Posts Tagged ‘friends’
Wildwood Picnic
The big event of the holiday weekend was to be the recent tradition of a pickleball tournament up at Wildwood Lodge Club, but the persistent on-and-off rain sprinkles were enough to keep the court surface too wet for safe combat. The tourney has been given a second attempt with whoever remains available starting at ten o’clock this morning.
My competitive gene is not feeling up to the effort, so I may become a member of the spectator benches to offer appropriate heckling support as needed.
In the absence of the tourney drawing all the member families together yesterday, the evening picnic feast became the focus of the day. Since the lodge and its surroundings are currently in a state of transition, Cyndie’s family became the host location, which meant the afternoon involved moving a lot of tables and chairs from down by the lodge.
Since the number of people from the association families attending was expected to be between 55 and 60, we were desperately hoping the troublesome rain would take a pause long enough to pull the whole thing off.
As an in-law to Cyndie’s family, I try to keep my opinions about how to proceed to a minimum while watching the three planners-and-doers work their magic as hosts in providing a stellar social event of the highest caliber. It becomes its own form of entertainment as each person takes on all the tasks at virtually the same time to do and re-do steps of gathering this and placing that just right.
It goes all the way to arranging cars in the best out-of-the-way places, which involved at least three tries to ultimately reach a settlement that worked.
I rode along with Cyndie to pick up enough ribs to feed an army. The restaurant selected for this catering job was conveniently located on the other side of the lake. When we arrived at peak business hours, it looked like it was going to be a serious challenge to navigate all the traffic of vehicles and people competing for a meal.
With luck on our side, we drove around all the cars that were stopping to park along the driveway and found an open spot right in front. Meandering past the throngs outside waiting for their names to be called for a table, we stepped to the host podium like we were VIPs checking in.
The woman managing Cyndie’s large order appeared and was thrilled about our parking spot. She was obviously in high-gear coping mode, reporting they were even busier than how busy she had expected it to be this holiday weekend Saturday night. They opted to bring us around to the back door of the kitchen to transfer the precious, hot cargo to the car.
With only one near-calamity of acceleration on the drive back, we delivered the ribs, sauces, and beans successfully without spilling a drop.
Soon, folks began arriving with arms full of appetizers, salads, and sides to fill out a menu that could sustain double the number of us in attendance. I took no pictures of the spectacular spread because I was either too busy gabbing with someone or munching on finger foods.
When the ribs were served, my hands were too sticky with barbecue sauce, and I got too engrossed in catching up on other people’s life adventures. When I finally thought of taking pictures while in the middle of a conversation, only by handing Elysa my phone and asking her for the favor did I get these snapshots of the continuing story exchanges still in process in the post-feast bliss of yet another annual Wildwood 4th of July picnic (despite the interruption of a brief nuisance rain shower that had occurred).
When evening came, we gathered ‘round
for the kind of picnic you’re supposed to have
And though people not present were sadly missed
There were fireworks displayed to rival all time
Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
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Era Ending
Around 59 years ago, a group purchased an old fishing lodge and cabins on a lake in northern Wisconsin to create a vacation spot for their young families. They formed an association known as the Wildwood Lodge Club. There have probably been as many changes occurring in the association as have occurred with the growing families with each passing year.
Not only have member families dropped out and new families have been welcomed in, but individual lives have passed throughout the many years. Many times, tough decisions have been considered, and today we are seeing the most recent changes get underway.
In the late 70s, early 80s, the association divided lots, so instead of all families sharing cabins on a rotating basis, each family would own a specific plot. The association continued to hold the lodge and tennis court plots until the last couple of years. Now, families on the lots adjacent to those significant amenities have purchased them.
Yesterday, demolition began on the least precious portions of the historic old lodge.
Small trees were cleared away to make room for the teardown of the back portion of the lodge. We set out chairs so Cyndie’s mom could watch some of the work as it happened.
The structure was rotting to the point that it didn’t make sense to attempt repairs. The family that took possession of the lodge lot will build a new structure that will offer opportunities for a variety of future uses.
Windows and paneling were removed and saved for reuse in the new construction after the shell of the building is razed.
It definitely feels like the end of an era, but it isn’t really that final. It’s just another step in the 59 years of steps that have happened. They have moved cabins before, and even moved the main private roadway that runs to the end of our peninsula.
In the early 80s, I wrote a song about the changes that happened when families started building their own new “cabins” in place of the original vertical log shacks from the time it was a fishing resort.
It seems just like a week or two
And Fourth of July has come and gone
And I was up at my favorite place
Folks were there to have a good time
Work got done, and we had a good time
Cabins have moved, and new ones are growin’
A place to sleep’s not as easily found
I sit on the porch of what was cabin three
Almost see the beach you never used to see
Tommy and Jane, and Justin, it’s true
Are heard laughin’ and singin’ and workin’ too
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
The old road don’t go the way it used to go
Nor some people’s car, the way the new one goes
But we all got together and pushed it out
Who says there weren’t games this holiday
When evening came, we gathered ‘round
for the kind of picnic you’re supposed to have
And though people not present were sadly missed
There were fireworks displayed to rival all time
Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
As much as it seems as though it’s really changed
And mud has replaced the sprouts of poison ivy
The swing still swings between two big trees
From which you can still hear the Friswold’s up at cabin three
Hayward’s still a few minutes away
Round Lake’s just as clear as any day
And all the people who have made it what it really is
Are all the people who will make it what it really is
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
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Curious Heron
There was a heron standing atop the canopy over the boats that appeared to be very curious about something up by the lodge.
Maybe it was noticing the totem pole that had been a gift from the second generation to honor their parents. The totem used to have antlers with a depiction of a mouse carved into one and a bat on the other, but they are now both leaning against the base due to decay. After intently staring for a long time, the heron must have noticed the totem didn’t move a bit when approached. The tall, gangly bird hopped down onto the dock, walked toward shore, and then stepped down into the water.
I was watching it the whole way, curious about what might be motivating its behavior as it came our way. There was no indication it was seeking a snack in the water, as the head stayed high, probably with one eye observing me. I attempted to remain perfectly still. However, Cyndie was raking the beach, so there was no reason to believe it didn’t realize we were there.
Assuming it would take flight any moment, I prepared to record video of the spectacle, possibly in slow-motion mode. It just kept walking in our direction, with long pauses that outlasted my interest in capturing a cinematic masterpiece. Of course, soon after I gave up, it took flight.
It flew a simple arc around us and landed along the shoreline just to our west. Making its way around the lake, I guessed.
I would have liked to observe it feasting on its favorite morsels beneath the surface of the water, but that wasn’t the mode it was in.
More than a decade ago, one of the member families whose property was at the end of the peninsula of our Wildwood Lodge Club association sold their place, and the buyers did not become members themselves. It’s always been a little awkward, but they are wonderful people, and Cyndie’s mom has reached out to them over the years to keep in touch.
Last night, she invited them to our place for a drink, and then we all went for dinner at a nearby supper club. The broiled walleye I had was a throwback to how my mom prepared the fish Dad would bring home from his trips to Mille Lacs Lake when I was a kid. The couple, Kevin and Michelle, were great company, and we had a fine time sharing tales of life’s adventures.
They would have been a fine addition to our association if it had played out that way. Given a choice of getting along well with others versus clashing and then excluding… I much prefer getting along. It truly is better for all of us in the end.
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Headed Home
Today is the last loop ride of the week, after which we pack up and drive back to our regular lives.
In truth, I don’t think I’ll bother with the biking since my precious Trek bicycle isn’t much fun to ride in the condition it’s in.
I gave it an attempt yesterday, and the crunchy sounds and precarious status of a broken bolt made the ride much less enjoyable.
In contrast, hanging out with great friends is the best part of this annual adventure.
I chose the short option which logged 33 miles past a beautiful patch of the state flower, Lady Slippers, and through scenic iron range terrain.
Yes, there were hills. There was also a persistent drippy, pesky sprinklely drizzly precipitation that barely wetted the ground, but did a good job of messing up our bikes.
Of course, as soon as Steve and I got back to camp, the sky turned blue and hot sunshine prevailed for the rest of the day.
All in all, the weather was far from the worst we’ve endured, the camping was good, and the northern Minnesota scenery was as beautiful as ever.
My body was in better shape than my bike. I keep threatening that I don’t want to continue to do this ride every year, but oh how I would miss these friends if I were to finally stop.
I plan to drop off my bike for service on the way home. Then comes the post-trip cleaning and drying of gear, followed by a luxurious sleep on a real bed again.
Adventures with friends are great, but gee, it’ll be great to be back home!
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Interesting Day
I recognized his face right away, but it took a second to figure out from where. When he turned to me and instantly recognized me, we both quickly knew it was PHI.
It was John Newman from the Lab at Physical Electronics. Finding him in the kitchen of a Catholic Church in Ely, Minnesota where the Knights of Columbus were serving us breakfast was a wonderful surprise.
We shared the classic life comparison that follows “What are you doing here!?”
We biked mostly roads to Babbit and back before packing our gear to drive down to Chisholm.
After dinner, some stretching was needed before the walk back to our tents.
My bike was back with the mechanics again to continue their efforts at silencing the ratchety creaking.
Efforts were suspended after a screw sheared that will require more work than they are able to provide from their mobile repair trailer.
I’m going to try gently riding it as is today and see how it does. I will have the phone number for the sag driver handy, if things don’t go well.
It was an interesting day.
Happy Juneteenth today!
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Constant Shifting
We rode from Ely to Tower after barely surviving the epic downpour on Monday night.
I took a picture of the high water mark where floating debris remained after the flood receded.
Just a little further and our tents would have been inundated.
Riding was superb on this leg of the Mesabi trail.
In the photo, I am secretly trying to hold Steve’s pack so he can pull me while I coast.
The up and down gyrations of this trail forced the most shifting of gears that I’ve done in a long, long time.
Eventually, the sky cleared up so we could dry things out after we returned to our tents in Ely.
It looked like the tent had regurgitated its contents.
In honor of Rich’s sharing his photos with me to use here, I will close with a shot he took that features him prominently.
Thanks, again, Rich!
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Telling Trend
I seem to be all too willing to skip a day of riding lately when rain looms close on the radar.
Some folks squeezed in their miles before rain reached Grand Rapids, others got a little wet.
I joined a group that opted to pack up dry tents and set out for Ely early to put them up in the park here before even bigger storms arrived.
There was a possibility of riding around Ely, but we chose to eat lunch and wander the shops instead.
Back at our tents, we debated the amount of rain headed our way .
It was a LARGE amount.
A single dripping leak in a rainfly can lead to a big mess in the tent.
Looks to be much dryer today, so the likelihood of riding is high.
I suspect the trend of becoming more willing to forego biking on “iffy” days reveals my priorities are on spending time with these special friends more than accomplishing big miles on the bike.
Unfortunately, I still ate yesterday like I was burning a lot more calories than I actually did.
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Almost Packed
Today, I depart for the annual Tour of Minnesota biking and camping week. I think this will be my 26th time in the 31 years since I first tried my legs at long-distance cycling. I guess you could say I found out I liked it.
I almost finished packing last night.
The bag currently weighs in at 45 lbs. That’s not a concern this year because the tour has changed from them hauling our gear from campsite to campsite, to riders needing to drive their own cars to each destination after biking a loop that day. Unless this new routine really ‘wows’ me, I believe this will be my last year riding the TOM.
What brought me back this year? The people who have become treasures whom I get to share the week with, submersed in the great outdoors and pedaling together for long hours over many miles.
One of the things I find challenging about packing for trips is the number of things I am still using, and thus don’t get packed until the last minute. After that, my challenge becomes trying to recall where I put things that did get packed.
Usually, I end up figuring out a system by the 3rd or 4th day, but by the end of the week, I’ve started tossing things anywhere and everywhere, and my duffel bag becomes a big mess. The amount of chaos in my bag is often related to how rainy the week has been.
This year, the forecast looks like a good chance of rain up north. We are starting in Grand Rapids, then heading up to Ely for two nights before coming back to Chisholm. I predict my bag will end up messy.
I’ve not prepared any posts in advance this year. Hopefully, I will be able to connect to the internet through my phone and, at the very least, provide an image or two each day.
Northern Minnesota Iron Range, here we come!
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New Discoveries
Quite a while ago, we discovered that a person we knew from our school days in Eden Prairie was a volunteer for elections in our township. She and her husband own a log home nearby on the Rush River. We plotted getting together for lunch, but somehow failed to accomplish it for years.
Yesterday, we finally made it happen. Ann and David showed up at our house, and the minutes flew by as we shared snippets of our life stories over a fantastic meal and a tour of portions of our property. We found Dave to be a wealth of knowledge about our plants and trees.
I queried him on the demise of the maple in the labyrinth, but he was stumped (no pun intended) as to why it died so mysteriously.
Right away in our woods, Dave spotted golden oyster mushrooms on a downed tree and alerted us that they are good eats. We gathered a bunch to try cooking up.
That is definitely a discovery for us, as we’ve never considered eating mushrooms growing in our woods. When we first moved in, we spotted some that looked like the coveted morel mushrooms with the irregular honeycombed surface, but we weren’t confident enough to try them.
We learned later that it was very likely that they were morels, and we could have consumed them. Sadly, we’ve never seen them growing here after that time.
Dave went on to share his experience cooking down wild plums, making juice from wild grapes, creating a lotion for skin out of jewelweed, and he pointed out one other edible berry I didn’t know about on our property of which I’ve already forgotten the name.
The most important discovery is that we need to get together with them again soon, as we share many commonalities and a similar respect for the natural world in which we live. We are looking forward to seeing their property and strengthening the surprising number of connections we discovered during this initial all-too-brief visit.
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Visible Air
Between Canadian wildfires and tree pollen, our air quality is visibly contaminated of late. Cyndie took this picture yesterday:
The difference in clarity of the closest trees compared to the fainter color of the more distant ones makes it pretty obvious.
Yesterday was one of those days that makes me feel guilty for driving our car when signs over the freeway are posting alerts and suggesting people make fewer trips. I’m afraid smoky air in the summer is becoming a regular thing.
I got 80% of the mowing done, and we were able to make a brief appearance at my grand-nephew, Drew’s, high school graduation party yesterday. Today we are hosting two couples whom we know from Cyndie’s time working with the Eden Prairie schools. We are looking forward to sharing the beauty of our place with the couple who’ve not been here before.
In the time I just spent on Wisconsin State Trails and in DNR campsites, I noticed how the properties are tended, yet also what I consider to be a little neglected. It showed me what a difference we make by tending to our land with such constant effort. As I was mowing yesterday, I kept spotting areas where I wanted to use a string trimmer to clean up or where I needed to use the hedge trimmer.
At least we only have 20 acres to manage, and my time isn’t money. It doesn’t cost any more if I take one or two days to finish a task.
I can spend all of my energy tending to the growth around here, but I’m not able to control the quality of the air that moves in.
Last night, there were a couple of really loud frogs croaking away their musical trills just outside our windows. They can go on endlessly, it seems. One of them seemed to start losing its steam. The staccato chirps began to drop off toward the end in a humorous way, almost like he was running out of air. I wondered if the pollution was getting to him, too.
Cyndie got her phone to record it because it was making both of us laugh. Of course, in doing so, she fixed it. The frog upped his game and went back to producing a perfect repeating pattern of prridit.prrrridit.prrridit.prrrridit chirps as soon as she touched the button.
Show off.
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Relative Something 