Posts Tagged ‘friends’
Fifty Years
Coinciding with our usual 4th of July celebrations up at our lake place this year is a gala weekend recognizing the 50th anniversary of the community we call Wildwood Lodge Club. It’s like taking the most awesome event of the year and turning it up to eleven. No, make that twelve.
The brief history is that in 1966, one man spearheaded an effort to enlist a group to chip in and buy an old fishing lodge. The membership has changed a little bit over the years, with Cyndie’s family joining in 1969. The current 7 families decided to celebrate this year’s milestone by inviting everyone they could find who had ever been a member to come up for this holiday weekend.
It was a brilliant idea and the last two days have been more fun that we imagined possible.
I enjoyed a little milestone of my own at the start of the day by getting back on my bike just a week after the Tour of Minnesota. Last year after the ride, I hung my bike on a hook in the shop and didn’t get around to riding it again for the rest of the summer.
Cyndie’s brother, Ben, enticed me to bring my road bike up this year so we could get out for a ride together. It was a gorgeous morning and we made the most of it with an easy breeze through some of the beautiful lakes and woods of northern Wisconsin.
Back at Wildwood, we cooled off with a dip in the lake before the rest of the families and guests started their big day at the beach. For this special weekend, some extra floatation toys were added. They were well-used all day long.
In the evening, we gathered at the lodge for a brat and corn feast highlighted by a slide show and videos that overflowed with memories of the last 50 years.
It was informative and confirming for me to hear from some of the past members who spoke about what this place means to them still, long after their families moved on from the association.
As beautiful as this lake property is, it is the people of the member families, and the community they have created, that truly set this apart as a spectacularly incredible thing. I have always known it was special, but it is possible to take it for granted over time.
Celebrating a milestone like a 50th anniversary serves to remind and reorient me to the magic I fell into when I became a part of Cyndie’s amazing family and this special place.
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Close Calls
For the most part, my week of biking and camping was perfect. Weather was good, trails and roads were great, and my body delivered everything I asked of it. I was in the company of really great companions who fed my soul and entertained my brain.
However, my performance wasn’t entirely without incident.
The first occasion happened when I was cruising the trail with Rich and Steve on the day we coincidentally chose to wear our blue sleeveless jerseys. While some cat-callers threw out a moniker with the word “smurf” in it, Rich anointed us the “Blue Man Crew.”
There are many driveways and a few roads that the trail crosses, and at each one there is a stop sign. We are supposed to stop at each one, but in the rural setting there is very little traffic present. Instead of stopping, we would most often yield, pausing to look for cars.
After miles of no traffic, we arrived at one where a large truck had just crossed our trail and was waiting to turn onto the adjacent highway. We were talking and Rich had pulled out his water bottle as we approached. Suddenly I spotted a pickup truck pulling up behind the larger truck.
In a split second decision, I raised my hand in a wave and rolled through between the two vehicles, but Rich and Steve abruptly hit their brakes. I figured the pickup couldn’t go anywhere with the larger truck stopped in front of it. The other two made the proper decision, but paid a price when their rapid deceleration led to their bikes tangling and a spoke on Rich’s front wheel getting bent.
Our behavior seemed to rile the driver of the pickup truck, as he then raced around the large truck and cut across it in a right turn, racing his engine as he sped off.
Thinking that the spoke was broken, we gingerly made our way to the day’s destination, worried about a risk the wheel might collapse. Luckily, it wasn’t a broken spoke after all. Mike, our trusty Penn Cycle mechanic supporting the trip, was able to straighten it out and true the wheel, good as new.
The second close call happened at the end of the week as we pulled back into the town of Brainerd. I was in a small group of riders who were all seeking the best route to the fair grounds. We crossed a street at an intersection with cars waiting their turn.
Folks announced their intentions with calls of “Slowing!” and “Stopping!” I twisted my right foot out of the clipless pedal in preparation of stopping, and then got caught with my weight on the other foot. I followed their calls with one of my own.
“Falling.”
I came out of it with nothing more than a bruised hip, forearm and ego.
Just another close call.
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Trip Withdrawal
I’ve been home one day and I am noticing a distinct void from the abrupt absence of the large group of companions I enjoyed last week. Though personal space and familiar comforts of home are precious, the camaraderie we shared can be addicting, putting up a good fight for my desire.
I want both.
Now I’ve got my bathroom and bed back, but a lingering longing for the instantly available connection with inspiring souls leaves me wanting. I think that is what draws so many of us back to this annual ride each succeeding year.
Looking at a picture of the very first morning, taken just moments before we pedaled off en mass on the first leg of the week, I am instantly reminded of the excitement and anticipation of what lie ahead for us.
It started out with a damp fog just above the ground, but our 2016 ride in the heart of the state was blessed with some great weather and easy riding. A high percentage of our miles were accomplished on the 115-mile-long Paul Bunyan State Trail between Brainerd and Bemidji.
I had a really nice time meeting riders that were new to our group this year, discovering kindred spirits from as far away as Maryland, Texas, and Colorado, as well as a few from within the state of Minnesota.
They all won a piece of my heart, but challenging that for the highlight of the year for me was the opportunity to ride with first-timer, Sarah Gordon, the 10-year-old daughter of my treasured friend, Rich. They rode together on a borrowed tandem in a brave “test of concept” exercise for both.
I could see how difficult it was for each of them to manage at times, and they did a spectacular job of facing the challenges and achieving their goals, all while maintaining a superb attitude. They inspired and energized me greatly.
Sometimes we can become narrowly focused on doing this ride for our own personal reasons, but there is an equally significant value for those around us when we make the decision to participate.
I am forever grateful that Sarah decided to ride with us this year, and equally thankful for the rest of the crew, new and old, who showed up this year to make the 2016 Tour of Minnesota a particularly special biking and camping week.
How ’bout we do it again next year, eh?
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Warren’s Jersey
Up next, my most precious jersey, Warren’s red jersey on the seat of the diesel tractor. When good friend and fellow cyclist, Warren LaCourse passed away, his wife offered his bike jerseys to us as a remembrance. I chose this one because he wore it so often, the back became faded from exposure to the sun.
I always feel a little bit stronger on the bike when I’m wearing this jersey and thinking about Warren.
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Planning Again
Sometimes, between the daily chores and ongoing projects that never seem to be finished here, we allow ourselves to imagine new things we could be doing to benefit our operation. One specific vision we have held from the very early stage of arriving on this property is to have chickens, but it just keeps not happening for us.
Initially, it was seen as a way to naturally control flies and break up piles of manure. That benefit alone was enough reason for me to look beyond the details involved in actually caring for and protecting a flock of birds. We could sure do with less flies.
One early delay in our acting on that vision was that we didn’t yet have horses, and we instead brought home a very carnivorous young dog that required a lot of time and attention. When the horses finally arrived, our attention was consumed by the combination of orienting ourselves with actually owning and caring for the 4 very large creatures, as well as the puppy dog and 2 cats.
Now, as we have become more acclimated with our animals and the surroundings, and have grown more familiar with our neighbors, the subject of owning chickens gets discussed as a natural given. We should have chickens. George has even offered to give us some of his.
When someone else we met reported that, in addition to having less flies, they haven’t seen any ticks since they got chickens, it was a lock. We need chickens.
All we have to do is build a coop.
Do you know how you would build a chicken coop? There are as many versions as there are people in the world. As is usual for me, I would like to accomplish it using as much found material as possible. I searched for plans using pallets. There are as many versions of plans for chicken coops built out of pallets as there are flies in a barnyard.
I am now at the point where I have a real good general idea of what I would like to do. That just leaves an unending number of actual details that need to be figured out and executed.
Yesterday, Cyndie helped me prepare 5 more pallets that I brought home from work. They have 4 extra blocks nailed on top that I remove to get a flat platform. We experimented with several orientations to see if there was a natural fit that would work easily. She then disappeared to the back of the shop garage for a minute and returned with 3 perfect clear vinyl panels that could be used for windows.
I had forgotten about those. The previous owners had screwed them on the sliding screen doors for protection from their small dog. I had completely forgotten of their existence.
A few more baby steps toward building a coop so we can get chickens.
One of these days, it might happen. It will be just like we have been envisioning throughout the last 4 years.
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Thursday Night
When you don’t work on Fridays, Thursday night becomes the early occasion to party like the weekend is upon you. Have some neighbors over, eat a feast, play some cards, and stay up late having loads of fun.
Check.
I’m exhausted. And rejuvenated.
Is that even possible?
Bring on my 3-day weekend. It’s my last one before leaving on the annual week-long June bike camping trip, The Tour of Minnesota. I guess I better start thinking about preparations. Will it be a hot trip this year? Rainy? What should I pack?
I’m thinking about trying a minimalist approach this time around, so the questions take on more significance for me. In one week, I will be making a final decision about what makes the cut.
I hope the weather forecasts show some general agreement by then, and as long as I’m hoping, that they predict nothing but the smallest of chances for rain.
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Much Accomplished
The day started slowly, but gained momentum and became a productive and fruitful one at Wildwood Lodge Club. Cyndie’s family was well represented among the 6 current clans that hold membership in the association. Best of all, not only did the looming possibility of a rainout not happen, there was even some sunshine to bask in while we worked (and played).
The primary effort started with the beach and “boats.” There are canoes, kayaks of a variety of sizes, small sail boats, and standup paddle boards that tend to get parked on the beach. More time was probably spent washing the cobwebs off the chairs that line the beach.
The lake seems high enough again this year to have reduced our sandy strip to a minimum for all the things we put there. First impressions that the water would be uncomfortably cold were altered quickly and led to kids choosing to jump in, which soon led to requests to go tubing behind the speed boat.
Summer might as well be in full swing.
We pulled goals out of storage, which led to me needing to take on Cyndie’s nephews in a little 1-against-2 mini soccer match on my way to helping pull weeds under the playground set. I discovered loose screws that needed wrenching to get that apparatus up to code.
I helped brainstorm a location for a new grill station outside the lodge kitchen, and unloaded pavers when Cyndie’s brother arrived from town with a heavy load. While at the lodge, I stepped up to help dispatch the rejected weeds and rocky dirt that accumulated from a massive clean out of the landscaping by the front steps.
That involved loading them onto a cart and transporting them to a perfect low spot in the woods by the driveway. Extra leftover hostas were moved up to our “cabin,” where Cyndie’s mom has designs to make good use of them.
Our getaway to the lake was feeling an awful lot like a typical day at home tending to 20 acres, with a bonus of the added glorious lake view.
I think my body will be happy to get back to the day-job on Tuesday for some well-earned rest.
In the mean time, my mind is thoroughly enjoying the mental vacation and energizing pleasures of family and friends —people and place— that Wildwood is all about.
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My Friday
Since I work a 4-day week at the day-job, Thursdays have become like a Friday to me. I feel an urgency to wrap up as many situations as possible before I leave the office, and the evenings are wide open with possibility. After slogging through a bit of a difficult day yesterday at work, I rushed home to hop on the lawn tractor to mow.
The week has been one of constant rain threat, and our grass is growing incredibly fast as a result of showers received. We plan to head to the lake for the holiday weekend, so getting it cut while the sun was shining made the chore a priority. I raced through the task and finished in time to meet George and Annaliese arriving for dinner as I walked toward the house.
It being my Friday and all, having company over for the evening makes it feel wonderfully more festive and appropriate as a kickoff to my weekend.
Cyndie made grilled lamb burgers with a lavish selection of healthy side options and we had a feast fitting the occasion. Adding to the frivolity was my chance spotting of an email from our daughter that she accepted a job offer of a new position at her workplace. Another reason to celebrate!
After dinner, Cyndie pulled out the CrossCribb® board for a little good-natured, but intense, competition. The boys schooled the girls. We then changed to a different card game, from which I nabbed a clear victory. I was on a roll.
Appropriate for a “Friday” night, I was up late and it felt like a party.
This morning, under on-again-off-again showers, it is too wet to pick up the windrows of yard hay that I created last night. They will have to wait a few days. We are off to the lake.
It’s Friday for real today!
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For Barb
On a recent visit to Wintervale, our friend Barb Wilkus asked to see pictures of our allium perennials when they are in full bloom.
Allium
Latin for garlic, the Flowering Onions are available in diverse heights and sizes, are rabbit-, rodent- and deer-resistant, and are seldom affected by disease. Adored by bees, butterflies and pollinators, Allium extend the spring flowering season with bold, dramatic color and statuesque garden architecture. They are also valuable cut and dried flowers.
The blossoms aren’t 100% full yet, but this should give a pretty good idea of what they become. Today, your wish is granted, Barb, and now everyone else can enjoy them, too!
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Biking Pepin
It was about as pleasant a day yesterday as we’ve had lately for bike riding, with minimal wind and plenty of blue sky. Just perfect for a training ride that was planned to help us get some miles in before the Tour of Minnesota next month. Five friends that I met years ago on the annual week-long biking and camping adventure, back when it was led by Jim Klobuchar, gathered in Red Wing to spend a few hours pedaling around Lake Pepin.
The lake is basically a wide spot in the Mississippi River, 22-miles long, with a good number a sloughs in the areas where bridges cross on either end.
You might think that a 22-mile long “lake” would allow for somewhere around 44 miles of riding to circumnavigate. I wish. After only one brief ride of 13 miles this spring, I logged almost 75 yesterday.
That was enough mileage to sap most of my functional stores of energy.
We left Red Wing mid-morning and headed over the bridge into Wisconsin, riding toward a grueling 2-mile hill in order to face it with fresh legs. We stopped at one of many turn-outs and posed for a picture in front of the Lake Pepin sign. A lone motorcyclist who pulled off for a break at the same time as us obliged us with snapping the photo.
Notice how fresh we all look? It was early in the ride.
We took our time on the way to lunch in Wabasha, pausing often to keep the group together and fill water bottles. The day turned out a bit warmer than I am used to and required purposeful attention toward staying well hydrated. By the time we reached our lunch destination, it was almost 2 o’clock. Our first two cafe choices were closing.
Funny how that makes being hungry for some fuel feel a bit more significant. We needed to find a restaurant, and NOW! The kind woman closing the restaurant that was our second choice offered directions to Slippery’s Tavern, made famous by the movie “Grumpy Old Men.” This took care of my hunger pangs.
It didn’t do much for refreshing my energies. That meant the second leg of our trek was going to be a lot more work than the first. It occurred to me that our chosen direction of travel also meant we were now riding upstream. Logic would have it that it might also generally be uphill, what with the flow of the water always moving down.
Rich assured me it was mostly flat, which makes sense since the river widened into a lake there. My tired legs still noticed there were more inclines than declines. Toward the end, as I was standing up to get off the saddle and give my butt a break, both thighs instantly reported they weren’t interested in that additional exertion. I was running on reserves.
Back in the saddle, with Steve as a precious companion to distract me, we eased our way back to Red Wing at the dinner hour.
Lake Pepin had been circled and I was done.
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Relative Something 