Heading West and dragging our Michigan weather with us

Many of the roads at higher elevations were sanded. The morning of our departure from the California Eastern high dessert it snowed; large flakes coming down wet, sticking on every tree tip and shrub. A joyous winter wonder land. Also covered in this wet snow were the highways. "Its supposed to be like this all day" we were told just as we were leaving our campground. And so it was. The high dessert was covered with so many inches of snow that the undercarriage of small, fuel efficient cars was scraping the center ridges between the two tire tracts. Yet people persisted in trying to get through, loosing control as the front end of their car was litterly lifted off the ground and the back wheels and car momentum spin the car in 360 degree donuts. Drivers terrorized by their recent loss of control would stop in the middle of the tire tracts creating road hazards and making plowing roads impossible. As Rudy, Big Red Kathy and I headed West, the Sheriff were closing one road after another behind us. When we reached Victorville, we were told highway 14 was closed going South, still open headed North towards Bakersfield CA. North we went to lower elevations and more sleet than accumulating snow. Turning West again, through active oil fields and valley orchards and cotton fields eventually we were climbing again.

No services for 79 miles read the sign as we were in the wide open spaces, rising higher and higher into the snow covered mountains. Occasional ranch houses could be seen miles away. Cattle walked narrow paths imbedded in the mountain sides; dark figures against the contrasting snow. Upward we traveled, the roads narrower, and more twisting and turning; hairpin turns were the usual, not the exception. Upward we climbed, solitary, twinkles of lights from the ranch houses. Big Red was now in its glory, shifting gears up and down to meet the road challenges, calibrating its horsepower and gear ratio to meet our assent, only to call upon all its engineering for a controlled descent. Eventually we made it over the multiple high passes and down the other side of the mountain range. The upper elevations of the highway had been sanded; the packed snow had traction. We spent the night at a "rustic" KOA campground, in reality, a lower tier trailer park. Where do people go who have lost their homes? Some at least park their trailers in a campground and pay a monthly fee. What has happened to all the campgrounds dependent on RV traffic? They have taken in weekly and monthly transients, at a discount; and so was our KOA "rustic" campground, amongst the hills and trees, rutted roads,  toilets and showers in need of "maintanence", and old cars parked facing the camper, not capable of pulling the Recreational Vehicle, even this older and smaller version  of the RV.

Route 66 at age 66

Route 66 no longer exists except in the hearts and minds of aficionados of a bygone era of television and movie adventure shows. Route 66 started out in the 1920's as a federal effort to connect existing state roads into a motor pathway from Chicago to Los Angeles. These pathways were the first "interstate" for its time and resulted in many twists and turns through now defunct state highways as evidenced by our finding signs for "Historic Route 66" in Santa Fe NW as well as into Southern California desserts and mountains. The route Toby DeWoody and I traveled in 1962, and that pictured in song and story, we took, returning from the Seattle World's Fair via the Pacific Coastal Highway, Pacific Palisades CA, across the Mojav Dessert to Flagstaff AZ and onto Winslow AZ and the Bar T Bar Ranch. The 1950's version of Route 66 was a clearly delineated highway by then. The picture represents a remnant of "66" near Winslow AZ. Our present Interstate system was the vision of  President Dwight Eisenhower who as General Eisenhower admired the pre WWII German Autobaun. In answer to a question by David Grim, the bridge you queried is within 100 feet of Interstate 40, a steel bridge similar to one might see of the 1930's era, and a copy of which I had with my Lionel Train set.

The Bar T Bar Ranch is also a bit of historic and contemporary "Americana". The Ranch began in the 1930's as a partnership of Cleveland Ohio business people I believe as a tax shelter. The original ranch was joined with several surrounding others until -T- was/is the second largest cattle ranch in Arizona. The lead person forming this ranch was Burton Tremaine whom  I believe had a nick name "Sky," was a descendent of "Johnny Tremaine" of American Revolutin fame. Sky  Tremaine was the Cleveland Ohio business person whom I had met in his waning years in Pacific Palisades CA before Toby and I headed for the Ranch.  Toby's mother, Nancy, was a Tremaine who married Charles DeWoody a Cleveland attorney. Toby is a nick name for Charles Tremaine DeWoody. At the Ranch I met Earnest Chilson the ranch manager of many decades. I say this as I met and rode horses with Earnest Chilson along with the DeWoody Family.  I learned about the remaking of the ecology of mesa cattle ranching. Large D-9 Caterpillar tractors would travel in pairs, linked with  a one inch diameter cable and traveling over the mesa they would clear the shrubs that soaked up the precious water and nutrients of the soil.  While out riding, I watched as the ranch hands lit the brush piles with flares producing a bonfire and a pungent odor. After the brush was cleared and burned, the rocky soil was seeded with a genetically modified grass, producing three stalks instead of one. More feed grass means more cattle. Prior to modification of the mesa, the 300,000 acre ranch could support 3,000 head of cattle, now, 15,000 head. There are 5 ranch hands (cowboys) for the ranch. At dawn, I met them at the bunkhouse, the cook made a breakfast of steak, eggs, flapjacks and black chickaree coffee. After breakfast, the ranch hand would walk into the open pasture towards his horse, feedbag in hand, slip the feedbag over the horse's head, lay on the saddle, cinch it up, when the horse was finished feeding, the feedbag was slipped off and the bridle slipped on, cowboy would climb aboard and ride to the day's work.  The horse could have bolt and run free, but didn't, there was a partnership of shared expectations. 

I re-encountered a disturbing piece of historic and current Americana beginning around Joplin Missouri and carrying into Southern California. The old Route 66 and current Interstate 44 and 40 traverses large Native American Reservations. For over a 1000 miles there were abandoned dwellings, subsistence living  isolated houses, trash, junk scattered around, chain link fences around many, dilapidated siding, roofing, doors and windows, all reminding me of what I had seen some 47 years ago. New for me, was seen at exits , a combination casino, gas station, convenience and souvenir store. In the gift shops were painting of Plains Indians, all portrayed on horseback. There did not appear to be signs of Native Americans activities prior to the arrival of the Spanish at the beginning of the 16th Century. The Spanish brought horses from Europe. There were no horses in North America prior to the Spanish. Horses were few and far between for the Spanish, and horses that had escaped from the Spanish were the ones available to the Indigenous People. Since mares may have 3 to 4 folds in her lifetime, I imagine that horses were not plentiful to the Plains Indians until the late 18th & early 19th Century. By the middle of the 19th Century many of the Plains Indians were already on reservations. 

The paintings available in the gift shops, reportedly painted by authentic Native Americans, unlike those at the Painted Dessert Lodge painted in the 1930's,  show a limited spectrum of time and indigenous people activities. While in Sante Fe NM and the first mission church in what would become North America, the founders of the church came to the area with their Native American servants, numbering in the hundreds for the 92  Spanish individuals who made the first claims to the territory. 
While in a restaurant restroom, I heard a man retching and vomiting in the stall next to me. I inquired if he were "all right?" He said. yes he was "... just a little hangover." I met him outside the stalls and saw a bloodshot eyed Native American young man. I wondered to myself if a hunting and gathering society had the cultural pre-requisites to survive now that the plains were fenced, the buffalo gone, and the rocky soil and available water can support few people, like the numbers that inhabited pre-Columbian tribes, 15 to 25 individuals. If  one believes the Center for Disease Control and Prevention statistics that more than 50% of Southwestern Native Americans are obese, 25% of these have Diabetes Mellitus; the complications of alcoholism is the number one killer of young Native American men, it occurred to me that a new paradigm is needed other than the current one which portrays a post-Columbian time, truncated to a 25 or so year period, of a mounted hunting and gathering society. Believe me, I do not have "the" answer. What I do know, is that what I saw as a young man in my travels in 1961, persists into the 2008. This realization casts a pall for me and perpetuates a continuing mind's eye dialogue with myself as Kathy and I continue on our travels.

Another piece of Americana, the murals in the now museum of a former lodge overlooking the Painted Dessert National Monument were painted by an Indigenous American artist during the Great Depression. Also in the lodge is a glass ceiling whose panels were painted by two Pennsylvanian artists, members of the Civilian Conservations Corps (CCC), 1937 to 1941, a Depression era "make work" program which included artists and artisans. Kathy identified the glass ceiling paintings as those of "Pennsylvania Dutch" designs. Who would have thunk it, way out here in Arizona.

Travels with Charlie or whomever

Big Red and Rudy are more than a match for John Steinbeck's camper on a pick-up truck bed "Rosenante," although the literary punch is not. Kathy and I set out to find the bits and pieces of Historic Route 66 that have survived being paved over by Interstate 55, Chicago to St. Louis; Interstate 44, St. Louis to Oklahoma City; Interstate 40, Oklahoma City to Los Angelos. More than a year ago, we did I-55, following the Lincoln Trail, Chicago to Springfield Ill. This time we headed straight to Indianapolis to pick up I-70 for St. Louis. The first leg was to be our longest as I wanted to be West of St. Louis by our first night, and so we were. More than 600 miles. I had planned on stopping at the M something State Park our first night, but Kathy did not want to get off the road in the middle of the night to search for a campground that may not even be open.  So, our first night, Wednesday night, we spent in Missouri at the Doolittle Rest Stop (you all remember the Doolittle Raid over Tokyo at the beginning of WW II memorialized by the book "30 Seconds over Tokyo", separated somewhat from the dozens and dozens of 18 wheeler rigs, we on the unpaved part of the auto area. The only real hic-up was the need for me to change propane tanks for our furnace that kept us toasty warm. 

Our next leg of our trip was 60 miles West of Oklahoma City in Hinton OK, population 1600, with its one blinking red both ways light, where you park in the middle of the street, and the streets are all paved because of the tax revenue from the 2200 inmate correctional facility just down the road. We camped at the Red Rock Canyon State Park along with two other campers. The Red Rock Canyon served the indigenous tribes as a winter shelter from the blowing prairie winds. The sun was just beginning to shine upon the West wall as we arose, shower and shaved, unplugging the electricity and heading for breakfast snack and coffee. I of course had used the microwave to warm up left over pizza from our forage from the night before. We left Hinton, surviving on the prairie while neighboring towns, wither, their unpaved roads a legacy of when the horse and cattle were king, a now bygone era. 

As we traveled West, the time zones changed, but still sunset was at 5 PM and we were searching for campsites in the dark of night. At Red Rock Canyon we campers were three in number, the next night, Villanueva State Park in New Mexico, we campers were 2. North off I-40 into the mountains, elevations of 6000 to 7000 feet, and then plunging down a winding, hair-pin turns narrow road into a valley where a Spanish community had an early success but lost 1800 people when a priest had a vision and lead most of the valley inhabitants South to Mexico leaving behind a remnant subsistence group; first electricity 1949, first community water well, 1952. Littering the valley floor are discarded cars and trucks, broken windshields, hoods up, door open, all with weeds growing around and through the various orifices. The other campers were a group of Spanish speaker men with several small boys, intent upon trout fishing in the Pecos River having intended to go elk hunting this weekend with the two small boys but failing to obtain the necessary licenses through somebody's error, or so we are told. Nevertheless, Kathy and I hiked the valley ridge along the river as our morning excursion. Later on we left for Santa Fe, an artsy community, populated by people who left something behind to get a fresh start in life as we learned at Harry's Roadhouse Cafe. As a winter storm was coming with 5 to 8 inches of snow for the area, by 3 PM we headed South towards Albuquerque and then Westward. The afternoon sun set upon the ribbon of highway as we made our way to Prewitt. We turned South towards the Bluewater State Park. And now we were one, as in one and only in the Park. The wind had been buffeting us all day, 30 mph steady and gusting to 45 mph. As we drove the seven miles to the campground, we took the wind broadside. We had climbed to over 7000 feet elevation in our journey from Albuquerque and again plunged more than a 1000 feet down a narrow winding road to a valley  with raging winds and flying dust. In the darkness of night we found a site close to the heated toilets and showers. We also found that we were the only ones there. All night the wind howled, rattling whatever was loose on our camper, rocking us in multiple gusts of wind. We had electricity, propane for our furnace, down coverings for our bed and so we slept, fitfully. In the middle of the night, a pickup truck headlight's danced on our Cabin A and then moved off into the night. Later on, we heard sounds of rain or snow against our metal shelter. It was snow, 8 inches of it, heaped up and swept into drifts. After morning luke warm showers, we unplugged the electricity, fired up Big Red and blazed a trail where the road likely was. Out of the campground and onto the narrow roads, bisecting more evidence of subsistence living with cars scattered about yards in various states of disrepair, we confronted the snow covered narrow steep winding road that we had to climb to get out of this valley and back to I-40. It was this trek up the mountain side that Big Red earned its keep; all 4 wheels churning, clawing upward, pulling Rudy behind. There was a little bit of slippage as we slowed our momentum and turned a particularly sharp curve, but we straightened out soon and regained our course. At the top we were now headed downward and gaining speed. I downshifted and used the engine as a brake and we descended in a more controlled fashion. Our entrance to I-40 was closed and we headed to Historic Route 66 to the next town 25 miles away and another opportunity to get back on the Interstate. I-40 was plowed, although only the right travel lane had pavement showing, the left travel lane was mostly snow packed. Kathy suggested breakfast in Gallup NM another 40 miles hence to let the snowplows and sand trucks finish their work. And so we did.

The roads become progressively clearer as we headed West. We arrived at the Painted Dessert and Petrified Forest National Parks for an afternoon cruise through "Badlands", beautifully colored petrified trees from tropical forest 225 million years ago, when there was but one land mass, and this part of Arizona was near the equator. The petroglyphs you see to the right represent indigenous people from 1250 to 1380 AD who inhabited these enchanted but parchment dry lands eventually, these people blended into the Hopi and Zuni peoples who lived to the North and South of this area. I wonder if a spiritual leader had initially led a group from the Hopis or Zunis sometime in the 13th century much like the priest had led a group from the Villanueva valley to Mexico in the 18th century. The stories in the rocks do not tell of the demise of the community, only the tales of when it prospered.  Tonight we stay adjacent to Meteor Crater National Historic monument, clear skies and a full moon. The furnace purrs away.

Election Day

Here we are waiting in line at an Obama rally on MSU campus. We waited in line to vote today as well. A blow-up of this photograph shows the line to get into the rally extended to the Administration Building, we standing across from Beaumont Tower. The line at the voting place was @ 15 people. In the rally line, we struck up a conversation with kids from Sexton High School, only one was 18 years of age. In the voting line, we talked with our neighbors, all were somewhat above the voting, as well as drinking age. In fact, there were people 81  years of age (reverse of  figures) and above.

Kathy and I walked to the voting polls, the sky was cloudless, the temperature in the mid-70's. After voting, we spoke with more neighbors, all offering us a ride home, we preferred to walk. Upon opening our front door, the temperature was appreciably colder than outside. Fortuitously, my laziness in removing screens from windows and doors has now paid off again. The whole place is wide open, and we are loving it.

We have done our part in the Eastern time zone, please everyone do their part in their time zone: go Vote!

The weather is cold and blustery here in East Lansing Michigan. Dark clouds overhead rolling in from the Northwest remind us that winter is just around the corner. Kathy and I are articulating plans to go "South" in early December for a Route 66 tour as we head to Northern California's Pacific Coast. However, I just received the New Mexico Tourist Information 2008 Vacation Guide plus the not requested but included "Slopes!" 2008-2009 Winter Adventure Guide. Beginning my reading, I now realize that much of what I had planned upon seeing in New Mexico is at significant elevation 9,000 to 12,000 feet, the bottom of the Rocky Mountains. Which means of course, there will be perfect conditions for dry powder snow skiing (300 inches a year) and COLD. The good news is that there are 310 days of sunshine and the roads will generally be clear and dry. Ahhh, not quite what I believe Kathy had in mind when she said "... this time I would like to go South and warmer weather..."  Therefore, the picture of Leah and myself, Down Under at the Whitsundays, in our winter time, Australia's summer, our cold and their warmth.

Rapidly coming up is Halloween and what better way to represent that time than a picture of Humpty Dumpty at the Hunter Valley Gardens, also in Australia's New South Wales. Again, everything in order, neat and tidy. Friday night, I am not sure what we will be doing, maybe going some place as we are, and scaring a few college students.

Included in this blog, at no additional cost, is a picture taken by Justin at the Iowa Lake house and July family retreat of Kathy and her sister Virginia. The weather was hot and humid and we were glad there was air conditioning.

Today was a significant milestone in the changing landscape of American Politics. Of course I am not referring to the fact that Colin Powell endorsed Barack Obama.  Rather, that Ms. Kathy, that's right, my wife, your mother, step mother to Leah, RJ and Bec, grandmother to Ellen, Rhythm, Marcus, and Nana, has for the first time in her life, sent a donation to a political candidate and did it over the Internet! Our household has been energized by this election season like at no other time in our history. 

While standing in line Friday night, waiting for the doors to the Breslin Center to open at 9:30 PM for the MSU Women's and Men's start to the 2008-2009 Varsity Basketball season: Midnight Madness, we talked with the couple ahead of us in line about Barack Obama, the campaign, debates, Sarah Palin. The young man was born and raised in Michigan and moved to Tampa Florida to complete his Bachelor's degree (USF) and he brought his New York girlfriend to see the MSU OSU football game on Saturday. They came to Midnight Madness as an entertainment bonus. He spoke of his Michigan relatives and their evolving views of Obama; the college campus enthusiasm for Obama, and the need to press on, don't take anything for granted, and the need to get out the vote, especially young people who have registered to vote.

Kathy is talking about driving people to the polls who need a ride, she just doesn't know where to sign up. I hope she gets a chance to pick and choose whom to pick up, there are KooKs out there as we have all heard and seen.

"When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock..." and more from James Whitcomb Riley, it surely is Fall, an extra ordinary Fall. Today the temperature is in the 80's, shirt sleeve and short's weather. A glorious day for a walk outside; or as last weekend, a walk in the pumpkin patch, a 50 acre pumpkin patch. You walk and walk, pulling you little red wagon, trying not to notice the "made in china" embedded in its bottom, selecting a perfect, at least to us, pumpkin. Such a prize sits upon our doorstep; upright, face gleaming, and its tall stalk pigtailed and cocked to the side.

A picture out our back lower level door shows the colorful trees mirrored in and two geese silhouetted by our lake. The grass is still a deep emerald green, kept alive and thriving in the moisture of recent rains, the warmth of the daytime and the sunlight that shines regularly upon us.

The witch out our front doorway, spins in the wind, from a distance, appearing as riding upon a broomstick, yet a closer view, shows the stick is really driven through her heart, and she swings on, smile and all.

Of course, Kathy has thought of all this, reflecting the changing seasons and the dynamic state of our lives and environment. 

Jim and Virginia Minninger left this morning for Heston KS, with Virginia saying that it is a beautiful day to travel; and so it is. Tours of the MSU Cyclotron and the Michigan Capital on Friday were followed by a Saturday focused on busy work before watching Michigan State beat Northwester in Evaston, Ill. A good time was had by all.

It is hard to get the color of the new siding on the cottage right with the lengthening of shadows as our sun heads further to the south. Of course the sun doesn't head south, just that the earth tilts north. Anyways, we are in the throes of a major refit, face lift, repair/remediation. The sky is robin egg blue, the days are warm and sunny, there is ever so slightly a breeze. 

The color of the siding is best seen on the West side, near the pump and fireplace. I like the color, the board and batten design, and the unevenness to the texture of  the surface.  The white of the windows, the white of the overhang (soffits) gives enough contrast.

 
The sun porch had wood rot along the northeast corner, necessitating removal and rebuilding the corner. The windows will be slightly different in the bottom with the center post gone and just one piece of glass. Otherwise the appearance of the sun porch will be the same. Here Bud is framed, working on the sun porch frame. 

The weather has been spectacular, even better than the summer. I haven't removed the hydrolube from the underwater gear of Bounty's engine, almost tempted to put her back into the water, ala "paddle to the sea".

The front windows are covered with plastic as they are leaking more now, which was especially evident when the remnants of Hurricane Ike came through the Bruce Peninsula. 

The front deck is without railings and it feels like one step into the air off the deck. 

The day is done for the workers, and off they go for their weekend plans. 

Kathy and I will remain here for the weekend, but we may not remain for the following week as it really is a mess here and hard to move around: always just making do. We do enjoy the weather though. So if the weather remains as gorgeous as it has been so far, and the trees are turning their reds, yellows and browns, we may stay a bit longer. We have a football game next weekend: Iowa and Homecoming, so we'll be back by October 4th. After that, who knows if we will come back anymore this fall. We shall see what we shall see.

Evolution of things as we knew them

As the sky's refection into the mirror water shows palisades of color, demarcating yellows, oranges, blues, grays and a plethora of colors in between, so to, upon reflection, our summer season comes to an end, our abbreviated fall season begins next week, and our cottage morphs into its 50th year.
A look down from the front deck to the front yard will remain mostly the same, clearing away the birch trees in front which are showing their age and the strain of eeking a living off the moss and peat covering the bedrock. Kathy of course wants me to do more, ie, clearing of trees in the front. What is the purpose of having lake front property without having an unobstructed view of the lake? My argument has been that the trees serve as a buffer against storm winds, particularly of the winter variety which has necessitated the placing of plywood shutters over the one pane thick glass front windows. 
With the redo of the cottage, board and batten siding and a replacement of the front glass with thermopane double glass windows, and a sliding glass door, shutters may no longer be needed, and the barrier trees may not be needed also. Since all work on the siding and windows will be done this fall, then we shall see how the glass front windows stand the winter storms, not protected by 1/2 inch thick plywood shutters. If there is no leakage of water into the cottage over the winter through the cracks and crannies of the front glass, then maybe, maybe I'll consider removing a cedar tree. Always one step at a time.

Kathy emailed Connie Collins regarding when the 
work on the cottage was to begin, we have not heard from her yet, so, Kathy and I may or may not have a partially done project when we come up next week. We shall see what we shall see. I have included pictures of the cottage as it was at the beginning of September 2008. We hope to have pictures of its evolution; preparing for the Saturday August 1st 2009 50th anniversary celebration party. (Bec is the coordinator of the invitations, the first week is my preference.)

We are in the throes of planning our Southwestern swing to California for our Christmas family rendezvous. We shall keep you posted.

Towards the end of our cottage summer

If you can imagine fire and water mixed, stirred slowly by a large wooden spoon, blending the two for a visual sensation evolving before your vary eyes. Welcome to the cottage.
Time well spent on the deck of the island. All present and accounted for to watch another spectacular Canadian sunset. Kind of routine to see such beauty, only, it is never routine nor taken for granted. Here we are, bundled up for the cool of the evening and its accompanying evening dew. 

On  Sunday, we had our first annual End of the Cottage Season Party. Cottage "voyageurs" came from Purgatory Harbor to celebrate. People from up the road a bit of Devil's Glen and Little Pike Bay road.

Their return home was also by canoe, only this time, the ladies decided to walk, so the two "hubbies" paddled back at sunset, on a calm and mirror lake, towing their phantom passengers.  The next morning, the two paddlers: Bill Lutowski and Peter Thruguris came over to show us where they have found the "Lincoln" wreck on their paddling voyages as I have been unable to locate the wreck recently. It appears to have moved. I will look some more, anon, next year.

Bob and I enjoy the morning sunshine on our lower deck in front of the cottage. We were making big plans!

Bounty is back on her trailer, in the boat house, all traveling accoutrement's removed and stored.

Big Doin's at Little Pike Bay

The sky is a light blue. Puffy low flying clouds sweep by. The wind is quite cool from the Northeast, creating wavelets on the water. There is a sailboat far upon the horizon. The morning sun highlights the rocky and scraggly bush coverings of Little Pike Bay Point. A hawk glides air currents, eyes searching the ground for a meal; the hummingbird is back sampling red flowers. There is the smell of Autumn in the air. It seems that summer has taken a respite. The grass is still green, yet, as we drive along the West Road, the Bury Road, Cemetery Road, the bush shows clusters of trees changing colors.

 

Standing back from the cottage, and looking at where the paint is peeling, it is increasingly evident that, before entering its 50th year, something has to be done. The cottage has withstood the weathering of 49 years of Northern clime's, and, if we want to have it for another 49 years, identifying and addressing what needs to be done has become a priority. Bud Boswell and Connie Collins were over to look at how much scraping, sanding and painting would be needed. Permanently removing the shutters that remain hung on the outside of the cottage is necessary since the bats have left the interior of the cottage and taken up residence behind the shutters, creating quite a mess and damage to the plywood of the shutters and exterior walls. Bud took out his jack knife and began poking at the front windows and found rotten sections, surprise, surprise, just were water is coming inside from beating rain storms. Caulking rotten wood will not address the issue. Looking at the front deck, and, in anticipation of our cottage's 50th Anniversary  celebration August 1st and 2nd 2009, we decided we needed bench seating to accommodate the expected large group of celebrants. (Keep those dates open and look for your invitation.) Finally, the cottage has a mixture of two wire and three wire electrical system, which for those of you in the know, can make for surprise electrical outlet problems and blown fuses. So we will be upgrading from a 50 AMP service to probably 200 AMP service (apparently the price differential between 100 and 200 is not great) and bringing the electrical system up to "code."

The plan for this Fall is not to scrape, sand and paint the cottage, but to put on vinyl siding. For the front windows, we will be removing all the windows, put in an 8 foot central sliding glass door, expanding the glass to the full  22 foot width and of course floor to ceiling. We will have the windows made to order, double glass thermopane, no need to put up shutters again. The front deck will have more seating and stairs (off to the right as you leave the 3rd deck). There will be a new electrical system. The only thing we won't do now, is change the color of the roof, currently green, which may not match the "earth tones" of the new siding, but in another 10 years or so, we/you can do it in an earth red color which Kathy and I think would match the siding color.

  We have had input from neighbors who have either built new or put on "board and batten" siding, log look siding, vinyl vs aluminum vs wood. We have visited multiple recommended homes, sales places. We have looked online at what has been offered and talked to some people about design. When you come for the 50th Anniversary Celebration next year, you will see the new and improved cottage, it will have "curb" appeal.

white-caps on the horizon

Time has not slowed down since the kids have left, we are just doing different things. Here are Bec and Ellen under the umbrella at Sandy Beach, renamed "Black Creek Provincial Park" once the idea and purchasing of the land had filtered down to Toronto and the name change got done down there. Another object lesson for physically remote government.

The Sun was out yet the temperature was a bit cool for this time  in early August. Also, the wind has been blowing almost every day with white capped waves pounding the shores. 

Our week with two of our grandchildren was focused entirely on their needs. Marcus was not willing to go on any boat through the week, requesting going into the rowboat  with his mother's encouragement and sitting in Bounty as she was still sitting on her trailer in front of the boat house. He is willing to try next year going in boats again.

Having driven the crew to their Grandma Betsy's, arriving close to 1 AM Sunday morning, for their trip back to the West Coast later Sunday afternoon, I went onto East Lansing and returned Tuesday afternoon to the Cottage. 

One of the pleasures in my life is sailing, and I now have had several sails, you see, it does not matter if the wind is high and the waves are high, I feel I am in my element. I breath deeply through my nose and smell the water, feel the breeze, and ride the boat, each rise and fall, twist and turn.  A great day to be alive.

Yesterday, Kathy and I took Bounty around Little Pike Bay Point and along the South shore of Stokes Bay. We entered areas I had never been before. The sun was overhead and I could see into the water, weaving our way around the rocks and shoals. Then a run through Split Islands, site of the front range for entrance into Stokes Bay and then onto the East shore of Lyle Island. We turned South and hugged the South shore of Lyle Island as the wind had shifted from Southwest to West North West and the waves were building. Kathy, of course, wants a fast smooth ride. Fast is not the operative word since most of the South Stokes Bay area has foul water. So the best that I could do was keep from heading into mounting seas; which we did, sort of, until we lost the cover of Lyle Island and her reefs, then we headed into a confused sea, built from the earlier Southwest and rising West North West wind. A little spray here and there does not dampen the spirits. Our run into Little Pike Bay was otherwise uneventful.

Today, the sun is bright, the water deep blue in the deep areas, turquoise to brown in the shallower regions. Wind from the South again; could it be the influence of Tropical Storm Fay way down South? The air is soft, only the slightest of breeze here at the cottage. The humming bird is feeding on the red flowers. Flies are biting, maybe it will rain soon. 

Today, Saturday July 19th we are not at the cottage, rather at home even though the sunset is that over Little Pike Bay Point. Here, it is raining, coming straight down, a soaking rain. Good for farmers, grass and mosquitos. 

Kathy and I have been busy this week supporting our consumer economy in preparation for our King/Mininger family reunion in Ellston IA next week, and rounding up things for the Honicky reunion at the cottage the following week. As always, there are people coming as well as people who won't; we will enjoy those in the present and remember those who are still far away. 

Right now, I am developing a sore butt, sitting as I have been for the past week. I do know, that I will be up and about once in IA and again in Ontario (is there an Off-tario") More toys for Bounty, more toys for tots, lots of fun in anticipation.

Oil upon the water

As our month and several days at the cottage draws to a close, we can reflect upon this stay and say "yes", we have found a rhythm to this life on these Canadian shores. We do what we would be doing elsewhere, only, the location, its environment, dictates our adaptation, nay, immersion, visual, acoustic, the hairs on our forearms are telltales messaging us about the wind. We have to see, hear and feel anew.

We continue to travel and explore. Today we did the "Bruce Peninsula Artists Studio tour 2008". Some 18 stops are on the list from Tobermory to Oliphant. We made only a half-dozen studios as we wanted the Saturday tour of the "bullfrogpower" "clean reliable electricity" from the windmill farm just South of Ferndale. A well spent hour in the midst of our artists' studio tour.  At the end of August (30th) there will be another art studio tour where we can visit studios we have missed today. Each Saturday for July and August, baring lightning, there will be wind farm tours.

Yesterday we spent moving the boats out of the water: Bounty back into her boat house, Sunshine on her trailer at the Launching Pad, the dingy hauled to the South side of the island deck. Each was lovingly washed and scrubbed of the fish roe plastered to their hulls, or, as in the case of the dingy, covered with small winged creatures that had hatched, mated and died, littering the white of the boat. During the hatch and aerial mating, Seagulls crowded the skies, acrobatically twisting and turning mid-air, scooping up their minuscule meal.

From a day of cool Northeast 10 knot breeze, the wind died in the evening, Lake Huron became placid and the setting sun cast a pinkish, purplish, hue: our oil on water sunset.

The Launching of "Little Pike"

Begun more than a year ago, Bill Tyler had the idea of launching "Little Pike" a Morgan 24 (foot) bought by his dad 4 decades ago. The "Little Pike" that Bill had was land locked in its storage garage adjacent to the "Launching Pad." Over the dozen or more years, the marine rail tracks have rusted and become distorted by the winter's ice pack pounding on them. 

Driving the isolation of "Little Pike" further, has been the water levels on the Great Lakes which have been very low since 1986, the last high water. At that time, 22 years ago, water lapped into "Little Pike's" boat house. Now there is no hope in floating the boat off of its marine railway trailer. So she sat, and with sitting, accumulated all the ailments a boat, which had previously sat in water, accumulates including frozen bolts, levers, cables and a host of other metal parts previously immersed in water. 

Bill's thoughts turned first to restoring "Little Pike" ; ie, taking off all hardware, removing the gasoline in the tank that have turned into varnish, replacing the stuffing box, the through the hull fitting where the shaft from the engine to the propeller is located, and a myriad of fitting and pieces that required replacement. New fiberglass paint was applied and the day drew nye for her launching. The question of course, where to launch her? Take her to Lion's Head Harbour and keep her there at that marina? Find deep enough water in his front yard to launch her? In the end, a road was made to the front yard and the steep entry into the water was moderated with stone, and "Little Pike" was launched, floated off her trailer, having been pushed into deeper water by a chained extension log by Connie Collins' tractor. The launch, again demonstrates, that where there is the will and resources, there is a way.

From launch, Bill and his friend Anna Marie came to the mooring just inside "Mare Nostrim".

At this point it was a "see Bill run...." story. The wind was coming from where I was standing taking the picture. As Bill came up to the mooring ball, he scrambled from the cockpit and the tiller to the bow to catch the "painter" with his boat hook. The engine died and the boat came broadside to the winds directing it towards the rock shoals less than 40 feet away. "see Bill run", back to the cockpit, to restart the engine and make another pass at the mooring ball. "All's well that ends well." After the second or third pass, he snagged the painter, cleated it, stopped the boat's wayward movement, and secured "Little Pike" to her Little Pike Bay mooring. 

After launch and a shake down cruise, Bill and I headed out, compass course 270, due West, for 10 miles in a 12 knot breeze, 150% genoa jib flying, heeled over with little pressure at the helm. So, "Little Pike" is back; restored, launched in a new place, and she sails as well as 4 decades ago.

Sunny Day

Wild flowers festoon our front yard, mostly daisies and buttercups. There are other flowers, something like a dandelion but without the prominent leaf pattern. Small butterflies hang onto the flower as it is pushed by the wind, back and forth, up and down. On the water, there is a cormorant duck diving for some of the fish that I could see on the bottom as I snorkeled on Bounty's standing anchor the other day. 

Walking the driveway, there are now Tiger lilies with their deep orange colors contrasting with the gray limestone bedrock and the brown ground cover peat moss. A small flower on a thick stalk, what I call "Indian Paintbrush" apparently has another name Kathy has found, and it too gives a contrasting deep orange color to the otherwise dull background. I found several varieties of iris on my walk yesterday along the shore and on trails through the bush. Kathy has planted geraniums and another red flower to attract the humming birds; Kathy's plan is a success.

Today is Canada  Day. A time for Canadians to celebrate their disconnection from Great Britain and begin the arduous journey to self identification.  For me, this is three days before my country's celebration for the violent separation from Great Britain and its mercantile system (everything going to GB to be made, taxed, whatever, before an item could be redistributed to the rest of the empire).

It is altogether fitting that Bounty symbolizes the water routes that made that early separation of that bygone era possible and necessary.

Today, after brunch, Kathy and I began the dialogue of where we are traveling to  this afternoon. Will the waves be too bouncy? Should we make a dash for Sandy Beach on the inside passage? Is there enough water over the shoals to make such a run? Is the water too cool to moor Bounty off the shore and we having to wade in? All questions yet to be answered.  Of course, if it is bouncy, then maybe we should head towards the Fishing Islands in their protection from the seas. 

There is an alternative of course, staying right here at the cottage, shaded from the direct sunlight, viewing the bright blue waters, listening to the waves lap on the shore. Yet, there is the magic of riding on the seas, one hand on the tiller and the wind at our backs. I am watching an ant, carrying its prize along the boards of the front deck, trying to reconcile, how to get to the next board. 

Of course, Kathy and I could do what we did Sunday afternoon and evening: drive to Sandy Beach until the Celtic Camp kids came for their water sports, go back to the cottage clean up and get appropriately attired for our trip to Cape Chin, on the Georgian Bay side of the peninsula, to have our lobster, mussels, and shrimp dinner at the Cape Chin Bed & Breakfast. This B&B is a rambling rustic renovated farm house, located in a field with surrounding barns. As we sat down for dinner, we chatted with a Toronto couple next to our table, they found this B&B online, they were looking for a last minute place to go for the weekend. High season but vacancies; a sign of the economic times? The food was great, served in a homey atmosphere. Besides the seafood, there was Chicken Paprikash although made with a tomato base instead of a sour cream base that I like. I did have a sample which was also delicious.

There is more to think about as to what to do on this sunny day. 

Memories tend to fade, the aspects that are so pleasant to us we retain, yet the reality portions continue to age, and, when we check back, show their age.

In a move to make new memories, Kathy and I decided upon a trip to Manitoulin Island, the largest fresh water island in the world. After consulting weather patterns from the North Lake Huron weather buoy as well as North American satellite and ground tracking radar, we chose Tuesday and Wednesday as our window to travel. We wanted to catch the 11:20 AM ferry to Manitoulin Island. To do so we left Little Pike Bay early in the morning, drove to Tobermory, got our tickets and parked "Big Red" in line. We walked to "Craigies" for breakfast. 

We sat down in the sun porch next to a couple from Toronto. She had been coming to Tobermory as a little girl, and now returns for a reminiscent tour. He retired as City Manager for the City of Toronto two years ago, and they have been traveling back and forth to a cottage his parents had in the Mescoka area, North of Toronto.We chatted for an hour or so until the Chi- Cheeman's whistle blew, signaling ready for boarding.

As forecasted, the barometric pressure was high,  the winds were calm, the seas were mirror flat. The ship spun around and we headed at 16 knots North by Northwest to South Bay Mouth on Manitoulin Is. From Tobermory we pass a number or uninhabited islands, part of the Five Fathoms National Park, the last island is Cove Island and its Cove Island Lighthouse. The figurine of the Cove Island Lighthouse that Bob and Kathy V brought for the cottage, is identical to this picture except for the 150 years sign. Seagulls flew to the top decks and matched precisely the ship's speed, appearing motionless as they glided upon the air currents created by the ship. An hour and 45 minutes later, we docked at South Bay Mouth, picked up route 6 again heading North; a few miles out of town we turned Left towards Providence Bay and its local Chamber of Commerce published literature "awe inspiring sand beach"; really, not any better than our own Bruce Peninsula's "Sandy Beach." By traveling roads, we saw lots and lots of trees as we headed West to Meldrum Bay, at the most Westward portion of the Island. Before stopping for the night, we visited the Missisagi Lighthouse, where, on the road we saw a large black bear. He/she looked at us, paused, then loped off into the bush. "We see a lot of them around here, and they generally leave people alone" so said the caretakers of the lighthouse museum. Hmmm "generally."

Meldrum Bay B&B was charming. We had dinner with a couple from Wisconsin whom we had met on the ferry and at Providence Bay, who were completing a tour from Madison, to Toronto via the Northern Lake Huron/Georgian Bay route. After dinner, Kathy and I hot-tubbed it for an hour; relaxed, then trundled off to bed.  

Wednesday we awakened early to await our 9:00 AM Continental breakfast, which we shared with the Wisconsin couple, then headed, through the allies of tree forests, to Gore Bay. Another lighthouse, met an artist from Atlanta Ga. and his traveling companion, more pictures then followed the North Channel Eastward to Little Current. A trip across and back over the "swing bridge," ice cream, the obligatory gift shop stop where we found surprise surprise something we both like for our home in East Lansing. We head South along route 6, stopping at 10 Mile Point and its scenic overlook, purchased home-made soap, back onto Rt. 6 to Manitowaning, the berth of the now retired Tobermory to South Bay Mouth coal fired ferry: SS Norisle. 

We have a 1937 view of the SS Norisle at the cottage, a print of a painting by Kent Wilkens, "Norisle coming into the coal pile: Tobermory".

Now she is in need of a major restoration; hence, the reality of time moving on. My remembrance of traveling on the Norisle are of coming back from South Bay Mouth after Bill and I had canoed to Manitoulin Island. The ship was loaded from the Starboard side, automobiles were jacked up and swung into a lineup and secured. Quite a difference now with the easy roll-on roll-off of the Chi-Cheeman. Bill and I carried the canoe onto the Norisle, then headed aft to talk with the crew who had quarters in the stern, port holes open, and black smoke wafting inside when the wind swung astern.  I remember greeting my mother in Tobermory, I had slung my arm in a sling to appear as if I were injured, she, so grateful to see me alive, either did not notice or care as she hugged me tightly. My other trips to Manitoulin Island have been by water, this one, 300 miles in all, by land and by sea, made new memories for both Kathy and myself.