firearms. A number of handguns were fired from .22 long rifle up to the decidedly non handgun caliber 7x30 Waters, with .357mag, .44mag, .45acp, and a couple .38 specials thrown in just for sport. Cuban cigars and then some fine ale were enjoyed, once all the hanguns were safely cased of course. We then headed south and the more masochistic among us gathered at Grumpys to watch the Packers choke, reminded once again that defense wins championships and that we did not have one.

I need to get my skates out and I hope to head down to Lake Nokimis for the annual pond hockey tournament this weekend to spectate. Maybe being out on the ice and getting a little skiing in will help me out of this brown winter funk. I think I may be suffering from the 180 opposite of SADS, UADS, the Unseasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome. I hope some artificial snow, like artificial sunlight for SADS, can alleviate my debilitating symptoms.

Mining hearing update

2012-01-12T07:35:00.005-06:00

It looks like there was an overflow crowd at the mining hearing in Hurley yesterday according to the Ashland Daily Press, the Ashland Current, and a much more reliable source for me, the GurneyGranny who had her 'mukluks on the ground' in Hurley for the better part of yesterday. Accounts in both local papers were nicely done and well worth a read. It would appear that few people, other than Wisconsin State Treasurer Kurt Schuller, support the bill exactly as it's written, mainly because half the money would go into the black hole that is the state general fund rather than being returned to the area of the state where it was generated. The tribes and environmental groups in the state were well represented and made their opposition clear. Mining advocates also made their case for the benefits of the project.

Whether a person was on the pro or the con side however, doesn't make a damn bit of difference. This bill will be voted on next week in the Assembly just exactly how it was written, written with the able, unbiased assistance of GTAC of course, and it will pass. I get to use one of my favorite analogies for most public hearings: they are like those little cars seats with a steering wheel on them that we AARP members had when were kids, before car seats became the miniature space capsules they are now. Having that steering wheel gave us the illusion we were turning the car and every once in awhile the car would turn in the same direction that we turned the wheel, making us giddy with power and smug satisfaction. The fact of the matter of course, was that the old man was driving the car and we had exactly zero say on which direction it went.

This bill still has to be introduced in the senate, passed, make it through the conference committee, and then be signed by the Governor. We shall see how that process goes. In the meantime, please check out some photos of the area the mine will be located in. These images are by Joel Austin of Big Bear Sundries who lives in the area, and are far more evocative than the snapshots I throw up here. The chairman of GTAC, Bill Williams, says there lots of pristine areas like this in Northern Wisconsin and the UP. Take a look at the images in Joel's blog and then please let me know where the other areas in the state are that are like that, I'd like to head up and check them out. My paddling buddy and naturalist extraordinaire, ProfessorLichen, visited a reclaimed coal mining area from 80 years ago down in Iowa. Take a look at the pictures of that area vs. the shots from Mr. Austin. Which landscape do you like better?

Finally, John Tornius, the Chairman of the Board of Serigraph (a Wisconsin company that my company works with) and author of The Company That Solved Healthcare, wrote a well reasoned and spot on piece on the process of launching a new mine. The last two paragraphs are key. The state needs an open, deliberate process but not an unending one. The current process we are in the midst of, if you read his post, do not seem to fit this description. Lets hope, but not bet the farm, on the Senate injecting at least a bit of openness and deliberation into this issue.

Proposed GTAC mine

2012-01-06T06:45:00.008-06:00

Mines have been in the news lately. Just yesterday Interior Secretary Salazar announced a 20 year ban on mining uranium next to the Grand Canyon. Settlements should be announced today in the mine disaster that killed 29 miners in the Upper Big Branch mine in West Virginia in 2010. In Wisconsin, unless they live under a rock, people are aware that GTAC has proposed a massive iron mining operation in Iron and Ashland Counties in the northeastern part of the state. In both instances the usual suspects have mobilized, the issue has been defined in black and white (mostly along ideological lines), and swords are being sharpened and the name calling has begun. For one side, it's jobs for a perennially under employed part of the state and acceptable environmental destruction; for the other it's a northwoods utopia with old growth forests and sustainable environmental tourism jobs for all. The sad fact is that neither side is prepared to admit is that there actually can be a middle ground.

Goegebic Taconite, GTAC, is affiliated with the Cline Group in Florida and is registered as a LLC on the Toronto stock exchange. They want to mine iron ore in the area mentioned above but have determined that Wisconsin's iron mine permitting laws are far too restrictive and if they aren't changed they will take their dynamite and giant dump trucks and go home. To assist with this problem, they helped the Republicans in the Wisconsin Assembly write a law that would make it far easier to get a permit, cut the permitting time in half from what our neighboring mining states of Michigan and Minnesota require, and limit damages from any unfortunate environmental accidents that may occur. (Before I go on, I want to say that I could load up this post with links to dozens of media outlets but you, dear blog reader, are going to have to use the Google on your own. I will say my old high school classmate, Lee Bergquist, has been covering the story quite nicely for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.) There is a hearing on the bill in Hurley tomorrow. An overflow crowed is expected and the rhetoric will be heated.

My one link in this post.......OK, there will be one more......has a quote from the Executive Director of the Ashland Area Development Corporation, Dale Kupcyck. "You’ve got this 10 percent who want it no matter what it costs, probably 10 percent who don’t want it no matter what. But you’ve got 80 percent who are willing to work with the state and say yes, if we can do it cleanly, let’s do it.”. That is exactly the point I'd like to make. This is not a zero sum game like most of the people on the far end of both viewpoints would have you believe. It's a cost benefit analysis that needs to be done using data and information that is gathered and published with peer review by independent scientists, not shills and hacks employed by either the mine developers or the environmental groups. GTAC is interested in maximizing profit as are all mining companies and that's it. Recall the asbestos laden taconite tailings that were being dumped into my favorite lake by Reserve Mining from about 1955 to 1970. Was is a voluntary cessation of the practice, once altruistic company officials from Reserve realized that Duluth residents were buying bottled water due to drinking water contamination? Hell no, we all know that it took a lengthy court case and holding then holding Reserves feet to the fire. Conversely, there are environmentalists that would love to see the end of all mining and logging on planet earth. Maybe when the bamboo and plastic....oop, sorry, petroleum based product..... bamboo and acetate buses and light rail trains are invented and we return to wiping our hind ends with sustainable corn cobs that might be possible. Nope folks, there is a middle ground here and I hold very little hope that our elected officials will attempt to find it through negotiation and analysis of independently collected data. The mining companies will continue to attempt to purchase Manhattan for $24 worth of trinkets and the tree huggers will continue to predict the end of civilization as we know it if one scoop of Penokee Range earth is mined.

It's a complicated issue, with governments from the township level through the Feds, and citizens and business interests all being major stakeholders in the outcome. this would include the Bad River Band of the Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa Indians, who have came out in opposition to the mine. I gotta think that Manhattan for twenty four bucks thing might be on their minds, as well as the water quality issues. I will disclose here that I have a horse in this race as well. Twenty plus years ago a group of close friends bought a decrepit old resort that was in tax arrears, a property that would be about a short dynamite blast away from the proposed mine site. They have turned the property through sweat equity, with some of the sweat being mine, into a quality retreat. The above image is from the property. How will the blasting, which will be very clearly heard, affect the property? Will the giant 900' deep pit affect the lake level? How will a giant mountain of' overburden' impact the watershed and drainage? Will diversion of the creek that feeds and flows out of the lake turn it from a natural lake into a lovely wetland? Will dust and air pollution make sitting next to the lake intolerable? And what are all those possible scenarios worth, from a cost/benefit standpoint, in the overall scheme of things? I go up there a lot and want answers to those questions as does the group that owns the place and surrounding landowners and communities. One organization is attempting to disseminate information, ask questions, and offer a usable resource on the issue without too much finger pointing: The Bad River Watershed Association. That's that second link I promised. I would urge people concerned about the watershed, which drains into Lake Superior, to become informed on the issues. The big deal with the uranium mining ban in the Grand Canyon was the impact on the Colorado River watershed. That water provides drinking water and irrigation for a number of states, including Southern California where a large proportion of the nations vegetables are grown. Do we want to risk that water supply or the health of Lake Superior without independent scientific data? Should the Wisconsin Assembly pass a bill that states if the DNR can't gather and verify the data in one year that the mining permit is automatically granted? I sure as hell don't think so. If we are gonna sell em Manhattan, lets get fair market value for it this time AND make sure the cost doesn't come back and bite us in the ass twenty years down the road. This issue needs to be examined with hard data, eyes wide open, and looking toward the future. This ideological political bullshit we've heard so far just does not cut it. I plan to work towards the goal of cooler heads prevailing.

Snow hunt

2012-01-03T07:08:00.008-06:00

We headed north for our traditional New Years escape, a weekend of cross country and gravity assisted skiing as well as some snowshoeing and New Year's Eve midnight beer drinking around the bonfire. As it turns out only the midnight beer drinking was reliable, with the usually dependable lake effect snow being noticeably absent for most of the weekend. It did eventually snow, just not in the timely fashion that both we and the local business folks would have liked.

It has been a weak snow year, which is exactly the opposite of what the long term forecasts predicted. Downhill areas have been making snow but for dedicated cross country skiers, both recreational and racers, it has been pathetic. This mornings Strib had a photo of the 18" of manmade snow at Elm Creek Park. Every high school Nordic team in the area is there training and that, combined with the hamster cage-like 2.5 boring miles, has kept me and most of my cronies away. The problem is that both the Vasaloppet and Birkebeiner races are right around the corner and those of us who refuse to train by any method other than actual skiing are already in trouble. Resorts up north that rely on skiers and snowmobilers piling cash into their tills over the holidays are deep in the hole already. We are in desperate need of a good dump and there does not seem to be one in the forecast.

Lake effect snow has even been weak. Last weekend at CampO there was not even enough snow to track trails. We got about 10" on New Years Eve, seen in the image above, but by then everyone was heading for home. Or for the Frontier Bar to watch the Packers in the case of Podman and I. We did get a nice hike in on Saturday on a new segment of the North Country Trail, a hiking trail billed as running from New York to North Dakota. It has been a long time coming and I remember working on the trail along the ice age segment in Rusk County Wisconsin in the mid 1970's. The terrain in the part of Iron County that we hiked is glaciated rolling hills with lots of rock outcroppings, small streams, and mostly hardwood forest with a smattering of evergreens, mainly balsam. We also ran into an old gold mine, an area with several deep holes and an ancient piece of equipment used for God knows what in the process. This quaint reminder of the mining past in the area will be dwarfed by the proposed GTAC iron mine, which would be sited within a good sized dynamite blast of the area. A post on that issue is long overdue and will be the next thing coming out of this word processor. As usual, nut cases on both sides of the issue are trying to turn the debate into a zero sum game and that just ain't how it is.

I guess the only thing we can do on the snow thing is cross our fingers, and maybe do a little snow dance and appeal to Hekki Lunta, the UP folk hero of snow. I guess we need to get into the woods to hike, do a little downhill or tele skiing, and maybe strap the skates on. Podman told me that he was going to tell me that Saxon Harbor was completely ice free last weekend before we headed up, but was afraid I'd throw the kayak on the roof and try to talk him into paddling on Lake Superior. He may have been right.

Holiday bitterness

2011-12-27T06:49:00.007-06:00

Before driving to St Paul on Christmas Eve to visit GuitarMatt and his sweetie, I threw a growler in the car, thinking that on the way there or back I would stop at Barley John's and pick up 64 ounces of their delicious Little Barley Bitter. As it turned out, my Christmas gift was the 'Rudolph' growler, full of said bitter, in the image left. It's ironic that after stabbing another Rudolph rendition, this one could bring me so much liquid joy. To top it off, I was ordered to stop at Surdyks liquor store, hazardous duty if ever there was any on Christmas Eve, and pick up some Anchor Christmas Ale and Lagunitas Sucks Holiday Ale for the VOR who had developed a fondness for both of those holiday brews. As I hunted for them I found that 21st Amendment's Bitter American seasonal was back on the shelf. I definitely needed a large carry box as I made my way to the car with my arms full of six packs.

Bitter or ESB, Extra Special Bitter, is far and away my favorite beer style. It's nicely balanced with the hop flavor in the forefront and the alcohol content usually hovers around 4%, making it a true session ale. I am sick of the IPA craze and its high alcohol, insanely hopped brews. If you drive to a bar, two of these brews puts you at the ragged edge of .08% BAL and a trip to jail if you are stopped on the way home. If you are settled in with your buddies for a 'session', a sipping beer with low alcohol and great flavor is the hot ticket and bitter most always fits the bill. While in San Fransisco with the VOR the weekend before last, I wandered into the Magnolia brewpub in Haight Ashbury while waiting for my SU (Spousal Unit) to run the gauntlet of high end vintage shops on Haight St. I looked at the beer list on the chalkboard, walked up to the bartender and asked, voice full of hope, "Is it true you have four bitters on tap, two on cask, and aren't out of any or all of 'em?". When he assured me that they indeed had all four I started at the beginning. When the VOR walked in and looked at the chalk board to determine her beer choice, she immediately informed me, without me opening my mouth, that "you can't drink four 20oz bitters this early in the afternoon". I made a slight gramatical correction and suggested that she substitute 'shouldn't' for 'can't' and told her she was looking at the half full glass of #3. Once again the low alcohol content combined with our car and hassle free metro pass made it perfectly fine (other than a couple stumbles on the hilly terrain) to enjoy multiple bitters on a lovely December afternoon.

Why more breweries don't brew the style is a puzzle to me, although the name can throw off the more uneducated beer drinkers. I recall a beer ad a few years back for some crappy light beer proclaiming that their beer was 'not a bit bitter'. I am dead certain that it wasn't. While visiting GalwayGuy in St Louis, we discovered the phenomona of the 'session IPA'. The brewer admitted it had the flavor profile and alcohol content of a good bitter but that, "that bitter tag tends to throw the casual drinker off". Dark Mild is another excellent beer style with a off putting name. What macho beer drinker wants 'mild beer'? I guess that would be me. Here's a little secret: both South Shore Nut Brown and Northwoods Floppin' Crappie are dark milds. If these excellent brews were called dark mild they would be limited seasonals and probably on the verge of being discontinued. Summit ESB, my go-to beer for years, was dropped due to what I suspect was low sales. Surly brews both Bitter Brewer and Surly Mild as seasonals and I wish they were year round. Right now, in a cruel bit of irony Barley John's, which is within easy walking distance, brews a lovely bitter year round that's 3.5% and bursting with flavor. My local joint Grumpys, has no bitter and usually about three IPA's on tap. I would think that a bar would want to have a session ale, since Bitter Brewer (in season) and Surly Furious are exactly the same price for a pint, yet I'll have four BB's and only two Furious if I'm driving.

For now I'm good on the bitter front. Barley John's is four blocks east of me and I have my Rudolph growler to refill, a tasty as well as very green solution for beer consumption. Surdyks has 21st Amendment Bitter American in cans and I will relentlessly lobby Pat at Grumpys, like a three year old begging for a candy bar in the grocery check out line, to put it on tap. Podman is brewing his delicious Bitter Bobbi Ale and I can usually fall back on the not-truly-a-bitter Red Hook ESB. I also would like to issue a call to action for Mark Stutrud at Summit and Omar Ansari at Surly. Bring back Summit ESB and brew Bitter Brewer the entire year. Hell, call 'em session IPA's, make up some catchy name to lure the beer rubes in, I don't care. Just give we bitter lovers the tasty, well balanced, and socially responsible beer we all crave. Think light beer that actually has flavor, unlike the one, second from the bottom on the image right. It's the right thing to do!

Christmas confession: I stabbed Rudolph

2011-12-22T06:19:00.006-06:00

It's the season of schmaltzie Christmas movies (we watched a young Natalie Wood in Miracle on 34th St last night), Christmas music, overeating on a daily basis at work, holiday happy hours, and a generally upbeat feeling of holiday cheer. Yet for years I've harbored a deep, dark, and shameful secret. A few years ago in a fit of blinding rage, I viciously and savagely stabbed Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to death.

No, it wasn't the real Rudolph but the scene of the crime was a spot where several of his cloven hoofed and antlered cousins have hung from a pole with their tongues protruding, en route to the freezer. This Rudolph was the oven mitt pictured above with the happy little guy printed on the front. As sappy as that is, it was not what set me off. It was the fact that this oven mitt had an embedded chip and every time you touched it or even jostled it, it would play 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer' in monotone computer generated tones. Think 'do-do-de-do-do-do-do', every time you got near the thing. As regular readers of this blog know, one of my favorite things about the hunting camp is the lack of any indication of modern civilization. It is impossible to microwave a piece of pizza, flip on a light, flush the toilet, or catch a few minutes of the latest and most retarded reality show. We used to have two electronic devices at camp, the 1980's Montgomery Wards boom box for oldies listening, and the 4" screen battery powered TV that Podman received as a 'safe driving award' in one of his former jobs. We are down to one since the FCC decided to go digital. Its not a big loss however because camp rules prohibited the TV for anything other than Packer and World Series games. The quiet and natural background hum of the deer camp is very relaxing, a fact that made the incessant, mindless electronic rendition of Rudolph even more grating. Another contributing factor was that I'm only able to stand Christmas music from Black Friday through Christmas Day itself. That's plenty of musical cheer for me, but the cute Rudolph oven mitt played during snowshoe trips in February, cutting trees for deer food in March, kayaking in June, and early bow season in September. Like an outwardly calm postal worker sorting the mail, day after day after day, my hatred of this innocuous little oven mitt began to build and fester over the years until one day I snapped.

I can't even remember the exact scenario but I do remember it was during hunting season. I was cooking a fairly complex meal that I wanted to 'hit the post' and have everything done at the same time. A pork roast was on the grill, potatoes boiling for mashing, and I was chopping veggies to stir fry. As I grabbed Rudolph to latch on to a hot cast iron pan handle, the inevitable 'do-do-de-do-do-do-do' began to play. Something in my head just snapped. I threw Rudolph on the cutting board with the veggies, grabbed the 8" chef knife, and repeatedly, in a Hitchcockian, 'Psycho-like' fury, stabbed Rudolph's chirping little electronic heart until it went 'do-do-de......... Dead silence. The nightmare was over.

I do recall myself cursing as I stabbed Rudolph. My companions looked at me like I was nuts but I felt this sense of relief, like order had been restored to the Reefer Creek universe. Even though I received a raft of abuse, I don't recall anyone being sad that they could no longer hear the worlds worst rendition of 'Rudolph' 12 months out of the year. I must admit that I was impressed by the durability of the little chip in Rudolph though. Through hot summer days and -20F winter nights, this gadget just kept on playing for years. It could not survive an assault with a Wusthof chefs knife however.

It feels good to have that dark episode in deer camp history off my chest. I don't hate the song and in fact have the Gene Autry version on my iPod. I have noticed that since the assault no one had sent me one of those singing holiday or birthday cards. I've also noticed that the electronic noises at the deer camp these days are pretty much non existent. So, enjoy the holiday. I wish everyone a merry Christmas, a happy New Year, and a joyous Hannaramakwansas for the multi ethnic among us. Just don't give people 'the gift that keeps on giving' like our little Rudolph oven mitt. You never know what could happen.

"How could you like a killer?"

2011-12-20T06:29:00.008-06:00

Last weekend found the VOR and I in San Francisco for our annual pre Christmas long weekend and a bit of honeymooning this year as well. Its a great week to travel because the airports are nearly deserted, vacancies at all accommodations are plentiful and sometimes discounted, and unless you screw up and get close to a shopping destination most things are refreshingly uncrowded. We are both suckers for a good book store and found ourselves in the famous City Lights Bookstore on Columbus & Broadway Sunday evening. It's located smack dab between Chinatown and North Beach (SF's Little Italy) and across the street from the historic Condor Club, our nation's first topless establishment. At City Lights I stumbled upon a new Jim Harrison novel, one of my favorite writers from the UP. The novel is The Great Leader, and a good part of it is set in Marquette, MI. The first paragraph got me hooked as I browsed the stacks. "It was below freezing and the surf at the river mouth was high and tormented where Lake Superior collided with the strong outgoing river current. The wind and surf were deafening and Sunderson reminded himself of how much he disliked Lake Superior other than something admirable to look at like an attractive calendar. He had been born and raised in the harbor town of Munising and two of his relatives who were commercial fisherman had died at sea back in the fifties, bringing grief and disarray to the larger family. The most alarming fact of prolonged local history was the death of 280 people at sea between Marquette and Sault St. Marie. How could you like a killer?".

I have encountered this attitude among a lot of people that have been born and raised on the shores of Gitchee Gumee. I have friends from Thunder Bay to Marquette who consider going out on Lake Superior in a kayak the equivalent of sky diving. It's probably OK if you're really lucky but sooner or later it's going to bite you in the ass. My buddy Podman related the amazement at his Ashland HS class reunion when he mentioned to his classmates that we had kayaked to Outer Island. Some claimed they would be leery going out there in a powerboat. I'm sure a large part of it is the constant stories of drownings, sinkings, and destruction of property that have occurred pretty frequently over the years, especially in the '50's and '60's when weather prediction was not nearly as accurate as it is now, an amazing statement given my criticism of the current forecasts on the lake. There is also the lore of the big lake, an attitude reflected by the quote at NPS HQ in Bayfield and at the masthead of this blog by the Rev George Grant in 1872, "wild, masterful, and dreaded". A more recent case in point is the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. We all knew and heard about it when I was in college in Eau Claire, WI but if Gordon Lightfoot hadn't written the song my guess is that it would have faded from memory like the hundreds of other wrecks on the Great Lakes. When the hometowns of the crew members are studied however, places like Ashland, Washburn, Moquah, Iron River, and Superior, WI as well as Duluth and Silver Bay, MN make it much more personal, immediate, and memorable to those that live in that area.

So are we nuts for going out on the big lake in skinny boats? One of my favorite stories came from talking and having a beer with some divers from Tennessee that were diving the wreck of the yacht Gunilda in 250' of water up near Rossport, ON. They had spectacular footage of the wreck and described how a two hour dive gave them about 15 minutes on the wreck. After describing what could happen, gas mixtures, decompression, etc., I looked at one of them and said, "you guys are nuts!". To which one fellow replied, "Was that you guys out by Battle Island in the six foot seas in them two foot wide skinny boats? I think ya'all are the ones that are nuts!"

I guess in the end we all do what we feel comfortable with and try to use our heads and take the precautions necessary to keep ourselves out of trouble. Whether its scuba diving, skydiving, or sea kayaking, a certain amount of risk is factored in along with the techniques and skills to mitigate that risk. The history of the lake does give one pause but if we paddle safe and, maybe even more important, paddle smart we can enjoy and savor those big seas with more confidence and assurance.

Hey, guess what?

2011-12-14T06:04:00.007-06:00

OK, OK, the main reason the VoiceOfReason and I headed north last weekend was to get married at the Hotel Chequamegon in Ashland, WI. It was a tiny, tiny ceremony where officiant, wedding party, and guests could easily be seated around a decent sized restaurant table. The lounge at the Hotel Chequamegon was cozy, Lake Superior was just outside the window, and the usual wedding stress and angst were nowhere to be found.

The compact ceremony started with an excerpt from Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha (appropriate for a GitcheeGumeeGuy), eased through some wisdom from Anne Morrow Lindbergh, advice from Walt Whitman, and finished with an Irish blessing. The traditional champagne toast was replaced with Connemara Irish Whiskey and group headed to the Deepwater Grill and brewpub for a nice dinner. It could not have been better and both of us are happy about the whole thing. Now we just need to figure out if I'm Mr. VOR or she becomes Ms GitcheeGumeeGuy. I'm thinking the status quo in names will be just fine.

Winter sneaking in......

2011-12-12T05:40:00.005-06:00

Winter has given us a couple little tastes but in the Twin Cities area it has not gotten serious yet. The VoiceOfReason and I headed north this weekend to try to find some winter, among other things, and discovered that it really had only taken hold in the snow belt, which begins on the top of Birch Hill, a long hill on US 2 between Ashland, WI and Ironwood, MI. That's where we wound up on Sunday and I actually got out on the skis for the first time this year, albeit briefly. The quiet and exclusive PodRong Loops were tracked for classical and the no wax skis were perfect for the warmish and sunny day. The VOR, because she is the VOR, passed on the opportunity because of the T Zone deer hunting in the area, a scheme where the DNR encourages people to reduce the herd by shooting anterless deer. I saw plenty of deer sign but no deer or hunters were spotted.

Duluth has very little snow other than the fake stuff at Spirit Mountain, and the port is still wide open. Two 'salties' the Lake Ontario (Antigua flagged) and the Zelada Desgagnes (Marshall Islands flagged) were anchored off the harbor entrance in the big lake, waiting to load grain. I asked a couple people why they were anchored off the harbor when the harbor didn't seem that busy, after asking them what they did for a living of course, but no one seemed to have the answer. Maybe there was a jam up at the grain terminal, where midwestern grain begins it's trip around the world. There is skim ice in the harbor but no fishermen or ice boaters, which means it isn't safe. Ice fishermen will sneak out on 2" of ice if they think the fish are biting. The Old Man used to put on the Stearns life vest and have two dowels with cement nails embedded in the end of them on a string around his neck. He would shuffle out on big Alaskan snowshoes, secure in the knowledge that if he went through he could both float and pull himself out. I don't recall ever seeing a change of clothes in the car but then he never went through, or at least if he did I (nor my mother) never heard about it.

We passed one of our favorite ski trails, After Hours, near Brule, WI but no snow there. Ashland also had skim ice but no ice fishermen and the big swans (Mute swans is the popular guess as to their species) have moved on. Open water is visible past the edge of the ice across the bay toward Washburn. It was only when we had reached Birch Hill that there was steady snow cover on the ground. It felt good to see the snow and good to get out on the skis. I'm not in as miserable shape as I thought I was, but am far from ski shape. Having my legs atrophy in a kayak all summer does not make for a smooth start to the ski season but I'm sure things will work themselves out. I just hope the forecast of a snowy cold winter comes through, at least the snowy part. The 'gerbil wheel', the 1k fake snow loop at Elm Creek Park Reserve, is open but every nordic ski team in the area is there now and I get bored after going around it 10 or 12 times anyhow. Nope, I think we will wait for the real thing. We just hope it shows up in manageable doses.

Closed circuit to world: I don't give a damn what you do for a living

2011-12-08T05:36:00.004-06:00

Tis the season for holiday parties, lots of social mingling, and meeting new people. If you happen to meet me at some point over the next month, and want me to think you are a shallow, insecure, status conscious idiot, please ask me in the first minute or so of conversation, "So, what do you do for a living?". It happened to me twice yesterday. The first guy I was sort of civil to and told, albeit in an 'aw shucks' rube-like accent, "I sell stickers!". The woman that asked was so smarmy and obviously attempting to see if I had a status or social level worthy of her conversation time, that I told her I was the entertainment booking agent at the Club Seville in downtown Minneapolis. It turns out that my buddy Schu is a part owner of that fine establishment, the most high end 'Gentleman's Club' in the area. He has told me that if I want to meet a famous Laker basketball player, a man who had some trouble in Colorado a few years back, all I needed to do was be at the club about an hour after the Lakers played the Timberwolves. In any event, my comment and eager explanation of the mechanics of my 'job' made the woman back away to find another poor sap to quiz on his status and income.

I am trying to think of something more uninteresting for either you or I than what either of us does to put bread on the table. Nothing comes to mind. Even 'where are you from' or 'nice jacket, where did you get that?' have more value and conversation potential than the hated and overused 'what do you do for a living?' I've responded with 'I work my ass off so I can retire young' a few times, hoping the comeback would be a question about what I plan to to with that retirement time; that would be a conversation starter for sure. Unfortunately theusual response is an attempt to drill down and find out what they really pay me for so I can be categorized or cubbyholed in their tiny little minds. The thing that I really and truly don't give a rat's scabby behind about however, is what YOU do for a living. I swear to god, I absolutely do not care about your career. Whether you were an assistant to Mother Theresa or the slimiest used car salesman in the state, I just don't think its relevant to anything that I care to know or learn about you. I don't care if you are a self made millionaire or don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. If you feel that your entire identity and soul are tightly wrapped around your career then I'm probably not interested in knowing you because you won't have time to do anything fun with me anyhow, you'll be too obsessed with working. I'll be honest; I don't like to work. I guess that's why they call it work. I see the value, in that my vocation gives me the means to pursue my avocations, and I realize that in business networking (one of my least favorite terms) I need to have my cute and polished little 'elevator speech' for prospective clients. I also really like steak a lot better than Alpo so I'd better save for that retirement. But to talk about work in a purely social setting, usually in conjunction with a party or some outdoor activity eg. kayaking, skiing, hunting, to me is more boring than watching a bridge rust.

OK, OK, tirade over for now. I would however, appreciate comments and any smart ass comebacks for that insipid question when it gets asked. Perhaps if we all cut those bozos off at the knees it will stimulate intelligent and meaningful conversations throughout the holiday season. Discussing what you do when you aren't at work makes for a much livelier and worthwhile conversation. Lets keep that in mind as we circulate, spreading our own little brand of holiday cheer, during this Christmas season.

Deer Camp Reprise

2011-12-04T20:30:00.016-06:00

It seems like I always do an overall review about what went on at Reefer Creek deer camp over the nine days of 'Holy Week' and I don't think my 'cold and boring' post did the week justice. I was a bit distracted by the SKOAC slide night last week and it's thought provoking presentations. The physical and mental aspects of spending nine days in the hinterlands is great writing fodder and I need to expand on the week in order to both put it into perspective and also to put it to rest in my over active brain.

The most overriding fact of deer camp is that the worst nine days of deer camp is head and shoulders above the nine best days of work. I don't think anyone can argue with that fact. When a person goes in with that attitude, its tough to be critical but I can compare it with other deer hunting experiences I've had. The friends, the traditions, the routines and common vocabulary connect us all at the most basic level. I used to hunt at a camp down near Modena, WI. A good group but they designated the stands in an almost engineer-like manner. Names like Gold 1, 2, 3 or Red 3, 4, 5. Another camp I hunted out of in the Lake Itasca region of Minnesota pretty much excluded women from the hunt. At least a couple 'camps' were located in buildings that are arguably more plush than our townhouse. To each his or her own, but I think we do it right.

In the Lake Superior region that stretches across the UP, through Wisconsin, and into northern Minnesota the phrase 'deer camp' has three distinct and interchangeable meanings. 'The camp' can be the actual building and/or grounds such as, "I'm heading up to camp late Friday". It can also be the nine days of the season as in "We had a pretty damn good camp this year". Finally, it can be the people involved like, "I've never seen a camp inhale so much chicken, dumplings, and beer before". Usually these three distinctions blend and meld together like that big pot of chicken and dumplings to encompass all three iterations. Like the previous post on the Thrill, the whole point of deer camp is to have fun. It's nice to get venison but for years the deer were sparse and that was the case again this year. Whether this was due to the small size of the herd or hunter incompetence on our part is uncertain. But good food, good friends, a quality hunt, and the cameraderie have always been at the forefront of the experience. Heck, we have people who have forgotten knife, gun, and rope for almost a quarter century now, but they still come up for the unique ambiance. Regarding some of the issues at other camps mentioned earlier, our stand designation is organic. They pretty much name themselves. A guy hurts his knee building a stand and it becomes Wounded Knee. Miss a deer and drill an arrow into an aspen tree that's impossible to remove?: Excalibur. He who removes this arrow shall be king of Reefer Creek. Ground a bit swampy on the way to the blind? Noah's Blind. Take your first buck from the stand on Thanksgiving Day? The Virgin Turkey stand. They really do name themselves. We also love our women hunters and hangers on. The GurneyGranny and MadCityMary chase the elusive buck year after year. GG shot two eight pointers on opening day in '09, much to the chagrin (not really) of we menly men and MCM has some fine racks on the wall. The VOR, StAnnOfLittleCanada, FunSisterBarbie, and other women who have no interest in killing bucks wander in at out at random and are perfectly comfortable at the joint. It can be an interesting wander in as well. Isolation is part of the deal and to get there you need to take the state highway to the county trunk to the gravel town road to the marginal dead end town road, two ruts with grass growing in the middle. The road dead ends, just stops, at the creek and its roughly a 1/4 mile, or a 'forty' as we like to say, hike into camp.
Once a person has arrived at camp they are treated to all the amenities of the early 20th century. Propane stove and lights, wood cook stove and pot belly for heat, as well as our green, long handled hand pump have been described here before. If heat is needed wood is split. If someone needs a drink they pump. Hungry? Fry up some venison bacon, slice off some venison bologna, or grill some venison backstraps. Being connected to the natural surroundings and having direct results of your actions without the intervention of the water utility, Xcel energy, of Kraft Foods is good for the soul. The hunt is top quality as well. There has been select logging, trail mowing and seeding with clover, and careful stand placement. To get to that stand, the rifle is grabbed off the rack by the door and the hunter strolls into the woods. OK, in the last decade we've acquired ATV's, but that's mainly to keep us graybeards from having a heart attack after dragging a 200# buck back to camp over hill and dale like we did in the old days. They are also nice for making firewood and hauling gravel for the road. I think I got up to 12mph one time this year, and that was mainly because of the gravel road improvements.

Deer were scarce on the buckpole this year. We saw lots of deer but no large bucks, except on the game camera at 2am. It's very apparent they are getting smarter than us. Wolf tracks and scat, bear, fisher, and a myriad of other animals, including my buddy Porky the porcupine share the woods. The concept of Quality Deer Management states that by harvesting only large bucks and anterless deer the herd gets healthier and inbreeding is reduced. We try to do that but lots of times that out of state $160 license that the KingOfIronwoodIsland and I have results, like this year, in the small buck winding up in the freezer. There are plenty of deer however, as evidenced by the browsing of the aspen that's naturally reproducing as well as the beating they give our evergreens that we plant in the spring. Weather this year ranged from near 50F bluebird weather to a six hour snowstorm and temps in the mid 20F range. All par for the course when we're two miles from the south shore of Gitchee Gumee.

Melded together, the factors outlined above make for my most enjoyable week of the year, my 'happy spot' as the VOR would say. It seems crazy but with all the skiing, kayaking, travel, and other distractions along the way, I'm already thinking about next November 16th and rolling into camp armed with rifles, a ridiculous amount of food, adult beverages, and the knowledge that no matter what happens in the woods this will once again be the best week of the year.

Remember the Thrill

2011-12-02T06:46:00.006-06:00

On Wednesday night SKOAC, the Superior Kayak & Outdoor Adventure Club, had its annual 'movie night' in the bowels of Midwest Mountaineering. This is a chance for club members and guests to get together and look at slides and video of the various outdoor endeavors, mainly kayaking, that had taken place over the past year of paddling. Other than running out of beer about halfway through the presentations, an egregious oversight that RonO helped to alleviate by adding several Rolling Rock's to the cooler from his truck stash, it was a great night. The beer shortage was precipitated in part by the overflow crowd and the presentations were excellent. They ranged from the Vasaloppet nordic ski relay, to bar stool races, to grizzly bear watching in Alaska, and to various kayak symposiums and trips around the Great Lakes. On one end of the spectrum were the PunctualGerman and Newman, who took a long wilderness paddle from Jackfish Bay near the Slate Islands down to Wawa at the end of September. It looked like a great 170 plus mile trip with some 'active water' on Gitchee Gumee and the discovery that 38 cans of Surly Furious in various hatches was not quite enough for a 7 day paddle that involved a windbound day or two. On the other end of the spectrum was a great presentation on the awe and wonder that one of our newer club members experienced on this years Lake Superior beginners trip, an overnite to Sand Island. It hearkened many of us back to our first time on Lake Superior in a kayak and provoked a great discussion of how that felt and the pure thrill of the experience.

The thrill and joy of paddling is something that seems to fall into the background at times. Endless instruction, gear tweaking and upgrading, focus on mileage and completing circumnavigations, whether it be Sand Island, Isle Royale, or Australia, seem at times to overshadow what should be the main focus of kayaking: it's simply one hell of a lot of fun. Whether you favor a high angle stroke or low angle, paddle a cedar stripper or a Valley Aquanaut, prefer a Greenland stick or a surf paddle, long shaft or short, or even favor a wet suit over a dry suit just doesn't make that much difference if you are not having fun and enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of being on the water under your own power. The goal is fun and there is no room for angst in my humble opinion. Too many times on a trip I've seen well meaning instructor types (and yes, I have looked in the mirror this morning) attempting to alter someones sculling draw or reverse paddle technique as they explore the sea caves. In the end it just doesn't make that much difference. Paddle, savor, and enjoy the moment. Have fun. Take in the wonder of your surroundings. All the other stuff, the skills improvement, hunt for higher and higher certifications, and the 35 mile days all have a place and value in their own right but I would submit that the overriding goal of getting out on the water in a long, skinny boat, is to have fun and soak up nature in a situation where you are in control.

I had invited two friends down to the event, a couple that lives on a lake north of the Twin Cities. They are interested in getting into paddling since they are now officially empty nesters and I thought it would be a good night to get some perspective and whet their appetites with all the slides of the various adventures. In the end I think I was the one that wound up having the 'aha moment' when that Sand Island beginners trip slide show made me remember and think about the Thrill. We live within a two hour drive of the worlds most impressive freshwater body of water. Getting new paddlers out on the water and watching and listening as they explore the sea caves, lighthouses, and moods of Gitchee Gumee is something we should all take vicarious pleasure in, no matter if their torso rotation is acceptable or not. And we should remember the Thrill.

(P.S. for those who mocked and ridiculed me as I attempted to get this video to work during my slides, here you go.....;) Jumping off a hunk of basalt into Lake Superior is indeed both a thrill and pure fun)

Cold as well as boring?

2011-11-28T06:46:00.008-06:00

This years Wisconsin gun season was pretty slow up at our camp on Reefer Creek. The largest buck was a forkhorn and only four deer were taken. Some venison for all, but a far cry from previous years. There were no deer taken at all until Wednesday, almost 5 days of solid hunting. What this meant was that there was no sleeping in, big buck hanging on the pole, and a lot more time spent in the woods. Most of that time was spent up in a tree stand, with weather ranging from 5oF and partial sun to a 6 hour snowstorm and 20F temperature drop when the snow ended. I figure I spent about 65 hours in the woods this season, 80% of which was spent sitting in a tree. The question I get asked the most by non hunters is almost always the two part, "So, didn't you get cold and isn't that really boring?".

The cold is actually the easier part to deal with because that's physical. If the hands and feet are warm the rest of you will be warm as well. Insulated over booties, a lovely blaze orange hand muff, and wool, wool, and more wool pretty much handle that cold part. The boredom part is mental and a bit tougher to deal with. The anticipation of the big buck walking past the stand tends to fade very quickly as the sky brightens on opening morning. This means the mind is free to wander without the external civilization sounds and stimulation that bombard us daily. A lot of my time is spent with the mental clutch disengaged, simply sitting there and watching, listening, and smelling the natural environment around me. I generally choose a spot that has a pretty nice view. It's a lot like a long open water crossing in a kayak; the whitewater guys can't understand how it can possibly be any fun without rapids, holes, and eddys but we all know the enjoyment we experience as we paddle along on the big water. I was not alone up there either. For three straight days a porcupine kept me company in the oak tree next to my spruce. He never hit the ground while I was there and for most of the time sat motionless on the end of a branch. Finches and Chickadees also kept me company, since I had my little homemade PET pop bottle sunflower seed feeder next to me. This is not purely altruistic, since deer won't be bothered by motion as much if the birds are flittering around. Bluejays and black, gray, and red squirrels visit as well, and its amazing how a gray squirrel can sound like a deer as it hops through the leaves. Which brings up the principal object of this mission, the deer. Plenty of deer passed by and even posed for some snap shots. I did not see a single antlered buck however, which left plenty of time for the mind to wander when there were no forest dwellers in the immediate area.

I can tell you about two things I did not think about, current events and work. This is after all, a vacation, the best vacation ever if the goal is rejuvenation. No civilization sounds while in the stand and no non relaxing thoughts. Dave's fantasy world is alive and well though. I usually shoot the Boone & Crockett record Whitetail buck, bequeath tons of money from my multi million dollar charitable trust to worthy causes, and enjoy a hot ski weekend at Klosters, Switzerland with Julia Roberts. I also take the occasional nap. I sometimes crawl down to the ground but I usually doze 15 feet in the air, belted safely to the tree, especially now with my new suspension harness system. If I adjust it just right it holds me sitting almost vertical as I snooze, I'm sure for only seconds at a time.

The object is hunting however and the snap of a twig, a doe blowing or buck grunting as they head towards me provides the instant adrenaline that all hunters are familiar with. Never mind that most of them are false alarms. Plus sitting and doing nothing seems to get easier and easier the more its done. I guess like most things, practice makes perfect. As I walked into work this morning I remembered that annual feeling of this being the most disconnected day of the year. Thinking about passwords, remembering conversations, making sense of work notes taken before leaving for the nine days in the 19th century is not an easy thing. But spending those nine days with the quiet, contemplation, and sights, smells, and sounds of the northern Wisconsin outdoors in early winter make it all worthwhile. In fact the computer, cell phone, meetings, and urban ambiance already have me thinking about next deer season.

Camp Cook

2011-11-17T06:28:00.008-06:00

This will be the last post until after Thanksgiving as I prepare to depart for the 19th century at our deer camp in western Bayfield County, Wisconsin, the nine days known as 'Holy Week' among Badger State deer hunters. . No electricity, running water, plumbing, or central heating at our little estate in the northwoods. The best thing about it is no connectivity for phones or internet wireless. Rumors are that as more cell towers are erected we will get service. The only advantage of that development would be that on the VOR's birthday, which unfortunately always falls during this week, I can call with birthday wishes from the camp instead of having to drive to a high spot on my wheeler and then stand up on the seat while wearing a tinfoil hat to get one bar reception. Cooking and heating at deer camp is done with propane, Humphrey propane lights and the beloved 1924 Detroit Jewel propane stove. I am the main camp cook on that venerable piece of equipment.

As deer hunting preparations reach a fever pitch, some folks are excited by a new rifle, hunting jacket, scent system, portable tree stand, or other gear that they have picked up. I'm excited by my new stock pot, a fine piece of cooking gear manufactured by Vollrath and acquired at the local restaurant supply store. The usual routine at a camp, and ours is no exception, is to bring some old piece of shit pot, pan, or knife that you don't want at home out to camp and proudly state, "Hey, we got a new (fill in the blank) at home and I thought I'd donate this one to the hunting camp". My thought in most cases is that it should have been donated to the garbage, which is what I actually do surreptitiously, one POS at a time. Please don't tell anyone. We have slowly acquired some knives that hold an edge, a fine aluminum Dutch Oven, stainless steel two burner griddle, vintage waffle maker, and some nice Revere Ware pots and pans. Along with venerable stanbys like the cast iron frying pans, good tools make for good chow and we are slowly but surely getting there after only 28 or 29 years or so.
The food that I cook has become very ritualized. If there are no burritos on Friday night, chicken and dumplings on Sunday night, or corned beef and cabbage on Tuesday night there is muttering, grumbling, and sullen bitching. Which is fine with me. Deer camp in Wisconsin is all about tradition and that's one of them. If the BearWhisperer didn't bring mom's apple crisp, and all the sandwich fixin's, if the KingOfIronwood didn't bring his healthful desserts, and if the GurneyGranny didn't acquire the Thanksgiving turkey, it just wouldn't be the same. I have my own little rituals as well. When I get to camp after the days hunt I get out of my heavy hunting clothes and into my cooking clothes, which is typically my longjohns. Over the years I've found cooking with my pants on to be very confining and have avoided the practice for decades now. The freedom of long underwear really helps get the creative juices flowing in the kitchen. Also, much like the pump in the yard, I'm much more productive if I'm primed before I begin supper. Depending on the day and the weather ouside, the primer could be three fingers of Bushmills, a glass of a fine red, or a cold bottle of Leinies. The camp is small enough so that I can actively participate in happy hour in the Eight of Better Lounge while preparing the meals. I also typically have plenty of help. This is because of the Third Commandment of Deer Camp: Thou shalt not put thy hands in dishwater if thou art one of the cooks. This where it get sketchy. Guys have opened the oven door for me and tried to count it as cooking. Cans have been opened and sauces stirred on the Jewel with similar claims. I am above it all however, letting them squabble over who cleans up the mess as I happily prepare the grub. If you will note in the lead image, there is a nice new chef's knife that will be taken to camp and cleverly hidden. It's the only sure way to keep it sharp since bad kitchen knife ideas like cutting rope, sawing at a piece of wood, or shaving the end off a piece of PVC pipe with a (formerly) sharp knife don't seem to register with some of the group.

Tomorrow I will be delivering the VOR and GraciousPartier to the airport on their way to St Louis to visit GalwayGuy. I will then head directly north to the camp. I may get out in the woods to look around but it's more likely that the necessary priming will begin immediately. I can only hope that, unlike last year, burritos are on the menu. I hate to hear whimpering on the very first night. I have also added the following very satisfying message to the Out of Office reply on my work email:

I will be out of the office the entire week of Thanksgiving on a humanitarian mission, assisting in reducing the potential for car/deer collissions in Northern Wisconsin. I will have zero connectivity for that period.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone and may you enjoy a shopping free Black Friday. I'll be in the woods both days.

Perseverance

2011-11-14T06:31:00.010-06:00

It was a gorgeous weekend in northern Wisconsin, just a couple miles south of the big lake. The plan was to finish fencing the cedar trees we had planted in the spring and then trying to reduce the number of cedar eaters in the vicinity with our archery equipment. Since I am a multi-tasker, and the Sunday forecast was for 15-20mph winds with waves building to 3-5', I had the Delphin on the roof and planned on some surfing at the mouth of the Brule where the waves against the steady current of the river would make for some interesting sport. Unfortunately the wind and waves never showed up which was actually fortunate because neither did I. We had a wounded buck to track.

The GurneyGranny shot a six point buck from her stand, Twin Towers, on Sunday morning and after waiting the prescribed hour or so we began tracking. Podman, the KingOfIronwoodIsland, GG, and Yours Truly set off at 10am following an increasingly sparse blood trail. The buck circled back and headed for the creek, a tactic we knew well but we still lost the trail a half dozen times. To find the trail again we hang a piece of ribbon in a tree and then begin circling until the trail is struck once more. We jumped the wounded deer on the other side of the creek and it was obvious the wound was mortal but we wanted to dispatch the buck and not have it elude us somehow. We trailed it up and over the ridge, down into the valley of another small creek, and then followed as it circled around back down into the small creek valley. In the interim GG managed to hit him with another arrow and on the other side of the small creek, in an area littered with fallen trees, the King managed to finally dispatch the buck. It was six hours after the initial arrow had been released, five hours after the tracking process began.

There are several things to think about here. One obvious one is that we all need to practice more with our bows. We all shoot but we don't necessarily do it from a sitting position 15 feet up in a tree. I, for one, am guilty as hell of that. We owe it to the deer to be the best we can with bow and rifle for that clean kill. However a misplaced twig, a deer that suddenly moves, or almost anything else can throw an arrow off target, its just not that easy people. The fact is that the clean kill doesn't always happen, no matter how we wish for and train for it, and that's where the other lessons come in, the ones involving perseverance, the doctrine of fair chase, and having a good hunting ethic. No one wanted to be trailing a deer through the thick brush but no one suggested we give up either. If we lost the trail once we lost it twenty times, but each time we circled and found that drop of blood on a blade of grass and kept going. Had we not found the buck most certainly others would have. The King left his stand early when a pack of coyotes headed in his direction Saturday night. While Wisconsin coyotes are not known to eat Yoopers, it's one thing to know that intellectually and quite another to have them howling on the same 40 acres with you as the sun goes down and camp is a half hour hike in the dark. We heard the wolves as well and I damn near hit a big black bear on the way home. Between the scavengers on the ground and the crows, ravens, eagles, and even fat loving chickadees that are bulking up for winter, the deer would have been appreciated and utilized by the fauna and flora in the area. But we started this thing and damn well meant to finish it.

By the time the deer was field dressed and on the wheeler for the ride back to camp we were all pretty much just happy to be done. We had forgotten to bring any lunch and water was on short rations. I even forgot to give GG the traditional manly handshake/forearm grasp (OK, OK, she gets a hug, I confess) congratulating her on harvesting some venison. But it was most definitely the right thing to do and for experienced hunters like the foursome in the woods yesterday, hunters with the skill and perseverance to track and dispatch a wounded buck, there was a certain element of pride and satisfaction about the end result. Meat in the freezer and a successful end to bow season, combined with that sense of accomplishment.That's not a bad way to spend a beautiful fall afternoon in the northwoods.

(note:Most images are from a prior bowhunt in 2008, the one above from last years gun camp.)

Paddle? In a storm like this??

2011-11-11T06:51:00.010-06:00

We all received the same reaction from our co-workers as we compared notes after arriving at the boat launch on the west end of Lake Minnetonka for the 7th annual Gales of November paddle. We try to hold this event on or close to the anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald on November 10, 1975 as possible, unless it falls on a weekend. One of the main points of this gathering is to play hookey from work in the afternoon, usually confounding our co-workers as we did yesterday. The comments were basically questioning our sanity and wondering how a person could have fun in snow flurries, 38F air temp and 42F water temp, with a brisk northwest wind. After surviving yesterdays ordeal I'm going to have admit to them today, when I get to work, that they were right. It was pure hell and we all wondered why we didn't just stay at our warm and cozy desks rather than venturing out in the foul weather.

First of all our launch was delayed by the MN DNR truck stocking muskies in the lake. We stood shivering in our dry suits as net after net of pure strain muskies were pitched into the lake. When we finally got on the water we were all alone, per our co workers prediction that no one else would be dumb enough to venture on to this 14,000 acre urban lake with its thirty plus islands in these treacherous conditions. We snaked our way through channels and under several pesky bridges where the wind funneling the water through the bridge opening made for nasty paddling in the cold water.

We finally reached our destination of Goose Island, an island with a couple fire rings and nothing else on it. We immediately started a fire to warm our frozen toes and fingers, wondering what the heck we were doing out there. Almost at the same time the fire was lit the adult beverages were also opened, an impressive array of microbrewed beers, fine white and red wines, and hot chocolate with Kahlua to warm our chilly cores.

We sat shivering and watched the sun go down in the west. Even the snacks and appetizers could not alter our sullen mood, an attitude clearly visible in the image above. Then, just as we thought we would be able to practice our night navigation skills and paddle back to the launch site in the inky darkness with some 'walleye chop' to test our skills, the wind died down, the lake turned to glass, and the moon came out. It was as bright as day when we paddled back to our vehicles, no fun at all on what was supposed to be a valuable learning experience. It was 31F now and our boats, paddles and other gear had a fine coating of ice on them. We loaded up and adjourned to the Narrows Saloon in Navarre, where the difficult decision of which microbrewed beer to select was finally made, brains partially frozen from the paddle. Alaskan Amber and DeSchutes Black Butte Porter were selected and the debrief began. We wound up listening to the band in relative silence as we mulled over the traumatic November paddle we had just completed.

Fellow work colleagues, you were absolutely right. Venturing out on to the lake this time of year, weather hovering near freezing was a terrible experience. However, like child birth I'm told, the human mind will block these bad memories over time. I'm certain that by next year the lesson of yesterday will be forgotten and the usual collection of saps will take to the water and subject themselves and their equipment to abuse for yet another year. This can be a cautionary tale however, to those folks heading out to paddle this weekend, at least two groups that I'm aware of: Don't do it! Watch some football, maybe even Penn State, and avoid those nasty conditions. Me? I'll be hiding up in a tree. Happy weekend folks, and don't forget our veterans on this 93rd anniversary of the end of 'the war to end all wars'. Don't we wish!

Last Superior paddle for 2011?

2011-11-04T06:09:00.009-05:00

Last Sunday morning found me leaving the detrius of the Grouse Kill and heading to Red Cliff for an attempted rendezvous with an intrepid foursome coming the Oak 1 site on the south spit. Early rising and an early departure from that event is more easily said than done for multiple reasons, but I figured that only two nights camping would leave enough room in their hatches for at least thirty plus cans of Surly Furious, which would put us on roughly the same schedule. I was wrong. Just as I was launching I was surprised by the PunctualGerman and ManFromSnowyLegs coming around the breakwall with RonO and Newman close behind. They tried to persuade me that Fitgers Brewing would be a good place to be since it was raining lightly and the wind was building, but I was geared up and ready to paddle. I will also admit that after the Grouse Kill weekend the thought of more beer was not a primary motivator.

When I rounded the Red Cliff breakwater I was the only person on the lake. I met some bowhunters at the launch who were coming off Basswood Island with three deer in their boats. They were from a combination of Wisconsin locations, including Rhinelander and the Reedsberg area, and were obviously experienced guys as I checked out their clothes, boats, and gear. They had hauled bows and tree stands to Basswood and had a great weekend with a productive, quality, and out of the ordinary hunting adventure. The fact that they were experienced guys was driven home when one of them asked me, as I prepared to launch and wished them good luck, "Are you gonna be safe out there all by your lonesome?". That question was echoed Thursday by a Lake Superior sailor, actually a competitor in my business, as we stood, bored as two humans could be, at an industry trade show in downtown Minneapolis. He said his wife always insisted on heading back to port when thunderstorms were in the forecast and the 'is it safe?' was always the primary concern out on the big lake. He asked the same question as the bowhunters when I told him about what may be my last kayak trip on Gitchee Gumee for the season.

While a person is never perfectly safe solo on Lake Superior I felt that I was plenty safe. I never want to be 'perfectly safe', I find that even more boring than a Medical Device Manufacturer's trade show if that's possible. I will admit that I did mentally run through my gear list when it became apparent that Fitgers and not Basswood Island was beckoning the Oak Island quartet. Radio with charged batteries, paddle float/bilge pump, first aid kit, dry suit, pfd, spare paddle,whistle, light....check, check, and check. The wind was building from the south, the waves were beginning to cap with about a 20 mile fetch from Ashland, and the rain was intermittent with water temp around 45F and the air just about the same. It was a day when some fun could be had and I certainly had some. I paddled straight across to the Basswood dock to check out the new construction. It's good that the area is out of the wilderness zone. I'd hate to have to put in a new dock with an army of people with shovels. Or would a shovel be a 'mechanical assist'? There are some interesting requirements when we invent a wilderness area. The second wave of fall colors was evident after the red maple leaves had dropped and the golds and yellows of the oak and aspen were in full swing and the smell of fall combined with the fresh smell of the lake was intoxicating. I paddled south to the floating rock at the north end of Basswood, thought about crossing to Oak but was too lazy to paddle back upwind so I snuck south along the shoreline to the south end of Basswood where all the individual campsites are located. I would not have wanted to attempt a landing there with the south wind but, as I mentioned, I was by myself so no one needed to attempt a landing.
I have friends in the area that paddle solo most of the time, either due to spur of the moment decisions where no other paddlers are available, or just to clear the cobwebs from the brain. I rarely have the opportunity to paddle solo, social animal that I am, but I must say I savor the freedom from time to time. The decision not to hit Oak, seen looming between Red Cliff Pt and the north end of Basswood above, required no debate or discussion. I just edged the Explorer, took a couple sweep strokes for the 180, and down the shore of Basswood I went. Not only did I feel (almost) perfectly safe but I also had the feeling that I was the only guy in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore that was on the water. I could see a long, long way and no sail, motor noises, wakes, or paddle flashes were evident. I guess that's what made it the great paddle that it was, the mix of solitude, self reliance, and quality thinking time on my favorite body of water.

Lake Superior Herring....or is it Cisco?

2011-11-02T06:03:00.008-05:00

I ate some herring last night. Actually I ate lots of herring last night. This was not pickled herring, the modifier our brains typically put in front of the word 'herring', or the disgusting creamed herring that some of my relatives of Scandanavian descent savor. This was fresh, sweet Lake Superior herring, prepared by some of the best executive chefs in the area, and served as part of an event sponsored by Minnesota Sea Grant called A Salute to Lake Superior's Sustainable Fisheries. Restaurants like Fire Lake Grill House, Stella's Fish Cafe, and the Oceanaire Seafood Room were involved in creating the entrees, which were judged in a competition endorsed by the American Culinary Federation, with a grand prize of $1,000. A cash bar was available and Michael Monroe, the eclectic Grand Marais singer/songwriter came down, along with the herring, from Grand Marais, MN to perform at the event. It was his website that alerted the VOR, a big fan along with her sisters, of this event. I kinda favor Jimmy Page and Robert Plant but the music was fine.

The event was held on the U of M campus in the McNamara Alumni Center, a building that always rankles me a bit because they tore down Memorial Stadium to build it and then played losing football for 25 years at the giant, sterile, teflon smelling pot pie, the HHH Metrodome downtown. Now there is a brand spanking new outdoor stadium right across the street. It is a great space however, and the event was wonderful for both the VOR, a big sustainable local food advocate in her job of feeding 11,000 kids a day, and for me, an 'early herring adaptor' according to the VOR. In the little restaurants around the lake a diner can get herring in season and I always order it. Places like the Angry Trout in Grand Marais, MN, Don & GG's in Ironwood, MI, and the Village Inn in Cornucopia, WI have lake herring on the menu, especially now during the spawning season when a lot of the catch is harvested. I noticed the 'fresh herring' sign on the Halvorsen's Commercial Fishery operation in Cornie on my way through Sunday, but they were closed. As good as the herring entrees are at those restaurants, the chefs at the McNamara Center last night took it to another level. Herring and fresh micro greens salad garnished with herring caviar, blue cheese risotto with sauteed herring and a squash based reduction, mashed parsnips with coriander, caramelized apples with Panko breaded herring, Nepalese dumplings with saffron infused herring and a lentil sauce............hell yeah I ate some herring; I ate a pile of herring and so did most everyone else at the event. As you can see from the food shots with my lovely 'herring model' the food was outstanding and I'm glad I wasn't the judge, although my favorite, an entree that I had to sample twice just to make sure, won the silver medal.

I spoke with most of the chefs and this was the first time that many had been exposed to fresh Lake Superior herring and all were impressed by the quality of the fish. One compared it to the reef fish that he would buy from fishermen when he learned his trade in Hawaii and said that if there was a distribution system that could get the herring here as fresh as the ocean fish that are flown in daily, it would be a great seller. That and coming up with another name. He mentioned that he once served Lake Superior Whitefish as 'freshwater char' and it flew out of the kitchen. It reminds me of the conversation I had with a brewer in St Louis about his 'session IPA'. I told him it tasted suspicously similiar to a good bitter or ESB and he confessed that he had indeed brewed a bitter. He said that people shy away from the word 'bitter' (speak for yourself buddy) and that he sold a lot more 'session IPA' than had he called his beer bitter, even though they were identical brews. I talked the Red Rocks crew from Iowa and Nebraska into some fresh whitefish at the Village Inn in Cornie when we were storm bound and they all raved about it. Yet I suspect a few burgers would have been ordered had I not pointed out the virtues of the whitefish, which came out of the lake about 4 hours earlier.

You can read about the rebound of the herring population in Gitchee Gumee and its life cycle here. There is also a recipe or two on this site. It's a great fish, high on Omega 3's, and it tastes wonderful as well, a claim that can not be made for all 'healthy' foods. It dovetails nicely with the Eat Local and sustainable food movements and it's great on the grill. In fact I may need to talk the GurneyGranny into picking up some fresh herring on the way to deer camp this weekend.

Next time you are in a restaurant around the lake and see herring or cisco on the menu, give it a shot. You won't be disappointed and perhaps the lake herring, which the taxonomists now officially refer to as cisco, can filter its way inland and become a staple like the venerated walleye, a fish not nearly as interesting in the taste department as the lake herring.....sorry, the cisco.

Multitasking at the Annual Grouse Kill weekend

2011-10-31T06:15:00.010-05:00

Last weekend was the long standing Annual Grouse Kill up at Camp O near the Wisconsin-Northern Michigan border. This is typically the weekend that reminds me that fall is in full swing and its time to dial the kayak activity back and ramp up shotgun, bow and arrow, and rifle related focus. It's also a time to hang with friends, cronies, ne'er do wells, and other folks that are seen only once or maybe twice a year. It's a weekend where a person can do pretty much whatever they want to, as many times as they want to. For some this weekend results in sore muscles, others hangovers that require sleeping until noon, and yet others a more sharpened focus on issues of the day. It's similar to the line from the old Arlo Guthrie tune, "You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant".

The Bar That Never Closes is the focal point for the dining, music, and adult beverage intake at this event and the liberating feeling of not having to worry about 'last call' is a freedom that some are unable to manage. A professional musician, who shall remain nameless, allegedly forgot the words to one of his bread and butter songs, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, after perhaps one too many duets with our pal Jose Cuervo. More than one keg went through the Karl O. Rohlich Memorial tapper but no one got anywhere near a motor vehicle, which is another charming aspect of the weekend.

There is some work to be done this weekend although I'm not sure if the dock and pontoon pulling was ever accomplished. Winter is harsh with several feet of snow in the area and things need to be buttoned down and boarded up. Wood needs to be made since that is the only form of central heat in the majority of the buildings in the complex. The water needs to be dealt with because frozen pipes are never any fun, and a number of other things need to handled to avoid headaches in the spring when the opening of the complex, the Annual Bark Bay Fishing Invitational, is held. One new addition to the joint was a wood fired pizza and bread oven that was utilized quite effectively and also used to cook the prime rib dinner for Saturday night.

One of the aspect of the fall that we enjoy/suffer with is the Wisconsin Badger football team. For the second week in a row hearts were broken and spirits stomped upon by a last second defensive choke. The WoodFondlingBarrister, a man who would overlook almost any scandal or 3.7% graduation rate if only they would win consistently, is shown in these two photos the first at the very height of elation as the Badger offense scores with under two minutes left to take the lead. The feverish high fives began when the radio annoucer screamed (question from the VOR: "why do they always have to yell all the time?".) TOUCHDOWN WISCONSI!!. The suicidal appearance in the second image is after the Badger defense forgets that covering receivers in the end zone is a key aspect to winning close games, an issue eerily reminiscent of last Saturday night in East Lansing. We were able to calm him down and steer him over to the poker table, where he was summarily cleaned out, before he could do harm to himself or others.

Even though the name of this event is the Annual Grouse Kill no grouse were harmed in this years production. Theywere pursued though, and at least three were scared badly by a loud noise and a cloud of shotgun pellets passing either above, below, in front of, or behind them. The population swings up and down on a 10 year cycle which biologists haven't really figured out yet and it would seem that we are somewhere in the middle of that cycle this year.

On a more serious note a bunch of us toured the proposed site of what the GTAC mining company would like to be the Gogebic iron mine, less than five miles from Camp O. I will write more on this in another post, but it is some beautiful land with lots of streams, waterfalls, and other natural assets. The range is clearly visible as the Podman, plat book in hand, points it out to the group. Turning it from the Gogebic range into Gogebic valley is something that needs some long, hard thinking and research.

I ended the weekend on Lake Superior, possibly the last paddle of the year on the big lake. There was a nice south wind with surfable waves and I was the only person on the water that I could see for 20 miles in any direction. I paddled around Lake O Saturday and confirmed that the water is indeed turning over, and that I should have worn gloves when rolling. The 180F sauna was very welcome after that chilly session. It was a great weekend to paddle but wandering through the woods with a shotgun, smelling the leaves and breathing the crisp fall air had definitely triggered the hunting season in my head. I will get out on the water, most notably the annual Gales of November paddle honoring the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald on 10 November but my mental switch has been flipped. Out to da blind as they say in northen Wisconsin and the UP.

Sea kayak Ireland

2011-10-25T06:00:00.006-05:00

We did not manage to get into boats while in Ireland and in fact saw very few sea kayaks in harbors and quay areas. We did notice a fair number of river kayaks and the water was running high and fast due to the rains from the Shannon estuary up to Clew Bay in Mayo. The sea kayaking potential in the area seems to be phenomenal though. Islands, sea stack, sea caves, and both exposed areas and sheltered bays appear to be tailor made to get out in a boat and play. Here are a few spots that would seem to be perfect.

Ballyvaughn is a small village on the south side of Galway Bay. It has one of the finer seafood pubs I've been in, Monk's Pub right on the water, and a dangerous whiskey bar that has a dazzling array of rare Irish whiskey and an independent owner that opens when he damn well feels like it, usually around 4 or 5pm. I have done three cycling tours with Irish Cycling Safaris, a Dublin tour company that I can highly recommend. On one of them we spent a rest day in Ballyvaughn and a few of us kayaked the bay with the local outfitter who, I was informed by the locals, has returned to Brittany. As much as I love Lake Superior there just aren't that many seals to view or tidal races to play in. Its well into Galway Bay but the Atlantic swell is still pronounced and adds to the fun.

The Cliffs of Moher, a major tourist attraction and finalist in the Seven Wonders of the Natural World contest looked like some crazy paddling. I think both Chris Duff and our local Marquette guy, Sam Crowley, would have to say that paddling at the base of 900 foot sea cliffs was a spectacular experience. We watched the big Atlantic swells from the top and when the waves and wind combined to throw salt spray 1,000 feet in the air and spot my camera lens, we figured it might be a bit more than we were interested in that particular day. There is a new company in Doolin, home of traditional Irish music on the west coast, called North Clare Sea Kayak Touring Co, which does local lakes, rivers, Ballyvaughn area, and Liscannor Bay on the Atlantic. We will need to check them out next trip over.

On this land based trip we decided to hike to the top of Croagh Patrick, the mountain where St Patrick allegedly drove the snakes out of Ireland. This could have been a religious pilgrimage had we climbed a couple months earlier. Three stations involving several Our Fathers and Hail Mary's, and for some a barefoot climb as an act of penance, are part of the experience for the devout but since we were there on an off month (and my feet hurt) we decided to just climb the thing with our boots on. Unfortunately we did not make it. 50mph wind gusts with an intermittent rain made for a challenging day. The summit was in the clouds and when a couple experienced hikers who had climbed 'The Reek' many times told us that it was too windy and too foggy to summit, making the path back down difficult to find we listened. Plus I had seen a sign at the Murrisk village pub we parked next to with their motto: "The pint you seek when you climb The Reek". On our way back down we had a fabulous view of Clew Bay and its hundreds of islands and remarked that the kayaking would appear to be superb in that bay. Its the home of Grace O'Malley, the Pirate Queen, the woman who ruled western Ireland in the 16th century and faced down Queen Elizabeth I. We did some checking and found that there is a mobile sea kayaking company that shuttles paddlers out of Westport at the head of Clew Bay called Saoirse Na Mara Sea Kayaking. Once again, another thing to check out on a return visit.

We had a wonderful land and pub based trip and saw some amazing sights, met some interesting people, listened to some fine traditional music, and sipped some sublime pints of Guinness. Don't tell anyone but the VoiceOfReason would appear to have developed into a connoisseur of 'the Devil's Buttermilk', remarking on the subtleties that one finds from pub to pub in the Guinness. We did hear the siren's song of the long skinny boats however and next time we are in the west of Ireland we plan to listen to that song and get out on the water.

Another 'progressive' Minnesota beer law

2011-10-19T02:51:00.004-05:00

Since I am in Ireland this week, combining business with pleasure, and the fellow I paddled with on Galway Bay in Ballyvaughn is back in Brittany with his kayak touring business shut down for the season, I guess I might as well write about beer. The contraption at the top of the post is called Arthurs Table, a double tap unit that beer lovers can sit around and draw their own beers. The unit is metered and set up to pay by the pint. The one above is in Doolin, Co Clare but there was one in Minneapolis at The Local and I made many a black and tan from it at an industry reception that my company held last year. I won't be making any this year however, because the City of Minneapolis shut it down.

When I got the note about this torpedo that the city fired at our little event in November, I immediately got in touch with the city councilman for our ward. Kevin Reich got back to me immediately and said that although the city inspectors indeed shut the tap unit down, it was at the behest of the state and their liquor laws. It was explained that since the bartenders did not control the unit there was a great danger of serving those who had been overserved as well as minors. That is a lame argument at the very best. Bars can't let minors in unless they are with their parents. There are bartenders and waitressed all over the place that can check on drunks and ask them to leave. Plus, I don't know about anyone else but if I'm paying for the beers I'm not going to pull a pint for anyone I don't know or isn't part of my group. It would be the same for a group sitting around the table. What's the likelihood of a drunk stranger or 16 year old sidling up and getting you to pour them a beer? Pretty damn poor in my opinion.

No alcohol on Sunday, breweries that couldn't sell their own pints on premise, the marvel of '3.2 beer', no beer sales at the grocery store, etc., etc. The list goes on. When it comes to getting a beer Minnesota is indeed The State Where Nothing is Allowed. When I get back to good old Minnesota I will continue to harass my state legislators on the issue (among a few others) but for now its frothy, rich, lovely pints of Guinness. In short, less posting more Guinness consumption. until Sunday anyway.

Day Two - Rock Gardening

2011-10-13T06:54:00.006-05:00

This post is not about Japanese rock gardens but rather the sea kayaking equivalent of a whitewater slalom run down a rocky river. The difference is that the water is moving in both a horizontal and vertical plane, yet another dimension of paddling fun. While the wind and waves were a bit anemic, we still had enough water flowing around the rocks to leave us high and dry in the teeter tottering position more than once. Those of us in composite boats also left a few noticeable gelcoat deposits on the ancient rocks surrounding Presque Isle in Marquette.

As happy as I was to have had the Delphin the day before in the surf, I was even happier to have it as we squeezed through some cracks and crevices in the rocks. Once again we had a great group of paddlers with Scott Fairty lead coach and Alex Bloyd Peshkin assisting. We also had Randy Henriksen, all the way from Manhattan, with a trailer load of Tiderace boats for us to test paddle. I'm not sure that a new bright red Tiderace Xtreme would have been my first choice to tangle with some of the oldest exposed rock formations in North America but hey, it ain't my boat! We sand paddlers from the Apostle Islands area had a blast in the nooks and crannies of the black rock that jutted out into Lake Superior from Presque Isle Park. Probably my biggest 'aha moment' was that certain strokes that I'd seen, practiced, and promptly forgot because I could see no earthly use for them, were suddenly effective and even necessary when six inches away from a rock face. One of the tougher things to keep focused on was the twin role of student and coach. Trying to learn the skill properly and then figure out how to present it and pass it on to students made my head hurt at times but it was all good.

One of the highlights of the afternoon had more to do with rock climbing than paddling. Our group came upon what the lawyers call an 'attractive nuisance', loosely defined as a dangerous condition that tends to attract children....or kayakers with the mental age of 14. In this case it happened to be a roughly 15 foot cliff that exuded the siren song of 'climb up here and jump off me, just jump off me'. So we did. The drill was to paddle next to the cliff, stand up in your boat, grab the hand and foot holds on the cliff, and give the boat a shove with the free foot. We got some looks from a couple of hardy Yoopers wearing swim suits with our dry suits and helmets, but it was great fun for all concerned. A couple cowboys and a couple T rescues and we were on our way again, playing and learning in the undulating waves along the rocks.

Once again a great day of paddling at a great event. It would appear we may have been a week too early since the nearshore for Marquette today calls for gale warnings, NW wind to 30 knots, gusts to 37mph and waves building to 8-11 feet. Nonetheless we found conditions, whether they were on Lake Michigan, the Menomonie River, or right in the city of Marquette. Now if I can only figure out an easy way to get up to Naturally Superior in Wawa for next years event........

Chasing the waves

2011-10-11T05:28:00.005-05:00

When we left the deer camp on Friday the wind was beginning to blow. We had knocked three hours off the drive to Marquette by meeting Pod at camp Thursday night and enjoyed a hot sauna, and some new beers including Hop Dog Double IPA from Anchorage, AK (courtesy of RonO) and a nice brown ale, Third Stone, from Lincoln, NE (courtesy of the UndergroundHippie from Omaha). The wind was supposed to ramp up to the 20-25 knot range and blow all night, excellent weather for the Gales Storm Gathering except for one small problem. The wind was from the south which means the Marquette area would be in the lee.

No worries Saturday morning however, as we were paid a personal predawn visit by LordSurf himself, Keith Wikle at our spartan state park cabin, a half mile off the trailhead. We were informed that if we wanted to surf, a crew was heading 90 minutes south of Marquette to Manistique, MI where that south blow had been building waves all the way up Lake Michigan from Chicago for the past 24 hours. The last thing any of us wanted to do was drive more and we had decided to stick to our Pictured Rocks and rock gardening plans until we hit Downwind Sports and were informed that everyone was heading to Manistique. So off we went.

The Manistique River flows into Lake Michigan and is protected by a large breakwater with a lighthouse, the perfect place to launch. Beyond the breakwater the waves were a steady 3-5 foot with plenty of seven footers, especially at a shoal area 400 yards off the light. Our coach was Mike McDonald, a fellow I'd worked with before up at the Great Lakes kayak symposium, a skinny stick guy who helped me master the elusive forward finishing roll. The students were me, RonO, the ManFromSnowyLegs, the PunctualGerman, and RickH, my buddy from Illinois. A quick word on waves and 'wave inflation'. One of the first things we did was determine how big the water was. If a buddy disappears in the trough of the next wave it's at least three feet. If you are counting 'thousand one, thousand two......' before they pop up the waves are higher. Try sitting down next to your car. Most car roofs are roughly five feet off the ground. As you look up at the roof from the vantage point of your butt, imagine the car rolling in your direction. That's a five footer. There were plenty of waves that day that were bigger including the one that 'window shaded' me shortly after we got out into conditions.

As I was sliding up the wave it began to break. I quickly leaned into the wave but was a hair too late and I turned my low brace into the setup for my roll. When I came up I told myself, "OK self, we are officially now paying attention". RonO saw the 'performance' and had a smile on his face. It was a great day on the water. We surfed, broke out through the surf, worked on boat handling, did some rescues, some stroke refinement, and were made aware of some little yet crucial things. When MSFL attempted a roll he discovered that his drysuit had not been completely burped which prevented him from getting under the boat. I learned that I was about a boat length too far away for a bow rescue and we wound up doing our first T rescue of the day. Later Rick took a swim in the surf and the PG got him back in his boat very nicely with a 'T'. The most spectacular moment of the afternoon was when the MSFL got broached by a big wave in exactly the same spot that I had my rolling practice earlier. It was surfing him toward the rock breakwater and then window shaded him and he rolled up. Still on the wave, he went over again and when he rolled up for the second time his boat was pointed the correct way for him to paddle off the thing. We both agreed that it was some of the best learning of the day. Like downhill skiing, if you don't fall a couple times you just ain't pushin' it. We all decided it was the most fun we have had sitting down in recent memory.

The structure of the course and the skill level of the instructor and participants made it work. We all had a working roll, some of us were instructors, and I had worked with Mike before, a guy with one of the most fluid and seemingly effortless Greenland paddle stroke repertoires I've seen. Three sticks and three Euro blades was the paddle breakdown. This course makeup allowed us to dispense with a lot of basic talk and just paddle, watch, model skills, and learn from each other. And surf. Surf, surf, and more surf, which was a treat for us surf starved Apostles paddlers. I've gotta say it again, it was a great day on the water. The recap at the Black Rocks brewpub only confirmed that as we recounted our day over fine microbrews. Unlike other experiences which tend to increase in exaggeration leve,l directly proportionally to the number of pints consumed, this paddle day did not need any build up. We all agreed it was worth the price of admission and we still had one day left to go!

Off to (what we hope are) The Gales

2011-10-06T07:15:00.002-05:00

We leave on the road trip to Marquette, MI this afternoon to attend the Gales Storm Gathering. We are all sincerely hoping that the image above will be the weekend scene in the UP and not the one below, two very different moods of the often fickle Gitchee Gumee.

Back to plastic - the Delphin conspiracy

2011-10-02T07:22:00.012-05:00

A couple of plastic boats have been added to the fleet, one new and one 'gently used'. The VOR and I started out with the same plastic boat, the stable and absolutely straight tracking Current Designs Storm. Then came the glass and composite skeg boats with day hatches and that lovely gel coat finish. Some friends are still sold on plastic boats, the BadHatter, FrugalFisherman, and KingOfIronwoodIs among the most notable, but lower weight, more stiffness (and hence speed), and of course that sleek and cool look have plenty of sea kayakers in glass and composite boats. But there are many good reasons to have a plastic boat and that's why the venerable Valley Skerray and a trendy P&H Delphin are now stuffed in the garage. How the new one got there is where the thread of conspiracy begins.

I am not one of those guys who jumps out of his boat into water just over the top of his Chota mukluks, in order to protect his delicate gel coated hull. I do admit though, that the brutal beating the BadHatter administers to his Prijon is a frequent cause for envy. There is no rock too sharp, no beach too cobbled for him to abandon his 'accelerate to ramming speed' landing technique. Launches are much the same as the video clip below illustrates. Instruction is another good case for plastic, as is guiding. Contact tows, T rescues, and other tasks are OK with a composite boat from time to time but if they are done a dozen times a day things tend to get scratched and nicked. Rivers with fast water and lots of rocks make plastic attractive as well. Those pesky rocks are unfriendly to high end craft and the gel coat deposits on prominent rocks tell the tale. The above considerations played a significant part, but the main reason I decided to revisit plastic boats were two additional reasons. Surfing and rock garden play, and participating and coaching 'kayak games' type events at classes and symposiums. Those two thoughts meld together like beer and pretzels in the person of one insidious, some would say disturbing indivdual, Mr. Kelly Blades, one of the ringleaders of the conspiracy I've discovered.

Yes readers, Kelly Blades. While assisting him at his sadistic 'kayak games' class at the Washburn symposium I found myself standing up in my NDK Explorer, in the steady rain, while the boat was the top log in a Lincoln Log-like arrangement of kayaks. I don't remember being drugged, yet there I was. The Elite layup did not enjoy the abuse and I wound up spider cracking the foredeck, either then or when I was clambering around on it like a pommel horse at a gymnastics competition, also at Mr. Blades behest. Later that month I found myself in roughly the same situation with his co-conspirator Ben Lawry, and after I showed him the cracked fordeck and brutally savaged Mr. Blades, he suggested the Delphin might be the answer. Since he is a P&H rep this makes sense. So is Kelly, which is where my first inkling of conspiracy began. Then an article shows up in the Gales Spacebook site touting the virtues of the Delphin. The author you ask? None other than Kelly Blades.

The Delphin seed had been subliminally planted and a combination of no boats locally and very pricey boats in the state to the east led me to Bill Thompson of Downwind Sports in Marquette, who solved both problems. Coincidentally enough, the Gales is being held in Marquette and will be attended by one Kelly Blades who will be delivering a talk on....the new P&H Aires/Delphin! Lets see here....cracked fiberglass boat, Delphin suggestion from P&H rep, Gales event in Marquette with strong recommendation of plastic boats, article on the Delphin, keynote address on said boat at Gales......yup, it's pretty apparent that I fell for this Delphin/Gales ponzi scheme hook, line, and sinker. I now own the boat as well as a registration confirmation for the Gales Storm Gathering.

I feel so used. On the other hand I have a sweet boat, two of them actually if the VOR consents to let me play in her Skerray, a boat we owned once before, sold to the BearWhisperer up in Washburn, WI. I can blast down the local rivers, land at the Sand Island light's rock ledge with impunity, and generally be free from the shackles of gel coat. In select occasions of course. Our quartet will saddle up later in the week and head north and east with visions of wind and waves in our heads. I hope to learn more about rough water technique, put the boat through its paces, and go toe to toe with the Grandmaster of this conspiracy, Mr. Blades, with a fine microbrewed beer in both of our hands.

The Gales of.......September?

2011-10-01T07:59:00.008-05:00

Next weekend is the Gales Storm Gathering in Marquette, MI. The joke has been the question of whether the event would be cancelled due to bad weather. Meaning sunny, flat calm, with Bluebirds singing and kids running around in shorts. We all hope for a healthy dose of nastiness and there are 'long boats on fast water' classes if it's too benign, but I'm not sure anyone is wishing for what came through on Thursday, a Great Lakes storm that was forecast but managed to outdo itself with its speed and intensity.

The best way to illustrate what went down over the 24 hour period is with NOAA's real time wave chart which is linked under the Lake Superior Trip Planning Tools to the right of this post. Along with the surface water temperature, near shore forecast, and a couple key weather stations, a person can get an accurate picture of what's going on around Gitchee Gumee. It can also be used for vicarious pleasure, to mentally take us to spots where we have been so we can fantasize about gigantic waves crashing on the beach or rocks. The first image above is at 6am on Thursday morning and then again around noon. From a flat calm the seas built over a half dozen hours to eleven footers rolling into the Keweenaw peninsula.
By mid afternoon things have escalated considerably. As the front moved from the northwest in a southeasterly direction the waves built. By 2pm the scope of the storm had increased and by 4pm there were fourteen footers hammering Copper Harbor and Manitou Island at the tip of the Keweenaw.

By dusk wave height and wind had almost doubled. Note the large swath of twenty foot plus waves (purple color) from the tip of the Keweenaw all the way down past Marquette and Munising. I'm not sure how long the storm lasted but by 6am Friday mornings things had moved south and calmed down with 'only' eleven footers on the Keweenaw and sixteen footers near Harvey, MI.

Lake Michigan did not escape either. All the parks in Door County including Rock Island and Peninsula State Parks, are closed due to wind and wave damage. Cyclists and walkers were swept off Chicago lakeshore paths, fortunately with no injuries, and the buoy in the middle of Lake Michigan registered twenty three footers at 5am. The lake, or lakes, are indeed the bosses. I sincerely hope the damage across the area was not too heavy and can be dealt with relatively easily and quickly. I also hope we are granted a taste of this as our intrepid foursome heads to Marquette next weekend, but I think I'll pass on the full five course meal. Soup, salad, and a light entree will be just fine, thank you.

Animal Rescue

2011-09-30T06:18:00.007-05:00

I confessed in an earlier post that I thought I might be a camp stove whore. Our trip to Red Rocks last weekend made me realize an even more disturbing personal trait. It would seem that I'm a speciesist. I found out that I "assign different values or rights to beings on the basis of their species membership". I made this disturbing personal revelation as I watched my paddle companions attempt to rescue a skunk who had gotten itself stuck on a limestone ledge on the north side of Red Rocks Lake.

I believe I noticed the thing first and made the comment, "Hey look, a dead skunk on that ledge". Poor Pepe LePew was looking waterlogged andmotionless but he got to his feet when the boats got closer. Immediately the female component of the group, The VoiceOfReason, Dogs4Bird1, and DebBrunch began the 'oh, isn't he cute, we need to help him' litany. The males, with one very notable exception, were all for either paddling on or mercy skunk euthanasia. And so the rescue began.

This is not the first story I've heard about strong, some would say ridiculous, efforts to rescue vermin. Our good friend in Madison, StHollyOfAssissi, told us about almost sucking up a baby mouse in her vacuum and taking it first to the vet and then to.....only in Madison folks, only in Madison.....some sort of rodent rescue place that actually had a lactating female mouse on site. You can't make shit like that up people, you just can't. The FrugalFisherman and I speculated that this 'rodent rescue facility' was probably located right next door to the Madison Herpetological Society, a wisecrack that was met with a stony look from St Holly. She also took a dead chicken in to the UW Vet School for an autopsy rather than stewing it in broth with some savory vegetables, but chicken are not vermin so I digress.

There were some hikers on the shore and they were recruited to assist in the rescue. It was thought that throwing some branches down might give the dimwitted and malodorous critter the idea that it could climb up the log. Of course no one was even sure if a skunk could climb since most of us had only seen them waddling along or flattened on the highway. I looked over, nodded at DocNordkapp, and he and I paddled off toward the setting sun. He confided to me that the year before he had been involved in a three hour rescue attempt with Dogs4Bird1 of a young raccoon. He persuaded her that if he left a granola bar for it to regain its strength, that it would swim to safety. Needless to say when they came back a week later there was poor Rocky, bloated and floating in the lake. Doc wanted no part of a repeat performance with a skunk and 'took the fifth' with any opinions on the rescue. Meanwhile our buddy Rich was formulating a rescue scenario with the ladies. It was his 65th birthday and I had no idea that he was in fact.....the VerminWhisperer!

I found out that the VerminWhisperer had not only rescued a stranded mouse ala' St. Holly, but in his most impressive vermin preservation effort, had actually carried a turkey vulture to safety on the end of his paddle! One of the first thing's out of the VOR's mouth when she saw poor Pepe's predicament was, "Hand me your spare paddle!". Huh? What!? Hand you my paddle!? She explained she planned to rescue the skunk with her paddle and then use mine to paddle with. So my choice was driving four hours home with either a reeking Werner paddle or a putrid Betsie Bay paddle in the car? That's when Doc and I decided to distance ourselves from the rescue attempt.

We think the story had a happy ending. After the women threw enough logs and branches down the cliff to construct a replica of Boonesborough, Pepe LePew became startled and jumped in the water and started swimming away. I guess we didn't know the damn things could swim either. The VerminWhisperer gently steered Pepe toward safety with his paddle. No odor, other than the usual ones, were detected when he rejoined the group. We figure that either Pepe was curled up in his den, had bitten a small child and given him rabies, or got run over on the highway after he trudged up the hill.

The day ended as we paddled past a bunch of vultures tearing at some dead rodent on a rocky beach. The VerminWhisperer hollered, "How's it goin' Frank!?" and one of the vultures banked in our direction, a sort of salute. I guess that, like Daniel in the Lion's Den, befriending some of the more repulsive of God's creatures just may pay off in the end. Happy 65th buddy, you're the only guy I know that spent his rescuing a skunk. And if you are laying in the desert with an empty canteen, buzzzards circling overhead, I can only hope one of them is your buddy Frank.

Peace Tree: Discovering the tree and the beer

2011-09-25T20:36:00.014-05:00

The weekend found us in the Red Rocks Reservoir area, the largest lake in Iowa at 15,000 acres at normal level, considerably more (or less) depending on rainfall and the Army Corps of Engineers, who constructed and run the dam that formed the lake. The scenery is excellent with unusual rock formations, mixed hardwoods, plenty of migrating waterfowl, and very few power boats in the fall. There is even the opportunity to rescue vermin along the lakeshore, but more on that in another post. This particular post is about a giant Sycamore tree, 325 years old before it was drowned when the Red Rocks dam was completed in 1969, and the brewery that is named after it.

We paddled Saturday and Sunday with eight of us launching Saturday from Elk Rock State Park. The park is at the south end of a mile long bridge (clocked on the VW's odometer) that carries Hwy 14 across the reservoir. Just west of the bridge, near the middle of the lake in about 10 feet of water, is the stump of the Peace Tree, sticking out of the water about six feet. In the 1840's it is believed that the tree, a couple hundred years old then, marked the Red Rock Line, the demarcation line between tribal lands to the west of the pre reservoir Des Moines River and the white settlement area to the east.It was a well known meeting and trading place for white and native Americans. The archaeological assessment in the link was to determine the historical significance of the tree, albeit over 20 years after the dam was completed and the area was flooded. Part of the draw of historical locations, particularly living (or formerly living in this case) reminders of history, is the speculation about all the dealings and personalities that passed by or stopped at the tree. The Treaty Oak in Austin, TX is another such tree. The Peace Tree is well known in the area, so well known that a small brewpub that was founded last year used the tree as its company name.

Peace Tree Brewing is less than a dozen miles south of the tree in Knoxville, IA. The brewery is in a converted Nash Rambler dealership on the main drag in Knoxville, a town known for as the host of the Sprint Car Nationals. I'm not sure why the founder chose the Peace Tree over the sprint cars as the brewery name but I like the choice. I like the brewery and its product as well. We met there Friday night when the VOR and I rolled into town and tried several of their beers. No food is served here but they have the menus from several local restaurants and food can be ordered in, in our case a couple large pizzas. The one thing I noticed about the beers is that they seem to be true to style, or at least my idea of beer styles. I sampled a very nice crisp and refreshing Kolsch, their wonderfully balanced IPA, a fine red ale, and a sneaky 8.5% ABV unfiltered Belgian Ale, the Blonde Fatale shown in the image right. Some brewpubs and neighborhood bars just have a feel to them, an unpretentious, 'theme' free (eg sports bar, 'fern' bar, fake Irish pub, etc.), relaxing and homey vibe. Peace Tree has the feel and its a lovely place to drink beer.

The Red Rocks Reservoir was a lovely place to paddle also. The big fluctuation in water level makes for interesting rock formations being alternately exposed and under water. This year the water was at 'normal pool' level and last year it was way down for dam repair. Only a couple short months earlier the water was several feet higher as evidenced by driftwood and the obvious vegetation line. The lake has a few homes on it but most are set well back due to the wildly varying water levels. There is plenty of fetch for some wave action and the sheer cliffs offer some nice clapotis when the wind is right. We had a little 10 knot north/northeast going which gave us a little bounce by the cliffs, just enough for a taste of excitement in spots. It was great to see the Iowa/Nebraska gang and ooh and aah over the new Valley boats that had been added to the fleet. I would have to say the most interesting event of the paddling segment of the weekend was the dramatic animal rescue that took place on Saturday. That however, needs to be completely fleshed out in a separate post. Look for it here soon.

Think globally, drink locally

2011-09-21T19:58:00.011-05:00

I noticed that my last several posts were all about kayaking which is perfectly normal since its prime paddle season. I have been consuming some beer as well and with a bit of luck and perhaps the investment of a few bucks I might be consuming more locally brewed beer in one of the most unlikely places for a brewpub, South Minneapolis. Unlike Northeast Minneapolis where bars alternate with churches on every block of 4th St NE from Broadway to Lowry Ave, the upright Scandinavian Lutherans in the southern part of town have pretty much limited the beer drinking opportunities to a few 3.2 bars on the periphery of the area. This could change if the Smokehouse Brewpub gets off the ground.

The reason that Smokehouse as well as Fulton Brewery are even considering building facilities in Minneapolis is because of the passage of the Minnesota Pint Law, a law which allows breweries to sell pints of their own beer on their own premises. As John Tevlin, business columnist for the Star Tribune, wrote in his story on the new venture, "This is made possible by a new law that allows pints of beer to be sold at breweries in Minnesota, just like in many civilized countries". If a couple friends stop over on Sunday to watch the Packer-Bear game though, you still ain't gonna get a six pack in this state but one hurdle at a time I guess. The interesting thing about the Smokehouse project is the community investment aspect. With cash being tight these days, the three partners are selling shares or memberships to raise the seed capital, at which point Park Midway Bank in St Paul will lend them the rest of the money. It sounds like the vision is a neighborhood brewpub with smoked food that is made on the premises. Jon Tevlin's linked story above explains the concept in greater detail. What's not to like? They will still need to run the brain numbing, insanely complicated, and stultifying gamut of Minneapolis city inspectors, which should add at least six months to their tentative opening date, but I have to give them credit for the effort and wish them well. Up in Brooklyn Park, Surly Brewing, the folks that got the common sense Pint Law jump started, is planning a huge brewery complex where they will indeed be selling their own pints.

Overall beer sales in the US dropped last year while craft beer sales rose 11%. I would hope that more people are turning to beers with actual flavor rather than the over carbonated, 'only tastes good when ice cold' BudMiller products. In the 'think globally, drink locally' concept, we have more and more choices every week. A few weeks back we hit Black Rock brewpub in Marquette, MI. Tomorrow we are off to Red Rocks lake near Pella, IA and there have been promises of a trip to the Peace Tree Brewery near Knoxville. A certain Iowa paddler (I won't point any fingers Doc) claims he's been hiding a couple Blonde Fatale's in his fridge since he forgot to pack them for the trip to Gitchee Gumee in August. The trend of small, independent local breweries continues. It would seem like the BudMiller's acquisitions of local favorites like Red Hook and Leinenkugels has slowed as well as the expansion of chain brewpubs like Granite City and Rock Bottom. It's great that these organizations have realized that there is a growing market in craft beer but because of their desire to appeal to a broad range of the public, they just don't brew many interesting or assertive beers. I'll take a decent neighborhood bar with a half dozen tap handles that includes Summit Extra Pale, Bell's Two Hearted, and maybe Guiness every time over the brewpub chain.

There should be plenty of kayaking in the next few weeks before frost hits, leaves turn color and dropping, and horny bucks drive me up into my tree stand with my trusty bow. In most paddling venues including Iowa this weekend, Marquette, MI for the Gales event next month, and of course the Thirsty Pagan fueled run to the Apostles, good beer in friendly local bars and brewpubs is available to add to the total experience of the paddling road trip. Be sure to stop and smell the hops along the way.

Am I a campstove ho'?

2011-09-15T06:38:00.011-05:00

On our recent fall trip to the Canadian north shore, the BadHatter brought along the most ridiculous camp stove that I think I've ever seen on a kayak trip. It was actually one of those butane burning chafing dish warmers that is seen on a buffet line. Its about the size of an attache case and was in a plastic case that had to be lashed to the back deck of his trusty Prijon. It was bulky but I have to admit it was like cooking on the burner at home. Complete flame control from simmer to boil, a large stable base, and a reliable fuel supply. As I mentally compared it against the campstoves I own and have used I came to a startling realization. I think I might be a camp stove whore.
I dug out the majority of stoves that I have around the joint and came up with a nice collection. I still have the old man's WWII Coleman one burner that he used pretty much exclusively to make hot coffee while ice fishing. Next was the Svea, state of the art in 1970 and still in everyday use by my buddy LoneRangerRob. The Svea used the warmth of your hands to force the gas through the orifice to light and warm the generator. There was a Peak One in there for quite awhile but it died and was buried. The MSR, the one that sounds like a F-14 Tomcat fighter warming up for a carrier takeoff, is in the mix as is the minimalist alcohol burning soda pop can rig. Last but not least is the MSR butane stove, my current 'state of the art'.For car camping nothing beats the venerable two burner Coleman, a stove that can't be broken. The stove I brought on this recent trip for backup was yet another permutation, one that would complement the BadHatter's buffet special, RangerMark's MSR, and RickH's JetBoil. It's called the LittleBug Senior.

The LittleBug is made in Bemidji, MN and can burn either wood or denatured alcohol. It folds down to a shape that conforms almost perfectly to the hull of a sea kayak. If you paddle a hard chined boat the shape can easily be shimmed to fit your hull with a full can of beer under either side. She packs down pretty small. In an area where deadfalls or driftwood are plentiful there is no need for alcohol, as stove fuel anyway. With the alcohol option and/or a fire pan it can be the prefect Leave No Trace stove. For we pyromaniacs that need a fire when camping this will fulfill that need as well. While it does require tending, as any fire worth its salt does, its' pretty darn efficient and a good choice if you have fire ready cookware. I carry it in a brown paper bag with a light nylon cover. A quick rub in the sand and most of the soot is off and the bag protects the nylon cover from what's left. The company also donates a percentage of its profit to environmantal causes, just another good reason to support them.

While the JetBoil is interesting and super efficient, it needs the specialized cookware and doesn't really seem to like to simmer, a crucial trait if a person wants to actually cook versus dumping Mountain House School Paste Stroganoff into the water and waiting 5 minutes for it to coagulate. Maybe when we '60's Boy Scout-type dinosaurs that need a fire and a cast iron dutch oven become extinct the JetBoil will rule the roost. For the time being however, I'll stick to the butane MSR with frequent wood backup. I think it makes the camping experience.

Sauna Islands again

2011-09-12T06:46:00.009-05:00

The annual Fall Trip found us back at the Sauna Islands between the US-Canadian border on the Pigeon River and Thunder Bay, ON. The three stalwarts, RangerMark, the BadHatter, and I were joined by RickH as he worked on another leg of his two weeks per summer goal of paddling around Lake Superior, which he will complete with three more week long segments if my memory is correct. It was the most beautiful weather and water that any paddler could hope for and we dawdled from island to island from just south of Thunder Bay to Little Pigeon Bay on the border. Other than the popular sauna on the eastern tip of Thompson Island, where we ran into two native Finlanders drinking cans of Bud and enjoying the heat, we only saw three other people on the entire trip but they were an interesting trio.

We had just finished a healthful lunch of sausage, cheese, and pretzels, washed down by a fine lake temperature Surly Bitter, and I had launched to get a little more fishing in at the prescribed trolling speed of 2mph before the rest of the armada caught up. I saw paddle flashes ahead and a large double and a single were heading my way. When I was able to make out the headgear on a couple of the paddlers I thought I might be seeing the first Muslim paddlers that I've ever encountered on the water but I was wrong. It was just protective headgear which covered the neck and lower part of the face from the sun. The boats had Canoeing Down Under logos on them and the first words out of the paddlers mouths confirmed that this was indeed a Australian group. It turns out that Terry is the owner of a popular kayak and canoe shop in Perth, AU. He has done several long expeditions including the entire Mississippi, Yukon, and McKenzie Rivers. His two companions, Alaine and Leo, had joined him a few weeks back as he paddled the old fur trade route from the eastern edge of the Canadian Rockies to Montreal. Portaging a kayak is not something I ever want to do but apparently they had done so innumerable times, each one a three trip carry. We immediately felt at home with the group and kind of wished we were going in the same direction so we could hear more about the trip but that was not the case. We steered them in the direction of Smooth Rock camp on Spar Island, told them there was beer resupply in Silver Islet, and encouraged a stop at the Rossport Inn and Serendipity B&B when they got to that point. We wished them the best of luck and safe paddling. They commented that they had heard about Lake Superiors reputation but had nothing but flat calm and a bit of chop since they launched from Grand Portage. We told them we hoped that would continue but Tuesdays forecast looks like Gitchee Gumee may become a bit angry.

Fish were biting as well. Not a lake trout to be seen this trip but we did catch and dine upon Rainbow Trout, Steelhead if you prefer. It seems that even the spawning run is a bit behind this year. RangerMark got the prize winner, which was poached in white wine and lemon juice with fresh herbs and roasted root veggies as the side. The BadHatter is known for his Caesar salads and pulled one out for the feast. No dehydrated beef stroganoff for this crew. Nor were there any reservations required for this trip. I know I've written about this before but its refreshing to stop at the border, pick up our fishing licenses and Crown camping permits, and be turned loose. There were a couple campsites on the Thunder Bay side of Pie Island that were trashed but not any of the remote beaches on the outer islands had any signs of overuse at all. It was apparent that folks had camped there but no garbage, live trees with branches lopped off, or massive fire pits full of burnt cans. I guess if a person is going to paddle out that way they have enough pride, ambition, and sense of community to police their campsites. A large storm last October left a bunch of trees down and the driftwood supply for fires and dutch oven cookery seemed endless. As much as I love to paddle the Apostles, this laissez-faire trip always recharges my camping fervor. I also got to meet up with two more friends on either ends of the trip. I met Bryan Hansel in Grand Marais harbor on the way up and we paddled around Artists Points and then repeatedly tipped over in front of the Gunflint Tavern, clad in our tuliqs. He has some great shots from Grand Marais of the fire that's burning southeast of Ely in the BWCA. On the back end, I stopped at Grand Portage State Park and BS'ed with Travis Novitsky a bit. He had finally seen one of the AINL's Lake is the Boss T Shirts and asked me if I heisted the name from there. I told him that both me and the NPS had lifted the phrase from Julian Nelson, the old fisherman and former Bayfield mayor, who is still with us at 90 plus. He also showed me an incredible Northern Lights time lapse that he had done the night before while I was snugly in my tent sleeping. While I would have immediately gotten up to watch, this video is the next best thing.

I never cease to marvel at the connections that kayaking seems to throw our way. We are off to Iowa in a couple weeks and then a crew will be heading to Marquette for the Gales event. Bow deer and grouse opens Saturday but I haven't 'entered the rut' for that activity yet. It needs to freeze at night, a few leaves need to turn color and drop, and there can be no insect life in my bow stand. There is plenty of paddling left in the Great Lakes region folks. Get out there and enjoy it.

Black Rocks

2011-09-05T21:21:00.011-05:00

This weekend found the VOR and I in Marquette, MI on a Labor Day 'just for the hell of it' adventure. The only real item on the agenda was to visit Black Rocks. Both Black Rocks actually, the spot in Presque Isle Park where people can still legally jump off a cliff into Lake Superior, and the nano brewery a block south of Downwind Sports on Third St (The Village) in Marquette. I attempted to paddle to Black Rocks and around the park Sunday morning but a gale warning, waves that built to 8' over the course of the afternoon, blinding horizontal rain, and valuable counsel from TheVoiceOfReason ('Glad you were smart enough to turn around and not a dumb ass'), convinced me that visiting both Black Rocks venues on foot would be the prudent plan.

I've loved jumping off high spots into the water since I was a kid. Cliffs, bridges, and railroad trestles were all fair game. I don't believe it was ever legit to jump off any bridges but it was tolerated by the authorities. Interstate Park on the St Croix River used to allow jumping off the cliffs on the Wisconsin side but that particular pleasure was banned after an accident a few years back. When safety and freedom collide these days it seems freedom never has a chance. It was a moot point on Sunday because the lake was rockin' and rollin' and the waves crashing around Black Rocks were spectacular.

The Black Rocks nano brewery was very enjoyable as well. An old two story four square frame house was converted into a brewery, bar, and outdoor patio. It's only open from 5-10pm or 'until the beer runs out'. They had four beers on tap when we strolled in and ran out of the wheat beer while we were there, which caused it to be crossed off the beer list on the board. They had an ESB in the fermenter but much to my disappointment would not be tapping it until later in the week. We both agreed that the place had fine beer, a really great vibe, and fit the neighborhood perfectly. Their logo incorporated the black and orange of the Black Rocks cliff in the park and the joint is truly a neighborhood bar and gathering place.

Labor Day brought decreasing wind and waves but the big swells were still plenty good to surf. There were 4 or 5 board surfers, a guy surfing his stand up paddleboard, and one lone kayak, a guy in one of the new P&H Delphins. More on that later, I gotta get packed and head for my short week in Canada. Gonna meet RangerMark and the BadHatter at the classic Superior, WI dive bar, The Anchor, at high noon.

Fifty Lakes - One Island

2011-09-01T07:38:00.007-05:00

As a Lake Superior nut, a GitcheeGumeeGuy, I've always been fascinated with Isle Royale. I first visited in 1974 and was hiking the island when President Nixon resigned. It was quite a surprise when I got back on the boat to Houghton and heard about it since I'd been out there for 10 days. The hazy image above of some of the island's lakes was taken on that very trip with the reliable Kodak Instamatic 104. I've only kayaked there one time and have the island on the very short list for next season. It's relatively inaccessibility, retained wilderness flavor, the continuing moose/wolf drama, and the continuing NPS/historical stakeholders drama make it one of the most interesting places on Lake Superior on a number of levels. One other feature of Isle Royale that people tend to overlook are the numerous inland lakes. Some are classic eutrophic lakes with weeds, algae, northern pike and warm water species and others are clear, cold, nutrient poor lakes with lake trout, cisco, and those type of fish. The Michigan DNR has not messed with these lakes at all. There is a fellow, possibly out there right now, named George Desort from Houghton, MI that is filming and writing about those very lakes on the largest island on the largest lake in the world.

I was made aware of this project by a noted Washburn, WI paddler, pictured lurking in a tree in the image left. You can read about the project and donate to it in this link. For the next two weeks there are matching funds available so pull the trigger if you want to get in and support this project. One of the more interesting trips that can be done on Isle Royale is to portage the width of the island from lake to lake. The ferry service out of Grand Portage will drop people off, along with their canoes or kayaks, at a number of spots on the island. One of the more interesting routs is from McCargo Cove to Chippewa Harbor via Chickenbone, Livermore, and Ritchie lakes. It takes a determined paddler to hauls their boat over the Greenstone Ridge but it can and has been done. I'm really looking forward to the results of Georges project.

The VOR and I are headed to Marquette for the Labor Day weekend and I'll be taking off for the Canadian North Shore Tuesday. If the weather cooperates, Isle Royale will be clearly visible to the east of our paddling location, just as it is above. Blog posts may be few and far between but, as the tag line on my business emails has warned for the past week, "I will be in an area refreshingly free of wifi or cell towers so please contact Customer Service if you have an issue that can't wait. Enjoy the long weekend".

Are Greenland paddles going mainstream?

2011-08-29T21:06:00.004-05:00

I seem to do most of my paddling with my trusty basswood Greenland paddle and have done so for probably a decade now. I still get the questions from people asking 'Is that thing as good as a real paddle?'but not as often as I used to. I really don't remember what prompted me to purchase a Greenland paddle in the first place but I do remember it was from Dale Hedtke at the now defunct Boat House across from the Schmidt Brewery in St Paul. I took the thing out to Lake Calhoun and was aggravated and muttering for about 15 minutes as I attempted to figure out how to make that damn fluttering and cavitation stop. Eventually my muscles figured out the technique or maybe the paddle showed my muscles the correct technique, I'm not sure. As my skinny stick paddling progressed I slowly fell in with the riff raff that makes wooden boats, skin on frames, and carves their own Greenland sticks. At that time there was a growing group of Greenland enthusiasts but not that much general interest in the blades, a condition that seems to be changing.

Most of the kayak symposiums I've attended are offering an expanded Greenland or traditional learning path and I know a lot of folks who have either carved one or bought a Greenland stick to play with from time to time. I think that the majority of paddlers would agree the Greenland paddle is easier to roll with than the standard Euro blade. More companies are producing Greenland paddles and a number of clubs and other organizations are offering classes in carving a personal Greenland paddle. Just this last week however I became aware of a couple things that could be the tipping point for increased Greenland paddle usage. One was a review of carbon fiber blades in the October 2011 Sea Kayaker by Christopher Cunningham. The other was a post late last year by Eric Soares of the Tsunami Rangers about finally getting a Greenland stick in his hands. And loving it.

The Sea Kayaker gear review focused on three carbon fiber Greenland blades that are currently being produced commercially. I happen to know a paddle maker just west of the Reefer Creek deer camp, FivePieceRoy, that's making the things for fun. They are of commercial quality, a good thing in some ways but a bad thing if a guy happens to be sending one as a gift to his daughter in Iceland. Since it was 'obviously' a commercial paddle the authorities made her pay $250 in duty. Oh well. I have not seen the Northern Lights paddles but I like the idea of the insert that can turn it into a storm paddle. Of the three, Superior has been around the longest and Novorca is our local operation here in the Twin Cities. RonS, the owner and founder, was kind enough to throw a piece of basswood I had into his CNC machine and crank me out an Aleut blade. That blade style almost seems like a stepping stone between the Euro and the traditional Greenland paddle. I find myself using a bit of a modified wing paddle style when I use it and it is very quiet as it enters the water. I prefer wood personally because it just seems alive in my hands. It also has twice as much flex or whip as the carbon fiber, an attribute measured by Christopher Cunningham in his review. It makes me feel I get that extra snap or push at the end of the stroke. The warm feel of wood is a plus as well, and many times my paddling companions have had gloves on while I've been paddling along with my nice warm wood paddle shaft in my hands. That being said, carbon fiber is very popular and one fact is undeniable; it is amazingly light and strong. I have broken two Sitka spruce paddles, the only wood that seemingly can compete in the lightness category, so strength is an important attribute. I do hope to play with a Northern Lights three piece however, and rumor has it they will be arriving at Boreal Shores in the not too distant future. ChrisG offered to let me borrow his NL paddle, a ploy that I'm sure he hopes works as well as the time he let me borrow his NDK Explorer HV.

I was mildly amazed when I stumbled on to Eric Soares' blog post on his Greenland paddle experience. I think of rock garden play and surf battling as the domain of the gigantic Euro spoon blade and that seems to be where the Tsunami Rangers live. It sounds like it took ten years and watching John Heath, Maligiaq, Dubside, and Helen Wilson for him to finally grab one and head out onto the water. The bottom line on the experience: "Two thumbs up!". 'Fad or Future?' was the title of his post and that would seem to be the question.

All paddle styles have their pros and cons and it's fun to have more than one arrow in the quiver. It always takes me about 10 minutes to get adjusted once I go from one blade to the other but that's just part of the fun of paddling. If you haven't tried one, grab a Greenland paddle. I understand they are not contagious and can only enhance your paddling knowledge. If you really want to get your head around what the Greenland blade can do, head up to the Traditional Gathering the weekend after Labor Day. There you can rub shoulders with the riff raff I described in the first paragraph, watch Helen Wilson do her thing (and perhaps, like Eric Soares, be inspired), perhaps have a shot with Will Bigelow, and help thin out the overpopulation of styrofoam seals on Lake Carlos via harpoon. The bugs are gone and took the humidity along with them, the air is crisp, the water clear and warm, and its prime time in the Great Lakes paddling season. Don't miss it!

Seamanship

2011-08-26T06:51:00.011-05:00

In the comments section of the previous post about the kayak group that attempted to paddle to the mainland sea caves under what had been roughly 24 hours of small craft warnings, kykr13 points out that while there were a dozen comments on the stupidity of the paddlers there were none on the stupidity of the 39' powerboat that apparently just ran into the Ashland harbor breakwall. Both required a response by federal agencies but apparently the powerboat screwup did not raise the ire of the public like the kayaker screwup did. Methinks that if there were a black box recorder on boats, most boating accidents in Wisconsin might occur after the phrase, "Hey, hold my beer and watch this!". Both incidents beg the real question however. If you buy a kayak, are you a kayaker? If you own a big 39' cruiser are you a boater? And if you have a sailboat in a slip in Bayfield are you a sailor? My answer to the question would have to be an unequivocal 'hell no'.

I gave up motorcycling a few years ago when I realized that my 'slightly modified' 1986 Gold Wing Interstate simply insisted on going too fast for my personal safety. I realized this after getting a speeding ticket for going 77 in a 55mph zone. I was actually pretty happy because when I sensed the State Trooper I jammed on both brakes and managed to get down to 77 from 115mph before he triggered the radar lock. At that point I had 30 years of street bike experience. This was during the peak of the Harley 'get on the waiting list' craze. We used to look down at what we called the 20/20 riders, guys that had $20,000 and 20 miles of motorcycle riding experience under their belts. Those guys owned motorcycles but they were not 'bikers' in any sense of the word. There are plenty of people using the water that are in that same position. The VOR and I went sailing last night with my buddy Jonesy and his lovely spouse. He is a sailor and has been for years. A person never needs to wonder if we are coming about, his angles are precise, he knows the waters, and if there is a terminology slip up he will let you immediately know that there are no ropes on a sailboat. He also knows the rules of the water inside and out, crucial on busy Lake Minnetonka, where everything from vintage Chris Craft and the restored steam streetcar ferry Minnehaha to stand up paddlers and jet skis can be found.

The stakes on Lake Superior are exponentially higher than on an inland lake like Minnetonka. Seamanship on Gitchee Gumee involves knowledge of right of way rules, navigation by map, compass and watch as well as the gps, local knowledge of the area of the lake you are on, a keen weather eye, and a strong and honest sense of your ability and the strengths and weaknesses of the craft you are piloting. This whole mix of skills and awareness are what make up seamanship. Seamanship also requires a rather large dose of common sense. While you may legally have the right of way over the Paul R Tregurtha, exercising that right of way would be the act of a suicidal idiot. There are those that might say that having all your sails up as the thunderstorm approaches or heading to the mainland caves with 3'-5 footers and 20-30 knot winds would fall into the same category. So would trying to catch that last lake trout while trolling several miles offshore as the east wind is howling and the front approaches from the west.

Is one stupider than the other? I think not. Egalitarian stupidity encompasses all of the scenarios above. Part of the seamanship thing is an awareness of the other craft on the water and their strengths and weaknesses. Judging speed and angle of approach so you can decide whether to safely pass in front of or wait to pass behind the Island Queen is a good skill to have. Awareness of wind direction and when sailboats are likely to tack is another. If you are in a power boat and a reasonable distance from kayakers do you slow down? (My answer: No. The wake of a boat that is planed out is much less than the wake generated by a boat plowing along at low speed). This watercraft cross training can be surveyed by taking a Power Squadron course, which is a great idea no matter what gets you out on the water. The bottom line is that we are all on the water and we all need to get smarter. In a lot of cases much, much smarter. Read Silbs fine post on seamanship and also Professor Lichen's on when the 'kayaking light' went on. Think about whether the people you are sharing the water with perceive you as a kayaker, sailor, boater or whether, like the 20/20 motorcyclists, just a yokel who happens to have enough money to own the watercraft they are piloting. It is a very crucial distinction for you, the other people on the lake, and the people that may have to risk their lives to save your dumb ass when you get in over your head. Actively pursue getting better at your chosen watersport and at being more aware of your water environment. Everyone benefits.

Poor judgement at the sea caves. Again

2011-08-24T08:07:00.005-05:00

I've written a number of posts on the decision to paddle or not to paddle and on the conditions around the mainland sea caves in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. It is well known that two paddlers died in very similar incidents there over the past few years, so well known that a group of federal and state entities and volunteer groups rounded up the money to install a real time wave observation station that's linked under the Lake Superior resources on the right of this very blog post. There is also a large sign at the top of the stairs warning of the conditions that can and frequently do occur in the Meyers Beach and mainland sea caves area. In a nutshell, there seems to be plenty of printed and online information out there plus the ace in the hole: there is a ranger stationed at the launch advising people on conditions at the time they are launching. I think former Vikings coach Denny Green framed the underlying problem best however. When asked what he thought of the criticism of his underachieving football team on the sports talk radio stations he replied,'The beauty of this country is that anyone can state their opinion. The other beauty of it is that I don't have to listen to it'. Unfortunately this is the attitude with some of the paddlers leaving for the caves. It is usually the guys (and I emphasize 'guys' here) in the 10' rec boats with cutoffs, Tshirts, and no spray skirt. This time was different however. It was 10 paddlers on a guided trip with longtime Bayfield outfitter Trek & Trail.

Check out the story in the Ashland Current for the basic facts of the story. Waves 2-3' and building and a ranger on the scene discouraging the party from launching were facts that are not in dispute. We don't know the skill level of the customers, what NOAA was saying on the radio, or how experienced the guides were but from my perspective the whole scenario just does not smell good. Typically experienced paddlers don't pay for the privilege of a guided day trip to the sea caves, they just saddle up and head out. This means the group were advanced beginners at best. If the guides were truly experienced and had that hard won 'local knowledge', they would know that with a west wind the bluebird, sun bathing weather on Meyers Beach at the launch would turn into those 2-3 footers once they got out past the wind shadow of Mawikwe Point. They also would know that those same 2-3 footers, maybe nice swells out past the point, or more likely building waves with the wind blowing the tops off them, would turn into a disorganized mess once they hit the sheer walls of the caves and bounced back out into the lake, clapotis/reflection wave conditions that would extend at least 300 yards out from the caves. There is a image, taken by the RTWOS camera during a September storm of a reflection induced eleven foot high square wave off the caves.

On guided trips the clients tend to trust the guides judgement because that's why they purchased the guided trip in the first place. They want to see the cool sights, learn a bit about the sport, and do so in a safe and controlled manner. It sounds like that trust was misplaced in this case. A similar incident involving a guided girl scout group from another state and a rapidly developing thunderstorm occurred a couple years ago but it was apparent that the 'guides' were from an inland environment and had minimal experience on the big lake. Not the case this time around. Reading the comments on the linked article and the one before it when the story came out are interesting. "Why should the taxpayers shoulder the burden of rescuing people that supposed professionals placed in danger?". "We should blame the guide service this time. Lives at risk is unacceptable. Suspend their license and fine them". " The clients did the responsible thing and paid to be taken out to the sea caves by professionals probably becuase they wanted a safer experience than going out alone. We can't put all of the blame the clients for being stupid or inexperienced. We CAN blame the guide service". "People who require rescue services out there should be billed for their stupidity". My personal favorite.....not!........"I think the government should take over the guide service like they did GM. Then everything would be better. Those private companies just take too many risks to make a buck".

Bill em for the rescue, fine em, stupid clients, etc. I'm sure this is not the end of this story, there will be more coming out in the next few weeks. Park officials are meeting with the owner of Trek & Trail today. It would be an interesting discussion to hear. I personally had an experience with the company back in 1997, when it was under a different owner, that had me questioning their decision making process but that's another post. I was in the same position as the eight clients were in this incident, an unconscious incompetent in the Lake Superior kayaking world, trusting the judgement and experience of the people I'd hired to make me better. It didn't quite turn out that way and it sounds like this trip didn't either. The attitude of the locals is summed up in this one last comment on the news story. "Dear kayaking tourists, thank you for bringing your tourist dollars into our area but please stop putting our locals at risk with your cocky attitudes towards Lake Superior". In this case the comment needs to be directed squarely at the two guides and perhaps the 'corporate culture' of the Bayfield tour outfitter. It will be both interesting and instructive as this thing plays out.

Food and paddling

2011-08-21T07:08:00.005-05:00

My elusive, globe trotting friend, the BessemerConvivialist, has been scarce on the water this year. Last night in a multitasking coup de grace, she managed to combine a bit of kayaking with her service on the board of the Youth Farm & Market Project. At a fundraising auction for the organization she offered a guided paddle trip with instruction, lovely appetizers, and wine on the water for two. The folks that won the bid asked if they could bring another couple and 'double down' on the bid. The BC jumped on that like a hawk on a field mouse and the deal was done. The problem was she only had one extra boat.

Enter the ManFromSnowyLegs, BemidjiIntelOfficer, the VoiceOfReason, and me. The SKOAC trailer was rounded up, along with paddles, life jackets, and other gear. The MFSL dropped off the trailer at our joint with two boats and we added two more, a couple on the roof, and headed for Cedar Lake. We unloaded just as the four auction winners, Ron, Paula, Ed, and Lisa showed up. Some quick instruction, sans spray skirts, and we were on the flat water of the Minneapolis city chain of lakes.

Youth farm is part of a growing initiative to showcase locally grown food. City kids are shown that carrots are not little finger shaped, uniform things in a plastic bag at the grocery store. They need to be planted, weeded, tended, and harvested. They learn that performing this work, mainly outdoors, is kinda fun. A big lesson of the program teaches them that this 'homegrown' food is not only tasty and healthful, but that people will give them money for it! One of my skinny stick buddies, FrogtownTony, and his wife FTownPatty, are involved in getting a program of that type off the ground in their St Paul neighborhood. The VOR, who will shortly be feeding 11,000 kids a day in the South Washington School District, is actively involved in a farm to school program. Locally grown produce is purchased and showcased on the school menus for that month. September is 'beet month' with a couple recipes from the outstanding Duluth Grill. More importantly, local chefs are buying the produce as the local food movement gains critical mass. This evening there is another fund raiser for Youth Farm at Brasa Minneapolis. Brasa used to be a nice, quiet place in a converted Midas Muffler shop in NE Mpls. Then things happened like a couple feature on the Food Network and a bunch of people in New York City deciding that the chef/owner Alex Roberts should get something called the James Beard Award. Now, to misquote Yogi Berra, "Nobody goes there any more, its too crowded". But if you go there tonite Chef Alex will whip up some wonderful chow, you can listen to some live music, and support Youth Farm, all in one fell swoop.

Back on Cedar Lake, we paddled through the channels to Lake of the Isles, took a quick lap around the west end of Isles, and then back to Cedar. We rafted up, hauled out the wine and horz doovers, and watched a spectacular sunset. Our guests, who lived near the lake and spent lots of time walking and biking around it, marveled at the view from the water and the new perspective that it offered. As Ed said, "We could be in the BWCA if not for the lights". We paddled back when the sunset show was over, said our goodbyes, and loaded up. It was as they say, a good night on the water.

Launching kayaks at Red Cliff

2011-08-18T06:21:00.005-05:00

If my increasingly flawed memory serves me correctly, the very first time I visited the Apostle Islands was when I was a high school sophomore. It was a family trip with my youngest sister's god parents and we used a combination of tents and a couple Ford Econoline vans for the sleeping arrangements. That same Econoline, pictured below circa 1977 or so, was used throughout my college years as a road trip machine, cheap camper, and general party bus. Note the lovely curtains and attractive paneling screwed into the door panels. On that very first trip we camped the first night at the Red Cliff campground, which was and is run by the Red Cliff band of Lake Superior Chippewa. When the casino craze hit a few years back the tribe put up a modest casino and the campground and marina stayed pretty much the same as it was those many decades ago when I made my first visit. That is not the case these days though, as the Legendary Waters Casino opened for business last weekend.

During most of the construction kayakers could not launch from the marina. The pessimistic side of me feared that we might never launch there again as the fancy new casino dominated the former campground area. The whole point of the casino is to make money and the perception in the area is that kayakers show up with twenty bucks in their pockets and one pair of underwear and neither gets changed during the entire visit. It is not an unfounded observation. I am very happy to report that paddlers can now launch from the marina and pay a modest launch and parking fee. Pay at the new casino and park in the lot across the street at the old casino. I would also suggest that we frugal paddlers support the tribe in their endeavor. You don't have to double down at the blackjack table or put a weeks pay on the come line at the craps table but at least have a nice greasy burger or some fresh whitefish at the new digs. Pack that stinkin' MSR Whisperlite stove away for when you are on the island, suck it up, sit down at a table in what is sure to be a dining room with a spectacular view of Basswood Island, and spend a couple bucks on a fine meal. Heck, a person could even stay at their hotel the first night in town rather than making that night crossing to Oak or Basswood.

It seems like the vast majority of Apostles trips that I've done over the years have originated at the Red Cliff Marina. It's a great launch site, aims directly at the heart of the archipelago, and is perfectly sheltered from all directions. Bayfield adds 3 miles both ways and pretty much adds an hour to your trip on both ends as well as parking nightmares. Little Sand Bay is an excellent launch and location but its tough nailing that first night reservation on York or Sand, a critical thing if a person want to start with a short paddle at dusk after driving up after work. I daresay there is a lot more to do that is within striking distance if paddlers are staying at Red Cliff campground than there is at the Town of Russell facility at LSB. Right now the launching beach is minimal due to the orange netting that keeps construction runoff out of the bay but that will be gone soon. We should be happy that the Red Cliff band has seen fit to accommodate we kayakers at their new facility, especially since other marina owners in the area look at us as undesirable riff raff. Spend a couple bucks at the new facility, tell the folks that you interact with how grateful you are that we are allowed to launch there, and thank them for their support of our sport over the years. Just be sure to never take a hit on 17 or put your money on '8 the hard way' at the crap table.

Another year on (OK, near) Lake Monona

2011-08-15T07:02:00.006-05:00

The Great Taste of the Midwest Beer Festival came off once again without a hitch. Roughly 125 brewers, each with 4 or 5 beers ranging from the lightest wheat beer to the 10% plus ABV of some dark ales and winter warmers were available for sampling. This was the silver anniversary of the event and, as usual, the 6,000 tickets sold out in about 2 hours and a few of the lucky folks that applied by mail for the lottery tickets were successful as well. The weather was superb until the rain squall at the very end but by that time no one really cared all that much. We set up our lawn chair enclave under a live oak about two first downs from the Real Ale tent. My dark little secret is that I only sampled one beer that was not a real ale in the entire 5 hours, a fact that horrified my companions when I informed them.

How could I ignore five beer tents, each with two dozen brewers and probably 120 beers each? Because a lot of those brewers took the trouble to brew and rack a real ale for the event, which meant over 60 cask conditioned real ales to sample. Real ale is a traditional English beer style where the beer is fermented again in a secondary operation to carbonate it naturally in its 10.8 gallon key or firkin. It is not filtered or carbonated with CO2 which results in lots of flavor components being left intact as well as healthful live yeast in the beer. A smoother, much more complex and flavorful, a significantly less fizzy beer, and a nice tight head of foam is the result. Most of the other beers I can track down in the area. It is the Great Taste of the Midwest after all. At this point in the Twin Cities exactly 4 places have cask ale on tap and usually only one, maybe two. My local bar, Grumpys NE, has firkin Friday and always taps an interesting brew but the real ale scene in MSP is minute. Hence my single minded focus on these excellent beers.

Did I get through all five dozen beers? Nah, but I gave it my best shot. I actually managed to maintain some sort of drinking discipline, working my way from the wheats and the bitters up through the pale ales and IPA's, then on to the brown ales, stouts, and porters. Then at the end I circled back to my favorite bitters and used the time tested, "Hey, I'm going to sit down and take a break, do you think I could get a little extra pour this time? Inevitably I would be handed a full glass. What were my favorites? The parochial beer drinker in me had a soft spot for the two Surly products, the tea bagged (dry hopped) Best Bitter and Furious. New Albion's Becks Best Bitter and the Great Dane's hoppy pale ale were also outstanding. I will admit going to the well more than once on all four of these gems.

After five solid hours of research our intrepid crew took the bus back to the Great Dane brewpub then walked to State Street and Parthenon Gyros to regain our strength. I noticed that no one ordered a beer. Other than a pub crawl to England a few years back, where we used the CAMRA guidebook to steer us around the island, this is by far the most real ale that I will encounter over the course of the year. Were it only breweries serving 'pushed' beer I might have had to put the festival on the bi annual schedule list, but that ever expanding tent of real ale keeps me coming back every August.

Dress for immersion

2011-08-12T06:58:00.007-05:00

Dress for immersion is the mantra of the Lake Superior paddler. If you are expecting me to rip the young lady in the image above you are wrong. On that particular day the water temp at Little Sand Bay, where the image was taken, was in the 70F range. I'm going to ignore the lack of a spray skirt and the life jacket bungeed on the front deck for now. If you look closely at the lead image from the last post you will see her paddling off along the shore as we middle aged warriors in our Hydroskin, neoprene, and even a stray dry suit, prepare to launch for some island hopping. Many of us actually went swimming that same day on the Raspberry spit and not just for a quick dip. It was luxurious floating and swimming in the balmy water after stripping off the malodorous neoprene that we all wore out of force of habit on the big lake. The question however, is how do we know what the water temperature is on Gitchee Gummee and what it will be in a few hours or the next day?

I made a little change in how the links on the right of the blog page are organized. I broke out the Lake Superior resources and called it trip planning. The realtime wave height, nearshore, mainland sea caves wave tool, and mid lake and Devils Island weather stations are all in one convenient spot. So is the critical real time satellite water temp chart. On the day we launched the wind was minimal and the water temp all around the islands was consistently in the high 60's to low 70'sF. That was not the case this morning. Click on the water temp map below and take a closer look.

The wild card on Lake Superior is the wind. In a 1,300' deep lake with a summer that pretty much goes from the 4th of July until Labor Day, there is always cold water lurking around somewhere. Its the wind that can move it to where its least expected. On shore winds typically blow warm surface water into bowl shaped bays and other sheltered areas and there is some mighty fine swimming in the waters around the Apostles this time of year. Look closely at the image above. I know, I know, the map sucks with missing and misplaced islands but we all can get the general idea. That warm water is still around in the Stockton Island area and deeper into Chequamagon Bay. But look at Point Detour at the tip of the Bayfield peninsula. Roughly two miles apart we see 48F water and 65F water. Check out that 36F off the north end of Sand Island. Off shore winds blow that warm water out into the lake and the colder, deeper stuff wells up. A rough gauge of what to wear on the water has been the Rule of 120. This states that if the combination of the air and water temperature (Fahrenheit) is over 120 you should be good without protective gear. This satellite image pretty much debunks that theory. It's been in the mid 80's recently. If a person went over off Pt Detour today, the rule of 120 would say you are good; 80F + 48F = 128. If you go over in 48F water and aren't wearing a wet or dry suit however, you can kiss your ass goodbye in a relatively short time. How long of a time? In 30-60 minutes you would be unconscious and in under 3 hours you are deceased.

Our attractive paddler above was good to go last Sunday. Today she is risking her life, especially because there was no paddle float or bilge pump to be seen. This time of year I would have to say a paddler needs a minimum of Hydroskin gear. I paddled solo back to LSB from the Bear Spit on Monday after wishing the rest of the Tri State paddlers the best of luck. The day before with 9 other paddlers I had my Hydroskin on. For the solo trip I had on the shorty wetsuit. I had a radio, phone, map, gps, and a pretty decent roll. The air and water were warm. In my mental risk evaluation run through I was looking pretty good. Wear your gear on Lake Superior. It just makes it that much more refreshing and even sensual as you peel off that smelly garment and slip into the cool, clear waters of the worlds largest lake. Just make damn sure its in the 68F part. That 46F stuff can definitely result in shrinkage!

Deicsions, decisions.........

2011-08-10T06:55:00.006-05:00

As I mentioned in yesterdays post, our Tri State (IA, MN, NE) Apostles expedition got off to an unexpected start when a line of thunderstorms appeared to be heading in our direction on Saturday afternoon. I was at Red Cliff with my boat loaded, heading up to the casino to pay my launch fee, when I got a call from DocL. The crew had made it about 100 yds off shore when ProfLichen heard the thunderstom alert on the radio. They paddled back to LSB, looked at the radar in the ranger station, and decided to wait. By the time I showed up it was 3pm and the 16 mile hump to Quarry Bay on Stockton seemed like quite a stretch before dark and we would have to make supper and set up camp as well. We booked a couple sites at the Town of Russell and I drew upon local knowledge to steer the group to the Village Inn in Cornucopia for incredibly fresh grilled whitefish and the equally fresh South Shore Nut Brown Ale.

The go vs. stay put discussion is always interesting, even more so with 9 personalities and skill levels in the group. The basic concept is the 'weakest link' rule. If someone in the party does not want to go and feels uncomfortable, the group stays put. In reality peer group pressure can alter this dynamic and strong personalities can influence the others with the 'oh hell, lets give it a shot'mentality. Also, if a person feels uncomfortable speaking up or doesn't want to hold the group back it can result in trouble if and when the defecation hits the rotation on the water. Given the collective experience of the paddling group, their experience with the big lake, and the lack of any shrinking violets in the group, I have to believe the decision was arrived at in a thoughtful, rational, and collective fashion.

Back to me, strolling into the casino with a twenty dollar bill in my hand, still in street clothes but with my boat fully packed and ready to rock at the marina beach. I'm assuming I'll rendezvous with the group in the Basswood Triangle, probably off the southeast tip of Oak Island. The forecast that I heard called for a line of thunderstorms, mainly to the south of the lake, with thirty mph wind gusts. Unlike the NOAA report we heard on the 4th of July, there were no reports of trees down, cloud to ground lightning, or a storm plot that named towns in the path that had been or were going to be hit. I was geared up for solo paddling with safety gear, radio, shorty wetsuit (water temp was 69F), route plan with several bail points including Basswood, Hermit, maybe Oak, and no crossing longer than about 45 minutes. Four other folks were setting out and we chatted about the forecast and possible routes. I had pretty much decided to go when Doc's call came in.
More input is good most of the time in the decision making process. I quickly unloaded the boat and headed over to LSB. We had a fine time and an even better paddle the next morning. A trip to the Sand Island sea caves on Swallow Point, crossings to York and Raspberry where the light was toured, and then over to Oak. We were disappointed to not have made it to Quarry Bay but that was quickly forgotten as the paddles hit Gitchee Gumee on Sunday morning. Half of us were at Oak 4 and the others at Oak 6. I don't know how the evening went for the guys on 6 but the sunset on 4 made it well worth the price of admission. It was fun to hear that a couple of paddlers new to Lake Superior had crested the hill in Duluth on the way up, looked at the vast expanse of lake, and commented, "And we're going to paddle in that!?". In the end not making it to Quarry Bay did not make one whit of difference in the overall scheme of things. Which is how we need to look at that paddle or no paddle decision. There are always alternatives and in the end things seem to work out. Those with the gung ho mindset need to remember that or risk having "the waves turn the minutes to hours" if they choose incorrectly.

Point to LaPointe 2011

2011-08-09T06:49:00.005-05:00

I will admit to a bit of trepidation before the start of this years 2 mile open water swim from Bayfield to Madeline Island. I noticed roughly the same number of safety boaters but that the field has swelled to 400 swimmers, double what it had been last year. Last year there had been a bit of a chop out of the northeast and keeping the swimmers heading to LaPointe on Madeline Island was like herding cats. This year there was not a breath of wind at the beginning of the race and that made all the difference.
It could not have been a more perfect day. The air was still and the lake looked like liquid mercury. Large pyramid shaped buoys marked the course across the lake and the safety boaters were divided up into 6 groups, each with a leader. The safety boaters would 'accordion out', with the group near the finish line paddling with the line of leaders and the other groups forming a picket line of sorts to keep swimmers aimed in the general direction of Madeline. Swimmers, like kayakers and people lost in the woods, tend to move in a circle if they don't have a point to orient on. Since efficient swimmers have their heads in the water most of the time it can be tough to go straight. When they start heading for Washburn or Basswood Island our job as safety boaters is to get their attention and help them back on course. This is more easily said than done due to heads in the water and swim caps over their ears. Yelling when they come up to breathe and sometimes a touch with the paddle is needed. With 400 swimmers and roughly 35 safety boaters that gave each of us roughly a dozen swimmers that we were responsible for. I did not like those odds but my concerns were unfounded. The race came off like clockwork. Everyone had fun and many personal best's were recorded, including the lovely woman and her homely companion in the image to the left.

Flat water and minimal current seemed to be the main reason that people stayed on course. In addition to the picket line of kayakers there were power boaters, the Coast Guard Auxiliary, and USCG boats as well, many with EMT's on board. We were armed with little orange flags and many of us had radios. If a swimmer looked like they were in trouble we were to assess their condition. Questions that made them think such as their complete street address, middle name, or who is the vice president (no kidding that was on the instruction sheet!) needed to be asked and if they appeared as though they were going to boink we were to key channel 22A on the radio or frantically wave the orange flag. Again, to my knowledge no flags were waved and I did not hear any distress calls on the radio. It was the best day for the swim in my years of safety boating. I even got to bond with two of my former kayaks, the Gulfstream and Solstice GTS HV, Kathy's CD Storm, and my former VW Passat. All were in one spot in the image right.

I headed back to Bayfield with KleanDeckKate while the rest of the usual suspects enjoyed the complementary breakfast on the island. I needed to rendezvous with an Iowa/Nebraska contingent and head for Quarry Bay and a 3 day paddle in the Apostles. A few stops in Bayfield and I was at Red Cliff, where once again (to my mild surprise) a kayak can be launched as the big new casino goes up. The boys were heading out of Little Sand Bay but just as I was about to launch to meet them, boat all loaded and geared up, I got the call that they had aborted the launch. A line of nasty thunderstorms was on the radar and heading our way. NOAA had issued small craft and lightning warnings on the radio and they prudently turned around after a solid 100 yards or so of paddling. In the end it was much ado about nothing because the storm moved well to the south. Once again I wound up setting up my tent in the Town of Russell campground. This time however I persuaded the crew to head into Cornie for whitefish dinners and pitchers of South Shore Nut Brown at the Village Inn. This was followed by ice cream at Ehlers Store, a spot where I once purchased eye bolts, chicken, a box of .22 Long Rifle shells, and two six packs of beer all in one stop. We were all disappointed that we didn't launch but cajun broiled whitefish definitely trumped jet boil dehydrated lasagna for most of the crew. The next morning we were launched by 9am and off to Oak 4 & 6 via Sand, York, and Raspberry Islands. Life is indeed good.

A new life jacket

2011-08-04T06:05:00.004-05:00

For a number of years I've worn what smart assed paddling associates have referred to as 'the Wonderbra' (above), I've pulled the trigger on a new life jacket. I looked around for a month or so before I settled on a Stohlquist TowMotion. I've really liked my two Lotus Designs life jackets but Patagonia pretty much eviscerated the brand since they acquired it and now apparently are getting out of the paddlesport business completely. I can't say I actually shopped around unless you call 2 minutes each in Midwest Mountaineering and Hoigaards shopping. Our little slice of the paddlesports business is so small and specialized that I did not expect to find a higher end sea kayaking life jacket with ample pockets, tow rig ready, and multiple attachment points on the shelf anywhere locally and my expectations were correct. I special ordered it from Doc at Hoigaards and made a multi tasking, gas (diesel actually) saving trip to St Louis Park to picked up the life jacket, a beer bottle drying tree for Podman, and a cold pint at Bunny's Bar. The first real on water test will be up in the Apostles this weekend.

I have a dirty little confession to make though. I've always hated and still hate wearing life jackets. We spent a lot of time fishing when I was a kid and it was constant debate and argument with the old man on whether or not I had to wear a life jacket in the boat. The boat was a 14' standard Crestliner fishing boat with a 7 1/2 horse Johnson motor. No live well, trolling motor, or swivel captain chairs here, just wooden bench seats and a couple anchors that were plopped over the side. One of the motivating factors to take swimming lessons as a young boy was the potential for decreased life jacket time. After passing my Red Cross swimming test, I was allowed to take off the life jacket when the boat was not moving, an act that was performed slowly and deliberately, almost like a striptease, for the benefit of my younger sister, who was cocooned in her life jacket even if it was 90 degrees out. The life jackets at the time were bulky and actually really didn't work all that well. I remember a mystery substance called kapok which would become saturated if the protective covering was pierced. That is the type of jacket seen in the image of my sister, happy about her fish but not happy about wearing the life jacket on the dock. We were even more unhappy when the horse collar life jacket became popular. It would float a person face up after the Coast Guard determined that was a good thing for unconscious swimmers, prompted by the sinking of the ore freighter Carl D. Bradley in 1953, but I was always fully prepared to take that drowning risk rather than wear the damn thing. I can empathize with Dolly Parton after trying to move around and accomplish anything while wearing that abomination.

I will admit the new life jackets are much more comfortable and handy for things such as the radio, tow belt, knife, light, an energy bar or two, a thermometer, and a compass in the pockets. I also never go on the water without wearing my life jacket, or life preserver if you prefer the more positive and descriptive term. I hate acronyms like PFD. Call me a DSOB but but we have enough stupid acronyms floating around....LOL. I generally don't wear one when I'm rolling, I use a Stearns inflatable belt device but mostly I have the thing on. Like bike and motorcycle helmets, car insurance, and air bags, a person never really knows when they will need em so we should always wear em. But like many things we should do, it is not a requirement that we like it.

I have all my goodies successfully transferred to the new life jacket and will be wearing it for safety boating the Point to Lapointe Open Water swim and then our 3 days in the Apostles. It feels pretty good and is much less 'out front' than the Lotus, a life jacket that I won in a raffle at an early GLSKS event. The on water test will tell the tale. Gitchee Gumee, here I come!

The Fighting 69th

2011-08-01T16:17:00.014-05:00

This weekend was spent nowhere near a kayak, a rarity for the summer months. I've been long overdue in visiting No.2 son CaptO and his bride at their new digs in Forest Hills, Queens, New York. There was a high level SKOAC/Sebago Canoe Club summit meeting on the East River in Long Island City Friday night involving me, Bonnie K Frogma, and our support staff (images below) but no boats were involved. Three different 'conference venues' were utilized but no real substantive agreements were reached other than the agreement that the coq au vin with garlic mashed at Cafe Henri looked excellent. The highlight of this trip however, was the personal tour of the 69th Infantry Regiment, the 'Fighting 69th' armory on Lexington Ave between 25th and 26th St in Manhattan.

Both the regiment and the armory have a storied history. The regiment was formed before the Civil War and was wholly Irish in makeup. One of their first mentions was actually for an act of mutiny. New York regiments were ordered to parade to honor the Prince of Wales in 1860. The regiments commander, Col. Michael Corcoran, refused to parade the regiment for an English prince. He was going to be court martialed for disobeying orders but the start of the Civil War made the military authorities reconsider. The regiment fought at several battes including 1st Manasses (Bull Run), Antietem, and the Wheatfield at Gettysburg. It was at Fredricksburg, a disaster for the Union side, that the name the "fighting 69th" was first used by none other than their adversary, Gen Robert E. Lee. The unit fought in most every other war that the US was involved in and a ton of historical info can be found on the regiments official site here.

The armory itself has quite a history. It was completed in 1906 and was designed in the Beaux-Arts style rather than the medieval castle look common with most armories of the time. In 1913 it was the site of the first modern art show in the country. Unheard of artists like Cezanne, Monet, Tolouse-Latrec, Van Gogh, and Picasso had their works exhibited at the armory and were the subject of much ridicule by the press and art establishment. Insane, immoral, and anarchic were some of the milder criticisms and former Prez Teddy Roosevelt declared, "That's not art!" Continuing in an artistic vein, Victoria Secrets fashion shows and other fashion and food events have been held there. In the sporting world, there were national track meets, the first televised roller derby event, and for a while the armory was the home court for the New York Knicks. After 9/11 the armory was used as a counseling center and clearing house for victims and their families and many of the notes, pleas for information, and other documents posted on the walls were preserved.

The tour began with MsE, broBen, and I pushing the door buzzer to state our business. We were buzzed in and greeted by CaptO's buddy, CaptB for the tour. We were turned over to Cpl Nick, a guy who, much like yours truly, is a genuine history nut. I was kind to my companions and didn't ask a ton of questions but I will need to return for more in depth study, hopefully when the O Club is open. First stop was the battalion commanders office, digs that would be the envy of any CEO in the country. An original letter from Abraham Lincoln to the regiment is on one wall and all but one of the Medals of Honor won by soldiers in the regiment are on another wall. Battle flags, a conference table with campaign streamers under the glass, and a great wood paneled motif with fireplace makes for an impressive room on a number of levels.

The rest of the armory was no less impressive. There is an entire room of murals painted by WPA artists during Roosevelts New Deal, depicting battles the 69th had fought in. A displays honored famous division chaplains including Father Duffy, a man played by Pat O'Brien in the 1940 movie "The Fighting 69th". James Cagney played the screw off WWI doughboy that Father Duffy straightened out during WWI. During that time the 69th served with the 42nd "Rainbow" division, whose Chief of Staff was then Major Douglas MacArthur. Other displays honor the Pacific service in WWII and the role that the armory played as a clearing house and meeting place after the 9/11 attacks. An alert 69th veteran noticed a sword on Ebay belonging to Col. Thomas Meagher, a Colonel of the regiment during the Civil War. Meagher was an Irish nationalist who had been sentenced to hang by the British but had his sentence commuted to transportation to Australia. He made his way to the US and the 69th Regiment by the start of the Civil War. The sword was purchased then donated to the Regiment, an indication about the esteem with which veterans hold their old unit. Restoration efforts are underway on old battle flags, the murals, and other gems in the armory.

The tour ended in the Officers Club. It was one of five bars in the armory at one time. Hey, this was an Irish regiment after all. They are down to two now, an officers and an enlisted man's club. The club was another wonderful room with memorabilia from visiting units from around the world and done in the same dark wood paneling as other rooms in the building. It was not open at this early hour but I look forward to returning to have the traditional regimental cocktail of Irish whiskey mixed with champagne.

There is another great regimental tradition that I have half a mind to participate in. Since the 1850's the Regiment has led the St Patricks Day parade, complete with their Irish Wolfhound mascots. Tradition has the Regiment march from the armory to the doors of St Patricks Cathedral on 5th Ave. The battalion commander's knock on the door is answered by the Archbishop of New York and mass is said. Then the parade begins. There may even be a bit of Bushmills with a Guinness chaser or two involved in the days festivities.

We thanked all of the folks at the armory for the tour and then adjourned to another historic site, Pete's Tavern with MsE, broBen, and Cptn's B and M. Petes pulled their first pint in 1864 and has been open continuously since. Prohibition you say? They kept right on serving while camouflaged as a flower shop and protected by Tammany Hall. CaptO joined us after work and we behaved about as well as can be expected given the situation. If a tour of the 69th Regiment armory can be wangled its well worth the stop and nicely off the traditional beaten Manhattan tourist path. My scheme is to head back with the VOR, another history buff, and try to do the in depth tour when the O Club is open. Right around the 17th of March if we play our cards right.