There will be no tent camping this weekend, we're off for the North Shore of Lake Superior and a fine little B&B on the Baptism River which flows into the lake. Hiking boots, bicycles, and of course kayaks will be lashed on to the VW for the trip. I should be able to pack everything I need in about 10 minutes since tents, stoves, food, sleeping kit, and all the essential gear for kayak camping will not be needed. Every time I've gone out to Isle Royale the backpackers on the ferry have been astounded that all the crap we bring can fit in those little hatches. They are especially jealous when they see the cast aluminum dutch oven and 'real' food.

It will be a relaxing weekend with absolutely no plan at all. Wind, waves, and weather will dictate the activity and watches will be optional. When we return, the city will be crawling with GOP delegates, blow dried media types, and dour, humorless, and indignant protesters. I guess the city got $50 million bucks from the feds to help provide security for this circus. I wonder how much they would have needed if there were no TV cameras? I won't be thinking about that until Monday evening however. This weekend it will be the rocky North Shore of Gitchee Gumee, the smell of fall, and a nice hot sauna or three.

"Who'll keep us safe from them?"

The photo above is of the US Canadian border where the Pigeon River flows into Lake Superior; Canada on the left and the US on the right of the image. Last week about a half mile from that spot, a Polish national was arrested for attempting to smuggle a fellow Pole and a Slovakian across the US-Canada border. He walked them across Middle Falls on the Pigeon River and told them he's pick them up in his car at the state park. They were arrested at Ryden's store, right next to the customs station, probably the dumbest place to go if you're trying to be unobtrusive and can't speak English. Since they walked through Grand Portage State Park I immediately emailed my fellow Lake Superior junkie who works at the park and jokingly asked him if he made the arrest. His response was, "Yikes!......that's the first I've heard of it....the border patrol doesn't tell us about such things when they happen".

I talked to some friends on both sides of the border and apparently the Border Patrol does not have a very good reputation in the area since 9/11. The three folks I talked to all used the same adjective when describing the attitude of the agency; arrogant. One incident last fall ratcheted up local resentment of the Border Patrol significantly. A local doctor had stopped on the Gunflint Trail, a countyl blacktop road, to clear a tree that the wind had blown on to the road. He had just fired up his chain saw when an SUV coming from the other direction at about 50mph hit the tree, became airborne, and landed on him. He was killed. It was a clear night on a straight stretch of road and the driver of the SUV was a US Border Patrol agent.

The Star Tribune article in the link above does a great job of describing the situation. The Grand Marais office has swelled from 2 to 15 agents and the local business folks say that Border Patrol vehicles are all over the place, more often than not speeding. One of them killed two baby moose in a reduced speed zone. The other problem with the beefed up force was that, "they weren't very friendly".

The agent who drove the SUV that killed Dr. Petersen was transferred to Grand Forks, ND. She was indicted by a grand jury on misdemeanor charges of careless and inattentive driving. She refused to appear, claiming immunity as a federal officer and also refused to answer any questions or respond to emailed questions. The Border Patrol has also stonewalled and refused to even provide basic information to the grand jury, such as how long she had worked prior to the incident. Apparently its secret information, crucial to national security and keeping us safe. Again, the Strib article has great detail on the entire situation, none of which is very flattering to the Border Patrol. As my buddy said, Who'll keep us safe from them?"

As evidenced by the bumbling Polish smuggling attempt, its seems to be a pretty good idea to have people patrolling the border. Another really good idea would be to develop trust with the local folks, who can likely help spot people that don't fit in. It's apparent that community and customer relations is not a curriculum item at either the Customs or Border Patrol training facilities. Either that or the skills are not utilized in everyday dealings with the public. Apparently the agencies are trying to establish some rapport with local folks but even simple informative meetings apparently require approval from federal officials outside the state. You would also think that if people were found coming through the Grand Portage State Park that it might be wise to alert the park officials so they could keep their eyes open. Instead, signs like the one above have been cropping up along the border. I figured I'd give the number a call and see what I needed to do to Help Secure Our Border. A very friendly and courteous woman answered the phone up in Grand Forks, ND and told me she would put me on hold for a minute and speak with someone who could answer my question of what I could do to Help Secure Our Borders. The answer, after a couple minutes on hold, was to be sure to report any suspicious activity ( like two guys conversing in strange eastern European languages and looking uncomfortable in Ryden's Store) and simply keep my eyes open for unusual things. Instead of putting up a bunch of signs, I think if the border patrol folks made the effort to get out of their vehicles and talk to the resort owners, outfitters, and outdoor folks, they might actually be able to develop a network of people who are genuinely interested in helping them do their job. If they keep driving around (at high speed) wearing mirror sunglasses and acting like agents Mulder and Scully from the X Files, there is no chance in hell the independent minded folks in Minnesota's arrowhead region, or anywhere else for that matter, are going to give them the time of day. People are much more likely to communicate with 'Officer Bob', the guy that stopped and introduced himself or said hi at the coffee shop, than the nameless, faceless, federal Border Patrol office. Beat cops have known this for years. It would be a good time for the feds to figure it out.

Woody on the dance floor!?

This weekend did involve some kayak and water activities at my sister and brother in law's cabin in north central Wisconsin. I took the Q boat out, did a few rolls, and had my first trip on the Hobie Cat catamaran. My sister and her friend also purchased a couple Hobie kayaks with the crazy MirageDrive; you pedal them! Those craft did not hit the water this trip however, as the main focus of the weekend was to attend the 25th wedding anniversary party of some long time friends in Eau Claire.

The party consisted of happy hour, an excellent buffet with a bit of a Cajun theme, and a dance with a live band. Woody was at the bar when we arrived; Knob Creek bourbon on the rocks was his beverage of choice this evening. I chose John Jameson, the "Catholic whiskey" from Ireland, to be my liquid companion for the night. The VoiceOfReason opted for Apple-tini's. By the time the band started the crowd was in a very receptive mood. Rather than the usual tired oldies these guys were playing great old rock-n-roll including Cream, the Spencer Davis Group, Booker T and the MG's, the Animals (not House of the Rising Sun), and even a bit of Dylan. Something looked vaguely familiar about the bass player; I also noticed he was eyeballing me between songs as well. When the set was over I wandered up and learned he was a high school classmate that I hadn't seem for probably thirty plus years. I pointed out to him that he had not aged as gracefully as I had and he said he had been thinking the same of me. In any event it was the Animals, with a major assist from the VOR and my sister, that got Woody on to the dance floor for the first time in three decades. He was a helicopter pilot in Vietnam and flew in both the Cambodian incursion (the impetus for the Kent State shootings by the National Guard) and the invasion of Laos. One of the most requested songs during that period on AFR was We Gotta Get Out of This Place by the Animals. It was the perfect storm - Knob Creek flowing unimpeded, the Vietnam anti-anthem blasting from the bandstand, and a good lookin' woman on each arm dragging him on to the dance floor. Those who know this group realize it was a monumental event, facilitated mainly by the persuasive powers of the VOR, and I don't expect it to occur again for another 30 years. He even stayed on the dance floor for Gimme Some Lovin' by the Spencer Davis Group but then the magical moment was over. The testosterone saturated among the group continued to party while the ladies put the brakes on. I ran into another buddy that I'd traveled to the USSR with back in the Brezhnev era (along with the guest of honor), so that needed to be properly and solemnly toasted as well. The next morning I found myself in a contemplative and reflective mood until well past noon. Two days removed I feel it was well worth the suffering but I'm thinking I won't repeat the feat any time soon. I did miss some paddling on Sunday morning but we'll most certainly make up for that during the week and the upcoming weekend. It was an excellent party and a great way to reconnect with some folks from the distant past.

State Fair week means.......

Since 1859,with a few interruptions for the Civil War, WW II fuel shortages, polio epidemics, and the Sioux Indian uprising, Minnesota has held its State Fair on roughly the same week and a half of the year. The 2008 run began yesterday. This is to celebrate the bounty of the harvest, the mature livestock, the dog days of August, and.........the official end of summer in the northland. If a certain esteemed and estimable Milwaukee blogger is reading this, I would suggest stopping now. We don't want to put you on suicide watch this early in the year.

As we sat enjoying our traditional post paddle beer on the edge of Long lake (did I mention that RonO and I were rolling maniacs that night?) we felt a bit of nip in the air and discussed the fact that it was getting dark at 8:00 instead of 9pm. Ron also pointed out that on his trip north this weekend the sumac had turned as red as a fire engine and we discussed opening day of the fair. Labor Day weekend commences one week from today and our annual fall paddle trip begins two weeks from now. My bow has flung a couple of arrows and several yards of gravel have been dropped at the hunting camp to avoid the quagmire that usually occurs with the fall rains. If history is any indicator, we will have that killer frost that we hay fever sufferers crave in about 3 weeks. I plan on lubricating the dry suit gaskets and actually threw a wool shirt in the pack for this weekends trip to my sisters cabin in Wisconsin. The leaves will begin to turn shortly and after that.......







Sorry folks...

But I guess thats why we live here, a combination of a short attention span, memories of last years fall and winter, and yearning and wonder of what the next season will bring. Speaking of that, I wonder when the first preseason cross country ski sale will be announced.....?

Sometimes you're just on.......

This weeks Wednesday night paddle was an impromptu, last minute affair involving RonO, the VOR, and I, on nearby and convenient Long Lake. We took a nice paddle and then Ron and I stopped for some rolling on the return trip. Last Friday night we took one of the VOR's coworkers and her SO out for their first taste of paddling. Since we were short one boat, GalwayGuy and I shared the Q-boat and took turns sitting on the beach and watching each other roll, after I took a short paddle with the rookies and left them in the VOR's capable hands. GG was doing his usual repertoire of rolls but I was struggling with everything but the basic sweep and I'm sure even that didn't look great. I was like the frog that you pithed in high school biology class; there seemed to be a disconnect between the brain and the rest of the body, the same kind that can occur after a particularly energetic evening of vodka drinking. Nothing seemed to work so I did what any determined kayak roller would do. I gave up.

Last night was different. Things just seemed to come together and everything was working, even some of the more confusing offside stuff. I'm not sure why that was but I wasn't questioning it, I was just rolling. My main problem is lack of flexibility. I suspect that if my head ever touched my back deck that the next thing to occur would be my helicopter evac to Hennepin County General. Even so, the standard sweeps, angel roll, reverse sweeps, and even the problematic shotgun roll were all going quite nicely, thank you. On the shotgun I managed to curb my natural impatience and let the roll develop slowly. I also moved forward a couple inches in the seat to give the rigid spine a bit more room to unwind. It always amazes me how little thing, done consistently and well, can make such a big difference on the overall success of an activity. The Olympics have certainly proven that, with some competitors nailing all the little things and winding up on the medal platform, while others were off by a whisker and were on TV with the 'head in the hands' shot. While rolling has none of the pressure of the Olympics (unless you're in the finals of the Qaannat Kattuffiat competition in Greenland) it still makes me feel really good to hit one and have it feel right. The alternative, of course, is to make a big splash.

A few of us are off to the Traditional Paddlers Gathering in northern Minnesota in roughly two weeks. I hope those brain to muscle synapses that were firing so nicely last night remember what they were doing; it would be nice to build on some of the skills I think I have versus spending all weekend refining them. We shall see in a short time.