Wisconsin 2006--Central

Merrill, Wisconsin Look at a map of Wisconsin and a little above the state's center, twenty miles north of the booming Wausau, lies the sedate town of Merrill, where my Dad grew up and where much of our family still lives.

Merrill has a population of approximately 10,000 and bills itself as the "City of Parks." I wasn't going to argue with that, as I think the parks almost outnumbered the houses and the houses may have outnumbered the people, who are apparently leaving the town in somewhat alarming numbers. Houses are for sale everywhere and what might pass for a decent downpayment in the Northwest will buy you a nice 4-bedroom house on a tree-lined street in Wisconsin. Jump on the nice freeway for a twenty minute commute to your job in Wausau and you would have it made at $14 an hour.

The town has a somewhat disjointed, army-surplus sort of downtown, where the clear, crowning glory of a wonderful old county courthouse stands out from what is otherwise non-descript. There is a classic, old-school apparel store called Thelma's and a scary tatoo parlor next door. This is not a gentrified downtown, although I believe an old convent had been turned into condos, which seemed kind of progressive.

We stayed at a nice motel well on the outside of town, across from the omnipotent and omnipresent Walmart, a MacDonalds, a grocery store and a few other little stores, which the kids loved. The motel had a new pool and spa, which kept Savanna and I entertained. It was very quiet. In the 50-room motel, I don't think 4 or 5 rooms were ever occupied at one time.

On Friday, we visited Bob and Rose Aikey, (my uncle and aunt), who live nearer downtown and just a few blocks away from the house where my Dad grew up. That night, we went to a fish fry at a local roadhouse. I must mention something right here that struck me about the entire Wisconsin experience: into every public place we went, most noticeably the restaurants, it was absolutely uncanny how we were stared at by the locals. It wasn't so much a "you're not welcome here, stranger" kind of look, but more a piercing, "do I know you from somewhere?" stare. It was very weird--these people are so used to seeing only people that they know, that we became a legitimate curiosity. So different from here in Seattle, where dealing with strangers is the norm, where eye contact is seldom made and where chance meetings of acquaintances in public places is rare.

Next day was the vacation's main event--the Ryan Family Re-union at Kitchenette Park. Family from near and far started showing up at around noon and it wasn't over until nearly dark. A very long day, especially for Tiana who wasn't really into the eating or activities, but a day that went pretty fast with lots of food, beer and miscellaneous activities. We had something like 75 people show up. My Dad was the oldest of his generation, I was the oldest of my generation and on it went to the next two generations. Everybody got along great and it was great fun seeing most of my 21 cousins, many of whom I had never met and most of whom I hadn't seen for more than 40 years.

Sunday morning we were up early for the five hour drive to the airport at Minneapolis. We got their early enough where we had time to jump on the train and went to the Mall of America for a quick visit. It was then back to the airport, a quick run through security and onto our Sun Country flight, for the three hour journey back home.

Wisconsin 2006--North Woods

August 22, Cable, Wisconsin Arrived at my Uncle Pat's house at about 8:30 where a big dinner was waiting on the table. Pat and his wife Evelyn met us in the driveway and it was so great to see them. Tiana and Savi were a little overwhelmed, especially in the fatigued state they were in after the long (nearly 5-hour) drive from Minneapolis.

After dinner, or "supper" as they call it out here, Pat and Evelyn's daughter, Bridget, came over for drinks and dessert with her husband, Jeff. In their mid-40s, they have already raised two kids, both of whom are in their early 20s, and are living by themselves in a grand Northwoods style house just a hundred yards down the road. They offered to let us stay in their basement, as they had a little more room than Pat and Evelyn.

We lugged our stuff next door, settled comfortably into the spacious and beautifully appointed basement, where Tiana had her own bedroom and I shared the bunkroom with Savanna. We played a little pool and at about 11pm went outside to the hot tub, where we watched the stars for the next hour and looked out over the classic aspen and pine forest of this region.

Interestingly, as Bridget lived next door to Pat and Evelyn, one of Bridget's sisters had a beautiful weekend cabin next to her and then just five minutes away, another one of the sisters had a very nice cabin next to the golf course at Telemark. Needless to say, the family is very close and all six of the kids very successful. They have all carved out a very nice and civilized existence here in the northern reaches of Wisconsin.

Next morning, we had a big breakfast at and did some sightseeing, including a drive up to the shores of Lake Superior, where we had lunch. Later that day, Jeff graciously offered to take us to nearby Lake Owens for a kayak outing. We quickly gathered up 4 sea kayaks, threw them in the truck and in half an hour were on the water. The girls did great, as neither had done much, if any, kayaking before. We went on a 4-5 mile paddle, threw the boats back in the truck and were home in time for dinner. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera, so we don't have any pictures.

Cable is quite possibly the quintessential Northern Wisconsin town. The population couldn't have been more than a couple thousand, but everything seemed so sedate and comfortable, from the bucolic and compact downtown area, to the outermore neighborhoods on the large lots with the cultivated gardens and that sort of plain, but solid and ageless architecture that is more typical of the colder parts of the country. Outside of the city limits, were the classic Wisconsin weekend cabins, virtually all made largely of the local native pine, inside and out.

This is the kind of town where everybody really does know everybody, where the seasons are abrupt and distinct, where hunting, fishing, football and hockey dominate the lifestyles of every generation. Where staying warm in the winter and co-existing with the deerflies and mosquitoes of summer is an artform.

In the northwoods, a new lake is always on the horizon, with a spiderweb of swamps, canals, rivers and streams to connect them. The pine woods are never far off and they are deep and they are dark. These features define the landscape and the towns just try to fit in the best they can. And on the outside of each town are the ubiquitous roadhouses, home of the Friday night fish fry and center of northern Wisconsin social life.

We left Cable early Thursday morning, heading toward my grandparents' old cabin on Plummer Lake, a three hour drive. On the way, I was again struck with the tranquility of the small towns the highway passed through, with the mom and pop shops, the well-kept schools, kids riding their bikes everywhere, the classic churches and just sort of the sense of stability that seemed to permeate everything. Yes, I was definitely envious of what I perceived to be a superior small-town way of life. I'd love to be there during just one winter.

Wisconsin 2006--North Central

Plummer Lake, North Central Wisconsin (Aug 24, 2006) It was 41 years ago since I last stepped on the hallowed grounds of the Ryan Family's lakefront cabin.

Not much has changed.

The small pines and alders still dotted the gentle slope to the beach. Some growth-challenged maples, already changing to their fall colors, were mixed in. My cousin Katie stood again in the doorway of the one-room cabin. My grandfather's workshop, just small and cozy enough for a comfortable chair and a bottle of rye hadn't changed. The boathouse, though a little aged, looked familiar. The two-seat outhouse had not been updated (can an outhouse be improved?), but I hear that it has nearly filled up, and changes may be in order.

Once inside the cabin, my God, it was a time-warp that words can hardly describe. The same thick-planked picnic table near the kitchen window. Kitchen cabinets and decorations--the same. The beds, the other furnishings, the pictures and animal skins on the wall, exactly as they were 40 years ago (at least in my own mind's eye). Most of all was the rich, honeyed-glaze patina of the cabin's pine interior. The view out over the small lake certainly hadn't changed--no new homes could be seen, no new development of any kind. This is the north-central area of Wisconsin, where home buyers of 20 years ago feel lucky if their home values have appreciated one percent a year.

For the first time since leaving Seattle, both kids seemed to be having a good time. I think they felt a real family connection, if not a sense of history, by finally seeing this modest little cabin I had mentioned to them so many times. Or maybe it was because for the first time since leaving Minneapolis on Tuesday, they had reliable cell phone coverage. Even though I had been here only once before, I remember it as a great time, fishing with my grandfather, swimming and lots of good eating. I can't believe it has been so long since I've been able to come back.

We had a nice lunch and enjoyed some time with cousin Katie and her parents, sister and parents. We went out for an ill-fated ride in the pontoon boat, but were blown onto the far shore when the outboard motor conked out, possibly because of some bad fuel. We had a long hike back to the house, where we fired up the trusty fishing boat with its 1970's vintage Johnson 6-horse and went to rescue the much bigger pontoon boat.

The legendary mosquitos were a no-show, as were the much-dreaded biting flies. By 4pm, we were on the way to Merrill, the re-union's location and "ancestral" home of the modern Ryan clan.

Caution--Screw up Ahead

Until I have time to put these vacation posts in the right order, start seven posts down with "Boat Trip, 2006" and work your way up. They're sort of in reverse order, get it?

Sincerest regards,

The Author

Round Six--Thursday, August 3, 2006

The cove is so quiet this morning, partly due to the fact that because the tide is low, nobody can come in, nor leave. Very peaceful with blue skies, a slight breeze and a little nip in the air. It is fun to watch people as they get up and quietly go thrugh their routines. There is a woman on an adjoining boat eating a bowl of cereal on her swimstep. Another person, I notice, has spent the night in a hammock on his boat’s bow, and is just trying to roll out of it. Others are sitting quietly in their cockpits, drinking coffee. Many still haven’t woken up, though its nearly 8. I have yet to hear anybody start up their skiffs.

There is a boat next to us with a bunch of teenage kids. They seem to have a lot of fun together, have been swimming and playing around on the decks. As Tim mentioned, it’s a great environment for children--I wish I was able to offer this lifestyle to my own kids in a way that was palatable to them, but alas, they have yet to express any interest. Some of my favorite memories as a kid were from being around the water.

Finally, the tide got high enough where we were able to slip through the channel and into open water, on our way to Pendrell Sound, well-known as the warmest body of water in the region, where temps frequently get into the mid-70s. We reached the head of the bay near noon, under perfect conditions. No wind, not too much boat traffic and warm temps. We got the skiff set up for water skiing, had a couple great runs (picture to come) and maybe had the best 2-3 hours of the entire trip.

We headed out of the bay at around 130 or so and suddenly noticed in 4 teenaged boys in the water, 2 or 300 yards directly in front of us, waving their arms. We didn't really know what to think, but supposed their boat had sunk and that they needed to be picked up. None of them was wearing a lifevest. We cut our speed and reluctantly headed toward them, knowing that some kind of hassle probably awaited us. We had no idea how true that was going to be.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a 16 or 17' skiff came speeding in front of us, and Tim and I felt some relief as it seemed that somebody else was going to beat us to the rescue, and we could continue on our merry way to the next anchorage. Alas, it was not meant to be, as seconds later we noticed nobody was actually in the boat, that it was running loose across the bay at about 30mph and tha somehow those kids must have been bounced out. We nervously approached the kids, still waving their arms, and kept a wary eye on the runaway skiff, which was making a bee-line for the port shore, about a quarter mile away.

I was anticipating a neat crash onto the beach, when at the last minute the skiff made a turn and started toward the opposite shore on this 1/2 mile wide bay, where once again it looked like it was going to crash and burn. Again, at the last possible moment, it made another turn, like it had some kind of morbid sense of direction. It was now heading, roughly speaking towards us and the kids, but was poised to pass well behind our stern.

As we got ever-closer to the kids, the unmanned skiff started turning sharper and sharper and it was now looking like it was just going to miss our own skiff, which we were towing about 30' behind. We sped up the boat, as the skiff was turning sharper and sharper but we had little maneuvering, as the kids were now directly in front of our bow. Marian II, like most boats of her type, responded reluctantly and was not a match for the much faster skiff. Sure enough, the runaway skiff ran straight across the stern of our own skiff, ripping off the motor, destroying the starboard pontoon and ripping down the control console, all without even slowing down. The loose skiff was to continue running around the bay for another fifteen minutes, finally running out of gas.

The die was cast, the vacation was ruined. The expected hassles ensued. An angry and somewhat distraught Tim picked up the kids, who were returned to their parents, who seemed equally distraught. Insurance discussions and cleaning up the mess to make our skiff tow-able were finished and a few hours later we were off to Grace Harbor, to consider our options.

It was not one of our pleasanter cruises and Tim passed that night fitfully, no doubt wondering what to do. Here he was with me scheduled to go back the next day via float plane, his wife and several friends due to come up on Sunday, and more family coming up the following week. But he had no skiff, no way to get to shore, no backup in case of emergency. And besides, the skiff was just a lot of fun, whether it being for water skiing, whale watching or just covering a lot of ground quickly.

It was finally decided the next morning to cancel the rest of the vacation and bring the boat back to Seattle. Tim felt much better after the decision was made to go home and the cruise down was actually fairly pleasant, with Tim showing amazing resiliency, considering all that he had been through.

Round Five--Wednesday, August 2, 2006

Today, we left Grace Harbor at about 8, cruised into Refuge Cove, where we were in a race to be first in line at the gas dock. Unfortunatley, a Grand Banks 46 just beat us to the last open slip and we had a to wait a few minutes to tie up. We took on 185 litres of gas (which is god knows how many gallons), Tim got a few candy bars, I finally got my precious potatoes and we were off on a circumnavigation of West Redondo Island.

At about 2pm, we pulled into (at high tide) what I call Sardine Can Lagoon, aka Roscoe Bay. You come in through a tight channel, which is barely awash at low tide, which enters into a snug and cozy anchorage, holding at any one time up to 100 boat. Once inside, its like anchoring in a lake and it becomes like a small floating community. The water is warm, there is a real lake nearby for swimming and a couple hiking trails, one of which we took.

The hike up to the top of a nearby hill is one I’ve done a couple times before. It starts from the north side of the cove, is flat for a little while, gradually starts climbing, is flat again, climbs very steeply, is somewhat flat yet again, and then makes the final root-pulling ascent to the top where there is a commanding view of the entire Desolation Sound basin. I banged my head on a tree crossing the trail and we set a new speed record for completing the round trip in a little under 2 hours (that was Tim, I came in a few minutes later).

We rushed back to the boat, jumped in the water to clean off, had a wonderful pot roast and fried potatoes dinner, read, watched a little Hogans Heroes and went off to sleep a little after ten.

Round Four--Tuesday, August 1, 2006

After an interesting, albeit non-eventful cruise through Okisollo Channel and the Seymour Narrows, at about 2 pm we ended up in Grace Harbor, or as I like to call it “Geriatric Cove.” There are the usual assortment of mis-fit boats, mis-fit skippers and sidekicks, but mostly the code words around here are retirement and being quiet. There is one notable exception, a Tollycraft composed of 4 teenaged girls, one boy and a set of parents, whom are seldom seen, nor heard (we later found out they had taken their skiff into town for a big night out).

The weather today has been mostly sunny, with little wind, except for some brief wisps as we fluttered across the Straits from Campbell River. Temperature has been in the mid-60s. The water temp here in the predictably crowded anchorage is 68.

For dinner we had some marinated chicken on the grill, applesauce and rolls.

Tim is his usual grumpy self, obsessed with keeping the boat spotlessly clean and not allowing other vessels to approach with 50 yards (hopefully you can detect the sarcasm). This keeps the riffraff away, but tends to wreak havoc with people trying to enter the lagoon.

We saw our first mosquito tonight, a smallish specimen, who audaciously landed on my leg and paid the ultimate sacrifice. That was to be the only skeeter I saw on the whole trip.

It looks like it will be another calm night as the boats are facing all different directions, as the last yellow rays of sunshine light up the evergreens on the opposite shore, with an eery, phosphoresent glow.

Round Three--Monday, July 31, 2006

Alas the last day of July and it finds us no closer to Tim’s water skiing than yesterday. We ended up leaving Van Donop at about 7 am for a relatively short but tumultuous cruise to the cooler waters of the Octopus Islands. Along the 3 hour voyage, we had one bit of excitement as we slipped through Beazley and Surge Narrows with about 5-6 knots of current pushing us along.

We arrived in the large bay that is the most popular anchorage in this particular island group, and the most spacious. Literally hundreds of acres of protected harborage, all over good holding ground and consistently 25-40' of depth--just how Tim likes it. We anchored at around 1230 and went out for a putt in the inflatable. The weather has been absoluteley calm the whole day with scarcely a ripple of wind. Temps have been in the mid 70s and the skies have been mostly sunny.

Two hours after anchoring a nice couple from an adjoining bay came over to say hi. They were the owner of the Iphigenia, a 50’ classic belong to Tim’s yacht club. They knew several common friends and we spent a pleasant 15 minutes chatting with them, their skiff tied up alongside.

The water temps in the bay are around 60, a little cool for swimming, though nearly ten degrees warmer than Puget Sound.

A couple of notes: Although I doubt that either one of us have changed our shirts in four days, we maintain an aire of civility by keeping the toilet seat down, though obviously there are no women on board. I find that fact somehow quite comforting.

A comment regarding the popular alcoholic beverage "Mikes Hard Lime-Aid" which I recently tried. Although cool and somewhat refreshing, it was extremely sweet, with the slightest drop outside your mouth, sticking to everything like super glue. An hour after drinking one bottle, I felt like I had been poisoned and had to urinate every fifteen minutes or so, for the next six hours--much the same reaction I get when drinking tea. I don’t know what was in it, as they don’t list the ingredients, but combined with the hangover I had from a single bottle this morning, I can’t really recommend it. But then, that's just me.

Reading a collection of short stories by Joseph Heller, which I am really enjoying. We had bratwrust for dinner tonight, which somehow wasn't a great success, although with applesauce, it wasn't too bad.

Round One--Saturday, July 29, 2006

Leaving for Desolation Sound today at 7, from Shilshoe Marina. Tim and Cathy pick me up promptly at 630 and I promptly forget half my stuff, including sleeping bag, pillow, misc foodstuffs and all my diet pop, in the back of the van. Oh well, most of it can be replaced.

We had possibly the worst french dip sandwiches I’ve ever eaten for dinner tonight. The beef was still partly frozen, the au jus sauce was not mixed well, and the french bread, the 18 pack I got at Costco, was completely moldy.

The cruise up to Canadian customs on Vancouver was uneventful, having passed this way several times before.

Round Two--Sunday, July 30, 2006

Just sitting here at about 9pm, having recently finished a little light reading and a little earliler a much heavier dinner of spicy sausage lasagna. “Here” is in Van Donop bay in Desolation Harbor, where today’s 13 hour cruise from Montague Harbor finds us.

The way up, through the infamous Dodd Narrows, and past a thriving Nanaimo, is best described as tedium mixed in with wonder, as long cruises often are. The wonder today often revolved around the miracle of navigational technology and how seamlessly it fits into the environment of an 80-year old classic wood boat where we still use a knotted string tied to the wheel to help the vessel go straight.

Much of the day was dead calm, which is unusual in the wide open water up here. When we crossed into the milky white outflow of the Powell River just north of Texada Island (which I remember seeing from the plane last year as an epic plume of ash-colored water), the sea flattened out ever more and took on a sort of translucent shimmer, as if one had

calmed it with baby oil.

Finally at around 7 we gained our night’s destination, dropped anchor in a peaceful lilttle cove, had dinner and cracked open our books and magazines. Tim just woke from a nap, promptly turned on the propane heater, despite it being a very comfortable 68 degrees. We’ll now view our much-anticpated Hogan’s Heroes DVD and I will undoubtedly turn into my bunk at around 10pm, fiddling with my AM radio, and if not finding that receptive, listening to some tunes on my player. I shall be sound asleep by 1030.


Tomorrow we head for the warmer waters of Desolation Sound proper, where a day of laughing at Tim trying to water ski awaits.

We had lasagna for dinner--very delicous.