All politics is local

It looks like the Town of Bayview board in Bayfield County, near Washburn, WI, has given the thumbs up on the proposed Houghton Falls park. This forward thinking decision is 180 degrees opposite from the knucklehead proposal by the Town of Baraboo board, on the other end of the State of Wisconsin, to discourage the creation and maintenance of more land for the public to use and enjoy.

We had the opportunity to snowshoe the area of the proposed new park over the New Years weekend and it is most definitely park worthy. Its a fairly deep sandstone ravine that has a couple of nice waterfalls and flows into the lake near Houghton Point. The vegetation includes some fine white cedar and hemlock, which are becoming rarer due to overbrowsing by the deer. Check out the images. It will make a nice little park and, as you can see from the article in the Ashland Daily Press, there seems to be a lot of popular support, one town board member nonwithstanding, for more public land and access in the area.

On the south end of the state, the Town of Baraboo board is trying to penalize the Nature Conservancy because an expensive rescue needed to take place on their land in Baxter's Hollow. The concept in a nutshell, is that the town board, already aggravated because this land isn't in the tax base at full value, wants to charge tax exempt landowners for 'unusual costs' in response to local emergencies on their land. I could type a lovely tirade on this theory, ripping it a new orifice on a number of levels, but our buddy Derrick, right in the midst of Baraboo controversy, has already done so in a fine post. We can only hope this wrong headed attempt to extort a few bucks from the Nature Conservancy goes nowhere. Like Mr. Mayoleth, I'm a big fan of personal responsibility. I also believe that more land with public access, as opposed to more land owned by the public, is an excellent way to provide people with outdoor opportunities. The one large benefit is that the Nature Conservancy doesn't routinely put out logging or mining contracts to achieve that wasteland look that US Forest Service must think someone enjoys.

I don't want to infer that town boards in northern Wisconsin are superior in foresight and altruistic tendencies to those in the south. One only need look at the Town of Russell board and their rubber stamping of the Shadow Wood Landing project to disprove that theory. Still, Houghton Falls park will be a nice little gem amongst the state, county, and national park lands in the area. It should be intimate, quiet, and appealing to the seeker of solitude, a commodity that is in very short supply these days.

Gear parallels

As I got ready to head out for a quick ski last night, I agonized over which skis I should take. It was about 20F (-7C) which was plenty warm to skate and also perfect for some nice hard blue wax on the classicals. I could also just grab the no wax classicals but that option was a distant third in the mental voting. As I rummaged in the ski closet in the garage, I bumped my head a couple times on the Ore Freighter, the Valley Aquanaut HV, that was hanging just above the ski stash. I was struck by how my ski collection, acquired for different conditions and moods, paralleled my kayak fleet.

I ultimately decided that the waxable classical skis were the way to go last night. I was up for a nice, steady, leisurely run instead of the potential heart attack (note near death expression in above image) that's induced every time I attempt to power up a hill on the skate skis. I use all the skis, including the telemark skis, depending on how I feel and what the snow and weather are offering up that day. Its the same with kayaking. If I want to go fast on a day trip or spend my time upside down, then the Q-boat is the only choice. If I am on a trip or want to just poke around and take some photos, the Aquanaut is the perfect choice. Often the soothing varnished wood on the Chesapeake 17LT and its uber stable design is the logical choice on inland lakes.

I'm sure the gear sales guys love fickle outdoor types like me. The only saving grace is that relatively speaking, skiing and kayaking are fairly inexpensive sports. I work in a company where motorsports like snowmobiling and ATVing are big. I checked out the cost of an Arctic Cat T Z1 Turbo snowmobile, a fine touring sled. MSRP is $15,000. All my kayaks, skis, paddles, boots, poles, pfd's, etc. all totaled up, will only get me to about 2/3 of the cost of a new sled. Plus I get some exercise and save a tremendous amount on gas, alcohol, and potential ER bills.

The gear candy store for kayaking, Canoecopia, will be open in about 60 days. Even though I don't need anything (famous last words) I still attend and fantasize about all the stuff I could use. After all, to paraphrase the words of a shooting buddy, I have all the kayak gear that I need but not as much as I want.

Pasty training and ski sesson

A pasty is a uniquely UP (Michigan's Upper Peninsula) treat. The correct pronunciation was explained by a native Yooper woman at the Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium a few years back, an event featuring a pasty supper as part of the program. "A pastie (long 'a') goes on your boobs. A pasty (rhymes with 'nasty') goes right on your ass". Basically its a self contained pot pie where a pie crust is filled with beef, potatoes, and onions and then folded over, sealed, and baked. I don't believe I've ever seen it featured as part of the diet plate at any restaurant that serves them. Although I've eaten many over the years and even have my 'must stop' pasty spots all over the UP, I've never made one myself. This gap in my knowledge was rectified by the BessemerConvivialist on Saturday.

The plan was to arrive the BC's south Minneapolis estate around 11am and get down to production. We were then scheduled to ski Hyland Park Reserve at 3pm. The VOR and I arrived close to on time with a couple six packs (mandatory at any SKOAC Renegade function) and a large rutabaga. This was a bone of contention with the pasty chef and you can see the look of scorn on her face as she holds the offending vegetable. In the western UP only the basic meat, potatoes, and onion....lots and lots of onion.....are allowed. When rutabagas are added it becomes a Cornish pasty. The miners from Cornwall are thought to be the original group that brought pastys to the UP. They stay warm a long time and utensils are not needed to devour one, which made them the perfect lunch in the mine. Another quirk of the western UP pasty fan is a total disdain for anyone that would think of putting gravy on their pasty, yet slathering the thing with ketchup is perfectly acceptable.

A compromise was reached where 1/3's of the pasty production would have rutabaga and the balance would be rutabaga free. After lots of chopping and pie crust production the assembly process began. KleanDeckKate showed up and pitched in, but the rest of the crew was in the 'Little Red Hen' mode and met us at the ski trail. Even though the temps hovered around 0F (-18C) it was great skiing and the wind cooperated nicely. It was too cold to skate but classical worked just fine. The apres' ski was wonderful of course, with lots of homemade pastys and a beer or three to round out the day.

Now that I have the technology to produce these things I would suggest not purchasing any stock in Joes Pasty Shop in Ironwood. Share prices might plummet without my several times per year purchase of a dozen Cornish. On second thought, pasty making was a lot of work and took a lot of time. I think Joe's is pretty safe. Plus if you need one right away, they will ship them to your house this time of the year. They are the perfect cold weather meal and I can highly recommend giving then a try. Even the cat looks like he'd like one.

The Top of the Harbor

New Years day dawned in Duluth, and my plan to head over to the deer camp early and snowshoe in to retrieve some forgotten clothing and check things out began to seem less attractive at -10F (-23C). The VoiceOfReason suggested that we have a leisurely breakfast at the revolving restaurant at the top of the Radisson hotel instead, once again cementing her blog name with a practical solution.

On a crisp, cloudless day like New Years, the view from up there is pretty spectacular. The restaurant revolves 360 degrees in an hour, about six degrees per minute. The clip below give an idea of just how fast that is. I should probably find out if such speed and altitude would cause a combination of motion sickness and vertigo in the GurneyGranny, a poster child for such queasiness. Iwill admit to a bit of disorientation in the beginning but a good coffee buzz and a healthful sausage, eggs, and hash browns breakfast made that disappear pretty quickly. The food was nothing to write home about but the waitress was extremely competent and friendly and sitting there on our hind ends, watching the scenery rotate, was worth the price of admission. It was fun to see Park Point in the image above, stretching south toward the Superior entrance to the bay. Neither of us had been there for literally decades and it was kind of nice to revisit an old haunt and view the harbor from a high, close up vantage point. By the time we left for our cross country ski and snowshoe weekend on the Bayfield peninsula, the temperature had skyrocketed to 5F (-15C), perfect ski conditions, and once again the VOR had demonstrated her considerable powers of reason.

Embrace the ice

I will have to confess that I really enjoy ice. I've never smashed up a car, battled ice dams on my roof, had ice squash any docks or watercraft, fallen through the ice (OK, one time), or even really fallen on my ass on the ice that many times. I have had far more good experiences with frozen water than bad ones, and this weekend for my first time , I got to watch Chequamagon Bay freeze over.

My affection for frozen water started at a young age, ice fishing with the old man. He would drill a hole, the water would come gushing up, and we'd clean the ice chips out of the hole with a beat up metal strainer. Watching the cork go under and the bluegill or crappie come up through the hole was very cool for a little kid. He believed, like most ice fishermen, that the fish bit better when the ice first froze over, and I recall shuffling out on a small bay on snowshoes, wearing a Stearns vest, and carrying two pieces broom handle with finishing nails pounded in the end to haul ourselves out if we did go through. I don't recall him ever filling my mother in on this plan. In junior high the ice rink was about the only place you could meet the opposite sex in an unsupervised setting. The bored college guy that manned the warming house pretty much sat inside doing his homework and stoking the wood stove, allowing we outdoor skaters carte blanche. Once the drivers license was obtained, the icey fun multiplied geometrically. If the ice froze solid before the snow fell we could skate for miles and play hockey before the municipal rinks were open. A person could also get a car going 50, 60,or 70 miles per hour, jerk the steering wheel over, and just let er spin down the lake. There is rumor that on one occasion such a car, an AMC Gremlin if memory serves, hooked to the left like a gigantic curling stone being steered by inept sweepers, and clipped the side of a fish house in the wee hours of the morning. This rumor cannot be substantiated however. Other wonderful experiences with ice have involved keeping beer cool and releasing the flavor of a nice highball glass of Irish Whiskey. And I don't even mind the ice that forms beneath my snout on a cold winter day.

Early on in the weekend we checked out the ice in Duluth harbor, ice that had been busted up several times by the USCG ice breakers. The temperature hovered around zero or below (-18C) most of the weekend and the ice was forming. The VOR and I arrived in Washburn, WI, took a quick ski with RangerMark and the GreenThumbChef, and hunkered down for the evening, overlooking Chequamagon Bay. We could see open water on the bay and ripples from wind but closer to shore there were no wind ripples, just a thin layer of ice that was undulating very gently with the small swell. As I sat sipping one of my first Summit Winter Ales of the season, the layer of ice slowly but steadily advanced across the bay and out into the lake. Some might equate watching ice build with watching paint dry or a bridge rust, but seeing the water crystallize was magical. The next morning the hoarfrost and visible bands where the ice was thinner (see top image) had transformed the lake into a completely different place than it was the night before. Swirling lake effect snow made the horizon disappear and the rocks looked like they were on one big white canvas. Before long the ice road will be usable and people can visit the sea caves on the ice. How can you not like that?